Chapter 274

Ten days passed in an instant.

When the Ninth Dao Academy's ancient assembly bell—symbolizing a major operation—rang across the mountains with a vast, lingering tone, Wang Ping, Luo Qingyang, and Qin Xue almost simultaneously opened their eyes.

Their eyes gleamed with inner light, their aura round and full; obviously they had tuned their state to the peak they could currently reach.

On the designated vast plaza, mist swirled; nearly a hundred academy disciples who had qualified for the secret realm stood solemnly.

These disciples were all outstanding Golden Core elites of the Ninth Dao Academy; each would be a genius outside, and gathered here they naturally exuded a soaring sharpness.

The two late‑stage Spirit Transformation instructors leading the team hovered in mid‑air, their robes moving without wind, their aura deep as the sea.

Their gaze was like lightning, slowly sweeping over each young, resolute face below; no rousing rally, no lengthy admonition, just a slight nod. One ancient‑looking elder flicked his sleeve——

Hum—

Space rippled, and an enormous ancient tower‑ship treasure, deep blue overall with stacked pavilions and dense runes, appeared above the plaza, casting a vast shadow.

The hull exuded an ancient, mighty aura—this was the Ninth Dao Academy's signature flying treasure, the Azure Void Patrol Vessel.

"Board." The elder's voice was plain yet clear, reaching everyone's ears.

Following the order, they turned into streaks of light and flew into the tower‑ship in an orderly fashion.

Wang Ping, Luo Qingyang, and Qin Xue exchanged a glance and tacitly chose a relatively secluded spot on the bow deck.

As the last person boarded, the Azure Void Patrol Vessel shuddered; its runes flared, and in an instant it became a blue streak tearing across the sky, rending the clouds and hurtling toward the Northern Territory at a speed beyond what ordinary Spirit Transformation cultivators could imagine.

The tower‑ship's interior was far more spacious than its exterior suggested, thanks to a clever spatial expansion formation.

Most disciples chose to meditate in their assigned chambers, striving to keep their condition optimal before arrival.

Also, some familiar disciples gathered in the common area, quietly exchanging scraps of intel about the secret realm and each side's opponents; the atmosphere was solemn and heavy, a pre‑battle oppression silently spreading.

Wang Ping and his two companions stood at the bow, gazing ahead. The magnificent mountains and rivers below receded at visible speed, mist swirling and tearing at the ship's sides.

Luo Qingyang crossed his arms; beneath his scarlet war robe, the outline of his tensed muscles hinted at a scorching heat that made the heart race, as if magma flowed beneath his skin. After ten days of arduous training, his Scarlet Yang Battle Body had clearly advanced, his aura becoming deeper, condensed, and overbearing.

Qin Xue remained as cold as snow, standing silently to the side, yet careful observation revealed that the air within about a foot of her seemed even colder and more piercing than elsewhere.

Occasionally, as her eyes opened and closed, deep in her pupils a miniature crystal‑ice world seemed to blossom and fade—a sign that her Ice Domain divine ability had coalesced into form.

Wang Ping stood slightly ahead of the two, his green robe fluttering slightly in the gale of high‑speed flight, yet his stance was as steady as a boulder.

His aura was the most restrained of the three; at first glance he seemed no different from an ordinary late‑stage Golden Core cultivator.

Only when his gaze occasionally swept over a perilous mountain far below or drifted toward the distant horizon did a flash of razor‑sharp coldness, like a peerless sword about to be drawn, flicker in the depths of his eyes—fleeting, yet enough to make one's heart run cold.

After several days of nonstop flight across an unknown number of myriad miles, the Azure Void Patrol Vessel's speed finally began to noticeably slow.

The scenery ahead gradually became desolate and bizarre.

The azure sky was replaced by a dark red like dried bloodstains, a heavy stillness and oppression swept over, the spiritual energy grew thin and violent, as if this heaven and earth had long been eroded and abandoned by some indescribable force.

