Chapter 209: The Radiance of the Divine Artifact (3)

Dao said, could that Primordial Flame actually be another form of light force? Could Yang Hao really have undergone yet another illumination?

In fact, Yang Hao’s thoughts weren’t without merit. Experiencing three light illuminations and three dark ones wasn’t something simple. Ordinary people could hardly encounter even half such an opportunity in their entire lives, and even if they did, they likely wouldn’t survive it. It was precisely because of this that the people of the Divine Realm had always been unable to find anyone suitable to carry out their tasks.

Yet Yang Hao’s luck was truly extraordinary. He had managed to obtain the Primordial Flame, a divine treasure that was practically impossible to appear. Coupled with the sword-forging ceremony presided over by Amanda, a significant amount of the Primordial Flame’s energy was released, completing this illumination of light.

However, without that final assistance, Yang Hao probably would have been burned to death by the Primordial Flame.

Now, the mysteriously appearing object was floating around Yang Hao. More precisely, it was circling his neck, dangerously close to severing it with a single swipe.

Yet Yang Hao showed no concern at all, instead watching it with great interest. The object was crescent-shaped, its convex and concave surfaces both razor-sharp. It was impossible to determine what material it was forged from—it was black with a faint golden sheen, and its edge shimmered with a blue glow. Most importantly, there were intricate patterns across the curved blade, seemingly inscribed by gods themselves, faintly radiating the aura of a divine artifact.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this was undoubtedly a divine treasure.

What was a divine treasure? It was something that should not have existed in this world. True divine treasures were crafted by high-ranking deities or Golden Immortals and then cultivated over long periods. In the mortal world, there were fewer than twenty such treasures in total, most of which were in the hands of the greatest experts of the age.

The few swords Yang Hao had seized from the Ten Sword Sects, capable of sealing divine beings, were certainly divine treasures. However, since Yang Hao couldn’t control them, they were no different from ordinary swords.

But this blade before him was different—it was his Soul-Imprinted Weapon.

A Soul-Imprinted Weapon was unlike the previous flying swords. Flying swords were linked to a cultivator’s temperament, allowing for a connection that enabled the wielder to command them at will. But a Soul-Imprinted Weapon was imprinted into the cultivator’s very soul. From the moment of its forging, it merged with the cultivator, making it even more controllable—able to vanish when desired and reappear when needed. More importantly, since it was a part of the cultivator’s soul, it could never be stolen or used by anyone else.

That was why the blade had passed through Yang Hao’s Yuan Ying earlier without causing him the slightest harm, actually helping him escape the range of the Primordial Flame’s deadly effects.

Having a divine treasure become his Soul-Imprinted Weapon made this dangerous ordeal more than worthwhile. Even the combined power of his previous flying swords couldn’t compare to this divine treasure.

“Shadow Moon!” Yang Hao quickly named the divine treasure. At his thought, the blade’s surface suddenly flared with intense flames like the Primordial Flame, then abruptly transformed into pure blue ice crystals.

It turned out that while forging several of his flying swords into this treasure, it had absorbed their elemental properties. This unexpected discovery made Yang Hao even more delighted.

Shadow Moon gently skimmed along Yang Hao’s body before finally vanishing completely into the air.

Unquestionably, the invisibility attribute had also been inherited.

With such a Soul-Imprinted divine weapon, Yang Hao would no longer be at a disadvantage in any future battle. Whether facing the top hundred warriors or even those ranked in the top fifty, he would be more than capable of holding his ground.

Combined with the effects of the sword core and the Yuan Ying stage enhancement, Yang Hao felt that his plans for revenge, and even the task he had promised the divine race, were no longer difficult to achieve.

He lifted his head, gazing at the clear blue sky, his heart equally bright and untroubled—even as the massive sword-forging furnace, along with the Primordial Flame, slowly crumbled into dust.

At this moment, Yang Hao truly felt a bit like an unrivaled supreme warrior.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightfall.

The most secret conference chamber of the Three Crystal Seas was located one kilometer beneath the surface of the system’s main planet. Built over the course of an entire year by Steve and his seven master technicians, this chamber had become an almost indestructible fortress. Steve was confident that even if the entire Three Crystal Seas star system were destroyed, this chamber would survive, drifting through space as a small satellite.

