Darkblood Battleaxe

"You!"

The Third Patriarch's gaze locked onto the dazed quasi-saint again. "Yes, you, boy. Your cultivation has risen a bit, but your courage hasn't grown at all. That door ahead has a strange aura. Go, cautiously investigate it."

"Hurry up! What's the dawdling for? Haven't you eaten? The eyes of that stone statue ahead seem to be moving. Go, touch it for me and see if there's any mechanism!"

Xue Wuhen's face was deathly pale, his whole body trembling as he looked at the ancient stone statue before him—towering a hundred zhang tall, its features blurred yet exuding a soul-freezing, terrifying presence. His teeth chattered.

"P-Patriarch, that statue's aura is too horrifying..." Xue Wuhen's voice carried a sob.

"Less nonsense!" The Third Patriarch's eyes widened, and an invisible pressure nearly caused Xue Wuhen to collapse to the ground.

"I'm right here watching—what are you afraid of, you damned fool! Get a move on! If you finish touching it, there might be a treasure. I'm in a good mood, so I'll share one with you!"

Xue Wuhen felt like crying but had no tears. He could only steel himself and inch forward step by step toward the stone statue.

Gritting his teeth, he painfully shuffled toward the statue standing beside the heavy stone door at the end of the corridor—a door emitting ominous fluctuations.

The Third Patriarch did not let his guard down. As a Sage King, his aura subtly enveloped the surroundings, on alert for any sudden changes. This ancient tomb teemed with deadly traps at every turn, forcing him to remain cautious.

His mind raced with deductions: "The layout here mirrors the constellations of the heavens, yet it inverts yin and yang—this is no ordinary handiwork!"

Just as the quasi-saint's trembling hand was about to touch the stone statue, a sudden change occurred!

The stone statue burst into a sinister red glow. A violent, icy will—as solid as matter—rushed out, striking straight at the quasi-saint's soul!

"Hmph! How dare a pack of petty demons and monsters act recklessly!"

The Third Patriarch was already prepared. With a cold snort, he pointed a finger across the void.

A sharp, condensed strand of holy power shot out faster than the eye could follow, precisely severing the malevolent will—like boiling water onto snow, instantly dissolving it into nothing.

The red light on the statue flickered violently a few times before reluctantly fading.

Even so, the brief leakage of that aura made the remaining disciples of the Glazed Sacred Land feel as if they had fallen into an icy abyss, trembling uncontrollably.

The quasi-saint collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, drenched in cold sweat. In that split second, he had truly experienced the terror of his soul teetering on the brink of destruction.

The Third Patriarch glanced at the panicked, trembling Xue Wuhen and paid him no further heed.

His attention was now fully drawn to the ancient stone door before him. Its aura was archaic and somehow gave him an unusual, unsettling sensation.

When the stone statue had suddenly stirred and he shattered it with a single finger, he keenly sensed that in that moment of impact, an extremely subtle—barely detectable—ripple of energy had emerged from the ancient restrictions on the door.

He took a deep breath. The holy energy within him flowed slowly, growing denser and more restrained, like a primordial beast ready to strike.

He approached the stone door step by step, each footfall seeming to harmonize with the pulse of the earth. He carefully sensed every subtle shift in the space before the door.

The surviving disciples of the Glazed Sacred Land, including the recently recovered Xue Wuhen, held their breath and watched the Third Patriarch's back with tension.

The Third Patriarch stopped three feet away from the stone door, not rashly touching it.

His eyes swirled with mysterious runes, meticulously scanning every carving mark and wisp of energy flow on the door and its surroundings.

"As I thought, the restrictions seem seamless and eternal, but time is merciless. At its core junction, there's already an extremely subtle stagnation and crack. The impact of that evil will from the statue earlier was just the last straw—this flaw is now even more apparent..."

He sneered inwardly, a sharp glint flashing in his eyes. "The flaw has appeared. Let's open this damn thing!"

Without further hesitation, the Third Patriarch let out a low shout and slowly pushed his right palm forward.

From his palm surged a gentle yet indestructible force, infused with his profound understanding of space and restrictions—the power of the Sage King's law!

This power flowed like water, precisely penetrating the inherent cracks in the restriction he had detected.

