The mountain loomed tall and majestic, completely pitch-black, resembling a towering structure, its surface too smooth to scale. A sense of confinement permeated the surroundings, preventing even Meng Qi from taking flight. As he drew nearer, he suddenly plummeted downward like a stone sinking into the sea, landing heavily with a resounding thud on the ground, which was overrun with dark green vines, causing the earth to tremble slightly.
The vines snapped beneath his feet, oozing a steady flow of blood, vivid and eerily crimson.
Meng Qi looked upward. The mountain stretched ten thousand zhang into the sky, piercing into pitch-black clouds. The only path was a winding trail ascending the mountainside, coiling around the peak like a dragon, half-hidden, half-revealed.
“It seems I’ve entered another world…” Experienced in the Wheel of Rebirth, Meng Qi frowned, analyzing his current predicament.
Could this be the trump card that Hasuwula and others relied upon?
If so, judging from the changes in the pivot of heaven and earth and the gathering of energies, to leave or seize the initiative, he likely had to reach the summit.
While observing his surroundings based on his experience and understanding of natural laws, Meng Qi simultaneously employed the Jade Emptiness Divine Calculation to deduce the situation. At that moment, numerous dark green vines rapidly grew toward him, coiling around his ankles. Their sharp thorns gaped wide, yet failed to pierce his skin.
“It bears some resemblance to the Nine Nether or the Demon Realm,” Meng Qi mused, comparing the environment. He maintained clarity using “Only I Am Supreme” and the “Yuanxin Seal” to resist illusions, scanning his surroundings with his慧eye. Confirming no one else was present, he steadily strode toward the mountain path.
On both sides of the path stood oddly shaped stones, resembling the transformed remains of evil spirits and demons, sending chills down the spine of anyone stepping onto it.
The center was slightly muddy black soil, seeping a pungent, dark red liquid.
“Where did the others go?” Meng Qi recalled the sudden chaos, thinking many Grandmasters might have been drawn in, yet there was no trace of them here.
Could this realm be far vaster than imagined?
…
Chen Zhao led his junior apprentice sister, Liu Zejun, to the sharp, black-tipped mountain peak, discovering that flight was impossible here, with only a single path leading to the summit.
The path’s sides were lined with stones resembling evil spirits and demons, eerie and sinister. The center was paved with ten-thousand-year-old ice blocks, emitting wisps of cold mist, their crystals clear enough to reflect one’s image.
“Ice Soul Reflecting Path…” murmured Chen Zhao. “Junior sister, this place bears a striking resemblance to the Snow and Ice Fairy Palace.”
The only difference was that the Reflecting Path in the Snow and Ice Fairy Palace led from the palace entrance to the main hall, whereas here it ascended a high peak.
“This place is probably connected to the Snow and Ice Fairy Palace,” Liu Zejun, who had also entered the Snow and Ice Fairy Palace and gained an extraordinary experience, was not unfamiliar with it.
The Snow and Ice Fairy Palace was a great secret of the extreme north, a fairy palace discovered after generations of exploration by various sects and families into the northern core. Inside, it was a kaleidoscope of wonders and strange encounters. Yet no one had ever managed to penetrate deeply into it. Despite this, even the peripheral encounters had greatly benefited those fortunate enough to enter, provided they survived. Chen Zhao’s attainment of Grandmaster before thirty owed much to this place.
Since it concerned their own power, all sects and families in the extreme north tacitly kept this secret, never revealing it to southern experts who ventured north seeking rare treasures.
Chen Zhao laughed heartily: “Just after a setback, I encounter this place. Heaven truly favors me.”
Without even mentioning the potential encounters, merely traversing the Ice Soul Reflecting Path could expose one’s inner shadows clearly, aiding in their resolution and perfection.
Liu Zejun visibly relaxed, smiling as she congratulated him before finally finding the mood to say, “That swordsman we passed earlier was truly formidable. Are southern experts so terrifying even at random?”
Moreover, judging by his aura and appearance, he might even be younger than herself!
