Chapter 494: Heroes’ Spirits

Five Nirvana Pools, representing five realms, coincidentally mirroring the five stages Shi Hao had cultivated. Now laid before him—was this meant to force him into rebirth?

Yet, he harbored no illusions of goodwill from his adversaries. Just as he felt nothing for Mount Immortal, they held no affection for him either.

“Ancestor Qin Wu… what is your intention?” Two elders stood at a distance with Qin Hao, their faces etched with uncertainty.

“Hao’er, go and test yourself against him. To let such a peerless youth go to waste would be a tragedy,” Qin Wu commanded, his gaze fixed upon the distant figure.

Qin Hao nodded and leapt forward. With a flick of his finger, Qin Wu transported him directly into the formation.

“Ancestor, Hao’er is still young,” a Revered One interjected urgently, though he left the rest unsaid—Qin Hao, at his age, was no match for the Little Stone.

“You underestimate the wonders of the Nirvana Pools. Whatever realm is inscribed upon the stone tablet is the realm one enters. Of course, there are other formations at play—an ancient battlefield, for instance,” Qin Wu replied indifferently.

“Ancestor, trapping him here—is this to temper Hao’er?” another Revered One asked, hesitant. “But if something befalls the Little Stone, it will be hard to explain. Ancestor Qin Si once said before ascending to the Upper Realm that he shares half our bloodline. We must not force him.”

“I am not forcing him. This is merely a fair trial. Besides, having grown up outside, he harbors deep resentment toward our clan. To let him flourish unchecked would be perilous!” Qin Wu declared.

The two Revered Ones paled. The Little Stone had slain two of Mount Immortal’s Revered Ones without hesitation—proof of his fury over the Qin Clan’s attempt to seize the Stone Kingdom’s imperial palace.

Moreover, as a born Supreme Being, if he were to perish young, it would be one thing. But if he matured and rose to power in the Great Wastelands, his achievements would be unimaginable!

“Everything I do is for the sake of Mount Immortal. If the Supreme Nirvana Plan requires him, then so be it—offer him to the Upper Realm. If not, he must remain under our control. We cannot let him roam free!” Qin Wu’s voice was icy, his words ruthless.

“Ancestor, what do you intend… to do with him?” pressed one Revered One.

“The future is uncertain. There is no need to rush to conclusions. No matter how posterity judges me, none can deny that all I do is for the Qin Clan’s benefit.” Qin Wu’s tone grew even colder, his implication clear.

The two Revered Ones shuddered. They knew this ancestor was no benevolent figure—once he made a decision, it would be merciless.

“He possesses the Kun Peng Art? Such a peerless treasure must fall into the Qin Clan’s hands!” Qin Wu declared resolutely.

“If we force him, given the Little Stone’s unyielding nature, he would sooner destroy it than surrender it,” a Revered One warned.

“Qin Zhan may be mad, but his ambition was sound—to seize such treasures. With my divine abilities, there are countless opportunities to claim it,” Qin Wu sneered.

“Hao’er has entered. Wait—what is that? Spectral entities are manifesting… is this the Battlefield of Heroes?” a Revered One exclaimed.

Qin Wu nodded. “I have laid out the Battlefield of Heroes, transplanted from another realm. This shall draw the Little Stone’s soul from his body, allowing the Nirvana Pools to replicate his techniques.”

“Will Hao’er be affected?” a Revered One fretted.

“No. They shall battle across dimensions!” Qin Wu answered.

Within the formation, Shi Hao shuddered as a chilling aura descended, as though the gates of hell had opened, unleashing endless demons.

“What is happening?” His heart tightened.

The space around him transformed—vegetation vanished, replaced by an endless, desolate battlefield thick with yin energy. One spectral figure after another materialized.

Some wore crowns—these were the strongest of the heroes, their battle intent unextinguished even in death, their thirst for combat eternal.

Amidst this, only the five Nirvana Pools radiated scorching yang energy, the sole refuge for cultivators.

“Mount Immortal, I warn you—do not provoke me further, or face the consequences!” Shi Hao’s voice boomed across the space.

He had come seeking his parents, humbling himself, venturing into danger, enduring repeated humiliations—all for a chance to see them.

Yet they remained unrestrained, forcing him into this inexplicable battlefield of spirits.

“A sword is honed through grinding. Every great cultivator must temper themselves in battle—only then can true rebirth be achieved,” Qin Wu’s voice echoed.

The message was clear: fight the spectral heroes, and the Nirvana Pools would serve their purpose.

“Fwoosh!”

A spectral figure, its body condensed from pure soul energy, appeared behind Shi Hao, swinging a silver-white bone blade downward.

“Clang!”

Shi Hao pivoted, forming a seal with one hand. The bone blade shattered, and from his palm erupted Vermilion Bird flames, reducing the spirit to ashes.

“Wail—!”

A piercing shriek tore through the air, ghastly and agonizing. The entire ancient battlefield erupted as countless spectral beings surged forth.

From the ground, the air, even the leaden clouds—spirits materialized, converging into a tempest of yin energy, charging madly toward Shi Hao.

Shi Hao tensed. Tens of thousands of spectral beings, each formidable, an endless tide—this was a dire crisis.

“Kill!”

He had no choice. The Four Strikes of the Vermilion Bird erupted, scarlet flames engulfing the sky, incinerating swathes of spirits into humanoid torches.

“Hum—!”

