Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1377: 741: Wailing Ghosts and Weeping Heavens (Part 2)
Previously on Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension...
Chapter 1377: Chapter 741: Wailing Ghosts and Weeping Heavens (Part 2)
Two centuries can slip by in an instant; it was as if the secluded meditation of a Half-Immortal of the Void had concluded in the blink of an eye!
For the Divine Artisan Zhao Clan, these past two hundred years represented the most chaotic era in their family's thousand-year history.
During this period, the clan experienced a massive surge in talent. The ranks of Golden Core Masters nearly doubled, while the number of Nascent Soul Ancestors saw a one-third increase.
In the regions spanning three million miles around Yellow Wind Immortal City, the reputations of the Zhao Clan’s "heroic figures" have steadily grown, becoming household names among various cultivation forces and independent cultivators.
The most prominent among them are recognized as the "Three Lords" and the "Nine Tigers and One Dragon."
The "Three Lords" are three Nascent Soul Realm elders of the Zhao Clan, each possessing power equivalent to a half-step Divinity Transformation expert.
Meanwhile, the "Nine Tigers and One Dragon" consist of the ten most celebrated Golden Core Masters within the clan.
Each of the Nine Tigers of Zhao possesses heaven-defying combat strength, with every single one of them holding a record for successfully slaying Nascent Soul cultivators while only being at the Golden Core stage.
By comparison, the title of the "Dragon of Zhao" seems somewhat inflated and perhaps unearned by its holder.
Red Dragon Son Zhao Hong was bestowed with the nickname "Dragon of Zhao" primarily due to his status as a prominent second-generation scion.
Aside from his reputation as a privileged son, Zhao Hong is most frequently discussed by outsiders because of his massive, ever-expanding harem!
As the old saying goes: A dragon’s nature is inherently lustful!
Since Zhao Hong carries the bloodline of the Primordial Flood Dragon, his nature is one of unrestrained licentiousness. From the moment he first experienced the pleasures of cloud and rain at twelve years old, he found himself unable to maintain any self-control!
Currently, the beauties in Zhao Hong’s harem exceed a thousand, outnumbering his father’s wives and concubines by nearly ten times—a feat unrivaled within the Ten Thousand Peak Spirit Domain.
It is easy to foresee that a thousand beauties is not his limit; as the years pass, this figure will surely continue to climb.
Zhao Sheng has made no effort to curb his son's debauchery; instead, he has quietly encouraged it, pleased with the results!
The outcome has not let Zhao Sheng down, as his son Zhao Hong has been exceptionally productive!
In a mere two centuries, Zhao Sheng has been blessed with thirteen grandchildren, all of whom were born with the True Spirit bloodline and exhibit remarkable talent!
The eldest, Zhao Pan, has already attained the Golden Core stage, nearly reaching the same level as his father, Zhao Hong.
Witnessing the rapid development of the third generation, Zhao Sheng feels a sense of pride and has begun to shift his expectations toward his grandchildren.
As for Zhao Hong, his father’s requirements are modest—simply reach the Divinity Transformation stage and continue producing descendants to flourish this branch of the lineage.
...
“Sigh, two hundred years! Having utilized so many Principle Crystals, I have finally overcome the seventh bottleneck. My cultivation has at last attained the late-stage Returning to Void. My hard work has paid off!”
Hovering above the Jade Void Spirit Pond, Zhao Sheng’s form radiated a brilliant light, encircled by swirling layers of five-colored thunder. The three-headed, six-armed Dharma Image behind him slowly dissolved into nothingness.
Hoo~
His exhale resonated like a clap of thunder, causing the void to tremble slightly. Below him, the "Mystical Liquid" of the Jade Pool rippled violently as massive quantities of Mystic Crystal Origin Qi rose up, being instantly drawn into Zhao Sheng’s body.
Zhao Sheng opened his eyes slowly, the divine light within them still shimmering. Suddenly, his brow furrowed, and his expression shifted to one of profound shock.
In the next breath, he rose and stepped into the air; in an instant, his entire presence vanished from the spot.
...
Upon a certain star situated beyond this realm, the sky hung low and heavy. Dark clouds swirled densely, and the atmosphere remained as bleak and oppressive as ever, filled with the mournful wailing of the yin wind.
Two crimson full moons were perched prominently in the firmament, casting a ghastly, blood-colored light that felt freezing and malevolent, looking like a pair of massive, incomparable blood-red eyes.
In a specific region of this world, nestled among endless peaks and valleys, sharp mountains rose like titanic swords pointing toward the heavens.
Deep ravines surrounded these peaks, filled with a thick, murky darkness. These were rivers of demonic qi, winding through the landscape like black serpents.
As these demonic rivers flowed, the mountains on either side were tainted by the demonic qi, turning a deep, obsidian black.
Numerous smaller streams merged into a magnificent black river several hundred miles wide, stretching toward the horizon. Its source was a mystery and its end unknown; crashing waves occasionally tossed up dense clusters of skeletal souls.
At this moment, within the deepest reaches of this great black river, sat a giant altar with a surface as smooth as a mirror. On its outer walls, countless strange images were manifesting.
Some figures were engaged in combat, some were in the midst of cultivation, while others were bowed in prayer—various bizarre scenes were displayed within the reflection.
Beams of deep, pitch-black demon light descended from the void, pouring relentlessly into the altar and causing the river water to churn.
A thick black mist swirled around the altar, masking its location as if it were cautious of being discovered.
At the center of the altar, a massive figure sat cross-legged, utilizing the altar’s power to monitor every movement for tens of thousands of miles.
This unnamed altar was one of the nine hundred and ninety-nine reception platforms in this realm. It served not only to track the movements of Human Clan cultivators but also as a vital tool to facilitate the arrival of the Saint Ancestor.
The towering figure radiated an overwhelming murderous intent, with demonic flames dancing around it. Within those flames, the tortured faces of Human Clan cultivators could be seen.
In the surrounding dark waters, millions upon millions of flickering soul fires could be dimly perceived—countless ghostly Yin Souls densely packed along the riverbed.
Suddenly, the giant figure stood, staring at the river’s surface with eyes the size of fists, filled with both shock and ecstasy.
“After a millennium of patient waiting, has the Slaughter Immortal battle finally commenced...” the alien demon powerhouse, at the Returning to Void level, muttered to itself with wide eyes.
Before the sound of its voice could fade, the altar beneath it erupted with light. A massive pillar of black light shot forth from the crystalline surface, piercing through to an unknown dimension.
Simultaneously, identical phenomena were occurring across various hidden realms throughout this world.
In an instant, nine hundred and ninety-nine pillars of black light tore through the sky and earth, weaving together into a massive net that temporarily sealed the space-time of the entire planet.
“Ka-ka! An Immortal is nothing special; today shall be the day you perish!” The alien demon laughed arrogantly, seemingly envisioning the death of a True Immortal, the shattering of the prison, and his kin invading the Taiyi Spirit Realm.
Amidst its cackling, the myriad ghostly Yin Souls in the black river threw themselves into the light pillar like moths to a flame, fueling the power of the Devil Thought Light Column.
...
Taiyi Spirit Realm, Four Saints Divine Continent, Wolong Mountain Range.
As the sun dipped below the horizon on this day, twilight took hold.
High in the sky, miles above the ground, a figure materialized out of thin air—it was Zhao Sheng.
He gazed up at the heavens, his face a mask of intense emotion and staggering shock.
In that moment, the sounds of ghostly wails and divine shrieks suddenly resonated across the world, massive and profound, as if echoing from the very core of existence.