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Translator: TheBrokenPen
Editor: Dhael Ligerkeys
Two hundred yards above ground, Lu Ye was enshrouded in swirling flames, the golden radiance of the Golden Body Token’s effect obscured beneath the blaze’s brilliance.
Accompanying the surge of these flames, the intricate dance of Yin and Yang elements rapidly unfolded, intricately intertwining like a mesmerizing symphony.
As every ounce of Spiritual Power stored within the two Gathering Spirits Glyphs was depleted and everything inside him rapidly dwindled, at long last, the labyrinthine patterns of the last Glyph he was trying to construct fully took shape.
Numerous eyes—all of them belonged to the Thousand Demon Ridge Cultivators—panned up in awestruck silence, their gazes riveted to the spectacle unfolding in the sky.
What met their eyes was the sight of an oval-shaped object resembling some kind of beast’s egg. Its surface was crusted with intricate patterns that shimmered and glowed, all with Lu Ye cocooned inside its enamel-like embrace.
The pulsating radiance resembled an otherworldly form of respiration by an extraterrestrial beast.
But the Ninth-Order elites never stopped their incessant salvos of attacks at Lu Ye, their unceasing efforts rendering the egg-like object floating and bobbing in the air.
[What the hell is that?!] That was the same line that flashed through the minds of everyone below.
Everyone below, everyone whose minds were riddled with perplexity and curiosity, felt the same the unshakable and palpable sensation of raging perils radiated from the egg-like object.
The sense of foreboding dread gnawed at some, prompting them to turn around and flee. Even the Ninth-Order elites, once unshakably confident, now felt the stirrings of unease, their skin prickling as if stung by needles.
At the same time, still inside the “egg”, Lu Ye was still channeling his Spiritual Power, directing what remains of his eldritch energy into the now fully-formed Glyph that he became utterly spent.
The radiance of the spiritual egg intensified, its crimson hue resembling a resplendent sun hanging in the ether.
“Something’s wrong! We need to go! Now!”
A Ninth-Order cried, his voice echoing his urgency and anxiety that demonstrated his need to leave at once.
The rest of the elites did not need to be told. Next second, all of them vanished, scattered in all directions.
Whatever it was Lu Yi Ye was trying to do, it had clearly exceeded their imaginations. Escaping this scene of turmoil had just become their utmost priority.
With no more attacks to sustain its altitude, the “egg”, which had been suspended two hundred yards overhead, swiftly plummeted towards the ground below.
In its descent to the ground, the surface of the “egg” suddenly popped with webs of densely interwoven cracks: something inside was poised to break free.
A spine-chilling aura diffused from the shattering “egg”, an effusion so thick that its displacement distorted the very fabric of the surrounding space.
[Crack!]
Crackling sounds cascaded, continuing until—
“Screech!”
The clear and melodious cry of an avian reverberated through the skies. Accompanying the shrill cry was the crackling din of the “egg” bursting asunder.
Flames surged and billowed, and from within those flames emerged two colossal wings, followed by a resplendent and graceful figure.
The Second-Order Ghost Cultivator whose flight from the scene had brought him dozens of miles away, heard the hauntingly familiar ornithic song. He couldn’t help but tremble as his feet turned to lead in his state of panic. He turned around to look, only to be confronted by a scene that sent shivers down his spine.
It was a majestic creature with pinions surpassing a hundred yards in span and girth two hundred yards deep, its exquisite form festooned with elegantly trailing tail feathers enshrouded in blazing flames—a paradoxical and yet gorgeous embodiment of death.
Glyph: Fire Phoenix—reborn!
The Ghost Cultivator felt deja vu sweeping through him; he had witnessed the terrible paragon of destruction in all its fiery splendor before, back at the Spirit Creek Battlefield where the same spectacle was also conjured by Lu Yi Ye. The latter was trying to trample down the defenses of the Myriad Poison Forest back then, and with this very move, he decimated nearly two hundred of the Forest’s acolytes.
The Ghost Cultivator had narrowly escaped the calamity only because he had fled in advance.
Since that day, the graceful form haunted his sleep for a considerable span of time before he finally found peace.
And yet, right here, right now, the same scene had once again been visited upon him.
But the reappearance of Lu Yi Ye’s phoenix was not without its distinction; the phoenix this time appeared to be larger than before, its appearance more vivid and lifelike. Even the individual feathers on the phoenix’s form looked more distinct and discernible.
