Another space on the secret continent is completely different from the direction of the ancient palace.
There was no spiritual energy here, only a biting chill and the stench of decay. Scattered on the ground were skeletons, some intact, some broken, layered upon layer, covering the ground like a forgotten ossuary. Occasionally, eerie green phosphorescent flames would flicker between the bones, adding to the eeriness.
A figure in black moved through the bones, his steps unsteady yet unusually firm. The man in the black robe—he had now removed the brim of his hat, revealing a pale and distorted face, his eyes bloodshot.
He murmured a name in a low voice, hoarse, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth, carrying a bone-deep hatred.
However, he was only at the mid-stage of the Integration Realm. Just when he was in despair, a faint guide suddenly appeared in his mind, leading him to this bone mound.
The guide led to a dilapidated house in the center of the ossuary.
The house was built of black stone, the roof had long since collapsed in half, and the door was rotten and decayed, with a few splinters falling off at the slightest touch. He took a deep breath, suppressed his unease, and pushed the door open to go inside.
The interior was darker than the exterior, with only a sliver of light shining through a hole in the roof, illuminating the intricate array carved on the ground. The array was black, with a faint aura of death flowing through its lines, and in the very center of the array sat a bronze coffin.
The coffin was covered with rusty patterns, and although it looked like it had been sealed for thousands of years, it was strangely free of any dust.
His heart suddenly raced – the aura of this formation was colder than any forbidden technique he had ever seen, and the coffin exuded a pressure that made his very soul tremble.
"The one who comes... harbors resentment?"
An old and hoarse voice suddenly came from the coffin, like two stones rubbing against each other, echoing in the empty, dilapidated house, carrying a bewitching power.
He froze, clenching his fists: "Who are you?"
"Who I am is not important." The voice from the coffin chuckled, its laughter filled with weariness and madness. "What is important is that you have hatred, and I can help you take revenge."
His pupils constricted sharply: "Help me get revenge?"
“Not bad.” The voice was seductive. “I was once the strongest on this continent, but I was betrayed by a villain and trapped here for ten thousand years. My mantle is still here. If you are willing to inherit it, let alone the Tribulation Transcending Realm, you can even personally slay the Dao Inquiry Realm.”
A storm raged within him, yet he remained extremely wary: "There's no such thing as a free lunch. What do you want me to do?"
"It's very simple," the voice said slowly. "Inherit my mantle, kill the descendants of those traitors for me, and then pass on my lineage. What do you say?"
He hesitated.
He feared it was a trap, that the voice wanted to take his body. But the thought of that incident burned his reason like wildfire.
"I..." He opened his mouth, his fingertips turning white from the force, "How can I trust you?"
"The formation is proof," the voice said. "This formation is called the 'Soul-Locking Formation,' which I set up to protect the coffin back then. If you can dismantle it according to my instructions, you will be able to see my remnant soul. Then, you can make your decision."
After he finished speaking, a string of obscure incantations entered Qiu Tian's mind; it was the method to dismantle the Soul-Unlocking Array.
He silently recited the incantation and discovered that although the principles of the formation were sinister, they were incredibly ingenious and could not have been fabricated by an ordinary cultivator. He struggled for a long time, but finally gritted his teeth—for revenge, even if it was a pit of fire, he would jump in!
"Okay, I believe you!"
Following the incantation, he gathered his spiritual power at his fingertips and carefully touched the nodes of the formation in sequence. The black array patterns gradually dimmed under his touch, the death aura receded like the tide, and the entire formation disintegrated at a visible speed.
“Very good…very good…” The voice from the coffin carried a hint of excitement.
As the last array pattern disappeared, the bronze coffin suddenly clicked open, and the lid slowly lifted. A dense, impenetrable black mist surged out of the coffin, instantly enveloping the entire dilapidated house!
"What?!" His expression changed drastically. He felt a terrifying suction force coming from the black mist, and his soul was being pulled out uncontrollably!
"You lied to me!" he roared in terror, trying to resist, but found that his body was already imprisoned by black energy and he could not move.
"Hahaha!" The voice from the coffin went mad. "Fool! What is this talk of inheriting a mantle? What I want is your body!"
The black energy, like a greedy venomous snake, surged into his seven orifices. His body convulsed violently, his skin withered at a visible speed, and his eyes went from terror to despair, finally losing all their luster.
A moment later, the black mist gradually receded and shrank back into the coffin.
His body froze on the spot, his eyes slowly opened, and his pupils flashed with a coldness and vicissitude that were completely different from before, while a strange smile appeared on his lips.
"Ten thousand years... I have finally... returned!"
He moved his neck, making a "crackling" sound, and felt that although the body in the middle stage of the Fusion Realm was weak, it was enough to bear his remnant soul.
He muttered to himself, a hint of contempt flashing in his eyes, "Just the first offering I make when I see the light of day again."
After saying that, he turned and walked out of the dilapidated house, his figure once again disappearing into the shadows of the bone mound, and sped towards the ancient temple.
Inside the dilapidated house, the bronze coffin lid slowly fell shut, and silence returned, as if nothing had happened. Only the scattered bones and the lingering black mist in the air testified to the brutal possession that had just occurred.
The undercurrents of the secret realm became even more turbulent because of this "newborn" body.
At the end of the deep fork in the road lies another world.
There was no sinister black mist here, only a chilling, sharp aura permeating the air—the stone walls on both sides of the road were covered with gun marks of varying depths, some like thunder splitting rocks, others like fine rain piercing willows, and ancient characters such as "break," "sharp," and "brave" could be vaguely seen, clearly the legacy left by a master of the art of spear.
In the center of the ruins, a stone hall stands, guarded by a puppet. This puppet is different from the previous black iron puppet; it is carved entirely from grayish-white rock and wields a twelve-foot-long spear. Although the spear tip has no sharpness, it exudes a fierce aura of "one spear can break through all laws." Its aura is clearly that of a peak Tribulation Transcending puppet, slightly weaker than the Tribulation Transcending puppet outside the hall, but more in line with the intent of the spear.
Xiao Chen stood on the periphery of the crowd, his gaze fixed on the spear in the puppet's hand, a hint of interest flashing in his eyes. The puppet's spear-holding posture and the angle of the spear tip subtly corresponded to the "Breaking Army Spear Technique" he usually practiced, clearly indicating that it was a guardian puppet containing profound spear principles.
He didn't go forward, but instead found a rock with gunshot marks to sit down on—there are always people eager to show off at these kinds of historical sites, and he was happy to watch the excitement first and also try to figure out the puppet's gun-wielding skills.
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