205: Shadows in the Dark

The secret chamber deep within the Purple Palace Hall was perpetually dark, with only a single eerie green palace lantern hanging from the dome, illuminating the cobwebs on the four walls like ghostly shadows.

Emperor Yongchang, in his dark dragon robe, swept his hem across the dust-covered floor, creating a faint sound. His face showed no emotion, only an impenetrable gloom in his eyes that merged with the chill in the hall.

At the end of the secret chamber, on a stone bed, the Emperor Emeritus of the Great Zhou Dynasty reclined.

His bright yellow sleeping robes were tattered, and his exposed neck was covered in hideous patterns. Where his flesh was torn, the pale white bone splinters were faintly visible, and each breath he took was a hoarse wheezing sound, like a broken bellows.

Hearing footsteps, his cloudy eyes sharply turned towards the newcomer, his pupils swirling with a morbid crimson, like a dying beast still hiding its fangs.

"They are dead," Emperor Yongchang said, his voice as steady as if he were discussing the weather, yet his fingertips unconsciously caressed the jade pendant at his waist. "Han Yue and the other two, their life tokens shattered without a trace."

The Emperor Emeritus let out a gurgling sound from his throat, and his withered, claw-like hand abruptly gripped the edge of the stone bed, his knuckles turning white. "Three Nascent Souls..." His voice sounded as if it was squeezed from rusted iron. "By whose hand did they die?"

"I don't know," Emperor Yongchang lowered his gaze slightly, the candlelight casting a shadow on his sharply defined profile. "They died in the Misty Swamp, unable to even send back a single communication talisman. Only the dragon seal of the nation returned alone."

"I don't know if they died by the hand of a Yao Beast or the Li family."

This statement was like a boulder thrown into stagnant water, causing the Emperor Emeritus to cough violently, black-red blood foam spilling from the corner of his mouth. He seemed oblivious to it, only staring intently at Emperor Yongchang: "Even a communication talisman..."

A Nascent Soul Cultivator's communication talisman has its own spiritual power protection; even in the last moments before death, it can be crushed to send a warning. Yet, Han Yue and the other two vanished as if into thin air, leaving not a single trace of spiritual power fluctuation in the world.

This meant that the opponent could not only instantly annihilate three Nascent Souls but also precisely cut off all escape routes, not even giving them a chance to leave a message.

The eerie green light flickered, illuminating the Emperor Emeritus's patterned face, making him appear even more sinister and terrifying. "The battle between the righteous and demonic paths has lasted half a year, and our Cultivators have suffered a thirty percent loss."

He gasped, his voice carrying a bone-chilling coldness. "If the Heavenly Dao Sect does not intervene soon, then our Great Zhou Dynasty might truly be overthrown."

Emperor Yongchang remained silent, the jade pendant on his fingertips warmed from his caress.

He was, of course, aware of the current predicament—the front lines were already precarious, and now three more Nascent Souls had died. If the Demonic Path Alliance were to follow up with a counterattack, half the territory of Great Zhou would be shaken.

Emperor Yongchang was silent for a long time before hesitantly saying, "Then should we still..."

"Enough..." The Emperor Emeritus coughed violently, sighing, "Three Nascent Soul Cultivators died inexplicably. Even if it wasn't a Soul Transformation Cultivator, it was close enough. Sending more people would only increase casualties. It's better to send them to the front lines to stabilize the war."

"It is fate. This Phoenix Bloodline is destined to have no connection with our Great Zhou Dynasty."

Emperor Yongchang looked up, his gaze meeting the crimson eyes of the Emperor Emeritus. The air in the hall seemed to freeze instantly. "No matter what it is," he slowly began, each word laced with ice, "to make three Nascent Souls die so cleanly, we... must prepare for the worst."

The eerie green palace lantern swayed, stretching their shadows long across the mottled stone wall, like two dormant trapped beasts, silently sharpening their claws in the approaching storm... Deep in the Nine Hells, the silt at the bottom of the Wangchuan River churned with inky bubbles. On a bone throne seemingly formed from billions of years of lingering souls, the figure slowly opened his eyes.

The shadowy threads entwined around his fingertips suddenly snapped one by one—the most secret connection he had with his three thousand Yin soldiers.

There was no warning, no struggle, just as if an invisible pair of scissors had cleanly severed them, without even a trace of residual soul read returning.

