Nine Heavens Sacred Land

Wu Lingfeng suppressed the faint trace of helplessness in her heart, her brows slightly furrowing as her expression turned serious.

"The Abyss of Heaven's Burial..."

She murmured softly, rolling the four words across her lips like a whisper, her eyes gradually growing heavy with gravity.

Her years of cultivation far surpassed Ye Xuan's, and she had witnessed far more than most others ever had.

"The Abyss of Heaven's Burial is one of the most notorious and perilous secret realms in the Central Plains," she said slowly, her voice lowering. "Legend has it that this region was formed when an ancient sovereign used his own dao body as a foundation, forcibly carving out a space within a rift in the laws of heaven and earth. Inside, it teems with countless mysteries—accumulated fortunes and treasures from eons past, but also the remains of the sovereign's dao body after its collapse, which harbor a terrifying will capable of annihilating any cultivator's soul."

She paused, lifting her gaze to Ye Xuan, her tone growing even more somber: "Every time it opens, fewer than one in ten who enter ever return alive. That's not an exaggeration; it's backed by records."

"And," her brow creased deeply, "this time, it opened without any warning whatsoever. No preliminary signs, no omens, nothing like the patterns of previous openings. Such an anomaly likely means this opening will be far more dangerous than any before."

Moreover, within the Three Thousand Dao Provinces, countless top-tier powers exist. Once word spreads, every faction will surge into action. By then, the area outside the Abyss of Heaven's Burial will likely become another scene of bloody chaos.

Her words fell, and the cabin fell silent for a moment.

Ying'er quietly shrank back, her glossy black eyes darting between Ye Xun and Wu Lingfeng, but she ultimately kept quiet.

"Now that sounds like fun," Ye Xun said, utterly unconcerned. He stretched his arms lazily, let out a languid yawn, and rose to his feet, cracking every joint in his body.

He stepped onto the ship's railing, balancing on the narrow edge by riding the force of the wind. His black hair whipped wildly, and his robes billowed.

"When there are more dead, the living become valuable," he said, glancing back at Wu Lingfeng with an air of nonchalance. "Muddy waters make it easier to fish. If only a few paltry small fries showed up, the fortune would be thin and the excitement too meager. I wouldn't even bother making this trip."

Wu Lingfeng stared at his utterly clueless demeanor, took a sip of tea, and said nothing more.

She knew it was pointless to argue.

Even if she described the Abyss of Heaven's Burial as a gate to hell, Ye Xuan would only charge in more eagerly. After all, the more dangerous a place, the better the treasures left behind—because danger kept everyone else out.

That was Ye Xuan.

He possessed an innate, unshakable nerve, or rather, a kind of brutal and clear-eyed confidence, that few could rival.

He didn't fail to see the danger; instead, he saw it and still chose to trample over it, fully aware that, for him, danger itself was a kind of resource.

Just as the three of them were speaking.

A sudden catastrophe struck without warning.

A terrifying, suffocating pressure descended from the clouds high behind them.

It wasn't ordinary spiritual pressure, but something far more primal and piercing—like some colossal being grinding across the heavens, flattening all the spiritual energy in the air, silencing even the wind itself.

The whole sky dimmed several shades in an instant, the sunlight obscured by some shadow, casting a deep gloom, as if a solar eclipse had suddenly arrived.

Under this abruptly crashing terror, the small white flying boat trembled violently like a leaf overturned by a sudden wave. The boat's Dao patterns, struggling under the overload pressure, vibrated wildly and emitted frantic hums.

The vessel let out a screeching groan, sharp as filed teeth—a despairing cry from an artifact pushed to its limit, as if it might shatter into countless pieces at any moment.

"What's happening?!" Ying'er stumbled, nearly falling from the sudden jolt. She grabbed Ye Xuan's sleeve instinctively, looking up with terror-filled eyes. "Where did..."

Her words were stolen by the sight before her.

Ye Xuan's brow twitched. He tapped his toes against the deck and jerked his head up.

He saw the cloud sea split apart.

Thick layers of clouds were parted like curtains by an invisible giant hand, tumbling violently to either side, revealing the enormous object hidden behind them.

A ship.

No, calling it a ship was far too understated.

It was a golden palace floating in the sky.

Its scale was staggering, thousands of feet in length, spanning the clouds and blotting out the sky.

Its shadow fell, plunging Ye Xuan's small boat and the surrounding miles of sky into darkness.

The entire war vessel was forged from divine gold, a material Ye Xuan couldn't immediately identify. It gleamed so dazzlingly in the sunlight that it looked like a fallen miniature sun roaring low across the heavens.

The hull was covered in intricate, profound Dao patterns. These interwoven lines formed massive, awe-inspiring arrays, with surging spiritual energy flowing through every line's stroke. A faint, pulsing glow shimmered across the golden surface, rising and falling like breath, indicating the vessel was perpetually in a state of powerful defense and stored energy.

And at the very front of the war vessel...

Nine flood dragons.

Not living creatures, but puppets forged from the corpses of true flood dragons. Each was dozens of feet long, their enormous bones animated by Dao patterns, pulling the golden vessel forward. The nine dragon puppets moved in unison, their roars reverberating through the sky like thunder rolling through the clouds.

Ying'er covered her ears, her face pale, but she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Wu Lingfeng shot to her feet, her eyes fixed on the golden war vessel that roared and blotted out the sun. Her fists clenched silently within her sleeves.

At the topmost mast, a flag tore and flapped violently in the gale.

The flag was pure white, simple to the extreme. Only two characters were embroidered on it.

Those two characters, engraved with a rugged power, exuded an oppressive force like a mountain's weight. Every stroke and curve carried a Dao resonance that shook the soul.

It wasn't beauty—it was authority, a supreme arrogance that looked down upon all creation and treated the world as a chessboard.

Heaven's Nine

"This is..."

Wu Lingfeng's voice for the first time carried something Ye Xuan almost never heard from her.

Not gravity, not caution.

It was fear.

It was dread.

"The Heaven's Nine Holy Land."

She stared at that flag, her voice low, each word slow and deliberate, as if confirming something she wished she had misidentified. "Above all Three Thousand Dao Provinces, inheriting from the ancient celestial court, First among the nine hidden holy lands—the Heaven's Nine Holy Land!"