Chapter Sixty-Eight: I Have Arrived

Bang!

Countless fragments of ruined magical artifacts, discarded elixirs, and other debris were swept into the vortex’s core, bursting through the river sand. In the end, all of it poured into the righteous energy shield, isolated from the river water.

Xu Zhe was in no hurry to leave. His gaze swept once more to the depths of the passage behind him, his heart restless with temptation.

Deep within the passage of the Heavenly Domain, countless void wind blades whirled, able to strip flesh from bone with ease. “If I could collect these void wind blades, then, faced with an enemy I cannot defeat head-on, I could unleash them…” As soon as this thought emerged, Xu Zhe dismissed it at once.

The void wind blades could indeed kill, but their destructive power was enormous; they might even tear holes in the very fabric of the Azure Domain, causing chaos and disaster for all living things. Such conduct was not befitting a righteous person.

Of course, the more pressing reason was that he simply did not yet have the strength to gather up the void wind blades.

Still, the idea tugged at him. Though he could not take the wind blades away, could he use this opportunity to temper his own body?

“A body at the Golden Body stage, if it walks into the densest area of the void wind blades, would likely be obliterated on the spot. But what about the outer edges, where the blades are fewer?” Xu Zhe’s eyes flickered.

After a moment’s thought, he opened the storage ring taken from that woman in the Palace of the Ape, retrieving a length of rope. While he couldn’t fathom her intentions—why she kept ropes, candles, whips, and such in her ring—right now, the rope would serve him well.

He tied one end to the vortex’s center, the other gripped in his hand, and slowly drifted deeper into the passage.

With the floating artifact shards gone, darkness pressed in from every side; only the rope, gradually pulled taut, allowed Xu Zhe to know he was indeed advancing.

Yet the further he went, the greater the force pulling at him.

Waves of chilling breeze swept over him, slicing across his cheeks and leaving wounds from which blood began to flow.

“So these are the void wind blades? Invisible, intangible, impossible to sense.”

Awakening to the danger, Xu Zhe quickly sent a surge of spiritual energy to cover the rope in his hand and tossed it backward, to prevent the wind blades from cutting it.

He brought himself to a halt, advancing no further, even edging back a little.

Here in this void, the wind itself was a blade.

Yet even the lightest breeze had already covered him in bloody cuts; his clothing, under the caress of the wind, soon hung from him in tatters.

Xu Zhe simply stowed away his bronze sword as well, then cast all his storage rings toward the entrance, and finally, sitting cross-legged in midair, let himself float motionless in the void.

The Scripture of Righteousness and Demon Sealing churned through his body; spiritual energy surged from his dantian, ceaselessly nourishing and healing his wounds. Yet the healing could not keep pace with the wounds the wind blades inflicted.

In no time, Xu Zhe was a man of blood.

But he did not retreat. He remained where he was; in his judgment, this was the optimal and most efficient position—the limit of what his body could bear. A little blood meant nothing.

A day passed…

Blood flowed even more freely from Xu Zhe’s body; his hair had long since vanished in the wind, and his bare scalp was crisscrossed with countless bloody marks.

After two days, his arms and calves were little more than exposed bone, faintly gleaming silver beneath the bloody remains.

Three days, four…

By the fifth day, the flesh and blood on Xu Zhe’s hands and feet began to regenerate. New muscle wrapped around bone, growing and healing under the wind blades’ assault, now completely unharmed.

On the sixth day, his skin was fair and unblemished; all wounds were healed, not a drop of blood remained. His scalp, once bare, sprouted countless strands of black hair, cascading down his back in an instant.

Yet still he did not stop, remaining cross-legged in the void.

A sharp breath—he suddenly inhaled, swallowing the icy wind into his body.

At once, with a spurt, he coughed up a mouthful of blood, his face pale.

He closed his eyes, focusing his mind entirely, guiding the strands of wind blade within his body to crash through his meridians and the 720 acupoints, tempering each one in turn.

This was a rare opportunity.

Although agonizing and perilous, it allowed him, in the shortest time possible, to temper all 720 acupoints.

If he succeeded, he would break through the Golden Body stage in one leap, advancing to the Tyrant Body.

In moments, the inside of Xu Zhe’s body was a complete mess, the wind blades gradually fading with each guiding cycle. Xu Zhe rapidly circulated his spiritual energy, nourishing all his meridians and internal organs.

Only after stabilizing his injuries did he open his mouth to inhale again—this time, clearly taking in much more than before.

He coughed up even more blood.

This cycle continued for three full days and nights.

…

On the riverbank outside, nearly a hundred Nascent Soul cultivators had gathered days ago.

All had heard the Burial River would revive ahead of schedule—and that Xu Zhe had entered it.

They rushed to wait for Xu Zhe’s death, hoping to fight for his artifact.

Yet nine days passed.

The river was clear, its surface calm. Aside from the first day’s violent shaking, all was still.

Crowds pressed at the bank, staring at the blazing radiance beneath the river, but could never see what lay below, nor what Xu Zhe was doing.

Many considered diving down to find out, but feared the river’s sudden revival or a trap from above that would trap them below as well.

Day after day passed. No one expected that nine days would slip by—the river did not revive, and Xu Zhe gave no sign of life.

“Damn it, who spread the rumor that the Burial River was about to revive?”

