Kneel down and thank me for my mercy, then scurry back to my demon clan.

However, accompanying this terrifying pressure were astonishing opportunities!

Over the countless ages, even the arrays and restrictions laid down by an Emperor would inevitably suffer damage and dissipation.

Some fragments of artifacts imbued with the Emperor's past Dao resonance or buried as grave goods, after the protections of the restrictions failed, began to be exposed to the world.

"What is that? A remnant sword light!"

Someone cried out in alarm. In a crevice of a broken stone wall ahead, a condensed, lingering pale golden sword shadow hovered, exuding a sharp sword intent that seemed to cut through the ages. Though it was not even one ten-thousandth as powerful as an Imperial weapon, its purity was chilling.

A sword cultivator recklessly rushed forward, trying to comprehend it, only to be instantly engulfed by several attacks that followed close behind.

"Boom!"

In a corner of a collapsed side hall, a rainbow-hued light soared into the sky. It turned out to be a piece of Void Divine Gold, the size of a fist and flowing with a seven-colored radiance, rolling out from a broken restriction.

This material was the core divine substance for refining a Saint King-level magical artifact—its value was immeasurable!

"Mine!"

"Get lost!" Over a dozen cultivators nearby instantly went red-eyed, triggering a brutal melee.

Magical artifacts clashed, flesh and blood flew everywhere.

In the end, a reclusive practitioner from the rogue cultivators, whose cultivation had reached late-stage King Realm, paid the price of severe injury. Covered in blood, he grabbed the divine gold and, without looking back, charged deeper into the area.

Similar scenes played out across the vast, shattered region. Some found a fragment of a bronze ancient token; when their divine sense touched it, they vaguely heard a sigh spanning ten thousand ages, shaking their Dao heart as if they were on the verge of enlightenment.

In the ruins scoured by turbulent flows of time, someone dug up a charred piece of lightning-struck wood. Sealed inside it was a wisp of nearly dissipating True Intent of Destroying Thunder, its power comparable to a Saint King's single strike!

Almost every time a treasure appeared, after a brief dead silence, it would trigger a round of bloody conflict.

Opportunities equated to killing intent, a truth vividly demonstrated here. Those lucky cultivators who obtained treasures often had no time to rejoice before they faced greedier and more frenzied gazes. Many, in the very next moment after acquiring a treasure, became corpses beneath someone else's feet.

"Pfft..."

A King Realm cultivator who had forcibly crossed through a space fissure zone and obtained a piece of Warm Spirit Jade finally couldn't withstand a fatal sneak attack from behind. He staggered and fell.

The Warm Spirit Jade rolled away and was immediately picked up by another hand. Killing and betrayal had become the norm in this land teeming with opportunity.

The deeper they went, the stronger the oppressive force became. Every step forward felt like wading through a swamp.

"I can't take it anymore—the Imperial might is too strong!"

A late-stage Heavenly Realm cultivator suddenly spat out a mouthful of blood, his eyes filled with reluctance and fear. With difficulty, he turned around and retreated back the way he came.

Stay, and he was dead for sure!

Like a chain reaction, more and more cultivators began to stop, their faces pale with despair. Some sat down cross-legged to resist, while others retreated in a sorry state.

Those who had barged in due to pure luck or consumable secret treasures either were too severely injured to continue fighting, or had fallen during the struggles.

Or, they stood there under the ever-increasing Imperial might, their faces as white as paper, their souls on the verge of shattering. They had no choice but to stop with despair, watching helplessly as the opportunities slipped away. Of those who could make it to the end, fewer than one in a hundred remained.

And after passing through this bloodstained, opportunity-filled shattered ground, the view suddenly opened up.

There, floating in the center of a massive underground cavern, was a magnificent cluster of palace halls!

Dozens of different architectural styles, all emanating the same desolate Imperial might, hung in the air like ancient stars.

They were connected by broken jade bridges, and farther out, a faint veil of hazy radiance surrounded them, as if it had sealed off vast spans of time and space.

Each great hall faintly emitted different traces of Dao resonance: some were filled with slaughtering energy, some carried the fragrance of elixirs, some overflowed with sword aura, some exuded the vastness of ancient texts... It was as if the myriad Daos that the Emperor had delved into during his life, along with his important sites, had all been condensed here.

All the survivors' gazes instantly burned with unprecedented passion.