Chen Zhao smirked: “Such individuals are likely rare gems in the south. But it truly makes me realize that there is always someone stronger, and stagnation or narrow-mindedness is never advisable.”
He gazed upward at the summit, murmuring: “Such a realm, such martial cultivation, is truly intriguing.”
Before his words faded, he had already pulled his junior sister onto the “Ice Soul Reflecting Path.”
…
A ten-zhang-tall Nether Emperor stood before the winding path, his every movement radiating the aura of divine weapons shaking the void, as if an ancient supreme being had descended.
Each of his bones seemed to belong to a giant, exuding an ethereal and illusory sensation, as if omnipresent, controlling the life and death of countless universes, extremely terrifying. Yet this sensation was clearly incomplete, never fully integrated, ultimately falling back into tangible reality.
Blood-yellow mist swirled around, obscuring his form and features. The Nether Emperor grasped the Brush of Life and Death—its black shaft tipped with white bristles and white shaft tipped with black bristles—staring down the path ahead as if divine radiance emanated from the haze.
He had visited this secret realm many times before, but never encountered anything like this day.
The bones of the Yellow Spring True Body could actually awaken the lingering will of the Demon Lord, triggering this sudden upheaval!
The Sect of Impermanence originated from the “Primordial Demon Dao,” cultivating the “Yellow Spring True Method” refined by the Demon Lord. However, the lineage had been severed multiple times over the centuries, until over three thousand years ago when an ancestor gained a rare opportunity to enter the “Sect of Impermanence Heaven” and rebuild the sect.
It was precisely this ancestor who, through diligent cultivation, elevated the Yellow Spring True Method to the Dharma Body level, sensed the elusive “Yellow Spring Corpse,” and after enduring countless trials, discovered a fissure in the Netherworld. There, within a hidden layer, he uncovered the “Great Being’s Remains” of the Yellow Spring Evil God and the secret technique for creating undead beings.
From then on, each successive Sect Leader of the Sect of Impermanence devoted themselves to merging the Yellow Spring Corpse with the Yellow Spring True Method, ultimately perfecting it in the previous generation. Regrettably, the old Sect Leader’s lifespan had reached its end, preventing him from attempting it. The Nether Emperor had pursued this objective since his debut, finally reaching the final stage.
With merely a fresh corpse as a catalyst, he could transmute yin into yang, reverse death into life, attaining the unprecedented “Yellow Spring True Body”—a form nearly mythical even in decay, granting him partial dominion over life and death. Half “deity,” half “immortal,” he became a “unique Human Immortal,” capable of overwhelming Earth Immortals and swiftly ascending to the realm of Ascension Immortal in a short span. Dominating his era, he established an earthly underworld, wielding control over the destinies of all living beings.
Unfortunately, repeated attempts had failed to capture a target, instead causing severe losses.
(Note: The original text contained “法Body” which appears to be a typo or placeholder. I’ve translated it as “target” for coherence. If “法Body” refers to a specific term, please provide clarification for accurate translation.)
Memories of the past flickered through his mind, yet the Nether Emperor paid no attention to the demonic stones lining the path. However, the faintly flowing, illusory blood-yellow stream at the center filled him with both caution and a hint of delight.
“Could there be ‘Yellow Spring True Water’ condensed from the Demon Lord’s cultivation deliberations atop the peak?” The Nether Emperor gazed at the indifferent flowing stream—oblivious to life and death, erasing past memories—and solemnly took his first step forward.
…
Ye Yuqi walked along a snow-covered path, “Ice Soul Cold Light Sword” lowered, its tip seemingly dragged forward. The oddly shaped stones on both sides, evoking a nightmare, appeared frozen by ice and snow.
Suddenly, an old woman appeared ahead, hunched, her face wrinkled like chicken skin, white-haired, with cloudy eyes.
Beside her stood a wooden bucket, and in her hands, a chipped stone bowl. Her voice was sharp and thin: “Drink this bowl of Meng Po Soup, and all past matters will be forgotten today. Unfaithful men, heartless wives, meeting as strangers on the roadside, never again to know suffering or sorrow!”