Far off, a pitch‑black "sea" that stretched beyond sight came into view. Though called a sea, it had no waves, no ripples, its deathly stillness enough to make one's heart race.

That blackness was not water‑colored, but an accumulation of countless jagged, variably sized fragments resembling shattered stars, spreading to the edge of the field of vision.

This is the Meteor Sea, the entrance to the Grand Void Secret Realm—a wasteland where countless stellar remnants lie buried, and even light seems to be devoured.

Yet at this moment, the void at the edge of this lifeless wasteland presents a scene of unprecedented bustle.

Once barren airspace is now packed with countless flying magical artifacts of varied radiance, ferocious gargantuan demonic beast mounts, and even powerful figures who cross the void with flesh alone, their auras terrifying.

Forces from all corners of the Spirit Realm have nearly filled the sky here to overflowing. Countless auras of varying strength, the weakest at Golden Core peak, intertwine and collide.

This forms a chaotic yet mighty pressure, causing the surrounding space to ripple with subtle, visible distortions, and light here becomes strange and wondrous.

The Azure Void Sky‑Surveying Vessel of the Ninth Dao Institute directly seized a sizable area; the cultivators there dared not speak, all making way.

Wang Ping and his two companions followed the crowd down the deck‑ship; the moment their feet touched the hard, icy ground at the edge of the Meteor Sea—seemingly forged from stellar metal—they were instantly struck by an omnipresent, almost suffocating immense pressure.

This pressure comes not only from the powerful beings hovering in the air, but also from the ancient, deathly stillness permeating this heaven and earth, and from the increasingly distinct spatial undulations emanating from the depths of the Meteor Sea, like a heartbeat.

"My goodness… look over there! Those winged ones… wow… what a powerful aura!"

A cultivator wearing the obvious garb of some minor clan, scales on his face, pointed at a distant area bathed in brilliant holy light, his voice trembling.

Within that holy light, a group of figures bearing various splendid wings stood proudly.

Some had wings forged like golden steel, edges sharp enough to cleave space; others were entwined with azure whirlwinds, their forms flickering in and out of sight.

Others burned with an unextinguished crimson flame, sending scorching heat across the void.

"It's the Sacred Feather Clan! Rumored to be the overlord formed by the bloodlines of all mighty avian divine beasts—no wonder their might is so great…"

Beside him, an old man who looked like a lone cultivator muttered to himself, his eyes full of shock.

Almost as the Sacred Feather Clan drew everyone's gaze, on the other side of the void a silent, dense deathly aura that made souls feel icy and stiff spread like a tide.

A group of figures clad in robes as black as ink, seeming to swallow all light, appeared.

Their skin was a sickly pallor, or their bodies shrouded in constantly twisting black mist; wherever they passed, even light dimmed, vitality seeming to be ripped away instantly, leaving only eternal stillness.

"The… the Yin‑Nether Clan! The forbidden tribe that commands death and foul qi! Keep your distance—it's said that even a Golden Core or Nascent Soul cultivator will rot if touched by their deathly aura."

A well‑traveled lone cultivator's face went pale, he instinctively stepped back a few paces, his voice full of fear.

Boom——!!!

Sudden thunder exploded, drowning out much of the clamor. A cloud entirely forged from violent thunderstorm barged into this space, several figures bathed in blinding lightning, arriving by treading the thunder.

They were burly, muscles knotted, hair like leaping lightning, eyes wild and unrestrained, their bodies radiating a destructive, fierce, violent vigor.

"It's the Heaven‑Punishment Clan! Masters of thunder! These guys are all battle‑mad lunatics—you don't want to provoke them!"

A prodigy from a minor clan clicked his tongue, eyes full of dread.

At the same time, in another direction, celestial music floated faintly, auspicious clouds drifting.

