My Living Shadow System Devours To Make Me Stronger Chapter 950 - 951: In The Seal

This desolate realm had been forsaken since the First Epoch. Its former occupants were long erased from the world's recollection.

The clinking of chains resonated through the atmosphere.

Infinite blackness expanded in all directions, though the emptiness held scattered stars reminiscent of a vanished sky's remote echoes. Drifting peaks floated quietly in the void, while timeless columns dangled in the cosmos like relics from a fallen empire.

Here, the Outsiders found themselves imprisoned.

Near Morticai, a figure in pristine white daoist robes was positioned. A levitating sword hovered motionless by his side, its blade emitting a subtle glow in the obscurity.

The individual assumed a cross-legged lotus stance, his eyes firmly shut.

He attended only to his personal matters.

Not a syllable escaped his lips.

He disregarded both Morticai and the provoking presence.

Morticai rose abruptly, his golden locks igniting with scarcely restrained fury. His vision roamed over the enclosed domain of their captivity.

Gradually, he compelled tranquility upon himself.

He lowered himself back down.

"I will not be insulted by you, Orbitus," he declared icily, drawing in a measured breath. "In the end, while you may have forgotten our situation, I have not. We still remain sealed here."

Orbitus offered a languid grin. He tugged at his towering wizard hat and swept away grime from his robes embroidered with celestial patterns. His beard extended nearly to the earth, embodying the quintessential look of a venerable mage.

A wooden staff lay at his side.

Yet it consisted of no common timber.

"Foolish bird," the mage chuckled. "Did you burn your brain out? You aren’t planning to leave without your father, are you?"

"You must have gone senile, old man," Morticai retorted sharply. Two epochs confined in this domain hadn't bestowed upon him the tolerance to endure the mage's barbs.

"Is that so?" Orbitus's grin broadened. "Then come here, birdy. Let me turn you into an ingredient for a potion."

He wiggled a finger in derision.

"Your grandpa may not have achieved Akasha, but I’m still a great wizard. I’ll turn you into a frog."

Morticai’s form burst forth in scorching golden infernos as he fought to suppress his wrath.

The true tipping point arrived shortly after.

"You stupid phoenix love acting like you’re the greatest birds in existence," the mage pressed on nonchalantly. "I think you bird brain forgot about the Vermillion Birds, the true greatest birds."

He reclined, smirking.

"Stupid chicken."

Morticai at last lost control.

His physique morphed into a colossal avian wreathed in raging golden blazes. With an enraged cry, he lunged at the mage.

Yet upon nearing, Orbitus simply adjusted his hat a fraction and serenely retrieved a diminutive cup equipped with a straw.

He drew a sip.

His garment fluttered mildly, exposing elongated, gaunt, furred elderly limbs extended leisurely ahead.

He showed scant response.

An unseen power halted Morticai dead in his path.

A handful of scorching golden plumes drifted from the phoenix’s massive frame.

Orbitus seized them without delay.

"Heheheh... works every time."

He stowed the plumes swiftly.

Phoenix plumes held immense worth, particularly those from Morticai’s caliber. Should he ever ascend to the higher planes, he could trade the surplus for vast riches.

"You lowly old man!" the enormous avian bellowed in outrage.

His blazes lit up the whole confinement.

Then a faint exhale reverberated across the abyss.

It was mild.

Nevertheless, it appeared to quiver the heavens and the earth.

The realm abruptly fell quiet.

The daoist, silent throughout, gradually unveiled his eyes. His extended ebony tresses shifted faintly sans any breeze.

He joined his palms serenely.

"Fellow daoists," he uttered in a serene voice, "I hope we can all get along and stop making conflict among ourselves. Give me face on this matter."

The mage and the phoenix exchanged glances.

For an instant, compliance seemed possible.

Then they voiced simultaneously.

"These shameless cultivators. I can’t stand their high and mighty attitude," Morticai stated frostily.

The mage assented promptly.

"I bet he has a hemorrhage sitting like that for centuries," Orbitus derided.

The cultivator exhaled gently.

But anger eluded him.

Cultivators exceeded most in audacity. Such jabs scarcely dented his poise.

"Fellow daoists," he expressed steadily, "we all seek the Dao. There is no need to be rude. My heart is unmoved, like Mount Tai."

Morticai grew even more vexed.

More so than toward the mage.

For his nearest companion in this jail was this detestable cultivator from an insignificant sect.

Morticai harbored little fondness for cultivators initially.

But this one proved particularly unbearable.

This marked the sole accord between him and the mage.

Orbitus snorted derisively and expectorated aside.

"Dao? Dao my ass." The elderly mage flourished a rejecting hand, his cuff billowing theatrically. "If you really came here for Dao, then why were you lured here by rumors of Akasha and the secret of the goddess?"

He bent ahead, propping his chin atop his wooden staff, gaze narrowing at the cultivator with overt scorn.

"Don’t pretend you’re above greed."

The cultivator exhaled softly.

He kept his eyes shut. His digits lay gently upon his thighs while he persisted in lotus pose, respiration even and composed as though the barbs were mere transient gusts.

"This was to be expected," he conveyed placidly.

His timbre traversed the hushed void uniformly.

"Dao and Akasha are two sides of the same coin."

Only then did he leisurely part his eyes.

They shone pure and tranquil, akin to a serene pond.

"Remember, everyone," he proceeded, tucking his hands within his sleeves, "we are not enemies."

His manner stayed soft, nearly indulgent.

"As long as we find the Pillar of Conflict and present it to any true god, they will reward us handsomely."

He inclined his head marginally, as if proposing an utterly sensible notion.

"So what if one measly little world is destroyed in the process?"

No hint of malice laced his words.

He resembled a fellow negotiating a minor commercial deal.

Orbitus gradually swiveled his gaze to Morticai.

The aged mage blinked a pair of times.

Then he directed his staff at the cultivator in astonishment.

"Isn’t this guy supposed to be from those righteous path sects?"

Morticai tucked his flaming wings rearward and issued a frosty scoff.

Golden sparks wafted from his plumage as he peered down at the positioned cultivator with evident contempt.

"This is how they normally are."

Orbitus stroked his lengthy beard contemplatively.

"Hmmm."

He scrutinized the cultivator from head to toe, then inclined his head with abrupt insight.

"You do have a point."

The mage rapped his staff against the levitating rock underfoot.

"Among cultivators, the righteous path really are the most shameless."