The Second Mural

The underground palace finally fell silent.

The swordsmen glanced at the hammer in Sword Immortal Li’s hand, then at the "rice cake" not far away, their tense nerves relaxing slightly.

This damned sense of security.

"Did you kill this human-faced bat, Old Bai?"

Li Mo surveyed the swordsmen and noticed most were merely pale and short of breath.

Only Bai Jinghong looked truly miserable—his face was green, his chest stained with blood.

"Just a casual strike... yUe~~"

Bai Jinghong stood up, tilting his chin slightly to maintain his dashing swordsman demeanor, but before he could finish his boast, the poison in his system acted up, forcing him to bend over and vomit rainbows.

He retched until bile came out.

Straightening up, his face streaked with tears and snot, swaying unsteadily, he still managed to say with forced nonchalance:

"Just a casual strike, that’s all."

Li Mo: "..."

At least his mouth was still tough. As long as nothing else was stiff, it wasn’t too serious.

He retrieved detox pills and healing ointments from his system space, distributing them to the swordsmen:

"Take the Seven-Line Purge Pills first, then apply and ingest the Hundred Flowers Nectar Balm."

Cao Mu, however, pocketed the pills Li Mo gave him. His injuries and poisoning weren’t severe—better to save where he could.

So damn rich... tossing out life-saving pills like they were nothing.

"Where are the elders?"

"This underground palace has a maze formation. We got separated from them."

Wu Chushu held the medicine bottle, glancing at Li Mo and Ying Bing with mixed emotions.

When they met again, he was already fourth on the Hidden Dragon Ranking.

While their group had been battered and bruised, Li Mo hadn’t even dirtied his clothes, strolling around as if on a leisurely outing.

The gap between people could sometimes be wider than that between humans and dogs.

"Another chance to show off in front of others, again..."

"Old Wu, what are you muttering about?" Li Mo asked, puzzled.

"Thanks for the pills!!"

"You’re welcome, but why shout so loud..."

Li Mo picked at his ear.

"Brother Li, what are these things?"

"Tomb guardians. They’re creatures nurtured by the spiritual miasma and yin energy underground."

As Li Mo explained, his thoughts drifted back to what had just happened.

Another black Nian beast.

And... why did it recognize the ice block (Ying Bing)?

Just as he was pondering, Tian Miao’s voice rang out from nearby:

"Come quick! There’s another discovery here!"

"I’ll go take a look." Li Mo said to the Three Heroes of Hengyun before leading Ying Bing toward Tian Miao.

Bai Jinghong, Wu Chushu, and Cao Mu watched their illuminated figures recede into the distance. The surrounding darkness instantly felt deeper.

They exchanged glances, swallowing hard in unison.

When Li Mo was around, it felt like an invisible wing shielded them.

Now, with a snap, it was gone.

"Should we... go take a look too?" Cao Mu suggested.

Bai Jinghong lifted his chin. "Bai Jinghong has never lagged behind in his life. Let’s go!"

Wu Chushu rubbed his nose. "I’ve always had a keen interest in archaeology. I’m curious about what they found."

Cao Mu rolled his eyes. "Stop the nonsense. They’re almost out of sight."

And so, the swordsmen followed cautiously behind.

Ahead lay the end of the underground palace, where rows of bookshelves stood, some already decayed and collapsed. Thick layers of ash covered the ground—likely remnants of disintegrated pages, as not a single intact book remained on the shelves.

"This underground palace seems to have been a library of sorts."

"Mmm."

Ying Bing nodded slightly, a hint of regret in her expression.

Soon, they caught sight of Tian Miao again, standing before a massive mural.

The mural depicted the same nine celestial beings descending from the heavens, now locked in battle alongside their followers against terrifying creatures.

Among them was a colossal, one-legged bull clad in black scales, its nostrils spewing wind and thunder.

Another had a body of swirling tempests, its leonine head leaving trails of black sand in its wake.

Then there was a serpentine monstrosity, its dark crimson scales stretching endlessly, plunging everything into darkness—only when it opened its eyes did the sun return, though now a ghastly crimson.

"Are these... real?"

Wu Chushu gasped, unable to fathom such beings.

Bai Jinghong, Cao Mu, and the others wore blank expressions—this was beyond their comprehension. Even demons paled in comparison.

"From what I understand, the mural likely depicts..."

Tian Miao steadied her excited tone and began explaining.

"Legends say that in ancient times, humanity was frail, and the world was ruled by primordial beings—those of immense power, akin to gods and demons."

"The divine techniques we study today originated from humanity’s reverence and imitation of these beings."

Li Mo nodded. Even now, imitation-based martial arts, like animal-style boxing, remained widespread.

Later, paths like scholarly arts and swordsmanship emerged—likely born from humanity’s own enlightenment after the primordial beings vanished.

"So, the Nine Heavens slew these godlike beings?"

"Primordial beings cannot truly die."

Tian Miao shook her head. "They are fused with the ‘Dao.’ As long as the Dao exists, they are immortal. Even if reborn, they may not be the same as before."

She meant that slaying a storm-summoning horned serpent wouldn’t erase storms—a new one would eventually emerge, though it might not be identical to the original.

This section of the underground palace had many murals. As they moved forward with their light, they found another scene.

"These likely record the temporary suppression of the primordial beings."

The mural now showed more humans.

Led by the Nine Heavens and their followers, humanity prayed to the heavens and earth, giving rise to new primordial beings.

But this time, these beings lacked their former savagery, instead becoming totems for mankind.

"The power of collective belief!"

Li Mo’s mind flashed with these words.

"The power of collective belief was originally used by the Nine Heavens to control the primordial beings—chains for the Dao itself?"

Ying Bing narrowed her ice-mirror eyes, her gaze meeting Li Mo’s.

They shared the same realization.

"Those priests who led humanity in prayer—or at least some of them—were the precursors to the Demon Summoning Sect?"

So the ancestral gods of the Demon Summoning Sect truly were the Nine Heavens Immortals, or at least some of them.

The Dream God...

Able to traverse the dreams of countless beings, it must have played a pivotal role.

The swordsmen of Hengyun were stunned.

The infamous Demon Summoning Sect, reviled across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, had such origins.

No wonder it had endured through the ages, persisting despite being outlawed by the Great Yu Dynasty.

A starved camel was still bigger than a horse!

Boom—

Suddenly, the entire underground palace trembled violently, the upheaval shaking heaven and earth.