The void trembled. Shi Hao dodged as a rusted war spear pierced through space, its divine might overwhelming.

“Strong!” Shi Hao’s eyes narrowed. The spear struck the earth, cleaving a massive chasm.

Above, a silver spectral figure emerged, radiant as polished metal, distinct from the rest.

“A master,” Shi Hao murmured.

Then his expression changed—over twenty such silver figures appeared, blazing like silver suns. Though spectral, they exuded scorching heat.

A shrill, earsplitting cry erupted as a dozen silver spirits howled, like the wails of a hundred thousand vengeful ghosts. The heavens trembled, the earth split, yin mist roiled.

It was as if doomsday had come.

Simultaneously, the tens of thousands of yin spirits joined the chorus, forming a “domain”—a space woven from soul energy.

Within it, all was silver, terrifying beyond measure.

Shi Hao’s brow ached. His soul strained to leave his body, pulled by an unseen force toward that eerie silver realm.

“What is this?” Shi Hao’s eyes blazed—this was a battle unlike any he had faced.

Then, blood dripped from his brow. His formidable soul, condensed into a fist-sized figure ablaze with yang energy, was forcibly drawn out.

“No!” As the force tugged at him, he noticed the five Nirvana Pools boiling, strange Dao rhythms manifesting, seeking to imprint everything within this space.

“Return!” Shi Hao roared. His soul erupted with golden light, piercing the void. A thousand spirits perished instantly.

This was his soul’s ultimate strike, embodying his supreme Dao. In this moment, he wielded no treasure art—only a primal instinct, channeling the Primordial True Solution into a deceptively simple yet transcendent technique, harnessing pure soul force!

Like a celestial thunderbolt, it shook the void, its radiance annihilating all in its path.

The next instant, Shi Hao’s soul—shining like a miniature sun—strode back into his brow, returning to his body.

He sensed the peril—had he delayed, all his secrets would have been plundered, his soul laid bare.

“Such an astonishing soul! Defying reason, even the silver spirits and their spectral domain failed to capture him. The Little Stone is extraordinary—even in the Upper Realm, he would rise to prominence!” a Revered One gasped.

Qin Wu remained impassive, though inwardly shaken. Those silver spirits were mighty—how could their combined domain fail to subdue Shi Hao’s soul? It defied logic.

Shi Hao let out a battle cry, summoning a golden law sword—the Stone Clan’s national treasure. With a single slash, he split the spectral domain asunder.

“Boom!”

The silver realm exploded. Spirits perished in droves; even the silver entities were obliterated.

Fury burned in Shi Hao’s heart. Since entering Mount Immortal, he had endured provocation after provocation. Were it not for his parents’ unknown fate, he would have long since ceased to endure.

Now, only by slaughtering spirits with his golden sword could he vent his wrath.

“Boom!”

Suddenly, a pale golden spirit appeared, wielding a golden staff. With a swing, it unleashed endless soul flames laced with dense symbols.

A divine artifact!

And this spirit was formidable—its staff posed a genuine threat.

“Roar—!” Shi Hao charged forth fearlessly. With his cry, his blood energy surged like a true dragon, flooding the sky.

“Boom!”

Countless spirits detonated, incinerated alive by his overwhelming yang energy.

The golden spirit recoiled, staff raised defensively.

“This… is the Little Stone’s physical body? Such monstrous blood energy—unmatched in the Lower Realm for his age!”

“At fifteen, will Hao’er possess such vitality? It’s terrifying—unprecedented! With this alone, he could slay thousands of spirits!”

The two Revered Ones were awestruck. The more they witnessed, the more their scalps prickled.

Even Qin Wu, who stood above mortal concerns, was shaken. In his youth, he could not compare.

“Activate the Demon-Summoning Array! Harvest his battle intent—let Hao’er temper himself against it!” Qin Wu commanded.

With a wave of his hands, he activated another ancient formation, diverting Shi Hao’s battle will into a separate space.

Qin Hao appeared, clad in resplendent silver armor, a divine spear leveled at Shi Hao’s brow. He launched his most lethal strike.

Shi Hao felt his battle intent siphoned away, funneled into the formation to clash with another.

His brow blazed as his spiritual senses peaked. He perceived the truth—his younger brother was the opponent.

“Boom!”

An inexplicable force linked the two youths. Shi Hao realized his battle will and power were being mirrored, creating a duplicate to spar with Qin Hao.

“Little brother, so eager to fight me?” Shi Hao’s voice was icy.

Then, he raised his head and roared at the heavens: “Mount Immortal! Qin Wu! You push me too far! Beware—these mountains may crumble, this land reduced to ruin!”

For reasons unknown, Qin Wu and the two Revered Ones shuddered—his cry had shaken their very souls.

Elsewhere, within another formation, Shi Ziling’s hair billowed as his eyes gleamed. “I sense them—both our sons are here.”

Locating the spatial coordinates, he took a dimly glowing dagger from his wife and slashed. The artifact’s symbols flared, slicing through space itself.

A fissure split the Battlefield of Heroes. The couple glimpsed their two sons locked in combat.

“That is—!” Their hearts quaked.

“Roar—!” Shi Hao howled, his hair wild. “Mount Immortal! You go too far! Forcing brothers to spill each other’s blood! Today, I shall show you—my grandfather, the Great Demon God, shall not be insulted! My parents shall not be wronged! I shall not be suppressed! I will overturn this accursed mountain!”