Chapter Eighty: A Bite of Flesh from the Old Loach

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The actions of the Snow White Demon Wolf drew the attention of others—could it be that the creatures here could not be refined and consumed? No sooner had this suspicion arisen than the wolf, still rolling on the ground, used a paw to tear open its own belly, scooping out its innards onto the earth, where they formed a massive, blood-soaked furnace.

This was a cultivation technique unique to demon wolves: refining their own viscera into artifacts resembling immortal tools, serving both as storage and as weapons to trap or kill foes—a common practice among those who had become immortals.

The bloody furnace grew larger, and within it something thrashed and clawed. Suddenly, with a resounding crash, the seemingly indestructible viscera—comparable to a fifth-grade immortal artifact—split in two. From inside emerged a beast with the head of a wild boar, crowned with sharp horns, and the body of a human.

This was the behavior of a nascent Immortal King. The Boar Immortal King stared vacantly at itself, a flicker of awareness surfacing. Just as it began to ask who it was, its eyes blazed red and it charged at the Snow White Demon Wolf.

A king who attacked by instinct alone—this threw the wounded wolf into chaos. In fact, it was struck skyward by the boar’s horn, where the wolf was then smitten by heavenly thunder. In that instant, the Boar Immortal King's black horn unleashed a torrent of pitch-black energy that enveloped its foe.

Within three seconds, the Snow White Demon Wolf vanished inside the black flood.

Thereafter, many among those who had slaughtered the animals here met the same fate, except for a few who managed to dodge and escape disaster.

Feng Qianyu was deep in thought. She glanced at Wuyun, her meaning unmistakable: this was both a test and a means of verification.

Wuyun, smiling faintly, watched as the Boar Immortal King likewise disappeared. He shook his head, saying, "Once you become a slave to a spirit artifact, there is no hope of redemption. It seems there is no leeway, but in truth, it was already decided during the earlier slaughter. The more you kill, the deeper your enmity, and the greater your servitude within this place."

"Indeed. The Ten Fox Immortal King was too powerful and was expelled, but none of the others were so fortunate. Should I thank you, or that brazen fox?" Feng Qianyu’s tone shifted, and a rare smile appeared on her fully armed face.

The other paid her no heed. Old Bear Third and the Battle King saw nothing at all; only Long Yi, who had been lying on the ground recovering, noticed, though he didn’t find the sight appealing.

When she finished smiling, Wuyun cleared his throat, first pointing out the flaws in Long Yi’s cultivation, then scolding Old Bear Third and admonishing Yue Qi not to be so rigid. "It’s just a piece of flesh from Old Mudfish—what’s so precious about it?"

Calling out to Yue Qi, who remained silent with ears like a bear, Wuyun grabbed Long Yi's scorched tail and tore off a large piece of roasted flesh, handing it to Old Bear Third and the others. Even the Battle King’s mouth watered as they watched Yue Qi devour it ravenously. Who would have thought this child had eaten dragon meat of Immortal King grade since youth? In the future, he would have plenty of tales to boast about.

As they missed out on this piece of meat, Wuyun softly recited the essential points of the technique to Long Yi. Instantly, new shoots of flesh grew to replace what had been torn away, and Long Yi’s entire body appeared much younger.

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Casting off old age and using such methods for healing—was this not some divine art? Battle King understood; he too was growing younger. But Feng Qianyu was stunned. She had never witnessed such a restorative immortal technique. Even with body-forging divine arts, even with rebirth from a single drop of blood, there would be a temporary period of weakness. But Long Yi, after recovering, seemed more spirited than ever.

"To survive by walking through death, to ignite every nerve in the body—never doubt their power. With the aid of the divine code, one becomes undying!" Wuyun’s face was stern as he shot Feng Qianyu a look. The meaning was clear—do you understand what sort of skill this is?

Feng Qianyu stumbled over her words, so Wuyun waved his hand and sighed: "You have not yet entered the microcosm, which is the mark of attaining godhood. Only when you reach that state can you discover that your own body is the greatest treasure—the mightiest of all. Only by constantly evolving and recombining can you achieve divinity and thus eternity!"

After speaking for ten minutes, Wuyun yawned and led the group onward. Once he left, Feng Qianyu stood as still as a statue, unmoving. Inspired by Wuyun’s words, she entered a state of enlightenment. When she awoke, her cultivation would surely rise by a level.

With a few words, he could open a wondrous new window in one’s cultivation—this was something only Wuyun could accomplish.

"I was once nothing but a cloud!"

Wuyun mused, for in the forbidden sky above, clouds appeared, as if something was hidden within them.

This must have been a passage into the inner realms of the imperial artifact. But to ascend to such heights as those clouds, what method could one employ?

A red-necked Immortal Crane appeared from the distance, with the cultivation of a great immortal, hovering in the air. Those who entered now, having witnessed the previous carnage, did not dare to act recklessly.

In total, four late-stage Celestial Immortals revealed themselves—those who had managed to hide and evade. Each wore a mask and plain robes, betraying nothing of their origins or sects.

Wuyun frowned. These four were not to be trifled with.

Yet they kept their distance from him. Even Immortal Kings had been trapped here—who would not be cautious in the face of such power?

Among them, one dressed in white, tall and elegant in voice, spoke: "I am unworthy, having seen your skill, I can only admit my inferiority. I am but a fallen scion of my clan, never favored or given responsibility. And so, this imperial artifact—I must claim it. With it in my grasp, the world will be mine!"

As soon as he finished, one clad in grey spoke in a hoarse, aged voice: "To be denied what one desires is more painful than death. Even if it means becoming a slave to the imperial artifact, I must take my chance!"

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The other two, one in blue and one in black, said nothing but nodded their agreement.

These four, like mantises stalking cicadas while unaware of the oriole behind, had chosen their moment to emerge. They pointed skyward, where Wuyun’s gaze lingered, and said, "The method of entering the inner layer is different every time. If you know the way, why not share it? Any treasure found besides the imperial artifact itself will be divided among us."

Tempting terms laid out, Wuyun replied dourly, "I have too many companions—one share is not enough. Each must have their portion. And as for that woman behind you, the one with all the treasures—she’s stronger than any of you!"

"That’s just resources and powerful artifacts; any one of us is superior to her!"

At the mention of Feng Qianyu, the four immediately revealed expressions of envy and resentment, nearly ready to challenge her even without their immortal artifacts.

Speak of the devil, and she appears: Feng Qianyu, awakened and enlightened, bounced forward, light as a maiden newly blossomed. With each leap, she drew down lightning, which, drawn by her artifact, blasted a pit thirty meters wide in the ground.

A crack of thunder—and there, at the center of the four, stood a woman armored to the teeth!

"Sneaking about, thinking that a change of clothes and suppressed cultivation, without using your own techniques, could hide your identity?" Feng Qianyu’s eyes flashed with light, and as she swept her gaze over the four, the brilliance within their bodies blocked her probing.

But it was enough for her. She giggled and said, "As expected, only the most aggrieved existences dare try their luck within the imperial artifact. Have you looked in a mirror? All those who died here were more handsome than you lot!"

"You—!" the one in grey began to retort, but Feng Qianyu cut him off: "You what? Illegitimate son of the Autumn Lake Sect’s chief—your mother was said to have been imprisoned and killed by the main wife. Seeking revenge, you’ve come here to die, haven’t you, Rong Ya?"

"You..." The man in grey dared not speak further, his face flushed with anger.