“Meng Po Soup…” Ye Yuqi hesitated, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. Lifting his left hand, his fingers, as delicate as scallion stalks, slowly extended, seemingly reaching to accept the bowl.
His fingertips touched it, passing through—it was an illusion.
A faint smile curved at the corner of Ye Yuqi’s lips, a mixture of weariness and willingness. He withdrew his hand and continued toward the summit.
…
Treading the slightly muddy black soil, Meng Qi worried about the other Grandmasters’ plight. Despite his caution, his pace remained relatively swift.
After walking a while, circling the mountain twice, thick black mist began ahead, isolating his senses and obscuring his sight.
Instinctively slowing down, Meng Qi unsheathed his sword and knife in each hand, no longer holding back, stepping into the mist.
The mist rolled and suddenly parted, revealing a figure before Meng Qi. He wore ancient headgear and wide robes, his large sleeves fluttering, dressed in the style of ancient times. His towering figure had black hair tied into a Daoist topknot, exuding a vast aura that connected heaven and earth, filled with boundless hatred, as if wishing to destroy all life, the world, and even himself!
This aura, laden with the dust of ages, crossed the river of time, making resistance unthinkable.
Slowly turning, he revealed an ancient face. His right hand was enormous, twice the size of a normal person’s, with nails like swords, the back of his hand covered in deep black, eerie patterns, brimming with evil, bloodlust, and infinite hatred.
The Demon Emperor’s Claw? Whose master was this? Meng Qi had seen the general appearance of the Demon Emperor’s Claw outside the Demon’s Graveyard. A quick glance stirred his thoughts.
The figure’s expression was calm, his eyes brimming with an ancient hatred, speaking in a serene yet death-laden voice: “Qi, I will drag you down with me.”
Qi, the Holy Emperor Qi? Meng Qi immediately recognized who this was.
The third master of the Demon Emperor’s Claw, the “Heaven-Hating Emperor,” obtained the Demon Emperor’s Claw after the Human Emperor’s demise, inheriting the “Primordial Demon Dao.” A few hundred years later, he unleashed a great demonic calamity, aiming to destroy the world. However, during that time, the Holy Emperor Qi was reigning, with formidable power and numerous immortals, suppressing him.
Ultimately, in their peak battle, he fell by the Holy Emperor Qi’s hand, and the Holy Emperor Qi’s own demise followed three years later, nearly mutual destruction.
“Is this the battlefield of the Holy Emperor Qi and the Heaven-Hating Emperor?” Meng Qi recalled his knowledge, yet felt the geography was incorrect—they had fought in the Western Regions’ God-Burying Desert, while this was the Arctic Ice Plains.
If not their battlefield, how could the Heaven-Hating Emperor’s residual aura exist here, even his last words before death?
Carefully distinguishing, confirming it was merely a residual projection, not even a complete aura, Meng Qi, puzzled, bypassed it.
He hadn’t taken many steps forward when the mist rolled open again, revealing a figure seated ahead. His hair was snow-white, cascading down his back, his eyes crimson with hate, his handsome face revealing a hint of cruelty. His attire was ancient, his right hand similarly enormous, covered in deep black, sinister patterns, exuding indescribable hatred.
“Another Demon Emperor’s Claw…” Meng Qi glanced, roughly knowing the identity.
The fourth master of the Demon Emperor’s Claw, the “Evil Emperor” Xie Tianshu.
His talent was extraordinary, originally a righteous hero, prominent in the ancient era, with many sages later influenced by his thoughts. Yet for unknown reasons, he suddenly fell into darkness, his heart consumed by hatred, betraying his sect, becoming frenzied and murderous, killing his master and brothers, rising as a great left-path expert. Later obtaining the Demon Emperor’s Claw, he unified the demonic path, ushering in a dark age until the earliest ancient sages ended him.
The ancient era was an age of intense conflict between righteousness and darkness within humanity.
“Hate!” The “Evil Emperor” Xie Tianshu roared to the heavens, filled with unwillingness.
Meng Qi inhaled deeply, seeing the final residual images of each Demon Emperor’s Claw master. Could this place be connected to the Demon Emperor’s Claw?
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