"Boom!"
Above the Ancient Realm, a radiant beam of light tore across the sky. Boundless divine brilliance erupted, ripping open the very fabric of space. Terrifying energy ripples surged outward, and the already shattered ground below collapsed once more under the immense pressure.
The Soul Emperor's pupils contracted sharply. Though retreating rapidly, he did not dare pause. A swirl of black mist surged in front of him, attempting to halt the oncoming spear strike.
"Pfft!"
The attack arrived in a flash. The black mist defense shattered instantly. Half of the Soul Emperor's body had already stepped into the spatial passage when he raised a palm to meet the incoming spear.
The terrifying energy and spear light clashed head-on, unleashing a tide of explosive force. A tremendous impact traveled up the Soul Emperor's arm and into his body.
In an instant, cracks spread across his mist-cloaked form. His expression twisted as his internal energy went into disarray, and the spear light pierced straight through his palm, then his abdomen, in a blink.
Blood sprayed from his mouth, but the Soul Emperor's eyes remained cold and resolute. Using the force of the attack, he allowed his body to plunge into the spatial tunnel.
His face pale, those icy eyes locked onto Chen Xiaoming, who had launched the spear. Gritting his teeth, he summoned a massive black mist hand that struck back at the space tunnel entrance.
Boom!
The space was disrupted. In a split second, the passage collapsed, and the Soul Emperor's figure vanished into the black void of the spatial rift.
Outside the wormhole, Chen Xiaoming hovered in midair, unmoved. He wasn't surprised by the Soul Emperor's decisive escape.
After all, the Soul Emperor was the kind of man who would slaughter countless innocents in Central Plains just to refine an Emperor Pill and ascend to godhood.
Ruthless to others—and to himself.
Whoosh.
The battle concluded. Gu Yuan, Lei Ying, and the others flew over, their expressions grim. Especially Gu Yuan—while the battle raged, he had learned of the theft of the Gu Clan's ancient jade.
Even worse, the elder tasked with guarding the jade had betrayed them, escaping immediately under the protection of Soul Clan elites. It was a blatant slap to Gu Yuan's face.
Among the Eight Ancient Clans, there were only eight pieces of Ancient Jade. Now, the Soul Clan possessed seven of them—only one remained.
When they recalled Chen Xiaoming's words about the two treasures in the Ancient Emperor's domain that could aid in ascension, Gu Yuan, Lei Ying, and the others silently resolved: they absolutely could not let the Soul Emperor get his hands on them. The consequences would be catastrophic.
"Sigh, in the end, he still got away."
Gu Yuan let out a long breath. Had they killed the Soul Emperor here and now, it would have been ideal.
Without the Soul Emperor, the Soul Clan—even with seven jade pieces—would be far less of a threat.
Unfortunately, he had slipped away.
"No matter. He took a direct hit from my spear. Even if he survived, he's finished."
Chen Xiaoming's eyes glinted coldly. The Soul Emperor dared to toy with him? Then he had no reason to hold back.
That strike hadn't just pierced flesh. The power within the spear light wasn't something that could be easily purged. Even if he lived, the Soul Emperor would be crippled.
"Let's go."
Glancing at the wreckage below, Chen Xiaoming clapped the dust from his hands. With a tap of his foot, he returned to the grand hall.
Though the battle with the Soul Emperor was intense, Chen Xiaoming remained unsatisfied. Even the might of a Nine-Star Dou Saint had fallen far short of challenging him.
Especially now—after half a year of relentless effort, he had finally amassed a trillion experience points, enough to unlock the sealed origin of his bloodline.
The Hollowheart Willow bloodline had been restored. Yet what should have been a joyful moment brought only quiet sorrow.
Despite the massive cost, the bloodline remained a mid-tier one. Its comprehension level hadn't improved at all. And to evolve it into a high-tier bloodline? That would take another trillion experience points.
Chen Xiaoming was devastated. Words could not express it.
Still, this painful rediscovery taught him something important:
His bloodline origin could, it seemed… be given to someone else.
In the world of Shrouding the Heavens, after drawing upon the full force of his bloodline origin, he had lost control of its power. Desperate, he severed it from his body, forging it into a single Origin Seed.
To recover from that act, he had spent ten times the experience points needed for a normal level-up.
Which meant… if he regained the bloodline again, he could theoretically sever it once more, and create another Origin Seed.
Ahem ahem—though the cost was colossal. Almost unbearable.
Now, in the Dou Qi Plane, Chen Xiaoming could only entertain the idea. Nothing more.
Years of painstaking grinding—almost ten whole years—had gone into building up enough experience for a single recovery.
If he cut it again, and the next restoration required ten trillion experience points… he might just cry himself to death.
While Chen Xiaoming stood silently in the hall, lost in thought, a violent spatial rift suddenly split open somewhere in Central Plains. A battered figure crashed from within, smashing a massive crater into the earth.
"Cough, cough—damn it…"
Choking on blood, the disheveled figure rose from the pit, his robes in tatters, his body covered in deep wounds. A gaping hole in his abdomen pulsed with a horrifying, unfamiliar energy.
Black mist surged from within him, attempting to seal the wound—but a faint silver glow surrounded the injury's edges, keeping the dark mist at bay no matter how fiercely it pressed forward.
The silver light flickered, and with it, the figure's life force visibly waned.
"What kind of attack was that? Damn it all…"
It was the Soul Emperor himself, driven to tear through space to escape Chen Xiaoming. Now he stood bloodied and cursing, his gaze fixed on the silver-tinged wound.
"Rip."
He tore open the space before him. His internal energy in shambles, he had no way to neutralize Chen Xiaoming's strike for now. All he could do was retreat and return to his clan to recover.
"I'll remember this."
His frigid voice echoed as his figure vanished once more. The wind stirred… then all was calm again.
...
Soul Realm, Soul Clan Territory.
"Damn it. Damn it all…"
On a remote, shadow-cloaked peak, a figure wreathed in dark flames cursed endlessly. Before him, several Soul Clan members knelt, trembling as they awaited his command.
Whoosh.
The black-flame figure swept his cold gaze across them, then inhaled deeply. Black fire surged from the bodies of the prostrate figures, dancing in the air as their life force was extinguished.
The flaming figure didn't spare them a glance. He inhaled again, swallowing the flames whole.
His weakened aura… grew stronger.
"Damn that Titled Palace! Made me waste several seeds."
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