The imperial capital, now swollen with influx from all regions, boasted a population of over ten million. At this moment, every soul gazed upon the Rivers and Mountains Atlas, trembling with dread.
This artifact, the very guardian of the imperial capital and the celestial destiny of the Great Yu Dynasty, had been pried open at one corner by a pair of colossal hands, which then snatched people inside.
Celestial Destiny Artifacts were the foundation of a nation, the very symbol of a dynasty's authority.
Yet none could have imagined that the Summoning Demonic Sect had "left a hand" within it.
In an instant, unease rippled through the imperial capital.
That the Emperor had not personally intervened was still understandable.
But what of the eighth-realm experts of the imperial clan?
Could it be that the Great Yu Dynasty, which commanded the divine land and drew upon the majesty of the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths, lacked an eighth-realm powerhouse?
Just as this absurd notion fermented in the hearts of the people, a cold snort echoed from within the imperial palace.
The voice reverberated through heaven and earth, yet its origin was indistinct—neither male nor female, neither old nor young—like the natural sounds of rivers crashing against shores or the earth shifting.
A small, bright-yellow banner materialized in the void.
Its vast and boundless majesty illuminated the firmament, its oppressive might so profound that even sixth-realm martial artists present found their will dimmed, their inner and outer worlds frozen, and all divine abilities nullified.
Another seventh-realm expert making a move?
No. This was no seventh-realm power, but a genuine eighth-realm existence, one whose divine might reached the heavens.
From within the banner, dragon roars arose—hundreds, thousands of them. The national destiny energy within the Rivers and Mountains Atlas coalesced into countless dragon scales, swiftly taking the form of a dragon.
This dragon's body stretched beyond measure, adorned with five claws, horns, and whiskers, yet its majestic visage lacked eyes.
The colossal dragon surged through the skies, charging straight toward the Rivers and Mountains Atlas.
Its shadow tore through the air, illuminating the heavens.
A drop of blood emerged from the gate of the Celestial City.
Blood mist veiled the sky, shadows of crimson multiplied, and scarlet light seemed to set the Rivers and Mountains Atlas ablaze, staining the Celestial Destiny Artifact with an eerie, bewitching hue.
The next moment—
The dragon plunged into the sea of blood, churning waves tens of thousands of meters high. The two forces clashed and eroded, swallowing everything above the imperial capital.
Strange lights condensed and collapsed—a contest of power beyond mortal comprehension.
The world within the Rivers and Mountains Atlas transformed into a kaleidoscope of colors, beautiful yet terrifying.
"Second Imperial Ancestor..."
The assembled civil and military officials knelt en masse, as did the commoners and martial artists not shielded by seventh-realm experts.
Li Mo nearly buckled at the knees as well.
Fortunately, the ice block (Ying Bing) held onto him. Her cool, soft hand inexplicably ignited a stubborn defiance in his heart.
Within his inner world, the unremarkable rod emitted a resonating hum, its indomitable spirit helping him straighten his back bit by bit.
"So this is the eighth realm... a Heaven-Reaching expert..."
Li Mo's throat felt parched.
And this was merely a clash within the Rivers and Mountains Atlas, with only scattered remnants of their aura leaking out.
Had they fought directly above the imperial capital, even this mighty city would have struggled to protect ordinary lives without seventh-realm guardians.
"Ice block, have you ever seen eighth-realm experts fight before?"
It had taken Li Mo a while to steady himself.
Yet Ying Bing remained utterly composed, her demeanor so unshaken it seemed she wasn't even standing on the ground. Though she looked up, her cool, detached gaze felt like a downward glance.
"Not in this lifetime."
"Then why—"
"Jiang Wen is among the weakest of the eighth realm. His attainment... isn't entirely his own."
Ying Bing's tone was light, but her words made Li Mo lean back slightly.
How did she know that?
Sounded like she'd fought him before...
"Hmph! Just borrowing the nation's destiny, that's all."
Shang Wu wrinkled her nose, rolling up her sleeves as if still itching for a fight.
"Master, uh... let's give them a pass today."
"Fine. For my precious disciple's sake, we'll postpone overthrowing the Great Yu Dynasty."
Shang Wu shamelessly seized the excuse, her words dripping with ambition.
"Between those two, who will win?" Li Mo asked.
Ying Bing's delicate brows furrowed slightly as she pondered.
"Evenly matched. If the Rivers and Mountains Atlas fully supports Jiang Wen, his victory is certain—merely a matter of time."
A Celestial Destiny Artifact could tip the scales even among eighth-realm powerhouses...
Li Mo gained new appreciation for such artifacts, but then a doubt arose.
"The Rivers and Mountains Atlas has been under the Great Yu imperial clan's control for centuries, while the Blood God was merely a prisoner sealed within. How could it wield the artifact's power?"
"Yet He seems... intimately familiar with it, as if He participated in its creation."
Ying Bing voiced her suspicion.
Li Mo found it equally mystifying.
But the young genius had a wild guess. While he might not grasp grand daos or celestial artifacts, his past-life knowledge offered an analogy.
The Rivers and Mountains Atlas was like a program, and the Blood God, imprisoned within for ages, had become its virus.