Such extensive precautions were absolutely necessary—even if they remained unused for centuries, they had meaning simply for this one night.

Dao said, “So the Primordial Fire is yet another form of the power of light? And Yang Hao actually underwent another baptism?”

Indeed, Yang Hao’s reasoning wasn’t unfounded. Experiencing three baptisms of light and three baptisms of darkness was no simple feat—ordinary people might never encounter even half of one in their entire lives, and even if they did, they likely wouldn’t survive it. This was precisely why the divine realm had struggled to find someone capable of carrying out their tasks.

But Yang Hao’s luck was simply too extraordinary. The Primordial Fire, a divine artifact that should have been nearly impossible to obtain, had fallen into his hands. Moreover, with Amanda presiding over the sword-forging ceremony, much of the Primordial Fire’s energy had been released, allowing him to complete this baptism of light.

However, without that final intervention, Yang Hao would have undoubtedly been reduced to ashes by the Primordial Fire.

Now, that mysteriously appearing object floated around Yang Hao—more precisely, it circled his neck, its razor-sharp edge seemingly poised to sever his head with a single stroke.

Yet Yang Hao showed no concern. Instead, he observed it with keen interest. The object was crescent-shaped, with both its convex and concave edges honed to a deadly sharpness. Its material was unidentifiable—black with faint golden hues, its blade shimmering with blue light. Most strikingly, intricate patterns adorned its surface, as if inscribed by divine hands, faintly radiating the aura of a sacred artifact.

If he wasn’t mistaken, this was undoubtedly a true divine weapon.

What was a divine weapon? It was something that shouldn’t exist in this world. True divine weapons were forged and refined over time by high-ranking deities or Golden Immortals. In the mortal world, fewer than twenty such weapons existed, most of which were in the hands of the world’s most formidable warriors.

The swords Yang Hao had seized from the Ten Sword Sect, capable of sealing divine beings, certainly qualified as divine weapons. However, since Yang Hao couldn’t control them, they were no different from ordinary blades in his hands.

But this one was different—it was his soul-bound weapon.

A soul-bound weapon differed from the flying swords of the past. Flying swords were linked to a cultivator’s will, allowing them to be controlled with ease. A soul-bound weapon, however, was imprinted into the cultivator’s very soul. From the moment of its forging, it became one with the wielder, appearing and vanishing at will. More importantly, as an extension of the cultivator’s soul, it couldn’t be stolen—even if taken, no one else could wield it.

Thus, when this blade had pierced through Yang Hao’s nascent soul earlier, it hadn’t harmed him. Instead, it had helped him escape the destructive reach of the Primordial Fire.

To have a divine weapon as his soul-bound weapon—Yang Hao’s ordeal had been more than worth it. Even if all his previous flying swords were combined, they couldn’t compare to this.

“Shadowmoon!” Yang Hao swiftly named the divine weapon. At his thought, flames as intense as the Primordial Fire flickered across its surface before transforming into pure blue ice crystals.

It turned out that this divine weapon had absorbed the attributes of the swords it had melted down. This unexpected discovery filled Yang Hao with even greater delight.

Shadowmoon glided slowly along Yang Hao’s body before vanishing completely into the air.

Undoubtedly, the ability to turn invisible had been inherited as well.

With such a soul-bound divine weapon, Yang Hao would never again be at a disadvantage in battle. Even if he faced warriors ranked among the top fifty, they would struggle to overpower him.

Combined with the effects of his Sword Core and the enhancement of his nascent soul realm, Yang Hao felt that his plans for vengeance—and even the task entrusted to him by the divine realm—were no longer insurmountable.

He raised his head, gazing at the azure sky, his heart equally clear. Even as the massive forging furnace and the Primordial Fire within it crumbled into dust, he remained unmoved.

For the first time, Yang Hao truly felt like a peerless powerhouse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nightfall.

The most secretive council chamber of the Three Crystal Seas lay a kilometer beneath the surface of its central planet. It had taken Steven and his seven master craftsmen a full year to construct this nearly indestructible fortress. Steven was confident that even if the entire Three Crystal Seas system were annihilated, this chamber would survive, drifting through the cosmos as a tiny satellite.

Such precautions were necessary. Even if it remained unused for centuries, its existence was justified for this single night.

