Daqin Zhentiansi

The sea was boiling, and endless crimson filled the air.

On Yuntai Island, the immortal cultivators who had survived countless battles looked up.

At the location of the Guixu Sea Eye, sword energy emanated from the bodies of 100,000 sword cultivators, tearing the clouds apart.

"Boom——"

The boiling tide of demonic blood crashed back, leaving behind a desolate, crimson ocean.

On the rocks of Yuntai Island, the surviving cultivators of the immortal island slumped down, panting, and stared numbly in the direction of Penglai's main island.

There, the demonic flame barrier had transformed into an inverted blood bowl, isolating heaven and earth.

Master Xuanzhen staggered to the deck of the Zhenhai Ship, his tattered Taoist robe soaked in dark red. His withered hands gripped the ship's railing as he hissed, "My lord, the medicinal resources of Penglai are exhausted. This old man is willing to lead three thousand elite warriors in the remaining 'Crossing Calamity Shuttle' to charge into battle! Even if it costs us our lives, we will deliver the Spiritual Essence and Jade Heart to those behind us—"

Before he could finish speaking, Bai Qi's clone interrupted indifferently: "Even the rock of Fangzhang Island, carrying a sacred artifact like the 'Boundary-Stabilizing Seal,' was blocked outside the Storm Barrier. You think you can do that?"

His bloodshot eyes turned to Zhang Yuan, and the remaining demonic blood on the deck evaporated into a scarlet mist with his gaze: "This is the power of the 'Sea Burial Stele,' imitating the ancient method of besieging You Tian, ​​carrying the fourfold pressure of the Saint Realm, locking the soul in reincarnation, solidifying the world of creation, stagnating time in the air, and cutting off the aid of destiny."

"The one who wields this formation will briefly possess the power of destiny."

The Saint Realm level is above the Grandmaster level, where one controls the laws and is also divided into four realms.

The first level of the Sacred Realm: Reincarnation.

Reverse the laws of life and death, and glimpse past and present lives.

The second level of the Sacred Realm: Creation.

Creation from nothingness, turning stone into gold.

The third level of the sacred realm: Time.

Manipulate local spatiotemporal flow velocity.

The fourth level of the Saint Realm, also the peak of the Saint Realm, is destiny.

The Great Sage of Heavenly Mandate.

It is an existence capable of altering the trajectory of cause and effect, and capable of shattering the void and stars with a single blow.

At this moment, the extraterrestrial demons besieging Penglai Immortal Island are able to temporarily possess the power of the Heavenly Mandate Great Sage by using the power of the demonic treasure and the great formation.

Such power is so great that even if Lord Wu'an Bai Qi were only here as an avatar, he would be powerless to fight against it.

Seeing Zhang Yuan remain silent, Bai Qi tapped the void with his knuckles, creating ripples of law: "I am in charge of the Law of Slaughter. If you and I join forces to break its 'Time Stagnation' node, we may be able to tear open the Three-Breath Channel."

Bai Qi's words made Xuanzhen and the others gasp for breath.

This is the only chance!
The group looked up at Zhang Yuan, their eyes filled with anticipation.

Zhang Yuan suddenly raised his hand, his voice as calm as a still rock in deep water: "Why do I want to go to the island?"

There was dead silence.

Xuanzhen opened his mouth in astonishment.

Bai Qi's clone's expression faltered slightly at first, then erupted into a thunderous laugh that shook the heavens and the sea: "You attack yours, I'll attack mine. If I'm not mistaken, Zhang Qingyang, you intend to attack Fusang."

After he finished laughing, a sharp glint appeared in his blood-red eyes.

"It seems this old man of mine will have to go and experience the taste of 'being cut off by fate' on behalf of Marquis Qingyang..."

Fusang Island.

The demonic energy was as thick as ink, as if even the air itself had solidified into flowing, foul blood.

Chu Zhaonan had completely shed the sharpness of an elite disciple of the Nine Yang Sword Sect. His aura was tightly locked within his body by a secret technique, making him like an empty shell.

His muscular body was covered by tattered clothes, and his eyes were numb and empty, blending into a group of "sword slaves" whose clothes were also torn and who carried heavy ore.

The heavy iron chains rubbed against the flesh, leaving bloodstains, and an unidentified, foul-smelling, viscous liquid flowed on the ground beneath their feet.