"Buzz—!"

The stone door trembled violently. The runes on its surface flickered wildly, and the entire corridor let out a deep rumble, as if resisting.

The Third Patriarch's face turned grave. He modulated the force in his palm, prying and breaking apart the restriction with great effort.

After a long moment, accompanied by a muffled sound of shattering, the light on the stone door went completely dark. The restriction was forcibly broken.

"Creak—"

The heavy stone door slowly swung inward. A rush of mixed odors—rust, dried blood, and the age-old rot of sealed millennia—assaulted them like a physical wave.

The scene behind the door unfolded before their eyes.

It was a small, unadorned stone chamber. The rough walls had no decorations. There was only one thing: a battle-axe slanted into the ground at the center.

The axe was ancient and brutal in design, with a broad blade. It still bore traces of blood, and its entire surface was a dark, crimson hue, as if stained and solidified by countless enemies' blood.

It was intact, standing there silently—yet it felt like a sleeping primordial beast, radiating an intact and overwhelming, vast Great Sage-level pressure!

Even more terrifying was the almost solid aura of brutal bloodlust and killing intent that filled the entire chamber, making the air thick and icycold.

This space seemed frozen in the final instant after some ancient battle between Great Sages.

The bloodstains, the battle-axe—both silently spoke of past cruelty and terror!

"Such thick bloodlust! This blood is no ordinary creature's—at the very least, it's the heart blood of a fallen Great Sage level being! And this axe—a murderous weapon that has drunk countless lives, its killing intent soaring to the heavens..."

The Third Patriarch's eyes narrowed, his expression turning solemn.

He could sense that this battle-axe was of extremely high quality. Its bloodlust far exceeded that of ordinary holy weapons—at minimum, it was a Great Sage Weapon.

Cautiously, he stepped into the chamber. His divine sense carefully swept over every corner. After confirming no hidden restrictions remained, he focused entirely on the battle-axe.

"Hm..."

As if sensing a living being approaching, the dark, bloodstained battle-axe trembled slightly, emitting an extremely faint hum. A near-invisible flash of bloodlight flickered on its blade, and the fierce killing intent pulsed for a moment.

"The spirit hasn't died?!"

A sharp glint flashed in the Third Patriarch's eyes. He extended a hand but did not directly grasp the axe handle. Instead, he dispatched beams of sealing runes, gleaming streaks of light that looped around the battle-axe, intending to suppress it fully before claiming it.

But just as his sealing runes were about to touch the axe—

The dark brown bloodstains on the axe seemed to come alive! They steamed into strands of black-red bloodlust!

The battle-axe blazed with crimson light, letting out a bloodthirsty roar. A sharply condensed killing intent, mixed with residual saintly might, shot straight toward the Third Patriarch's soul!

"Hmph! An unmanned weapon, and still you dare act wild!" The Third Patriarch was shocked but not flustered. His Sage King will was as stable as a rock, easily crushing the killing intent.

He reached out his hand. A massive palm of holy energy grabbed the violently struggling battle-axe, wrapping it in countless sealing runes like chains, layer upon layer.

The battle axe trembled violently, a torrent of baleful energy surging forth, but with no one to drive it, the axe alone eventually succumbed to forceful suppression. Its bloody light dimmed, and it shrank into a dark red battle axe about a foot long, falling into the hands of the Third Patriarch.

The Third Patriarch was about to examine the axe carefully when he suddenly sensed something and looked up abruptly toward the invisible void deep inside the tomb.

In that moment just now, he clearly perceived that the entire tomb's originally flawless, intricately layered restrictive formations seemed to shift in the slightest way!

Though the change was so subtle as to be barely noticeable, to an expert of his level, it was like a pebble thrown into a calm lake. The ripples were small, yet real.

"Hm?"

A gleam of sharpness flashed in his eyes as he mused inwardly: "The inner formations have loosened? Has it naturally weakened from age, or has the removal of this battle axe left the great array without a necessary support?"

Though his tone was grave, his footsteps remained steady, indicating the situation was still under control—just requiring more caution.

He was the first to step out through the stone doorway and said solemnly: "Get your wits about you and stay right behind me! This cursed place is about to undergo a major upheaval!"