Shi Hao’s entire demeanor had transformed, akin to a divine sword hidden in the abyss, now erupting with radiant light, exuding sharpness, revealing its formidable edge as it grew increasingly fierce. Yet, after surveying his surroundings, he let out a soft sigh. Despite his urgency, he couldn’t act recklessly now—after all, the whereabouts of the ancient demonic spider remained unknown. If he startled the enemy or let word slip, it would spell disaster. He was certain that revealing his true self would only scare off the great spider, given its lofty status. Instead, other powerful beings of similar caliber would emerge to suppress him. If that happened, the full might of the Little Pagoda would only be worth slaying one or two kings at most, far from eliminating something like the Black-Pupiled Emerald Spider. The cost would outweigh the gain.
He needed to bide his time. The Emperor’s grand birthday celebration would draw countless powerful figures, and all the key players would appear—it was the perfect opportunity. Alternatively, once matters here were settled, he could personally visit the Martial Prince’s residence and see for himself. In truth, as Shi Hao pondered further, he reconsidered how to maximize the Little Pagoda’s power for the most strategic use. Perhaps more than one Venerable would fall.
The battle at the North Sea had earned him more than one enemy. Certain formidable beings from the ancient divine mountains had surely marked him, and the Venerables of the sea were no pushovers either. Given the chance, he wouldn’t mind orchestrating something “grand.”
“After all these years, can I not endure this moment?” Shi Hao murmured, quickly regaining his composure. The recent acquisition of his ultimate trump card had briefly unsettled him, but now he was fully centered once more.
Turning back, he saw the tranquil emerald lake nearby, where multicolored luan birds danced gracefully, painting a scene of serenity. His heart, too, was now utterly clear.
The area was brimming with treasures—streams of auspicious light, dazzling divine radiance, and every manner of powerful artifact imaginable, a dazzling spectacle. Shi Hao wandered through the space, utterly captivated, broadening his knowledge of rare artifacts he had never encountered before.
“This bowl is also a treasure?” Shi Hao was genuinely astonished. Before him lay a crude, unglazed ceramic bowl, dull and unremarkable, yet labeled with an astronomical price. Worse still, it had a large chip on its rim, devoid of any aesthetic appeal. It was almost laughable.
“Young man, you must understand—the finest treasures often appear plain, close to nature. Let me show you its power,” chuckled an elderly man from the treasure shop. He muttered an incantation, activating the bowl. “Collect!”
Instantly, the lake rippled violently, its waters surging upward in a torrent, funneling into the bowl. Inside, the water churned like a vast ocean, exuding an intimidating aura. The spectacle drew gasps from the onlookers.
“Is that… the Heaven-Refining Bowl?!” someone exclaimed, sending a ripple of shock through the crowd. Expressions varied, but most were awestruck.
“Legend says this artifact can refine all things under heaven. Any strong cultivator trapped inside would be reduced to a pool of tainted blood,” another whispered in fearful admiration.
“Pity this is only a damaged replica. The true ancient artifact is lost to time,” lamented a bystander.
The Heaven-Refining Bowl, imitating the cosmos, could dissolve all material forms. Once ensnared, no amount of divine power could save the victim. In ancient times, multiple sages had crafted such treasures. The method wasn’t the secret—it was the materials. Each creation had caused a sensation, requiring rare ingredients like star sand and divine blood.
The most infamous Heaven-Refining Bowl had used the most extraordinary materials, capable of slaying even heavenly deities. It had ranked among the most terrifying artifacts, alongside treasures like the Qiankun Pouch.
“Though not made of divine materials, this replica is still a prized possession,” the old man said with a smile, tipping the bowl to return the water to the lake.
The commotion naturally drew more attention, with many prodigies inquiring about the price. Shi Hao, too, found the bowl intriguing and considered consulting the Little Pagoda for its worth. However, the crystalline pagoda, having absorbed the Dragonfang Dagger, now lay dormant, dim and lifeless in his hair as it repaired itself.
“Ah, I can use this instead,” Shi Hao realized, recalling another divine tool in his possession—one capable of piercing illusions.
