Chapter Thirty: The Ninth-Grade Imperial Soul-Suppressing Immortal Cauldron

At this moment, the Tiger-faced Immortal held a weapon in his hand—an object so ludicrous it seemed almost comical: a collar adorned with three bells. As Wuyun had surmised, these bells were, in fact, the most powerful and life-preserving weapon in the Tiger-faced Immortal's possession. The mere fact that he would brandish them in a battle against the Ox-faced Nether Tribe demonstrated the strength of these outsiders; they had reached the point where their ultimate weapon was summoned.

"Long time no see!" Wuyun waved his hand, greeting the Tiger-faced Immortal. Meanwhile, his other hand, without waiting for instruction, directed the King of Fighters and the others to swiftly retreat toward the precious cauldron. Earlier, approaching the cauldron resulted in thunder strikes, but upon subduing it, including Wuyun himself, they were quickly drawn inside by its suction.

Seeing this, the Tiger-faced Immortal would never let Wuyun enter the cauldron. Raising the collar, he shook it violently, and the three bells rang out. The sound echoed simultaneously, overwhelming the space, causing ripples and layers of cracks to appear. A dark, fierce wind carrying a hazy gray aura surged from the fissures. Yet the power of the bells did not wane, continuing to pursue Wuyun as he flew toward the cauldron; in a third of a second, they would catch up to him. But Wuyun pronounced a true incantation: "Heaven’s path is merciful, all souls may fall into the cycle of reincarnation!"

As the words were spoken, within the same third of a second, a twisted force emerged inside the Ox-faced Nether Tribe—a force that was the remnant soul within Wuyun, bound by restrictions. Now, it exerted its full effect, irresistible to the Ox-faced Nether Tribe, compelling him to meet the power of the bells head-on and bear the blow.

The attack evaporated nearly half of the Ox-faced Nether Tribe's body. The Tiger-faced Immortal, furious and not yet questioning, saw that the Ox-faced Nether Tribe, instead of retaliating, reached out toward Wuyun as well.

A chill swept across their backs, the cauldron’s suction increased, and everyone appeared inside the precious cauldron.

"The Nine-layer Immortal Cauldron!"

Looking at the eighty-one ruined layers of the cauldron, Wuyun sighed. This was the power of space, the force of dimensions; every immortal artifact or divine weapon must obey its rules, or else the whole order would collapse, the entire dimension crumble!

"Ox-faced Nether Tribe, Panana Immortal Emperor, Nine-level Imperial Soul-suppressing Immortal Cauldron!"

Wuyun recited, and only then did Long Yi, the black-faced dragon, realize the giant characters surrounding the cauldron were not formation symbols, but its name.

Wuyun continued: "These are the soul-characters of Panana Immortal Emperor. If they are destroyed, he will instantly know!"

As long as the characters remain, the cauldron persists; if the characters are erased, the cauldron dies. Such a mechanism—truly ingenious!

Once the group steadied themselves on the uppermost layer, they gazed outward. Through a hole in the cauldron’s lid, they could see three hundred sixty degrees around. The Ox-faced Nether Tribe was casting spells repeatedly, while the Tiger-faced Immortal, no longer attacking, watched with keen interest.

"Return, return, return!"

No matter how the Ox-faced Nether Tribe twisted his fingers in incantations, the cauldron did not budge. His expression was one of utter despair, revealing his ghostly form, slightly stuttering as he angrily demanded, "Who—who are you, to dare oppose my Nether Tribe?"

"Your Nether Tribe? Don’t overestimate yourselves. In the Immortal Realm, you’re little more than high-level merchants. Doing thankless work in the lower realms—you might just throw away your meat buns to feed dogs, never to return!"

As Wuyun spoke, he pinched himself, and even the eagle's gaze was filled with contempt. Wuyun looked at the King of Fighters, who responded with a bitter smile, and said, "This wretched cauldron is yours now!"

No matter how reluctant Long Yi was, he abided by his oath and handed it over. The King of Fighters quickly became enthralled by the cauldron, sitting cross-legged and sinking into meditation.

When the Ox-faced Nether Tribe grew weary from shouting and cursing, the Tiger-faced Immortal grew restless, brandishing the collar and ringing the three bells, uttering strange notes from his mouth.