Tonight marked the first full assembly of the Anti-Empire Alliance. The ruling leaders of over a hundred star systems sat solemnly in the chamber’s silver chairs. The walls, forged from pure silver, shimmered with pale blue flames—a barrier capable of shielding them from the Senate’s surveillance.

In the history of the Empire, never had so many rebel leaders gathered in one place. This was the most concentrated gathering of anti-Empire forces in decades. Had the Empire detected it and successfully assassinated those present, the alliance might have been wiped out in a single night.

But that was impossible. The Anti-Empire Alliance had grown into an undeniable force, teeming with warriors and assassins. Their defenses were no weaker than those of the Imperial Palace itself.

When Yang Hao entered the chamber, every leader’s gaze instantly locked onto him. Most had never seen him before, and many now doubted their own eyes.

Anyone who saw Yang Hao would question how someone so young could have repeatedly challenged and defeated the Empire’s strongest, led a battleship to victory in the Twin Suns War, and earned the favor of the divine realm.

Since returning from the divine realm, Yang Hao carried himself differently—no longer the immature, whimsical youth, but a leader exuding quiet authority. His steps and gaze bore the weight of one who had stared death in the face.

Tonight, he wore a deep-blue, form-fitting swordsman’s uniform adorned with intricate golden patterns—a garment reserved in the Galactic Empire only for those who had proven their combat prowess. Though Yang Hao’s strength had surpassed the swordsman rank, entering the realm of grandmasters, he saw no need to flaunt it.

Over the uniform, he wore a gray-black robe with a stiff, upright collar framing his slender, slightly pale face. On the robe’s left breast was a peculiar symbol resembling an ancient talisman—the emblem of the Alchemy-Sword Dual Cultivation Sect, which Yang Hao had adopted as the new insignia of the Hao Sword Corps, signaling the sect’s resurgence in this world.

As Yang Hao entered with Long Yun and Maya, Steven, despite his disdain, had no choice but to rise. In an instant, every leader stood and applauded.

Even if Yang Hao’s position as leader was nominal—unable to command even a single army—his safe return from the divine realm and his repeated victories against Imperial forces were undeniable. In recent decades, the Anti-Empire Alliance had never achieved so many significant triumphs in such a short span.

Moreover, Yang Hao now held control over the crucial star systems of Remon and the Sacred Bear, vital supply bases for resources and warriors.

Thus, even Steven had to bow—for now—yielding the central seat of the alliance leader to Yang Hao. Watching Yang Hao sit without hesitation, Steven seethed inwardly, wondering how long he would last.

Yang Hao’s gaze, sharp as a blade, pierced Steven’s face, sending a chill down the Three Crystal Seas ruler’s spine. Though Steven was a skilled martial artist in his own right, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Yang Hao could see through his thoughts.

And Yang Hao could—though not indefinitely. In the divine realm, he had ingested the Dragon Breath Pill, refined by Hunyuanzi at the cost of nearly his own life, drastically enhancing his spiritual power. While not on par with a dragon’s, it far surpassed that of ordinary humans. Even against a master like Steven, Yang Hao could glean fragments of his thoughts.

“Such a grand assembly must be a rare sight in decades,” Yang Hao suddenly grinned, his old playful self resurfacing. “Steven, are you holding a talent show?”

Soft laughter rippled through the chamber. Rumors of Steven’s preferences had spread through the alliance, and several male politicians subtly crossed their legs, wary of catching his eye.

Steven, however, remained unruffled, smiling faintly. “Shall we begin, Leader Yang?”

“Let’s begin.” Yang Hao nodded, leaning back into the silver chair. The gemstones embedded in it did little to elevate his status—if anything, they felt excessive.

This was Yang Hao’s view of power. Yet after recent discussions with Hunyuanzi and Long Yun, he had come to accept that leadership and authority were now necessities—without them, he could neither fulfill his mission nor protect those who followed him.

So Yang Hao had grown colder, shedding his former lightheartedness, standing before these politicians like unyielding ice.

“First, some good news,” Steven announced, rising. “According to our intelligence, the Obsidian Assassins remain stationed at the comet source on the Three Crystal Seas’ eastern front—no signs of movement.”

In the history of the Empire, there had probably never been a gathering of so many rebel leaders. This was the most concentrated assembly of anti-Empire forces in decades. If the Empire had discovered this meeting and successfully deployed assassins, the Alliance might have been wiped out in a single night.