The Nine Heavens and Ten Earths were reconstructed by the Nine Immortals led by Ying Huang, and the Atlas's primary function seemed to mirror the world.
Meaning the Blood God might have been one of the original programmers...
While the Great Yu Dynasty was merely its current administrator.
As he mused—
The battle within the Rivers and Mountains Atlas paused, though not concluded. The two forces now stood in stalemate.
A voice resounded through heaven and earth—sometimes majestic and imperious, other times dark and deep.
It was as if two beings conversed, yet their language transcended mortal comprehension, its meaning conveyed beyond words.
Their communication resembled Li Mo and Ying Bing's telepathic exchanges via lunar will.
"What are they saying?"
A halo of moonlight shimmered behind Ying Bing as she transmitted to Li Mo's consciousness:
"The Blood God says: 'You betrayed your oath back then. Hinder My return now, and We perish together—the Rivers and Mountains Atlas drowned in blood.'"
"Jiang Wen replies: 'Were You not hiding within the Atlas, Your scattered limbs would have long vanished entirely.'"
"The Blood God demands not just freedom, but the Celestial Phoenix Domain too."
"Jiang Wen refuses, telling Him to take it by force if He can."
After a pause, the lunar will continued:
"They seem to have reached terms."
"A wager set by the Celestial Trials—if the Celestial City falls during the trials, the Blood God wins and takes the domain. Otherwise, He departs freely."
Hearing this, Li Mo frowned. The terms seemed unbalanced.
Win or lose, the Blood God walked away.
Viewed as a virus, His departure might benefit the Atlas...
But in reality, unleashing this demonic patriarch would plunge the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths into chaos.
Unless... the enigmatic Nine Immortals intentionally left room for negotiation?
"Jiang Wen agreed," Ying Bing murmured.
g Yu was preparing for retirement when her organization decided to eliminate her. She transmigrated to a zombie apocalypse world. However, a tiny unexpected situation occurred: She somehow transformed into an adorable little girl?!
ing gift was a patch of barren land, and disciples were all picked up along the way. He spent fifty years diligently building three "ramshackle little sects," thinking he could finally live a carefree life relying on his disciples. But right at the fifty-year mark, he was suddenly swept away by a spatial rift and exiled to the Chaos Desolation, the Disorderly Ruins. There was no spiritual energy there, only slaughter. Relying on the cultivation feedback from his disciples, Gu Changyuan hacked his way through a sea of blood for eleven hundred years. When the system finally fished him back out, he discovered the ramshackle little sects he'd built back then had developed a rather... unusual style. Hold on... I vanished for a thousand years, so how did my ramshackle little sects become holy lands?!
transmigrates into the world as the sect master of the Heavenly Yan Sect, which is on the verge of being wiped out. He binds a system that grants him cultivation power based on the number of disciples he has: for each disciple, he automatically gains a year's worth of cultivation every single day! Take one disciple: every day he gains 1 year of cultivation power. While others struggle through a year of bitter training, he gets the same just by sleeping through a single night. Take ten disciples: every day he gains 10 years of cultivation power. Foundation Establishment, Core Formation, Nascent Soul—he breezes through all bottlenecks without lifting a finger. Take one hundred disciples: every day he gains 100 years of cultivation power. Even a Soul Transformation Venerable before him can’t survive a single blow. Take ten thousand disciples: every day he gains 10,000 years of cultivation power! With a wave of his hand, he topples empires. With a single step, he crushes the sacred grounds of the universe. ... While others fight tooth and nail for secret techniques, Lin Yan casually hands out Nascent Soul-level cultivation manuals as beginner textbooks. While others strain to find talented recruits, Lin Yan opens his doors to anyone—so long as they’re human. In just three short years, the Heavenly Yan Sect went from a backwater sect made up of three crumbling huts to a sacred land that every cultivator under heaven would kill to enter. ... One day, otherworldly demon gods invade, with a million demon soldiers pressing down upon the realm. Lin Yan, yawning, rises from his lounge chair and glances at the system panel: [Current Disciples: 1.28 million] [Daily Cultivation Increase: 1.28 million years] He waves his hand casually, and the countless demon soldiers are reduced to ashes in an instant. “So noisy… interrupting my fishing.”
pression Bureau] Transported to a fantasy world overrun by demons and monsters, Gu Qingfeng becomes a jailer in the Demon Suppression Prison of the Great Yan Dynasty's Demon Suppression Bureau. From this point on, bizarre cases frequently occur in the Demon Suppression Prison, once known as hell on earth and infamous for its gloomy, terrifying atmosphere! Why do the demons and monsters in the prison wail miserably every night? Why has the corpse demon, capable of transforming into various beauties, donned black stockings and switched careers to become a foot massage therapist? Why has the eye demon, expert in soul-snatching and illusions, turned into a VR headset? Why is the fox spirit performing otaku dances? Are all these occurrences a twisted expression of demonic nature, or a descent into moral depravity? After peeling away layer upon layer of mystery, all clues ultimately point to a jailer named Gu Qingfeng. Gu Qingfeng: "Hehehe... My dear demons and monsters, whose card shall we flip today?"
