Starting as the heir of a marquis's mansion, I gained access to a summoning system.

The moment he obtained the Soul-Locking Bone, Dongfang Weiwo felt as if he had been swept into the deep sea by a giant wave.

It was something deeper than pain. It felt like a million needles piercing his palms, flowing backwards through his veins, nailing into his finger bones, wrist bones, arm bones, and collarbone, then down his spine, stringing together the nine basic bones, eight fragments, and half of his ankle bone. His body became a vessel for his skeleton, which trembled violently within him, emitting an ancient, muffled roar, like the earth turning over.

Dark golden light burst forth from his pores, illuminating the greyish-white ruins like the sea before sunrise. Lin Xiaoman was pushed back several steps by the light, and the greyish-white light bead on her shoulder shattered with a "crack".

"East!" she called out.

Lu Moshen's withered hand pressed down lightly, barely suppressing it by a few inches. He said in a deep voice, "Don't touch him. The fusion has begun, making you impervious to all magic. If you rush in now, you'll be devoured by his bone fire."

Wu Wudi gritted his teeth and stood up straight, his broken sword planted firmly on the ground: "How long will it take him?"

"It depends on him," said Lu Moshen. "He might come back in a moment, or he might not.

The grayish-white powder that had been falling from the crack between Yan Fei's brows had stopped; instead, streaks of crimson blood were seeping out. His hand gripping the sword trembled slightly, but his voice remained steady: "That thing has returned."

Deep within the sea of ​​fog, a gray-black phantom is taking shape.

It was more than ten times thicker than before. Wan Wujiu's aura had completely dissipated, replaced by a pure, desolate will devoid of any humanity. The phantom was no longer a human face, nor a beast. It resembled a massive skeleton, or a withered tree, its branches and twigs, each branch ending in a half-open eye. Wan Wujiu's five snow-white bone spikes were embedded at the bottom of the phantom, like five slender feet. Its entire body emanated a chilling cold that cut to the bone.

"A remnant of divine and demonic consciousness," said Lu Moshen. "It has completely abandoned its human form. This is its true form. It was like this when I broke Wan Wujiu's leg thirty years ago. I never imagined that after thirty years, it would be even stronger than then."

"It is this Void that has given it power," Chuan Ying said in a deep voice. "It says that all magic does not flourish here, but I see it thriving here."

"Because this was originally the burial ground of the youngest child of gods and demons, the place where the blood and bones of gods and demons are most concentrated," said Lu Moshen. "It has no body, only a soul. A soul without a body is not bound in the Ruins of Return. A miscalculation. I shouldn't have chosen this place back then."

"If I hadn't chosen this place, I would have found you much sooner."

The phantom spoke. The voice was no longer the indifferent ancient tone, but like countless people speaking simultaneously from different directions, men and women, old and young, finally converging into a torrent that poured into everyone's ears.

"Demon God Lü, you imprisoned me in the Soul-Locking Bone for thirty years, and then suppressed me with the Void for another thirty years. Now the Soul-Locking Bone is in that brat's hands, but the Void remains. A dilemma, isn't it?"

Lu Moshen did not answer. He hung his head, like a piece of withered wood about to burn out.

The phantom slowly approached, its five slender bony legs moving inching through the gray-white mist like a spider treading on water. All the half-open eyes turned to Dongfang Weiwo. At that moment, Dongfang Weiwo stood frozen in place, the dark golden light blurring his face, leaving only an outline. His body leaned slightly forward, as if enduring some kind of pull surging from the earth.

"The fusion is so slow," the phantom said. "I thought he could be faster. Mortal souls are just too fragile."

"You're not fast either," Wu Wudi suddenly said, brandishing his broken sword and charging forward. This strike used the last of his strength from his severely wounded body; the blade was extremely short, yet blindingly bright. The broken sword cleaved directly at the eye of the illusory figure.

The eye blinked. All five bony legs rose simultaneously, two blocking the broken blade, three thrusting out like spears. Wu Wudi only managed to dodge two; the third grazed his ribs, tearing off a large piece of flesh. He groaned and rolled to the ground, blood gushing from his ribs.

Chuan Ying and Yan Fei attacked simultaneously. A net of qi and sword light intertwined, enveloping the illusory figure. The figure didn't dodge, letting the attacks land on it; its branches scattered and then reformed, like cutting water with a knife. The scattered gray-black mist swirled in the air, then enveloped the two from both sides. Chuan Ying and Yan Fei stood back to back, unleashing both sword and saber qi, barely managing to withstand the attack.

