Xu Hao was a sixth-generation disciple of the Spirit Martial Sect from the third-level cultivation nation, the Nether Deer Kingdom.

  At this moment, he sat upon a massive floating stone, organizing the spoils he had gathered over the past few years. Suddenly, his transmission jade slip began vibrating violently.

  Frowning, Xu Hao pressed it to his forehead. An urgent voice immediately echoed within his divine sense:

  “Come quickly to the northwest corner, forty-eight degrees. An ownerless divine consciousness has appeared!”

  The message was from Ge Yang, a companion he had met in the Netherworld Battlefield. Both were late Foundation Establishment cultivators who frequently teamed up to kill and plunder, working in seamless coordination.

  Xu Hao’s expression changed instantly—then turned into wild delight.

  Divine consciousness fragments were the most precious treasures in the Netherworld Battlefield—even rarer than intact magical artifacts.

  Only when a powerful cultivator died, their Nascent Soul left the body, and that Nascent Soul was destroyed, would there be a minuscule chance for a trace of divine consciousness to scatter.

  Xu Hao did not fully understand their function, but he clearly remembered that upon entering the battlefield, envoys from higher cultivation nations had listed required items—and divine consciousness ranked within the top ten.

  Anything on that list had to be handed over in exchange for rewards.

  His heart pounded wildly. Without hesitation, he flew toward the designated direction.

  When he arrived, many cultivators had already gathered.

  In the distance stood a massive barrier. Within it floated a huge Azure light cluster, motionless in midair.

  Greed flashed in Xu Hao’s eyes. He slapped his storage bag, drew out a black fork-shaped weapon, and charged forward.

  Meanwhile, Yun Che continued waiting for spatial rifts to appear.

  After a long time, eight rifts suddenly emerged within his divine sense range.

  Without hesitation, he extended his consciousness into them—severed—sent out eight fragments.

  Again and again.

  His consciousness dwindled.

  Countless fragments were dispatched.

  For three years, the Netherworld Battlefield descended into madness.

  Ever since Xu Hao and Ge Yang seized the first ownerless consciousness three years ago, new fragments began appearing almost daily.

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  Too many to imagine.

  Under normal circumstances, such abnormality would have drawn investigation from higher cultivation nations.

  But during these three years—not a single envoy came.

  The battlefield had become unstable.

  Those inside could not leave. Those outside could not enter.

  The root cause lay in the spatial rifts.

  They had multiplied dramatically—especially near the entrances.

  Experts from fourth- and fifth-level cultivation nations concluded:

  The Netherworld Battlefield was nearing collapse.

  Even a Nascent Soul cultivator entering now might trigger catastrophic ruin.

  Asking a sixth-level nation to repair it would cost too much.

  Even with the abundance of divine consciousness fragments, the value was insufficient to justify repair.

  Moreover, Netherworld Battlefields were not unique.

  If reinforcement spells failed, such battlefields were typically abandoned.

  What puzzled them was this—

  The battlefield should have lasted thousands more years.

  Why had it deteriorated within just three?

  They did not know—

  It was because of Yun Che.

  Inside the rifts, time flowed differently.

  One hundred years within equaled one year outside.

  Three years externally—

  Three hundred years of impact inside.

  Three hundred years of relentless collision.

  Now, no higher-level cultivator dared enter.

  They could only transmit orders:

  Cancel the operation. Gather all divine consciousness fragments. Prepare unified evacuation.

  Yun Che had long forgotten time.

  His consciousness grew smaller and weaker.

  He no longer severed fragments—he waited.

  For a larger rift.

  One day—

  A rift several times larger than before appeared.

  Without hesitation, he entered.

  Ma Liang was chasing a flying sword artifact.

  Exhausted after three days of pursuit, he bitterly recalled the shuttle stolen years ago.

  He often fantasized about that streak of ink-light—what heaven-defying treasure had it contained?

  “Transmission channel opens just as my fifty-year term ends… fine. At least I can go home soon.”

  He chuckled, imagining his junior sister.

  Perhaps still youthful.

  Perhaps changed.

  He laughed to himself, reinvigorated.

  Then—

  Two rainbows streaked across the sky.

  Xu Hao and Ge Yang.

  In an instant, Xu Hao seized the flying sword.

  Ge Yang blocked Ma Liang’s retreat.

  Recognizing them, Ma Liang panicked.

  He immediately threw his storage bag to Xu Hao.

  “Everything I have is inside. Please spare my life!”

  Xu Hao laughed.

  “You lack backbone—but you know the times. Fine. Get lost.”

  Relieved, Ma Liang turned—

  A sword pierced his chest.

  Ge Yang retrieved it calmly.

  “I never said I’d spare you.”

  Xu Hao followed without protest.

  They had an agreement: whoever received the storage bag owned it.

  If Ma Liang had handed it to Ge Yang instead, Xu Hao would have killed him just the same.

  Ma Liang’s vision blurred.

  His junior sister’s face appeared before him.

  Darkness closed in.

  Suddenly—

  A massive spatial rift opened beside his corpse.

  A colossal divine consciousness burst forth.

  After a brief pause—

  It plunged into Ma Liang’s body.

  Moments later—

  His eyes snapped open.

  Two streaks of icy light flashed within them.

  The wound in his chest healed at visible speed.

  A voice colder than the Nine Netherworlds echoed:

  “Teng Huayuan… I, Yun Che, have returned. Divine consciousness—return!”

  At that instant—

  Throughout the Netherworld Battlefield—

  Every fragment of Yun Che’s consciousness—

  Whether sealed inside storage bags, refined within bodies, or being contested—

  All trembled violently.

  Azure beams burst from treasures, storage bags, and flesh alike—

  Rushing madly toward Yun Che.

  Panic erupted among every cultivator who had obtained a fragment.

  Xu Hao’s storage bag exploded as the fragment shot out.

  Ge Yang screamed as the fragment tore from his body in a spray of blood—his cultivation collapsing instantly.

  “What is happening?!”

  They turned—

  Behind them stood a young man.

  Endless Azure light converged around him.

  With each merging beam, the cold in his eyes deepened.

  He raised his head toward the distant exit.

  “Fifty years… Teng Huayuan. Are you ready?”