A group of men and women rode upon immaculate auspicious clouds, drifting slowly forward. Each possessed peerless looks, an ethereal, otherworldly aura, skin like jade, eyes like stars, their flowing robes unstained by even a speck of dust, as if they belonged not to this sullied mortal realm.

The pure immortal spirit emanating from them formed a stark contrast to the Yin‑Nether Clan's deathly stillness.

"The Fallen Immortal Clan… said to be the descendants of ancient true immortals left in the Spirit Realm, naturally close to the Dao, their arts splendid and powerful…" a cultivator whispered in admiration, filled with longing.

And this was merely the tip of the iceberg.

Farther off came a heavy sound, like mountains shifting, of footsteps.

They are the powerhouses of the Giant Spirit Clan; their stature generally exceeds three zhang, muscles bulging like granite, containing explosive power—just standing there gives an impression of immovability.

A gloomy, eerie curse aura seeped from another corner; these are the heirs of the Witch Clan, their bodies swathed in wide black robes embroidered with strange symbols, faces unseen, only occasional withered fingers protruding, emitting an unsettling ominous aura.

Also there is the Crystal Clan, whose bodies are entirely composed of translucent crystal that refracts seven-colored splendid light.

And the demon clan's camp, where demonic qi is most mixed yet also most mighty—among them are true dragon descendants with hidden dragon majesty and jade horns on their heads, the graceful, noble Heaven Phoenix bloodline with iridescent wings, the primeval ferocious beast remnants with soaring killing intent and blood-red pupils, as well as the cunning, alluring nine-tailed celestial foxes with swaying fox tails… The demon clan is numerous and varied, together forming an immense force in the field that cannot be ignored.

Whenever a newly renowned top genius of a major faction appears, it inevitably provokes an unstoppable outcry and commotion among the minor clan cultivators and loose cultivators.

Those figures—each naturally emanating a spiritual pressure far beyond that of ordinary Golden Core cultivators—are awe-inspiring.

"More than half of the Twelve Great Overlords have come, haven't they? This lineup…… is terrifying!"

"Not only that! Look at those powerful clans—Giant Spirit, Witch, Crystal, and the demon clan's royal bloodlines— which of them is easy to get along with?"

"Goodness, that figure shrouded in chaotic qi, whose form cannot be discerned—could it be the recorded Chaos Demon Clan? It's said they come from beyond the realm, and their power attributes are extremely strange!"

"And that group over there, their five‑elements spiritual qi flowing smoothly, as if they embody heaven and earth—must be the heaven‑chosen talents of the Five Elements Clan!"

"Those who look half‑asleep, as if perpetually sleepwalking…… could they be the Nightmare Clan? It's said they can kill people invisibly in dreams!"

Exclamations and discussions rose and fell; many minor clan cultivators and loose cultivators turned pale, feeling the gap between themselves and these overlords and powerful clan geniuses as vast as a heavenly chasm.

However, unlike the shock and fear of those people, the disciples of the Ninth Dao Institute quickly steadied their minds after the initial visual impact.

They perhaps wore solemn expressions, but their eyes grew sharper and their backs straightened. As elite humans of one of the Ten Great Dao Institutes of the Spirit Realm, they possessed their own pride and conviction.

Humans have risen in the Spirit Realm teeming with myriad races not by bloodline talent, but through unyielding will, the transmission of wisdom, and the strength of unity!

"Hmph, no matter how splendid the Holy Feather Clan's wings are, they'll have to take a hit to know how hard they are!" a Dao Institute disciple snorted, his fighting spirit rising.

"The deathly qi of the Evil Dark Clan is troublesome, but our human ancestors' Pure Yang Cultivation Method and Thunder‑Lightning Orthodoxy are exactly its bane!"

"The Heaven Punishment Clan's thunder law is fierce? Perfect—I'll receive instruction on our Ninth Dao Institute's 'Nine Revolving Thunder Gang'!"

