“No! This is the Sacred Nest of the Ephemera Clan—utterly inexhaustible! How could a single Golden Ephemera possess such a thing? We must break through immediately!” The giant insect transformed from Liuzu roared in shock and fury.
In just those few moments, hundreds more grotesque insects had been pierced through by the black radiance emanating from its body, falling lifelessly.
“Where can we flee? These creatures’ speed isn’t much slower than ours. If they keep harassing us, we’ll eventually exhaust our spiritual power,” the Blood-robed Man said gravely, standing atop the shoulder of the Purple Blood Puppet.
“Retreat to the entrance channel we came from. If we can hold out until we reach it, we can return to the Netherworld River and escape this illusionary sea of insects conjured by the Sacred Nest,” Liuzu replied without hesitation.
“Liuzu, have you lost your mind? Even if we flee at full speed, retracing our path would take two to three months. Are we to fight these insects all the way back? And what of the Demon Tomb? What about our demonic artifacts?” the white-haired beauty shrieked sharply.
“Hmph, Fellow Daoist Lan! What use are the finest artifacts if we lose our lives? At worst, I’ll compensate you and Fellow Daoist Dihuo with some treasures once we return. Right now, the Sacred Nest is only manifesting its lowest-tier insects—we can still fight our way out. But if higher-tier Sacred Insects appear, escape will be impossible,” Liuzu bellowed angrily.
Were it not for the necessity of combining their three powers to escape, he would have long since fled with the Netherworld River’s Divine Milk. After all, no one understood better than he the devastating might of the Ephemera Clan’s Sacred Nest, a weapon capable of annihilating entire races.
Unbeknownst to Liuzu, however, what they faced was not the true Sacred Nest but a mere replica. Even so, its power was beyond what the three of them could withstand. Combined with the dread it inspired, Liuzu immediately resolved to leave the Netherworld River upon encountering it.
Though the white-haired beauty seethed with resentment at Liuzu’s words, she fell silent. The Blood-robed Man, voicing no objection, evidently agreed.
Thus, the three unleashed their full might simultaneously.
The giant insect form of Liuzu, originally smooth-skinned, suddenly erupted with black light as countless pitch-black, razor-sharp bone spikes, each several meters long, sprouted across its body. The creature’s form contracted and expanded violently before spewing forth a series of visible black rings.
These rings expanded exponentially the moment they appeared, surging menacingly into the insect swarm and sweeping past countless grotesque creatures.
A shocking sight unfolded—wherever the rings passed, the insects lost all balance, tumbling chaotically from the sky. A vast clearing opened ahead.
Meanwhile, the Purple Blood Puppet, mountain-like in size, opened its maw and unleashed a violet-red beam dozens of times thicker than the one from its eyes. Where the beam struck, insects disintegrated into ash. With a swing of its head, the beam carved through even more, clearing a wider area than Liuzu’s attack.
Lastly, the white-haired beauty acted. Seeing her companions holding nothing back, she hurled her bizarre hammer into another section of the swarm while forming hand seals. The hammer exploded amid green flames, revealing eight white skulls that rapidly expanded to wheel-size. With eerie shrieks, their jaws gaped wide—but instead of green ghostfire, they exhaled streams of bone-chilling white wind.
Where this wind passed, frost encrusted the insects before they shattered with crisp *crack* sounds, transforming into ice crystals of varying sizes that rained silently downward.
With three Body Unity cultivators attacking simultaneously, even the endless swarm faltered, creating a temporary void around them.
A dozen miles away, the mantis-faced creature snorted coldly and pointed a bladed limb at the silver object in the sky. The semicircular artifact spun, and the flood of emerging insects surged anew.
Yet at that moment, Liuzu and the others converged, merging their power into a colossal orb of light. With a tremble, it shot down the cleared path, reaching the swarm’s edge in flashes before dissolving. The three then erupted from the sea of insects amid continuous explosions, streaking toward the horizon as rainbow trails.
The mantis-faced creature, enraged by their retreat, emitted a piercing shriek, and the swarm gave chase. The green insects flapped their wings furiously, keeping pace with the fleeing cultivators like streaks of cyan light. The mantis itself blurred and vanished, reappearing atop the semicircular object before disappearing inside it with a flash.
The “Sacred Nest” hummed deafeningly, pausing its emission of insect phantoms before transforming into a silver streak and pursuing, surrounded by countless creatures. Within moments, both pursuers and pursued had vanished from the area.
—
Elsewhere, above the waters where Han Li had been swept away, Mu Qing hovered amidst swirling green motes of light, gazing darkly at the black mist below.
—
“This place seems…” In another patch of black mist, a figure cloaked in gray light surveyed his surroundings, murmuring to himself.
The young man in blue robes, appearing in his twenties with a slight frown, was none other than Han Li, freshly emerged from the Netherworld River. Shaking off disorientation, he found himself enveloped in this eerie fog. Fortunately, his Magnetic Divine Light activated instinctively, shielding him without conscious effort.
Looking upward, Han Li saw the spatial rift that had spat him out now sealed to a hairline before vanishing completely. In that final instant, he noticed tendrils of black gas leaking through, dissolving seamlessly into the surrounding mist.
“Could this entire fog originate from that rift?” he wondered, scanning his surroundings to ascertain his location. Yet when his spiritual sense extended beyond three hundred feet, it recoiled as if repelled.
His brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing as a thought struck him. Bringing his palms together then apart, he produced a small spiritual herb glowing with green light. Tossing it into the mist, he watched as the plant withered instantaneously upon contact, crumbling to ash before touching the ground.
“Black Nether Mist!” Han Li inhaled sharply, recognizing his location—the very island in the Hidden Black Mountain Range where he’d first arrived in the Flying Spirit Tribe’s territory. This was the dreaded Black Nether Mist Sea he’d deliberately avoided before.
Recalling his initial tests, he remembered the mist’s extreme Yin energy and its ability to drain life force from plants. Back then, preoccupied with breaking through his bottleneck and wary of the mist’s dangers, he’d chosen not to explore further. Now, inexplicably transported here from the Netherworld River, he suspected a connection between the two realms—though this mist’s potency far exceeded even the Netherworld’s Yin energy, suggesting additional unknown elements.
Regardless, this was no place to linger. Han Li willed himself airborne, only for the mist to coil around him, dispersing his flight magic and dropping him back down.
“An anti-flight restriction,” he realized grimly. Now he understood why the Skywing Tribe avoided this place—for a race that worshipped the Kunpeng and relied on winged flight, such restrictions would cripple most of their abilities. Perhaps this, combined with the Netherworld River’s repulsive energy (possibly originating from the corpse of the mythical Luo Hou), explained their absence.
Though he’d once been a Skywing Saint, Han Li lacked deeper knowledge of their secrets. Grounded but undeterred, he relied on his formidable physical strength to stride swiftly through the mist, remaining vigilant for hidden dangers and traps as he marched resolutely toward what he hoped was safety.
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