"Yan Fei." A branch extended from the phantom, pointing towards Yan Fei's brow. The movement was slow, yet it seemed to have anticipated every inch of Yan Fei's sword trajectory. A flash of grayish-white light appeared at the tip of the branch, and the crack between Yan Fei's brows suddenly widened, splattering blood. He groaned and knelt on one knee, his sword planted in the ground, its blade vibrating and humming.

"Your sword strike embodies the threefold harmony of your primordial spirit, enough to grant you divine power. Unfortunately, you trusted others, but they didn't trust you. Your sword domain is impure. That's why I struck your brow, shattering your primordial spirit. Now, can you still draw your sword?" The illusory figure's voice held a chilling mockery.

Yan Fei knelt on the ground, head bowed. Blood flowed from between his brows into his eyes. He opened his right eye, gripped the hilt of his sword with his left hand, and slowly stood up.

"Yes," he said.

A sword flashed. This sword strike had no sword domain, no sword energy, no technique. It was simply a single sword strike.

In the illusory image, one eye was closed.

Swallow flew backward, sword slipped from his hand, and he crashed into the gray-white mist, his fate unknown.

"Swallow Fly!" Chuan Ying roared, clasping his hands together. A line of sword energy swept across three zhang (approximately 13 meters) and slashed towards the core of the illusory figure. The illusory figure leaped forward with its five feet, forming a gray-black barrier in front of it. The sword energy collided with it, producing a crisp sound like shattering glass, but it only split the barrier for a moment. Chuan Ying followed closely behind the sword energy, his palm blade piercing through the gap and pressing against the illusory figure's chest.

The illusory figure swayed slightly. Chuan Ying's palm strike carried the remnants of a sword domain, its edge slicing deep into the opponent's palm, scattering gray-black mist. But his entire right palm instantly turned grayish-white, as if drained of blood.

"A fine blade," the illusory figure said, "but lacking in sword intent. If you still had that thick-backed blade, you might be able to cut me down by thirty percent. Now... not even a single cut."

A bony foot was pulled out, sweeping Chuan Ying away. Chuan Ying tumbled several times in the air, and when he landed, he was already unsteady on his feet. His right palm was nothing but skin and bones, ashen and lifeless.

"Three now." The phantom turned its eyes to look at Demon God Lü, then at Lin Xiaoman. "Aren't you going to do anything? You'll just let these mortals shield you. Thirty years ago, you did the same thing. Your own guardians died for you, and you just stood by and watched."

Lin Xiaoman felt as if she had been stung by those words.

"Lin Xiaoman," Lu Moshen suddenly said. His voice was extremely soft, only she could hear it. "Come here."

Lin Xiaoman retreated to the side of the bone bed. Lu Moshen raised his lowered head slightly, and a dark golden flame flickered in his dry eye sockets.

Did you bring the map?

Lin Xiaoman nodded and took out a map from her bosom. Lu Moshen gestured for her to spread it on the couch. As soon as the map was unfolded, the Wanxing Domain section was already burning hot, with dotted lines moving like snakes, and the two characters "Bury Me" at the end were dripping blood-red.

"There are words on the back of this picture," said Lu Moshen. "They need to be smeared with the blood of the person guarding the picture before they can be revealed. Now smear them."

Lin Xiaoman pressed her left palm against the back of the map. Blood seeped out. After a moment, tiny characters emerged, like someone else's handwriting, older and more chaotic than Lu Moshen's. She read through them line by line, her eyes widening suddenly.

"This... was written by the original Primordial God-Demon before his death," she whispered. "He said that the core of the Myriad Star Domain is not the homeland of gods and demons. It is a prison. The god-demon race is guarding something. That thing is beneath the Ruins of Return. The death of the young child was not for burial, but for mending the prison. The fontanelle was broken by that thing. The god-demon used the young child's unformed celestial spirit to seal that hole again."

She looked up, her face ashen: "The map of Demon God Lü doesn't end in the Ruins. It ends in the Prison. You brought us in not to retrieve the ninth fragment, but to re-seal it."

"In these thirty years, the fontanelle of the infant god-demon has been stretched ever wider," said Lu Moshen, his voice so low it seemed to be squeezed from the depths of his throat. "I've been here for thirty years, using these hands to suppress it. But I'm about to die. This Soul-Locking Bone is the last bone that can be sealed. If the things in that prison were to come out, not only Tianwu, but also Tianxuan, Wanxing, and even the outer realms would all be wiped out. They call it 'Below the Ruins.' It has no name. Because everyone who has seen it is dead."

