323: Tragic Blood Without a Trace

The Qilin, formed by Mo Yu, trod on dark auspicious clouds, moving with extreme speed, covering thousands of miles in an instant, flying towards a secluded place far from the bustling battlefield.

Finally, they landed atop a solitary peak in a sea of clouds, a place rarely visited by humans.

The area was shrouded in mist, and while the Spiritual Qi wasn't top-tier, it possessed a unique pure and natural Dao Rhyme, perfect for contemplation and review.

Xiao Ruobai drifted down from the Qilin's back, found a smooth mountain rock, and sat down cross-legged. He didn't speak immediately but slowly closed his eyes.

The slightly turbulent Aura around him, a result of his recent Breakthrough, began to slowly calm and retract like a receding tide.

The insights from his previous Breakthrough were like molten iron, still hot, requiring immediate forging and careful tempering to fully integrate into his Dao Foundation and stabilize this new King Realm.

For a time, only the whistling wind and the rolling and unrolling clouds could be heard at the peak.

Mo Yu lay quietly beside him, his massive Qilin head slightly lowered, his dark golden vertical pupils watching the meditating Xiao Ruobai, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

There was awe, humiliation, and also an indescribable longing for powerful strength.

After about half a day, Xiao Ruobai's fluctuating Aura finally completely stabilized, like a deep pool or an ancient well, undisturbed by ripples. However, the faint pressure he exuded was now more condensed and profound than before.

He slowly opened his eyes, divine light contained within his pupils, clear and deep. His gaze fell upon Mo Yu beside him.

"Mo Yu."

Xiao Ruobai spoke, his voice calm, yet carrying an undeniable authority.

Mo Yu heard the call, immediately raised his head, composed himself, and respectfully responded, "Your Excellency."

Xiao Ruobai looked at him, his tone flat and unwavering, as if stating a simple fact: "Your defeat to Wang Zhan was not a failure of combat, but rather a flaw in your Dao Heart and fighting style."

Xiao Ruobai continued, "You should thoroughly review your battle with Wang Zhan, from beginning to end.

Don't just remember the final decisive blow, but recall every detail: how he punched, how you responded, how his Aura changed, how your emotions fluctuated.

Why was he able to seize the momentary gap during your Divine Ability's transition, and when did you reveal undue arrogance and flaws?"

His words were like a cold carving knife, precisely dissecting the wound Mo Yu was unwilling to face directly.

"Imperial Blood Talent is indeed your Foundation, but if you only rely on Bloodline Divine Abilities, blindly charging and attacking, getting angry when frustrated, and becoming impatient when seeing an Opportunity, then you are falling short, possessing a treasure mountain without realizing it."

"A true powerhouse is not only strong in power, but even stronger in Heart-Nature and will. What you need to learn is how to wield your Imperial Blood power as easily as an arm, integrating it into every breath, every thought, rather than merely using it as a tool for showing off and crushing others."

Xiao Ruobai's voice was not loud, but every word was like a hammer, striking Mo Yu's heart.

"Now, calm your mind and reflect. Let this battle be your first lesson in reshaping your Battle Intent and understanding yourself. If you can comprehend even three parts of its true meaning, today's defeat will far surpass years of arduous cultivation."

With that, Xiao Ruobai said no more, closing his eyes again to continue consolidating his Realm and internalizing his insights.

The peak once again fell silent.

Mo Yu's massive body lay there, and in his dark golden vertical pupils, light flickered intensely.

Initially, there was struggle and the pain of recollection, but gradually, as Xiao Ruobai's words echoed in his mind, he forced himself to calm down and began to examine the tragic defeat with an unprecedented, almost cruel, objective perspective.

Scene after scene replayed with extreme clarity in his mind.

This time, he no longer just felt the gap in strength and Moves, but also began to touch upon the intangible yet crucial differences that determined victory or defeat: Battle Intent, Heart-Nature, and combat wisdom.

A glimmer of understanding, like a faint light cutting through darkness, began to quietly sprout in his heart.