These notes, mingling with the bells’ sound, dispersed through the spatial fissures, shaking the cauldron, causing it to tremble incessantly. Wuyun shouted in alarm, waking the King of Fighters, and commanded, "Quick, quick, exit the spatial fissure!"

Without hesitation, the cauldron rapidly activated. Totems reappeared on its once-smooth shell, and then, with a powerful leap, it tried to escape the fissure. Yet, hindered by the bell’s sound, it retreated.

On the other side, caught in the spatial fissure, thunder tribulations struck, even more intense than laser beams, burning through the cauldron. The heat entered, only to be quickly absorbed by the array within, then expelled from the other side.

This was why the cauldron had survived so long—it was like the shifting of stars, transferring attacks from the spatial fissure into the Qianluo space.

This time, however, the seductive sound of the bells gathered heat rapidly. Within moments, the temperature inside the cauldron surpassed that of the Six-flavor True Fire, scorching one side pitch-black.

Just as Wuyun forced the King of Fighters to charge out and enter Qianluo space, the Ox-faced Nether Tribe refused—after all, the cauldron belonged to him, and he still hoped Wuyun was only temporarily controlling it.

His hesitation, barely resisting the bell’s waves, allowed the cauldron to break free, one side glowing fiery red, the other riddled with holes. No sooner had it emerged, before the interior of the Xuanmagnet planet changed, columns of divine power and thunder tribulation chased from the spatial fissure behind, as if the Qianluo space’s thunder tribulation lair was right here!

Instantly, the space was filled with tribulation lightning—not only lightning, but unknown dangers as well. Even the Tiger-faced Immortal dared not face it head-on, instead shaking the bells. After seven rings, seven bubbles of different colors formed around him, creating a tight defense.

Once the tribulation lightning appeared, it struck the ghostly form. Because of the intense sun and cold darkness, the Ox-faced Nether Tribe faced calamity. Having slaughtered remnant souls and refined Mokong Soul Water, his karma with this space was immense, making him the primary target of the tribulation lightning.

The precious cauldron, spared further strikes, was not at peace—far more perilous attacks emerged.

From the spatial fissures appeared blood-red eyes, burning with a hazy aura. When each eye opened, one could see inside scenes of world-destroying devastation, followed by a beam of light shooting forth.

Thick as a bowl, the beams were like lasers. Wuyun called out their name: "One of the Ten Terrors of Spatial Fissures: the Eye of Destruction!"

What are the Ten Terrors? They are the entities most feared in spatial fissures. According to Wuyun, the Eye of Destruction ranks seventh; sixth is the Soul-obliterating Sword, eighth is the Invisible Chill, ninth is the Wind of Severance, tenth is Endless Tribulation Lightning.

As for the first through fifth, Bear Third asked but received only a cold laugh: "You don’t need to know. Encounter them, and you’ll never survive. Knowing or not, it only adds worry."

Bear Third scoffed, Long Yi did as well. Wuyun admonished him, "An Immortal King should understand the power of imagination. If I speak them aloud, you shouldn’t encounter them—because whatever you imagine, you may summon."

Long Yi was stunned, Bear Third alarmed—could such a thing be possible?

According to Wuyun's instructions, the cauldron stopped spinning, and all watched the outside. Wuyun said, "Follow the path of the destructive beam. Let the cauldron be pierced if necessary, but keep aligned with the light—this way, the wound remains narrow and parallel."

Simple in theory, difficult in practice: as the beam moved, the cauldron had to follow, maintaining a parallel line of penetration so the fissure would not widen.

Thus, the cauldron moved like a threaded ball, spinning and occasionally bumping into a gathering Eye of Destruction, dispersing it.

The space was in turmoil. The Tiger-faced Immortal, bells in hand, fought and retreated. Before him, the tribulation lightning coalesced into a giant, resembling the Lord of Thunder, every move radiating the power of heavenly tribulation.

The Ox-faced Nether Tribe hid in the Mokong Soul Water, his ghostly form relishing the lightning strikes. Even hiding in the soul water, each bolt—thick as the Eight Immortals' round table—raised waves a hundred layers high. Over time, the Mokong Soul Water would evaporate entirely.

From the appearance of the Eye of Destruction, to everyone fleeing in disarray, to molten metal in the Xuanmagnet space falling chaotically, all transpired in a brief span, conjuring an apocalyptic scene.