The skull lanterns suspended around the bone throne flickered erratically, making his face, shrouded beneath a black robe, even more indistinct.

"Hmm?"

A very soft question echoed in the vast hall, carrying an undeniable pressure.

He extended a hand as pale as paper, and a faint blue rune appeared in his palm—it was the mark he had branded deep within Li Xiangyun's Divine Soul.

But at this moment, the rune was covered as if by a thick layer of mist. No matter how he urged his Soul Power, he could not perceive any coordinates, as if the existence corresponding to that mark had completely vanished.

The breathing beneath the black robe paused slightly.

The disappearance of the Yin soldiers could still be explained as encountering the lingering power of the Heavenly Tribulation, but even the mark he personally planted had lost its sensation... This was by no means ordinary.

Although the Heavenly Tribulation could disrupt the heavenly secrets, it was absolutely impossible to completely block his investigation. Unless... a powerful being had secretly intervened, not only silently eradicating the Yin soldiers but also using the cover of the Heavenly Tribulation to completely sever his connection with the target.

The figure on the bone throne slowly straightened his back, and the chill around him suddenly intensified several times, causing the flow of the Wangchuan River to momentarily stagnate.

He raised his eyes towards the direction of the barrier between the Nine Hells and the human world. Although he could see nothing, the eyes hidden in the shadows flickered with increasing apprehension.

Who was it?

Was it an ancient Buddha of Buddhism, or a great power of Daoism? Or perhaps... those ancient Demonic Gods who had long since gone into hiding?

Names flashed through his mind, only to be dismissed one by one. Whoever the opponent was, to be able to achieve this under his very nose was enough to prove their unfathomable power. What made him even more uneasy was that the opponent's purpose was clearly related to that "Dao Seeker."

"Interesting..."

A deep chuckle, carrying a hint of coldness, emanated from beneath the black robe. The skull lanterns around the bone throne suddenly all went out, leaving only endless darkness.

He closed his eyes again, but his fingertips unconsciously clenched, his knuckles turning slightly white from the effort.

Since the opponent wanted to hide, then he would wait. Whoever the opponent was, daring to interfere in his affairs would always pay a price.

Only that Dao Seeker... and that existence hidden in the shadows, both needed to be remembered well.

Time slowly flowed, the water of the Wangchuan River seemingly congealed in eternal darkness. The figure on the bone throne was like an ancient, unchanging sculpture, with only the occasional icy aura leaking from beneath the black robe proving that he was not inanimate.

Until a certain moment, a faint but extraordinarily unique fire-attribute aura, like a spark crossing billions of miles of space and time, very briefly swept past the edge of his perception.

That aura was different from the scorching heat of mortal fire, and also distinct from the violent intensity of Heavenly Tribulation lightning fire. It was ancient, mellow, carrying a resilience that was almost depleted yet stubbornly unextinguished, like old firewood burning to its end but still refusing to turn to ash, emitting a unique fluctuation at the Divine Soul level.

The figure on the bone throne suddenly opened his eyes, his pupils beneath the black robe contracting sharply.

"This is... Myriad Fire!?"

"Old fellow, so many years have passed, and you truly didn't die!"

The air around the bone throne once again became viscous. Those skull lanterns that had long been extinguished suddenly lit up with an eerie glow again, only this time, the light carried a hint of predatory intent.

"Go."

A single word was uttered from beneath the black robe, carrying an irresistible command.

Before the words finished, two dark figures emerged from the shadows deep within the hall. They were even more grotesque than the previous Ox-Head and Horse-Face, their bodies entwined with chains that exuded a coldness capable of freezing Divine Souls.

"Bring back this Divine Soul. If alive, bring the soul; if dead, bring the ashes."

The dark figures obeyed, transforming into two wisps of green smoke, silently passing through the barrier of the Wangchuan River, disappearing into the rift leading to the human world.

The figure on the bone throne closed his eyes again, but a cold arc curved at the corner of his mouth beneath the black robe.

No matter who was behind that "Dao Seeker," he would first take this "delicacy" that had delivered itself to his doorstep.

If he could ascertain something from it, perhaps he could also unravel his previous doubts.

The Nine Hells once again fell into silence, but this time, in addition to the coldness in the air, there was also a greater sense of expectant greed.