Just as Xiao Ruobai was guiding Mo Yu on the solitary peak, Shi Jingxian and others were returning to Zizhu Peak, and Wang Zhan was meditating in the place of his defeat—

In the depths of the Great Emperor's Tomb in Barren State!

A dark passage seemed endless, ancient runes on the stone walls glowed with a faint, ominous light, and the air was filled with the decaying scent of millennia and a heart-palpitating pressure.

The Third Old Ancestor, Shi Wanshan, stopped, looking around at the almost identical dark environment, and couldn't help but curse:

"What the hell is this place? Restrictions are layered upon layers, Formations are interlinked, going round and round, it feels like we're still circling the periphery! Evil, truly damn evil!"

Although his voice was loud, his brows were slightly furrowed, and his sharp gaze swept over every seemingly ordinary corner.

With his Saint King Realm cultivation and experience, he had already felt considerable pressure along the way.

He had triggered Restrictions several times, and although he managed to resolve them without major incident due to his formidable strength, it had consumed a lot of mental energy. The danger of this Great Emperor's Tomb far exceeded his initial expectations.

Only seven Glazed Holy Land Disciples remained behind him, all in disarray, their Auras weak, like startled birds.

The quasi-Holy Son, Xue Wuhen, was among them. His cultivation had actually risen to the Heavenly Human Realm Early Stage, clearly having gained some unexpected Opportunity during his previous exploration of the Ancient Tomb.

The Third Old Ancestor's gaze swept over this group of defeated soldiers, pausing especially on Xue Wuhen, a hint of imperceptible surprise flashing in his eyes.

"This kid, his Luck isn't bad? I forced him several times to explore those deadly places; other Disciples either died or were crippled, but he, on the other hand, always managed to escape danger and even seemed to gain some benefits, his cultivation rising instead of falling... Although most of the loot ended up with me, this kind of Luck is quite interesting."

At this moment, Xue Wuhen hung his head low, seemingly submissive, but in reality, his heart was already filled with endless fear, humiliation, and a despair that was almost numb.

His robes were tattered, stained with dust and dried, blackened blood.

'Devil! This old geezer, he's simply a Devil Head!'

Every time he was forced to walk towards a Restriction emitting deadly fluctuations, every time he felt that seemingly casual yet cold-as-knife gaze from behind him, Xue Wuhen felt like he was hovering at the gates of hell.

That old Devil Head was clearly using them, these 'captives,' as stepping stones to clear the dangers ahead with their lives!

'Why me? Why do I have to suffer all this...'

He was once the high and mighty quasi-Holy Son of the Glazed Holy Land, with boundless prospects. Ever since he met that damned Little Fatty, nothing had gone right.

When had he ever suffered such treatment, worse than pigs and dogs? Each time he narrowly escaped death in a Restriction, instead of feeling grateful, it only deepened his bone-deep hatred for the Third Old Ancestor.

The only thing sustaining him from completely collapsing was a thought, like a life-saving straw, which he repeatedly chewed on, almost becoming an obsession:

"Hold on! I must get out alive!"

"The Holy Lord's Divine Abilities are vast, and the Elders' cultivations reach the heavens. The Holy Land will surely discover the anomaly, and they will definitely come to save me!"

"When I get out, when I get out! I will make sure this place is known, and when I get out, I will definitely report what happened here and ask the Holy Land to avenge us!"

"By then, not only will this damned Ancient Tomb be razed to the ground and dug three feet deep, but that old scoundrel surnamed Shi will also have his soul extracted and refined, so he can never reincarnate! Only then can I quell the hatred in my heart!"

This poor child did not yet know that the Glazed Holy Land, on which he placed his high hopes, had long turned to scorched earth, and his reliance was long gone.

Even the Blood Fiend Sect, from which he originated, had been purged and suppressed by various Sects after the Holy Land's destruction due to its ties with the Glazed Holy Land. Now, it was struggling to protect itself, teetering on the brink.