The witch left without revealing anything more, but her words left Shi Hao deeply unsettled for a long time. These revelations were too shocking. Great Evils, descendants of Sinful Blood, other powerful beings who had fallen into the Desolate Domain, igniting divine flames, true deities… These key phrases swirled endlessly in his mind, lingering stubbornly.
The outer area of Greenwood Garden was vast, filled with numerous bronze war chariots. As Shi Hao passed by, he spotted Liu Han and his group. Recalling how they had sought to deal with him, he casually waved and said, “I’ll borrow this chariot again. You can retrieve it later at the Tiger Gate Inn.” His tone was nonchalant, but the group’s faces darkened, their spirits wilting like frostbitten eggplants. How unlucky—they had encountered this scourge yet again. By now, they had lost all defiance, their pride and dignity as scions of noble houses utterly subdued. This was the same person who dared to suppress even the disciples of the Demon Spirit Lake and openly defied Shi Zi Teng. Compared to him, they were far inferior, unable to rival pure-blooded beings. Now, just seeing this youth again sent shivers down their spines. They stood frozen as he approached and boarded the bronze chariot.
“Bully others less in the future. Don’t think that just because you’re descendants of nobles, you can act arrogantly and stir trouble everywhere. Otherwise, next time, I’ll toss you straight into the Evolution Heaven Bowl and let you have a chat with that little spider,” Shi Hao declared before driving the chariot away, leaving behind a group seething with resentment but powerless to retaliate.
“Oho, Liu Han, you’re quite something! You’ve even forged connections with someone from the Supreme Hall, lending out your bronze chariot?” someone mocked.
“Piss off!” Liu Han roared, his fury exploding as the crowd turned to whisper and snicker. Many who knew the truth chuckled darkly.
The Tiger Gate Inn, located in the bustling heart of the imperial capital, boasted lavish gardens and was considered a luxurious retreat. Shi Hao’s residence was a secluded, private courtyard—naturally expensive—with artificial mountains, fountains, and elegant bridges over flowing streams. He left the bronze chariot outside the inn, but the moment he returned, he sensed something amiss. He was being watched. The retaliation had come swiftly, tightening his focus.
Yet, he felt no fear. In this imperial capital, he wasn’t afraid of small troubles—he feared they wouldn’t be big enough. His arrival in the Stone Nation’s capital was meant to be a grand declaration, a way to tell his kin he was still alive. The best timing would have been during the Stone Emperor’s grand birthday celebration, where he could wipe out all his enemies in one fell swoop. But plans often changed.
Thin mist rose, enveloping the courtyard as several formation banners glowed, sealing the area in eerie silence.
“Skulking in the shadows, are we?” Shi Hao stood unfazed in the courtyard, his gaze sharp.
“Young man, you’ve got spirit and courage. But usually, such people don’t live long—they die from recklessness and stupidity!” A middle-aged scholar stepped down from a stone arch bridge, snapping open a folding fan with practiced elegance.
“Are you from the Martial Prince’s estate, a lackey of the Demon Spirit Lake, or some other faction?” Shi Hao asked.
“Mind your tone,” the scholar replied coldly, his refined blue robes contrasting with his icy eyes.
“You want to kill me, yet demand politeness? You’re sick—get treatment.” Shi Hao’s retort was sharp as the black metal figurine in his sleeve materialized in his grip.
“You’re beyond arrogant. I admit your talent is extraordinary, enough to shake the heavens. But understand this—not all geniuses live to grow. Even if your background is special, I’ll strangle you in your youth, denying you the chance to rise. Your potential means nothing!” The scholar’s voice was venomous, his intent clear—he would kill Shi Hao without fear of future consequences. Confident in his superior cultivation, he saw no need to rush, relishing the chance to humiliate his foe.
“Delusional. Come die if you wish.” Shi Hao’s disdain was palpable.
The scholar’s rage flared. A renowned expert in the capital, acting on behalf of the Martial Prince’s estate, he couldn’t tolerate being belittled by a mere youth.
“Seeking death!” he snarled, spewing divine flames from his mouth that instantly engulfed half the courtyard in scorching heat.
Shi Hao was startled—this refined scholar fought like a savage dragon, his demeanor clashing with his fiery assault. He dodged swiftly, knowing the flames could reduce flesh to ashes.
This was a master of the Engraving Realm, a full major realm above Shi Hao. At this level, one could carve runes into bones and divine caves, severing the shackles of order to begin weaving their own path of dao. It was a realm where humans truly started forging their own way, no longer merely mimicking the runes of beasts and birds.
The flames missed Shi Hao but reduced a fake mountain to molten rock, dried up the fountain, and left half the courtyard charred. This was the Dao Flame of the Engraving Realm, a fearsome power that could suppress lower-realm cultivators effortlessly.
But Shi Hao was no ordinary opponent. A breaker of limits, even without his Indestructible Golden Body, he could challenge those newly stepped into the Engraving Realm.
“Do you often use these flames for cooking? Not bad—you’d make a decent chef,” he taunted.
The scholar’s face darkened further. Proud of his scholarly refinement, this mockery was unbearable.
With a roar, he unleashed another wave of flames, his body glowing as runes coiled around him. He soared, wreathed in blazing radiance, intent on crushing Shi Hao.
This time, Shi Hao didn’t evade. He opened all ten of his divine caves, some housing manifestations of the Kun Peng, Suan Ni, Mystic Tortoise, and humanoid spirits, while others held shifting weapons—bells, pagodas, cauldrons—materializing and dispersing at will.
The ten caves devoured the scholar’s flames, absorbing boundless energy like bottomless pits. The scholar paled—ten divine caves? This was… unprecedented!
“Break!” The scholar focused, pouring more power into his flames, trying to burst Shi Hao’s caves. But ten caves were beyond ordinary suppression. Shi Hao siphoned the energy harmlessly.
Frustrated, the scholar brandished his fan, unleashing four-colored light that rumbled like heavenly thunder, a crushing force meant to obliterate Shi Hao.
This was the Four Symbols Fan, a relic of ancient fame, though its modern replica paled in comparison. Still, it was formidable for an Engraving Realm expert.
Shi Hao felt the pressure but remained unshaken. His eyes gleamed gold as a Kun Peng emerged from one cave, wings spread, striking forth.
The attack scattered the four-colored light, mangling the scholar’s side and shattering his fan.
“What kind of technique is this?!” the scholar gasped. A single strike from an Engraving Realm expert had been overpowered by a youth in the Transformation Realm—this defied reason!
Having tested the Kun Peng’s might, Shi Hao resolved to silence all witnesses. His senses sharpened—there were others hiding.
With a metallic clang, the black figurine merged into his body, his aura surging as he fused with the Indestructible Golden Body.
A flash of steel, and the scholar’s head flew, his expression frozen in disbelief. The hidden assassins screamed, trapped by Shi Hao’s ten caves.
One by one, their heads fell.
After looting their belongings, Shi Hao confirmed their origins—some from the Martial Prince’s estate, one from the Rain Clan.
“I haven’t even started, and you’re already losing control?” he mused.
He summoned the inn’s staff, packing the heads into ornate gift boxes for delivery—four to the Martial Prince’s estate, one to the Rain Prince’s estate.
“Want a fight? Fine. I’ll visit you personally today,” Shi Hao vowed.
When the Martial Prince’s estate received the boxes, their contents turned stomachs. Shi Zi Teng shattered a stone table in fury—this was a slap to the face!
And where was the Rain Clan’s man? What had befallen him?
The provocation was brazen. The game had only just begun.
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