Every step felt like trekking through a quagmire of hell.

Behind them, several other Nine Yang Sword Sect sword cultivators, equally adept at disguise, also had ashen faces and staggered steps, resembling true walking corpses.

They needed perfect disguise. Even when a sharp-witted demonic priest patrolled by, his cold gaze sweeping over this group of "expendables," he only sensed a desolate, deathly aura. The gloomy passageway resembled the esophagus of a giant beast, the scenes on both sides chilling, revealing the true nature of purgatory before one's eyes.

Huge, translucent fleshy membranes formed “magic-nurturing pools”, in which countless struggling and twisting figures were immersed.

Half-demons, human cultivators, and even powerful sea monsters were forcibly mixed and demonized by some forbidden power.

The blood-green liquid churned like a living thing, and eerie demonic patterns flickered eerily on the flesh membrane.

Bone tubes as thick as an arm pierced into the bodies of those poor "raw materials," and a ghastly green liquid was injected frantically.

Visibly, the muscles of those figures rapidly expanded, tore, and healed; bluish-black scales and keratin grew wildly from under the skin; and black smoke with a sulfurous smell spewed from their mouths and noses.

The painful roars were silenced by the fleshy membranes, leaving only meaningless whimpers and the creaking of deformed bones.

In the end, one by one, the demonic soldiers who only knew how to kill and whose eyes had become completely chaotic were expelled and thrown into the abyss pool next to them to "cool down and solidify".

The stench of rotting flesh mingled with the pungent, sweet-smelling scent of the potion, creating a nauseating, suffocating atmosphere so thick it almost turned into a miasma.

Chu Zhaonan's numb eyes held a chilling depth.

Like a silent recorder, he deeply imprinted every inch of this eerie production line and every evil fluctuation in his heart.

His fingers, hidden beneath the rag sleeve, clenched tightly, knuckles white and nails digging deep into his palms.

Meanwhile, on Fusang Island, another camp of demon soldiers was gathered.

The iron furnace spewed out dark red flames, the forging table clanged, and the air was filled with a heavy smell of blood and burnt metal.

Cai Xu, Ke Yicheng, and others wore crude, rusty demonic armor, with special medicinal mud deliberately applied under their faceplates to simulate the rough skin, new and old scars, and reflective scales unique to half-demons.

They all possessed half-demon bodies, and the aura they exuded here was a perfect imitation, blending seamlessly into the noisy demon army of porters, completely inconspicuous.

The heavy demonic bone material, stained with undried blood, pressed bloodstains onto their shoulders.

They carried the loads in silence, enduring the shoving and insults from the violent demon soldiers around them.

However, their eyes, sharp as hawks under the shadow of their lowered visors, silently surveyed the layout of the entire camp.

The subtle fluctuations in the distribution of the magic array nodes, the intervals and routes of the guards' patrols and shift changes, the varying strengths of the restrictions in the core area...

At the same time, the restless half-demon bloodline within them surged uneasily under the suppression of the secret medicine, ready to transform into explosive power that could tear through their disguise at any moment.

They were all sent by Marquis Qingyang to infiltrate Fusang.

Upon arriving at Fusang Island, they discovered that this once-famous fairy island in the boundless sea had now become a demonic island.

……

The procession of miners wound its way deeper into the region, passing through a much larger smelting area.

Countless ragged, expressionless cultivators and mortals were being driven to smelt ores and inscribe demonic runes. Any slight delay was met with merciless lashes from the overseer demonic cultivators, their skin torn and bleeding.

Their eyes were vacant, like tools stripped of their souls, their bodies mechanically carrying out the order to destroy their homeland.

A emaciated young cultivator, exhausted, knocked over some ore and was instantly surrounded and kicked by several demonic cultivators. He curled up on the ground, vomiting blood, but dared not utter a single cry of pain.

This sight sank Chu Zhaonan's heart even deeper.

Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the altar base ahead of the procession, a structure made of countless enormous, pale leg bones that stretched straight to the sky, radiating an evil aura that could freeze one's soul.

That was the goal of this trip, and also the root of the greatest despair.

After lying in wait for several days, they finally arrived at this place.

"Senior Brother Chu—"

The Sword Sect disciple behind Chu Zhaonan clenched his fist, and Chu Zhaonan raised his hand to press down on his arm.

"Wait."

Chu Zhaonan lowered his head.

...(End of chapter)