But clearly, that was impossible. The Anti-Empire Alliance had grown into a force that could no longer be ignored. Its numbers of warriors and assassins were vast, and their security measures were no worse than those of the Imperial Palace.

As Yang Hao entered the chamber, all the leaders’ gazes instantly turned toward him. Most of them had never seen him before, and they were clearly doubting their own eyes.

Anyone who saw Yang Hao would have the same reaction—continuously challenging and defeating the Empire’s strongest warriors, leading a battleship to victory in the Dual Sun War, and even earning the favor of the divine race—yet he was so young.

Since returning from the Divine Realm, Yang Hao had changed completely. He was no longer the somewhat immature and eccentric young man he once was. Now, he carried an air of leadership, his steps and gaze filled with the calmness born of countless brushes with death.

Tonight, Yang Hao wore a deep blue, form-fitting swordsman’s outfit with intricate golden patterns—an attire reserved only for officially recognized swordsmen in the Galactic Empire. Though Yang Hao had long surpassed the swordsman rank and entered the Grand Swordsman level, there was no need to display it outwardly.

Over his outfit was a gray-black long robe with a stiff collar that framed his thin, slightly pale face. Easily noticeable on the left chest of his robe was a strange symbol, somewhat resembling an ancient talisman. It was the former insignia of the Alchemical and Dual Cultivation Sect, which Yang Hao had now adopted as the new emblem of the Hao Sword Corps, signaling the sect’s full return to this world.

Seeing Yang Hao enter with Long Yun and Maya, Steve—however much he despised him—had no choice but to stand. In an instant, all the star system leaders rose and began applauding Yang Hao.

Although Yang Hao’s leadership was nominal and he technically commanded no armies, the fact remained that he had returned safely from the Divine Realm, and had repeatedly defeated the Imperial Army. In fact, in the past few decades, the Anti-Empire Alliance had never achieved so many significant victories as it had in the past six months.

Moreover, Yang Hao actually controlled the important star systems of Raymon and Saint Bear, serving as crucial resource and warrior supply bases—forces that could not be ignored.

Therefore, even Steve had to temporarily bow his head and relinquish the central seat in the chamber, the position representing the Alliance’s supreme leadership. Watching Yang Hao sit down without hesitation, Steve inwardly fumed, wondering how long he could remain seated there.

Yang Hao’s gaze pierced through Steve’s face like a blade, causing the governor of the Three Crystal Seas to shiver involuntarily. Though Steve was a politician, he was also a high-level martial artist. He felt as if Yang Hao could see straight into his thoughts, making him uneasy inside.

In truth, Yang Hao could indeed perceive his thoughts, although the ability wasn’t long-lasting. In the Divine Realm, Yang Hao had swallowed the Dragon Essence Pill that Hun Yuanzi had sacrificed his life to obtain, dramatically enhancing his spiritual power. Although his spiritual strength couldn’t rival that of the dragons, it far surpassed that of ordinary humans. Against someone like Steve, while Yang Hao couldn’t control him directly, he could easily detect a few fleeting thoughts.

“This is such a grand meeting—it might not happen again for decades,” Yang Hao suddenly smiled his old smile. “Mr. Steve, I hope this isn’t some kind of beauty contest!”

A low chuckle rippled through the room. Steve’s preference for male beauty was already widely known within the Alliance. Some male politicians who considered themselves attractive instinctively tensed up, fearing they might catch Steve’s eye.

Steve didn’t seem offended. Instead, he smiled and said, “Then let’s begin, Leader.”

“Let’s begin,” Yang Hao nodded, leaning back against the pure silver chair. The embedded gems couldn’t better highlight his status—they only felt cumbersome.

This was also Yang Hao’s view on power. But recently, he had studied the situation with Hun Yuanzi, Long Yun, and others. They all believed that Yang Hao now had to become a leader and possess authority. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to complete his mission or protect those who followed him.

So Yang Hao had become colder, abandoning his previous lightheartedness, becoming icy and unyielding before these politicians.

“First, I have some good news to share with everyone,” Steve stood up and announced loudly. “According to our intelligence, the Mournshade Assassination Squad remains stationed at the comet source on the eastern front of the Three Crystal Seas, showing no signs of movement.”