Chapter 130 Thrown into the Eighteenth Level of Hell and Fried in Oil for Ten Thousand Years
Upon hearing Shen Tu's plea for help, Feng Jin finally shifted his gaze from Ming Ye to Yang Yun.
He didn't say anything, but casually shoved the other end of the Soul-Locking Chain in his hand into the hand of Shen Yuepo, who was standing there dumbfounded.
"Take it."
Shen Yuepo subconsciously caught the end of the Soul-Locking Chain, and felt a powerful binding force.
She looked at the chain in her hand, which held Mingye like a dog leash, and then at Fengjin.
Feng Jin no longer looked at her.
Just as the space around Yang Yun began to distort, and he was about to disappear into the void—
Feng Jin's figure vanished into thin air.
The next moment, his figure appeared behind Yang Yun.
Time seemed to stretch out infinitely at that moment.
The emperor's dark, ashen robes fluttered in the wind.
He slowly raised his hand, palm facing upward, and the Fengdu Imperial Seal materialized above his palm.
The moment the phantom of the Imperial Seal appeared, all the Yin energy in the entire Black Wind Valley seemed to have encountered a supreme monarch and instantly submitted.
A suppressive force originating from the depths of his soul descended upon Yang Yun.
"Well!"
Yang Yun's face instantly drained of all color.
He felt that the power of the Ghost Emperor within him was like a frozen river, its flow extremely sluggish.
He wanted to escape, but his body and soul were pinned to the spot by the oppressive aura of the imperial seal, and he couldn't even move a finger.
The illusory image of the Imperial Seal in Feng Jin's palm gently pressed down on Yang Yun, who was unable to move below.
An invisible force crashed down along with the illusory image of the Imperial Seal.
Yang Yun couldn't even let out a scream as the Xuanbing Qi that had gathered around him shattered inch by inch.
His burly body suddenly hunched over, and with a loud thud, his knees slammed into the ground.
The once invincible Northern Ghost Emperor was now like a stray dog with its spine completely broken, forced to kneel on the ground by Feng Jin's palm, utterly humiliated.
The entire dilapidated temple was deathly silent.
Only the occasional slight scraping sound of the Soul-Locking Chains and Mingye's painful groans could be heard.
Feng Jin slowly withdrew his hand, and the illusory image of the Imperial Seal dissipated.
He landed gracefully, standing right in front of Yang Yun, who was kneeling on the ground. Not even a speck of dust clung to the hem of his dark imperial robe.
Shen Tu was the first to react, scurrying over excitedly. Looking at the two prisoners on the ground, he rubbed his hands together and asked:
"Your Majesty, what should we do with this traitor? Should we throw him into the eighteenth level of hell and fry him in oil for ten thousand years? Or..."
Feng Jin did not answer Shen Tu; his gaze remained fixed on Shen Yuepo.
Shen Yuepo looked at him, her eyes filled with complex emotions: exhaustion from the fight, confusion from seeing the fragments of memory, and a hint of grievance that she herself was unaware of.
Feng Jin looked at her slightly pale face and the trace of blood still wet at the corner of her mouth. The ice in his eyes, which had never melted for millennia, seemed to quietly ripple.
He walked slowly to Shen Yuepo, his tall figure exuding an invisible sense of oppression, yet he seemed to have deliberately concealed his sharpness.
Under Shen Tu's wide-eyed gaze, Feng Jin reached out and gently wiped away the glaring crimson stain from Shen Yue Po's lips with his fingertips.
"Well done."
"Cough cough!"
Shen Tu, unable to bear the atmosphere of complete disregard for others, coughed loudly.
He pointed at Mingye, who was bound like a dumpling by the Soul-Locking Chains, and Yang Yun, who was pressed into the ground by the Imperial Seal's oppressive aura, and asked loudly:
"Your Majesty, what should be done with these two traitors?"
"Imprisoned in the Cold Night of the Underworld." Feng Jin's voice regained its usual coldness.
"etc!"
Shen Yuepo suddenly spoke up to stop him.
Ignoring the lingering itchiness on her lips, she grabbed Feng Jin's wrist and pulled him to a more secluded corner of the dilapidated temple.
Shen Tu wisely refrained from following them, instead standing with his hands on his hips, glaring menacingly at the two prisoners on the ground to prevent them from causing trouble.
Shen Yuepo lowered her voice and spoke rapidly, telling Feng Jin all the fragments of memories she had seen after touching the bone flute in the blood coffin chamber.
Feng Jin listened quietly, without the slightest surprise in his eyes.
After Shen Yuepo finished speaking, his gaze fell on her hand that was tightly gripping his wrist, and then slowly moved back to her eyes.
“From the moment I learned that your blood could heal my internal injuries,” his voice was low and calm, “I sensed a unique power lingering deep within your soul.”
He paused, then continued, "I also suspected that you might be the reincarnation of that person's disciple. Now it seems that I was right."
"Who...who is that person?" Shen Yuepo pressed.
Feng Jin: "He was once one of the innate gods, in charge of life and growth, and in charge of the growth of all things and the continuation of life. In the divine court, he was honored as the 'Eternal Life Preserving Heavenly Venerable'."
He looked at Shen Yuepo and said the name, "His name is Yun Jingyan."
Shen Yuepo frowned slightly. "The Celestial Venerable of Longevity and Life Preservation... Yun Jingyan?"
Seeing her reaction, Feng Jin's eyes flashed with displeasure, and he added:
"However, I am not clear about the grudges and affections between him and his disciple."
His tone carried an air of detached indifference;
"All that is known is that his faith later became twisted, and in order to seek so-called enlightenment, he did not hesitate to fall into evil ways and began to study forbidden methods."
"In the end, his crimes were exposed, and I personally suppressed him and imprisoned him in the deepest part of the eighteenth level of hell, never to be reincarnated."
He abruptly changed the subject, his tone laced with sarcasm:
"But a few days later, this immortal and life-preserving deity sacrificed his heart in the eighteenth level of hell, thus relinquishing his divine status."
Shen Yuepo's pupils constricted sharply: "A heart-cutting sacrifice? Abandoning one's divine status?"
“Not bad.” Feng Jin nodded.
"The heart of a god is the core of a godhood, containing the fundamental laws. He ripped out his own heart, using it as a sacrifice, and forcibly disintegrated his own godhood, causing the fundamental power to dissipate."
"At the time, we thought he couldn't bear the punishment of hell, or he was in utter despair and chose to annihilate himself to seek liberation. After all, with his divine status collapsed and his body and soul destroyed, there was no room for maneuver; he was truly dead."
Feng Jin's gaze sharpened as he looked towards the open entrance to the secret passage deep within the dilapidated temple:
“But based on what you just saw in the fragments of memory, and considering the layout of the blood coffin here, he probably faked his death to escape.”
"That so-called heart-cutting sacrifice is most likely his secret technique for shedding his skin. He forcibly sacrificed most of his own essence and divine mark, leaving only a tiny, hidden spark of life, which deceived the laws of hell and my senses."
He chuckled softly, a laugh filled with murderous intent and a hint of amusement at having met his match.
"So, the real master behind that fool Mingye is him. What a 'Longevity and Life-Saving Celestial Venerable,' who claims to be saving his own life but is actually only saving his own."
After saying that, Feng Jin stopped and strode towards Ming Ye, who was bound to the ground by the Soul-Locking Chains.
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