The Netherworld giant’s eyes burned with greed as he roared with laughter.

  “Good! Excellent! This heaven-sent merit is mine! First the Nether baleful aura, then that bead—Lin Yi, if you dare compete with me, I’ll kill you!”

  The giant strode fully out of the clouds. His colossal body, dozens of meters tall, radiated crushing pressure. With crackling sounds, his frame rapidly shrank until he stood at normal human height. Upon his brow appeared a faint Azure skull mark—the royal insignia of the fifth-level cultivation nation, the Nether Ruins Kingdom.

  “Mingku, what do you mean by this?!” shouted Lin Yi.

  Mingku shot him a vicious glare and stepped into the Netherworld passage. With a wave of his hand, the light wheel reverted into twin Nether dragons and vanished. The sky brightened instantly; the black clouds dissipated.

  Lin Yi’s expression darkened. After casting a cold glance at Teng Huayuan—still bewildered—he let out a mocking chuckle and soared away in a streak of light.

  Outside Frost’s End Valley, every cultivator of Zhao remembered that youth—Yun Che—the Foundation Establishment cultivator who dared confront a Nascent Soul expert. His figure became legend.

  Zhao’s qualification for the Netherworld Battlefield was revoked. With the envoy gone in pursuit, even the Cold Abyss Tokens were rendered meaningless.

  Lin Yi, meanwhile, burned with fury. A mission item from the Cultivation Alliance had flown before his very eyes—only to be seized by another. Worse, the bead had been hidden in Zhao all along—under his watch.

  Teng Huayuan returned to the Teng clan city and entered seclusion, vowing not to emerge until reaching late Nascent Soul. Yet the faint Azure curse mark on his chest—though buried deep—never ceased to chill him.

  Across Zhao, Yun Che’s story spread.

  Liu Mei of Xuandao Sect carried quiet sorrow in her heart. Yun Mo and Yun Ting, once resentful, now resolved to avenge their clan.

  And Zhao grew still.

  The Netherworld Battlefield was filled with Nether罡 winds and spatial rifts. Teams from dozens of third-level cultivation nations—over a thousand cultivators—were scattered across it.

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  Most were only late Foundation Establishment.

  Upon entry, each received a protective jade talisman from their nation’s overseer—shielding them from Nether winds and ensuring return after fifty years.

  But spatial rifts?

  Those cared for nothing.

  The survival rate here hovered around thirty percent.

  Yet the rewards—materials, relics, treasures—were immense. Many who returned advanced rapidly. Almost every expedition saw someone form their Golden Core.

  A pale-faced youth was prying armor from a massive floating corpse. He carefully cut at the seams—clearly coveting the armor.

  On the corpse’s brow was a faint Azure skull mark.

  The youth was Ma Liang of the Blazing Flame Kingdom, mid-Foundation Establishment, a veteran of thirty years here.

  In this realm, one’s appearance did not age—until departure.

  Suddenly—

  A streak of dark ink-light shot past him.

  Ma Liang froze.

  Within that light, he glimpsed a bead.

  Without hesitation, he abandoned the armor and gave chase.

  He had seen self-flying treasures before—each inciting frenzied competition. Such items often contained artifact spirits.

  This could be his fortune.

  He summoned his prized fire shuttle—his greatest find in thirty years. It enlarged, roaring forward. He clung to it as wind battered him.

  For three days he chased.

  He could not overtake it—but did not lose it either.

  Then—

  Ahead, dense white threads appeared.

  Spatial rifts.

  His face went pale as he halted abruptly.

  Soon they would expand—devouring all.

  The ink-light did not stop.

  It plunged straight into a splitting rift and vanished.

  Ma Liang cursed in frustration.

  Then—

  A hand touched his shoulder.

  He nearly died of fright.

  Behind him stood a grim-faced middle-aged man bearing the Azure skull mark.

  “Boy. You saw that ink-light?”

  Ma Liang nodded frantically.

  The man was Mingku—who had pursued from Zhao. Though he was at the Soul Transformation stage, even he found pursuit difficult. The bead’s speed rivaled his own. Spatial rifts hindered him.

  He had noticed Ma Liang’s shuttle—faster than himself.

  After hearing the tale, Mingku’s face darkened.

  Beyond the rifts lay near-infinite void.

  Even late-stage Soul Transformation elders might never find it again.

  He seized Ma Liang’s shuttle.

  “This thing is mine.”

  Then departed without another word.

  Ma Liang exhaled shakily and fled.

  He did not know Mingku’s reputation—“If I don’t pick it up, it’s a loss.” The man once dismantled a light pillar from the Tongtian Tower simply because he could.

  In endless void—

  A dark ink-light floated, carrying two Azure ice crystals.

  Within the light, an aged voice murmured weakly:

  “Boy… this old man has done all he can… the rest… depends on you…”

  The ice crystals trembled faintly.

  Far in the abyss—

  Something stirred.