“What a waste of time—there’s only three days left before the secret realm closes.”

“Forget it—since we’ve waited this long, by all reckoning the Burial River will revive no later than tomorrow. You all can rest if you like.”

“Heh, I’m not tired. Perhaps you should rest, friend.”

Barbed words began to fly, irritation mounting.

All knew the river would revive by tomorrow, but none dared leave today, lest they lose their position and someone else seize the artifact.

In a corner, Li Xunhuang was grinding his teeth in fury.

“I told them to come days ago—why hasn’t a single one shown up? Are those bastards dead?” he cursed.

The Nascent Soul cultivators around him frowned in silence.

Their messages had gone out, calling for reinforcements from the secret realm’s edge, but not a soul had arrived.

Could it be that Li Xunhuang’s crow-like mouth had cursed them all to death?

…

Meanwhile, in the heart of the secret realm, within the poisonous fire mist.

A red-robed figure strolled leisurely beneath a five-square-meter shield of flaming eight trigrams, arms heaped with storage rings.

“Twenty-one Nascent Soul cultivators. Who would have thought that I, Qu Hongxiu, would one day slay foes above my realm? When I return, Master will be stunned out of her wits.” Counting the rings, Qu Hongxiu’s face was radiant with joy, her smile almost sweet enough to melt the mist.

In these nine days, she had indeed found Li Xunhuang’s accomplices—four Nascent Souls, leading a band of Golden Core cultivators, had charged after her.

But upon rushing into the poisonous fire mist, only the four Nascent Souls dared follow.

They thought Qu Hongxiu doomed, only following to claim her corpse, but never expected she would strike them down, unharmed beneath her flame shield.

They, exhausted by the poison and fire, could not fight at full strength and were slain on the spot within the flaming shield.

Later, other Nascent Souls ventured into the heart of the realm, and upon seeing Qu Hongxiu, were tempted by murderous intent—hoping to kill her in this lonely place. One after another, they fell as the previous four had.

Nine days later, Qu Hongxiu’s harvest was immense.

The Scripture of the World’s Departing Fire was now second nature; she had collected the storage rings of twenty-one Nascent Soul cultivators—a true fortune.

“These past days, many Nascent Souls have gone to the heart of the realm, but Uncle Xu has shown no sign, nor returned. Could something have happened to him?”

Worried, Qu Hongxiu was several times tempted to search for him, but recalling Xu Zhe’s words, she held herself back.

After all, with her current strength, without the advantage of the fire-poison mists, she would still have to flee from a Nascent Soul powerhouse.

“Forget it, there are only three days left. I’ll wait—Uncle Xu will return.”

She decided to remain in the mists, continuing to practice the World’s Departing Fire Scripture.

“When Uncle Xu returns and sees my achievements, he’ll be shocked for sure, hehe…”

…

The next day.

Within the Heavenly Domain passage, Xu Zhe finally opened his eyes—a faint wind blade flickered within their depths.

After four days, he had succeeded in refining the void wind blades, tempering all 720 acupoints of his body.

Strangely, his physical cultivation seemed to have reached a bottleneck; he had failed to step into the Tyrant Body as hoped.

“Did my body, after absorbing dragon blood, finally exhaust the remaining nutrients and potential?”

Xu Zhe realized this astonishing truth.

Yet thinking back, he saw how rapidly both his physical and cultivation realms had advanced in recent days. The dragon blood was potent, but even it would run dry one day—he simply hadn’t expected it so soon.

He was now only a step away from the first transformation of the Tyrant Body, only to be stuck at the threshold.

“Well, no matter. This journey has yielded much—especially the wind blades, which let me step into the Core Formation… No, more precisely, the Condensation Core stage.”

Smiling slightly, Xu Zhe sent his divine sense inward.

A tiny wind blade, refined by his utmost effort, now nestled in one of the acupoints within his dantian. Small as it was, its lethality was immense—even spiritual energy could be severed with ease.

It was this that reminded Xu Zhe of an ancient cultivation method.

Without changing his techniques, he could still condense a core, boosting his strength.

He divided the five elemental spiritual energies, leaving only earth, and, following the Scripture of Righteousness and Demon Sealing, easily condensed it into a yellow, earth-like core.

Then, he released the other four energies back into the dantian, letting them coexist with the earth core, with no conflict.

This method, found in a lost tome, inserted an extra realm between Foundation Establishment and Core Formation—the Condensation Core stage.

As the name implied, a core was formed, but not yet the Golden Core. The boost in strength was immense, far beyond the late Foundation Establishment.

In the future, as the other four spiritual roots were elevated, he could use wind blades to partition them, condensing four more cores.

At last, when the five elemental cores merged, he would naturally attain the Golden Core stage.

“With this transitional stage, everything becomes much easier.”

Xu Zhe smiled.

With a wave, the nearby rope—still laced with his spiritual energy—hovered into his hand. Using it for leverage, he pulled himself toward the vortex entrance.

From his storage ring, he retrieved a brand new black crane robe, dressing himself neatly. His newly grown, shoulder-length black hair was tied up with a jade coronet.

In that moment, the words “As noble as jade upon the road, unmatched among all men” found their living embodiment in him.

“I’m back!”

With a smile, Xu Zhe pressed his palm to the vortex’s center, and, with a resounding boom, strode forth into the world.

…