Calmly, he observed the bidding from the sidelines before retrieving the eye of the Heaven-Born Divine Being. His ten heavenly passages could manifest in the void or within his body. Activating one, he channeled his essence into the eye, which glowed with an eerie radiance.
Carefully, he focused it on the bowl.
“This is no ordinary artifact,” he murmured. To the naked eye, the bowl seemed mundane, but through the divine eye, it shimmered with an inner light, particularly at its base, where energy surged like a divine furnace.
“Though a replica, it contains traces of divine material. If refined and combined with other rare ingredients, it might one day forge a true Heaven-Refining Bowl,” Shi Hao mused.
Regardless, the bowl was worth its exorbitant price.
Joining the bidding, Shi Hao offered five Blood Essence Pearls, relics from the North Sea, each the size of a human head and glowing with radiant light.
“Six pieces of Nether Iron,” countered a noble scion named Gu Lingyu, his tone icy as he glared at Shi Hao.
“Six Blood Essence Pearls,” Shi Hao retorted without hesitation.
“You… insolent fool!” Gu Lingyu spat before storming off.
Unfazed, Shi Hao secured the bowl, examining it with satisfaction. Even as a replica, it was a formidable treasure. He immersed himself in mastering its use, quickly grasping its mechanisms.
“This was worth every bit,” he concluded, pleased with its potential utility in the capital.
“Young man, aren’t you being too aggressive? First, you threw Liu Han and his men into the lake, and now you snatch treasures from others. Isn’t that excessive?” A woman approached, flanked by attendants—among them, Gu Lingyu.
“I won this fairly. What’s it to you?” Shi Hao replied coolly.
“We find your arrogance unbecoming. You’re unfamiliar in the capital—where do you hail from?” the woman demanded, her tone haughty.
“Answer Lady Gu’s question!” one of her followers barked.
Shi Hao recognized this as Gu Lingyu’s doing—likely his sister.
“Gu Linglong has returned!” someone exclaimed. Clearly, she was a prominent figure among the capital’s younger generation.
“Linglong, you’re back?” Several noble ladies, including the Sixteenth Princess and the Thunder Clan’s eldest daughter, approached with smiles.
Gu Linglong acknowledged them before her entourage sneered at Shi Hao, “Cat got your tongue? Lady Gu asked you a question.”
“Are you all insane?” Shi Hao shot back bluntly.
The crowd stiffened. Even Gu Linglong was taken aback—no one dared speak to her like this.
“You’ve crossed a line,” she warned.
“Nonsense,” Shi Hao scoffed.
Tension thickened as more onlookers gathered, including figures of immense power.
“What’s happening?” a newcomer asked the Sixteenth Princess, who treated him with deference.
Shi Hao smirked—this “youth” was no human, but a familiar face: the Flood Dragon he’d battled in Hundred Shattered Mountains and subdued in the Void God Realm, even harvesting its flesh for soup.
Without a word, Shi Hao exuded a faint aura.
The Flood Dragon shuddered, instinctively retreating. Though he didn’t recognize Shi Hao, the killing intent was unmistakable—this person had slain pure-blooded creatures!
“Don’t provoke him,” the Flood Dragon whispered urgently to the princess.
The crowd erupted in shock. Even Gu Linglong paled, stepping back.
“Sister?” Gu Lingyu gaped.
“Silence!” she snapped.
A hush fell. The noble ladies and their followers were stunned.
“Flood Dragon, who dares unsettle you so?” a mocking voice called from afar. Another pure-blooded creature had arrived.
Meanwhile, a drunken figure nearby slurred, “What right does Demon Spirit Lake have to meddle in my Martial Prince Manor’s affairs?”
It was a disciple of the manor, earlier lamenting the loss of their “Young Supreme,” now voicing discontent again.
“Your Martial Prince Manor lacks discipline. That so-called Great Demon God won’t live long—hold your tongues,” sneered a figure from Demon Spirit Lake.
“And you—some spider dares lecture others?” Shi Hao cut in coldly, his gaze piercing.
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