Beyond any doubt, the change to the phoenix’s appearance must have everything to do with Lu Yi Ye’s ascension into the Cloud River Realm. The last time Lu Yi Ye conjured the fiery avian, he was still at Heaven Seven, which was significantly a long way from the Cloud River Realm Third-Order he had achieved now.
In the meantime, the Ghost Cultivator was overcome with a profound sense of relief, grateful for having made a hasty escape before it was too late. Had he lingered, he would have inevitably been ensnared in this blazing crisis.
The colossal, flaming silhouette of the phoenix descended from the skies, its intensity and ferocity akin to a mountain crushing down on the horde of Thousand Demon Ridge Cultivators. The scorching waves of heat brought not only death and destruction, but also a sense of despair as if, as with all life and things, all hope was being devoured by the inferno.
In just the blink of an eye, the gigantic bird of fire covered more than two hundred yards, a predator swooping down on prey.
The ebullient form was on the cusp of colliding with the ground when it abruptly veered off its original trajectory, gliding at a mere dozen yards above the earth’s surface.
Its immense wings flapped gently, its incandescence distorting space and setting anything its feathers brushed aflame that even the earth was reduced to silica.
Agonizing wails of pain and anguish pierced the air, only to be abruptly silenced.
Scores of Thousand Demon Ridge acolytes had already begun escaping even before any of them got a proper glance at the phoenix. But it was already too late. Wherever the colossal form passed, men and women were incinerated, the blossoms of their life withering in a mere fiery flash.
Such was Fire Phoenix’s might that only Ninth-Orders stood what semblance of a chance to withstand its terror, even if it was just mere endurance.
Everything happened so fast. In what felt like both an instant and an eternity, the uncontrollable trajectory of the Flame Phoenix saw the mythical avian crashing into a hill not far away, in its wake a long and wide trail of scorched earth and charred, lifeless bodies.
The chaos gradually subsided. The fleeing Thousand Demon Ridge acolytes, their hearts still pounding with fear, came to a hesitant halt. Those who hadn’t fallen in the path of the fiery phoenix secretly breathed a sigh of relief, having narrowly escaped death. However, for those unfortunate souls in its wake, luck was but merely a fleeting notion.
Amidst the still-smoldering terrain, one figure stood tall as if in defiance to the phoenix’s invincible might: a Ninth-Order. Petrified to the very spot where he was standing when he resisted the phoenix’s searing incineration, he—with his hair and clothes all fully reduced by the fire into ashes and crisp, and every inch of his skin now charred-black as soot—looked like a dead tree still standing after an inferno, even though life still pulsed within him. Needless to say, the grievous wounds he suffered necessitated immediate medical attention from a healing practitioner, lest what remained of his life ebbed away.
What misfortune that he was caught in the path of the phoenix’s flight.
Streaks of light shot into the sky, the rest of the surviving Ninth-Orders rushing toward where the phoenix made its descent. When they arrived in just seconds, there was Lu Ye lying amidst the blackened, smoking earth, his face pallid white and his vacant eyes staring up at the sky utterly devoid of the strength to move even his fingers.
Even so, after what just happened, no one dared to approach Lu Ye too closely. Who could predict what other aces he could still be hiding up his sleeves?
Some gritted their teeth in tensed frustration, their hearts filled with unease.
Just when everyone expected Lu Ye to just self-destruct, he had unleashed a last-ditch attempt that had unexpectedly succeeded in claiming the lives of countless Thousand Demon Ridge Cultivators instead.
Even when they finally realized what he was up to earlier, they were powerless to stop him. No one could; not with the Golden Body Token’s magic still operating.
Unless they fled before Lu Ye could do anything. But that would have presented Lu Ye the chance to escape too.
Lu Ye remained unfazed by the litany of curses directed his way, feeling instead troubled by the deluge of dizziness assailing his head. Golden stars danced before his eyes, and he felt feeble and powerless, completely bereft of vitality.
Even the surface of his skin was splitting open, leaving his entire body drenched in blood-red web-like trails.
It was exactly the same as the last time he had used Glyph: Fire Phoenix…
He did not need to be a genius to know why: he still lacked sufficient strength to properly use Glyph: Fire Phoenix, and as an aftermath, the drawbacks of unleashing the Glyph overwhelmed him physically. While he could still use the Glyph so long as he had enough time and Spiritual Power, he could still not quite fully master and control the technique. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have crashed here; he would have steered the phoenix to chase down every Ninth-Order he could find.
