Chapter 239: The Great Flower of Dao (1/2)

The heart of a tomb was the original body laid to rest within it, which then granted the tomb its purpose, and the ghost in white was the heart of this particular tomb. Endless malevolence from the Firmament Prison had fueled its transformation into the anchor of the Avici Hell—the fourth coiled mountain—defending the Door of Demise.

Sending it to hell naturally disrupted the fourth coiled mountain. The power of the layout remained, but the living corpses and the monsters from the blood ocean disappeared. The chamber returned to normalcy under the luopan’s light. All threats had vanished, as if they were nothing more than a passing nightmare.

“Is—is it over?” Mo Qitian asked with pale lips. His sunken rib cage and mouth that oozed blood marked the severity of his wounds.

“It is.” Lu Yun collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. He’d returned to the real world immediately after throwing the ghost into hell; he couldn’t be bothered to deal with it just yet. With the fourth coiled mountain ceasing its operation, the Door of Demise was no longer a threat.

Qing Han, Wu Tulong, and Zi Chen sagged to the ground in ungraceful heaps, relieved and grateful to be alive. Their demise would’ve been guaranteed in this tomb, if it weren’t for Lu Yun. This was no place for a cultivator!

Yet the characters emblazoned in the air of the first chamber had forbidden immortals from entering.

“I’m following you from now on, Boss Lu!” Mo Qitian turned to Lu Yun. “Count me in if you ever find yourself raiding a tomb!”

Though they hadn’t gained any treasures during this expedition, it’d been a tremendous learning experience. Mo Qitian wasn’t the weakest among the five youth sovereigns, in terms of strength, but he was the most weak-willed. This experience had absolutely tempered his mindset and honed his will.

Meanwhile, Wu Tulong and Zi Chen quietly settled in to recover from their injuries. After some time, everyone rose to their feet and focused their gazes upon the sarcophagus at the center of the chamber. It’d been the coffin of the ghost in white, but now, it held the missing realm of the severed cultivation path!

“Are we opening it?” Under his companions’ questioning glances, Lu Yun turned to examine the puddle of blood on the ground left by Lu Shenhou. His late clansman’s treasures, storage ring, and three uses of arcane dao immortal power were quietly hovering above it.

He deferentially bowed thrice to what the man had left behind. “Shenhou, rest assured that we will finish what you started and repair the path of cultivation!”

“Qing Han,” Lu Yun turned to his friend, who checked the luopan without missing a beat. All three indicators pointed at the sarcophagus, but the second layer, which hazarded a guess at the future, showed a bad omen.

Qing Han frowned; Lu Yun had seen the result as well. After a pensive moment, he flicked out seven soybeans. Seven soldiers in golden armor appeared at the center of the room with a flash of gold.

“Here we go again on another suicide mission.”

“We’re mighty and unparalleled. We’re supposed to be scything through enemies, shedding blood, and fighting to our deaths on the battlefield. But every time this kid summons us, we’re either cheap labor or cannon fodder. The most bullshit thing is, we can’t even say no!”

Grumbling nonstop, they approached the sarcophagus.

“Open!” they shouted in unison, their hands gripping the lid.

Rumble.

The coffin cracked open.