"Therefore, I must have Dongfang Weiwo fuse with the Soul-Locking Bone," he continued. "Only a complete divine and demonic skeleton can replace the infant's fontanelle. If he is possessed by the remnant consciousness, that remnant consciousness will not be sealed. The remnant consciousness is the deepest resentment of a god or demon before death; it only wants to destroy this prison and then take the god or demon's corpse far away. As for what will happen to this world, it doesn't care."

Lin Xiaoman felt a chill run through her body.

"Therefore, in this battle, if I, the only one from the East, win, the world will not be destroyed. If I lose, the prison will break, gods and demons will emerge, and all realms will return to nothingness," said Lu the Demon God.

The phantom suddenly burst into laughter. Thousands of eyes snapped open, and a massive, dark gray wave surged forth. It had clearly heard them.

"Well said," the phantom said. "That's exactly what I think. This prison should have been destroyed long ago. The gods and demons guarded it for countless eons, and what happened in the end? The entire race was wiped out, even their young children were used to fill holes. Why should I guard this world too? I only need to destroy this prison, and I will be free. What happens to the world is none of my business!"

It ignored Wu Wudi and the others, and with all five legs moving, it charged eastward towards Weiwo. All the eyes on the branches opened, and a rain of gray-black light swarmed down like locusts.

"It wants to seize the skeleton before the East wakes up!" Lu the Demon God roared.

Lin Xiaoman suddenly stood up and rushed to Dongfang Weiwo's side. She spread her arms, and blood gushed from her left palm, forming a thin, bluish-gold blood curtain in front of her. Grayish-black light rain struck it like hail hitting tiles, and cracks appeared everywhere in moments.

"Hold on!" Wu Wudi roared, struggling to his feet. Only the hilt of the broken sword remained attached to his hand. He stumbled toward the illusory figure, covered in blood, but his eyes shone with a terrifying light.

"You'll die if you charge in!" said Lu Moshen.

"I've never done anything to help the world in my life," Wu Wudi grinned, blood and foam squeezing from between his teeth. "I'll do it today. If I die, you take the knife for me."

He crashed into the phantom, exploding three drops of ancient divine and demonic marrow from his body.

Dark golden fire exploded from within the phantom. It was the marrow fire of burning divine and demonic blood; though there were only three drops, it shattered the phantom into pieces in an instant. Grayish-black mist, like torn silk, scattered in all directions.

Wu Wudi was blasted backward, his body charred black, his chest almost caved in. He landed on the ground, still in the stance of swinging his sword. The broken sword was stuck in front of him, the hilt finally slipping from his palm and rolling to Dongfang Weiwo's feet.

"Wu Wudi!" Chuan Ying struggled to crawl over and helped him up. Wu Wudi's eyelids twitched, and he let out a very soft "hmm" before falling silent again.

The phantom was not dead. The scattered gray-black mist quickly gathered together, but it was much thinner than before, and two of its five bone legs were missing.

"Three drops of marrow fluid...it hurts so much." The phantom's voice was hoarse. "But it's not enough. Now, what can you use to stop me?"

It charged again.

Lin Xiaoman bit her tongue, spitting the blood onto the blood-red curtain in front of her. The curtain solidified again, its bluish-gold light resembling amber. She knew she wouldn't last much longer.

Just then, the broken sword at Dongfang Weiwo's feet suddenly jumped up on its own.

No. It wasn't the broken sword that jumped on its own. The entire ground of Guixu was trembling slightly.

The dark golden beam of light shot into the sky from within Dongfang Weiwo, piercing through the gray-white mist and illuminating the entire space. He slowly raised his head, his eyes turning completely dark gold, like two deep wells forged through countless ages.

"I'll block you." He spoke, his voice like thunder, yet it wasn't his own. An ancient desolation and youthful coldness resounded simultaneously in the same word, like two souls vying for the same tongue.

He took a step forward.

His left foot landed. The entire Ruins of Return shook as if an earthquake had struck, the gray-white mist swirling and churning to both sides. For the first time, the god-demon unleashed the full power of his left leg's sky-stomping momentum.

The illusory image froze.

"You... have already merged?" For the first time, a hint of genuine fear appeared in its voice.

"No," Dongfang Weiwo said. This time, his voice was entirely his own. He raised his left hand, and the dark gold longsword reformed. What appeared on the sword was not only marrow fire, but also a faint, never-before-seen blood-red flame.

"But that's enough to deal with you."