Streaks of flying embers resembling fireflies floated towards him from a particular direction, embedding themselves into the Battlefield Imprint on the back of his hand.
These were the Contribution Points of the fallen Thousand Demon Ridge Cultivators who were killed.
Meanwhile, high above the celestial expanse, upon the Carnage Roster, the name “Lu Yi Ye” that had been teetering on the brink of slipping beyond tenth place emitted a faint glimmer before it soared to reclaim the top spot.
His Carnage Points tally of seven thousand one hundred and ten instantly doubled, skyrocketing to fifteen thousand six hundred and twenty.
The significant increase in Carnage Points showed that in just one fell swoop by using Glyph: Fire Phoenix, Lu Yi Ye had just slain at least forty to fifty Thousand Demon Ridge acolytes.
Which was just a small number relative to the full number of Thousand Demon Ridge Cultivators who were rallying here earlier—not even a tenth of the entire horde. The early realization had given them ample time to react and disperse, allowing the phoenix to eliminate enemies within just one designated bearing.
[Crack!]
The faint, crisp chime of broken glass resonated in the depths of everyone’s hearts right at that moment. Followed swiftly by the fragmentation of the morbid claret-red canopy above them that marked the Carnage Colosseum’s entire length and breadth, shattering like a smashed mirror. Lu Ye’s eyes squinted reflexively as the first shaft of light reached him as the brilliant luminescence of the sun came down to once again bathe the world in a golden embrace.
[The Carnage Colosseum has concluded! It has finally ended!]
Coincidentally—or not—it closed just after Lu Ye had reclaimed the top spot on the Carnage Roster.
As for whether this was purely coincidental or a twist of fate, Lu Ye knew very well which it was. Whatever had befallen him, everything was just too conveniently aligned, so much so that he could only attribute it to Heavens’ touch of preordained design at play.
However, the closure of the Carnage Colosseum seemed to hold little significance given his current predicament. Multiple enemy Ninth-Orders were encircling him, and with his Spiritual Power all but fully spent, there was no hope for escape.
The conclusion of the Carnage Colosseum stirred a commotion—or displeasure, especially in the case of the Ninth-Order who was holding the top position up until Lu Ye knocked him off the throne. Frustration and indignation boiled in him at the inopportune loss.
Had the Colosseum ended just ten seconds earlier—before Lu Ye’s final act of defiance—then he would have clinched the top spot, and the reward of the Primus-level Wisp of Sanctification, along with nine Gold Amulets, would have been his. Yet, this mere ten-second difference had cost him the one thing he coveted the most—the Wisp of Sanctification, and a Primus-level one to boot.
How could he not feel enraged? He couldn’t help but wonder if the Heavens were making a fool out of him by allowing a man condemned to death to claim the first place on the Carnage Roster—he failed to see any sense in that.
Countless beams of golden light descended from the skies, a shower of gold with each aureate droplet streaking with shimmering streamers towards the Ninth-Orders present. Being in the midst of the multitude of enemies, Lu Ye received a tiny golden speck of light falling down on the back of his hand, forming another mark separated from the Battlefield Imprint.
This must be the Heavens distributing the rewards at the end of the Colosseum.
That was when it dawned upon Lu Ye. The gold mark would allow him to claim his rewards within the Vault of Providence dimension.
[So this is how the Heavens grant the victors rewards,] Lu Ye mused. He had initially thought that whatever rewards would be directly bestowed upon the winners.
But now, it appeared that he would need to make a trip to the Vault of Providence himself, which rather made sense since some might not be conveniently ready or able to receive their rewards yet. With this arrangement, anyone could retrieve their rewards from the Vault whenever they saw fit.
Which became the source of exasperation for many of the Thousand Demon Ridge elites now clustering around Lu Ye. To most if not all of them, his fate was sealed. Once the effects of the Golden Body Token diminished, he would die, and along with him, the prize of winning the Carnage Roster. What a waste.
Temporarily sparing his life so that he could first retrieve his rewards wasn’t something that they would like to bet on anymore, especially after the chaotic and lethal turmoil he had just stirred. No one would dare to let him draw another breath of fresh air ever again. If anything, they were all just waiting for the divine protection to fade before striking.
