Poison God's Heritage Chapter 920: Death In The Horizon

"Who's the prick?" The question erupted from my divine sense, a result of my patience wearing dangerously thin after all the recent turmoil. My tolerance for arrogant individuals appearing from mysterious higher realms had plummeted. This man exuded an aura of superiority that compelled cultivators to either bow or strike; I’ve never been adept at bowing.

Immediately, Tonfa's urgent divine sense blasted into mine, "Don't ever call him that! This man is someone dispatched from… somewhere higher."

The sheer alarm in Tonfa's voice astonished me even more than the stranger. Elder Tonfa was no pushover, and more importantly, he rarely lost his composure. Yet, his divine sense was practically a shriek, conveying a gravity that made me understand the seriousness of the situation.

The hall was still strewn with unconscious cultivators, casualties of the man's mere loud pronouncements. Suddenly, Tonfa's extreme reaction seemed entirely justified.

"Higher up?"

"Indeed, higher up," the man confirmed.

A frown immediately creased my brow. My gaze sharpened as I focused on him, trying to comprehend how he'd responded to something unspoken. Divine sense communication wasn't audible sound; it was a direct conduit of thought and intent between cultivators.

"How did you accomplish that? Did you eavesdrop on our divine sense exchange…" I inquired, my irritation now laced with genuine wariness. Spying on divine sense was hardly common practice among cultivators.

"For some peculiar reason…" the man began, stepping closer, "Why is it that I can't fully perceive your divine sense? I can hear Tonfa clearly, but yours is obscured, which is odd for someone as insignificant as you."

As he approached, the oppressive aura surrounding him intensified. It transcended mere power; I had encountered formidable cultivators before, even those at the Sun and Yang stages. This felt distinct—more refined, more absolute, like standing beside an entity governed by different principles.

He was still leagues away from an Enforcer's might, yet his presence was undeniably peculiar, almost… dare I say… divine.

Despite this overwhelming aura, a subtle yet evident confusion flickered across his features. His inability to fully decipher my divine sense clearly unsettled him.

I had no intention of revealing that my soul had become inexplicably entangled with heavenly forces, poisons, enforcers, and whatever else fate had recently thrust upon me.

"Let's dispense with the pleasantries. Why are you here? Do I know you? Do you know me?" I asked, deciding against beating around the bush while he loomed over me as if I were some insignificant pest.

"No, in fact, I have no desire to associate with the likes of you. However, the Tang Clan has requested your presence. After all, you are… different."

The slight hesitation before the last word sent a chill down my spine, more so than any insult. "Different." Cultivators, particularly those hailing from supposedly higher realms, never used that word lightly.

I turned to Tonfa, "Tang Clan? What is that?"

Tonfa seemed visibly uneasy about being drawn into this exchange. "I don't know much… as I mentioned, they originate from higher up…"

His response offered no clarity, yet paradoxically heightened the sense of danger.

"However," the man interjected, "You are far too weak; the journey would prove fatal. Cultivate further, then seek me out," he stated, tossing a small jade token my way.

The jade spun through the air before I instinctively caught it. Its material felt immediately unusual—colder and denser than typical communication jades. Intricate inscriptions adorned its inner surface, seeming to subtly shift when observed directly.

"I shall remain here for one year. If you have not reached at least the Yin Stage by then, disregard everything you've heard." With that, he departed.

Just like that.

No explanations.

No further details.

Only impossible demands laid upon me before he vanished as if my very existence was a minor inconvenience he had deigned to address.

The sheer audacity was, in its own way, remarkable.

And what did he mean, one year? I'm barely at the Heaven Stage now. I'd need to ascend to the Sun Stage, then the Yin Stage—advancing that far in a year seemed nigh impossible.

I turned back to Tonfa, more bewildered than before, "Who exactly inserted a pole up that guy's backside?"

"Please, refrain from such talk," Tonfa sighed, rubbing his temples as if I were personally shaving years off his life. "All we understand is that they hail from a place… quite distant from our current location. A realm with divergent laws, principles, and possibilities."

A peculiar gravity laden those statements, hinting at different laws and alternative outcomes. My thoughts drifted to the enforcer's words about realms beyond our own, realities vaster than this entire universe. Each ascension in cultivation seemed to reveal the sheer minuteness of my current comprehension.

"I figured as much. The higher you ascend in this cultivation path, another world inevitably appears to remind you of your insignificance," I remarked.

"Precisely. That is the way of cultivators; the peak is unreachable, yet we persist," he stated. "Allow me to escort you to see the Dusking Sun."

"Ah, yes, that's why I'm here. Please, show me the way."

Tonfa proceeded onward, and I followed in his wake. Curiously, he displayed no apparent concern for the incapacitated cultivators, as if such occurrences were commonplace and mass comas among cultivators were an expected norm. It was quite noteworthy.

The upper echelons of the Confederation headquarters exuded a tranquility distinct from the vibrant activity of the lower floors. This silence, however, felt deliberate rather than merely vacant. Softly glowing formation lights adorned the walls.

As we advanced, guards stationed intermittently along the corridors bowed their heads in respect. Nevertheless, several cast glances at me, their eyes filled with undisguised curiosity. News, it seemed, traveled with immense speed, likely accelerated by the recent catastrophe at Solarous.

Arriving at his designated meeting room shortly thereafter, I observed the Dusking Sun seated on a chair, his elbows planted firmly on his knees, his clasped hands propping up his chin.

The very sight of him instantly put me on edge.

He wasn't typically one for deep contemplation or introspection.

The Dusking Sun had always been characterized by his directness, his boisterous nature, and his impatience. If something irked him, he'd strike it; if something troubled him, he'd usually shout first and ponder later. Witnessing him in such profound silence, his posture rigid, his gaze fixed in genuine concentration, felt unsettling in a way that disturbed me.

"What's troubling you so seriously?" I inquired, my attempt at casualness failing to mask the underlying caution in my tone.

"Shen Bao, excellent, you have arrived. We must depart immediately," he declared, rising from his seat.

There was no greeting offered.

No insult exchanged.

No superfluous commentary.

That alone amplified the tension in the room considerably.

"Whoa, I just navigated some intense situations. Where are we headed? I need to grasp what's unfolding."

For a protracted moment, the Dusking Sun regarded me before responding. A distinct hesitation marked his demeanor.

That hesitation worried me far more than if he had erupted in fury.

"I believe… I believe he has returned…" the Dusking Sun finally articulated.

"Returned? Who has returned? What are we discussing?" I pressed, my mind racing through a spectrum of possibilities, none of which were comforting.

"Shi… Shi Situ has returned."