Over a hundred refined souls burrowed wildly through the frost dragon’s body, darting in and out in chaotic frenzy. Teng Huayuan froze for a split second—just as the dragon passed straight through the spirits and lunged to devour him.

  His expression shifted violently. With no time to think, he retreated while throwing out several defensive treasures. Barriers of every shape unfolded before him—yet none could obstruct the dragon in the slightest. It ignored all defenses, pierced through everything, roared, and swallowed him whole.

  From afar, Lin Yi wore a strange look. He glanced at the Netherworld giant watching the spectacle; the giant’s face mirrored the same odd amusement. They exchanged a glance. The giant burst into laughter, staring at the frost dragon with playful interest.

  At the instant the bloody maw reached him, Teng Huayuan felt only a faint breeze.

  The dragon, so ferocious a moment ago, silently dissipated the instant it touched his body.

  He had not felt cold sweat in centuries—yet in that single heartbeat, his back was drenched.

  “Illusion… damn you!” His face flushed red, then pale. Since forming his Golden Core, he had not cursed so openly in hundreds of years.

  Before all cultivators of Zhao, he had been toyed with by a mere illusion.

  Humiliation ignited his fury to its peak.

  He slapped his storage pouch, intending to draw out the Soul-Locking Banner and crush Yun Che’s kin one by one before his eyes. But at that moment, faint azure motes gathered in midair, merging into “Yun Che” once more.

  Without hesitation, the figure waved his hand. A streak of blood light, laced with cold intent, shot toward Teng Huayuan and arrived in an instant.

  Teng Huayuan sneered. Instead of retreating, he stepped forward and grabbed.

  “The first was an illusion. The second won’t be, will it? Is this all you have, Yun Che?”

  His hand closed around the flying sword.

  The blood light flashed.

  The sword vanished—reappearing behind him, reversing direction, and stabbing fiercely into his back.

  Clang.

  It struck like metal against metal and was flung far away. Beneath his torn robe gleamed a dark-gold inner armor etched with ancient patterns.

  Cold light flickered in Teng Huayuan’s eyes. He stepped forward, appearing before the youth, black threads spiraling from his fingertips as he clawed down. Simultaneously, eight blood-red pillars erupted around them, weaving into a crimson cage.

  Yet the youth showed not fear—but ridicule.

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  As the claw descended, his body blurred and dissipated.

  Two Frost Nether Pearls—one large, one small—emerged.

  They collided.

  Teng Huayuan’s face changed.

  A ripple of Azure frost burst outward, instantly covering a thousand meters.

  Within that radius—

  An Azure ice purgatory descended.

  Lin Yi narrowed his eyes.

  “Interesting. The child possesses Illusion City’s Thousand Transformations and the primal eruption of Extreme Frost. Even that mundane iron sword, nurtured by extreme cold, carries real killing power.”

  Above, the Netherworld giant paused, glancing meaningfully toward Frost’s End Valley’s passage, a strange smile splitting his lips.

  In the sky, within the twin-dragon light wheel, the membrane had nearly dissolved.

  Below, Teng Huayuan’s blood pillars cracked, freezing into eight crimson ice statues. Frost climbed rapidly up his legs. Though numbness spread through him, he was not alarmed. Circulating spiritual power, he gradually restored movement.

  At that precise moment—

  From the shadows of the valley passage, Yun Che vanished.

  One of his final three teleports was spent.

  He reappeared within the expanding Azure ripple. His Extreme Frost physique shielded him from its backlash. Silent as a ghost, he stood beside Teng Huayuan.

  He knew he could not match a Nascent Soul cultivator. Revenge was impossible.

  But reclaiming the souls—

  That was possible.

  The instant he appeared, he reached for Teng Huayuan’s storage pouch.

  Teng Huayuan sensed him too late.

  Yun Che’s hand had already grasped it.

  “Explode!”

  A destructive force surged from the pouch into Yun Che’s arm. His arm began detonating from the fingertips upward.

  Without hesitation, the Blood Fiend Sword flashed—he severed his own right arm.

  Using the explosive force, he retreated. With his left hand, he employed Gravitational Art to seize the pouch from afar and flee.

  Teng Huayuan recovered and gave chase instantly.

  “You think you can open my pouch? After killing my great-grandson, you’ll suffer eternal torment in my banner!”

  He summoned a blood curtain from his Nascent Soul, sealing the space.

  Bound by the curse between them, Yun Che froze in place.

  Then—

  He saw it.

  Among the charging souls—

  His father.

  Yun Shan.

  Blood tears streamed down his face.

  Teng Huayuan laughed darkly.

  “You thought I separated your family’s souls? Foolish.”

  One by one—

  His father.

  His mother, Liu Shi.

  Each soul forced into Yun Che’s body.

  The agony of spirit surpassed the agony of flesh.

  He preserved them with Extreme Frost, sealing them in ice within his chest.

  “Cultivation… so this is cultivation… good… good!”

  He laughed upward, coughing blood.

  Teng Huayuan unleashed all hundred souls. They devoured Yun Che’s flesh and spiritual power. Faces bulged beneath his skin.

  He did not cry out.

  Even as his limbs were consumed.

  Above, the Netherworld giant’s eyes burned with fanatic light.

  “Baleful aura… Nether baleful aura! If this child does not die…”

  Yun Che, on his last breath, drew the frozen souls to his chest.

  If he must die—

  He would die with his parents.

  “Father… Mother… Lier… I am unfilial…”

  He closed his eyes.

  A sigh echoed from his chest.

  His body exploded.

  Hundreds of souls fled in panic.

  A dark streak of ink-light burst forth, carrying the two frozen soul-crystals. It pierced the blood curtain and shot into the Netherworld Battlefield passage.

  The membrane shattered.

  Lin Yi lunged—but was rebounded.

  The giant murmured, eyes blazing:

  “Li Han… you truly still live…”

  Below, Teng Huayuan stared blankly.

  Then—

  He felt it.

  On his chest—

  An extremely faint Azure mark.

  A curse.

  Planted at death.

  Lin Yi smiled faintly.

  “A Nascent Soul cultivator cursed by a Foundation ant. Teng Huayuan… your life seems reserved.”

  Teng Huayuan tried to erase it.

  The mark only sank deeper.

  Far within the Netherworld Battlefield—

  A shattered streak of ink-light drifted into endless void, carrying two Azure ice crystals.