Fatigue and injuries seemed temporarily forgotten. Greed and ambition blazed fiercely in the depths of their pupils. Looking around, there were many whose auras were as deep and heavy as an abyss.

Those who could stand safely at the periphery of these floating palace halls were at least at the King Realm. Their spiritual energy and Dao resonance faintly echoed each other, allowing them to withstand the oppressive, all-pervasive Imperial pressure.

Occasionally, there were a few figures with slightly weaker auras, hovering at the peak of the Heavenly Realm. They all had to be protected by elders or powerful guardians using precious treasures, and they still looked pale.

A Heavenly Realm cultivator who had made it here entirely on their own strength was nearly impossible to find.

Xiao Ruobai and his companions also appeared in this place, instantly drawing many glances.

Not far away, Wang Zhan, whose entire being blazed with chi like a burning furnace, exuded an aura more condensed and solid than before. He abruptly raised his head, his gaze like lightning, firmly locking onto Xiao Ruobai.

Defeated by Battle Asura, Sword in White, and—well—Fatty Wang, his Dao heart had nearly shattered, only to later achieve a breakthrough amid hopelessness.

His current bearing was even more somber, but the battle intent in his eyes had grown purer and fiercer, like a suppressed volcano waiting to erupt.

He didn't speak, but his gaze said it all: within the Emperor's tomb, a battle was inevitable!

Xiao Ruobai immediately felt this sharp, substantial gaze.

He calmly looked back at Wang Zhan's eyes, burning with war fire, and showed no expression on his face, though a thought passed through his mind.

"Not bad. After breaking through and rebounding, his aura is indeed more condensed and solid than before. Now that I've advanced to the King Realm, I wonder how many moves the current Wang Zhan can withstand?"

Beside him, Fatty Wang, after being swept by Wang Zhan's oppressive gaze, first instinctively shrank his neck. Then, as if remembering something, his small eyes rolled slyly. Instead of being afraid, he showed a trace of sneaky excitement.

He glanced at a few newly crafted talismans faintly flickering with lightning, muttering to himself: "Heh, still not convinced, huh? Perfect timing—I haven't tested out my new advanced Nine Heavens Imperial Thunder Talisman yet! Last time I blew your hair into a spiky mess. I wonder how it'll work this time..."

Meanwhile, Ling Xi, who had been watching coldly on the sidelines, cast a glance at Wang Zhan.

Sensing the vast, heavy Celestial Sacred Blood within him, faintly resonating with heaven and earth, she thought to herself.

"So this is the Celestial Sacred Body that both Senior Master and Second Senior Master engaged in epic battles with? Truly unique. I'll find a chance later to test his mettle..."

A playful thought flickered deep in her mind.

On another side, from the camp of the Southern Domain's demon race,

A boorish, disdainful snort, full of wildness, was heard.

"Qilinzi, hah. A member of my demon race's royal bloodline, descended to bow under a human's foot, acting as the mount for a mere human prodigy?"

The Southern Domain Demon Lord's voice thundered, carrying a lofty contempt.

"Mo Yu, you've utterly disgraced the face of the ancient divine beasts, shaming our noble demon bloodline! But..."

His tone shifted slightly, a hint of regret for talent flashing in his crimson demon eyes.

"Considering that your Qilin bloodline hasn't achieved cultivation easily, I'll give you a chance. If you now turn back, abandon that human brat, and rejoin the demon race's fold, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, and even help you restore the glory of the Qilin lineage. What do you say?"

Beside the Demon Lord, a young man with disheveled golden hair and dark - golden pupils stepped forward at this moment, with fierce demonic qi surging around his body.

His gaze towards Mo Yu was filled with undisguised contempt and glee, as if he had finally waited for the moment to trample his former rival under his feet.

A cold arc curled up at the corner of his mouth, and his voice had a harsh texture like the friction of metal and stone: "Mo Yu, there was a time when you and I were both talented prodigies of the demon race. I even looked forward to having a hearty battle with you to determine the winner.

Now it seems so ridiculous! You have actually willingly degraded yourself to be a servant of the human race, groveling for mercy! The blood of the Qilin Emperor? Bah! You're simply a disgrace to our demon race!"

He paused for a moment and then raised his finger to point at Mo Yu.

"The Demon Lord is magnanimous and is giving you a chance to repent. Why don't you quickly kneel down to show your gratitude and scurry back to our demon race's camp?"