"If the demon clan's bloodlines are mighty, what do we have to fear as humans who cultivate both law and body, with myriad divine abilities?"

Confidence—a confidence stemming from personal strength and ethnic heritage—permeated among the disciples of the Ninth Dao Institute.

Perhaps taken individually they might be at a disadvantage against certain overlord heaven‑chosen talents, but as a whole, as the hope of humanity's future, they fear no challenge!

Wang Ping's gaze was calm as water, slowly sweeping over those renowned figures, like a composed hunter assessing potential opponents and prey.

He saw the silver‑haired youth Cangxuan of the Heaven Azure Clan, with whom he had once briefly met, still standing alone atop the highest fractured star‑bone, his expression aloof, as if the surrounding clamor had nothing to do with him; that loftiness and power drew sideways glances.

He also sensed from the Evil Dark Clan's camp a gaze filled with deathly stillness, icy cold, and greed, locking onto him like a venomous snake—that must be the Mingxian mentioned in Qin Xue's intelligence. He also noticed the Holy Maiden of the Fallen Immortal Clan, sheltered implicitly by the crowd, her flawless beauty otherworldly, and the Holy Son of the Five Elements Clan, his whole body suffused with flowing five‑colored light, his aura unified.

Just then, the sky again rang with the sound of tearing space. Several imposing flying magic treasures descended, their banners bright.

"It's people from other Dao Institutes arriving."

"The Ten Great Dao Institutes—looks like they've all gathered this time!"

Everyone's gaze was drawn over. The Ten Great Dao Institutes, the ten pillars of the human cultivation world, cooperate and compete with each other. Their arrival bolstered the momentum of the human faction.

Wang Ping also looked at those flying vessels. He knew that within the Ten Great Dao Institutes lie hidden dragons and crouching tigers. It is said that the current Spirit Realm Human Hidden Dragon List—which records only human Golden Core cultivators with bone age under fifty—has its top ten all coming from the Ten Great Dao Institutes.

Top of the list: First Dao Institute, Li Dao Yi. It is said he possesses a 'Myriad Laws Spiritual Body', is versed in all systems of Dao arts, especially skilled in formations and deduction, his strength surpasses peers, his power is unfathomable, and he is acclaimed as the human heaven‑chosen talent most likely to condense a 'Law‑Form Nascent Soul' within a thousand years.

Second: Second Dao Institute, Zhan Wuji. He follows the path combining ancient body cultivation and the way of slaughter; his flesh is invincible, his combat style wildly violent. Having once faced early Nascent Soul cultivators with late Golden Core cultivation and remained undefeated in direct clashes, his ferocious reputation is widespread.

Third: Third Dao Institute, Xing Xuan. Mysterious and unfathomable, it is said he has an innate affinity with the stars, skilled in various star‑related divine abilities and mantra methods; his attacks are uncanny, his defenses impregnable.

These three are openly recognized as the strongest among human Golden Core cultivators, and in this secret realm they are the greatest reliance and banner of the human side.

Their arrival undoubtedly injected a shot of adrenaline into all Dao Institute disciples.

Luo Qingyang drew a deep breath, suppressing the instinctive battle‑blood that boiled at the sight of many strong foes, grinned to show two rows of white teeth, his eyes blazing:

Good fellows! Truly a gathering of heroes, myriad races paying homage! This is exciting enough! If the opponents were just chickens and dogs, what fun would there be in going to this secret realm?

Qin Xue didn't speak, but the chill surrounding her suddenly contracted, no longer dispersing outward, but like the eternal ice beneath polar ice caps, storing all her power, only to erupt at the crucial moment with the might to freeze everything.

Wang Ping stood before the two, his azure robe fluttering loudly in the wild wind mixed with countless powerful, chaotic, and opposing auras, yet his stance was like a green pine rooted in star‑bone, unmoving.

He gazed upon that dead‑silent, pitch‑black meteor sea that seemed able to devour everything, his eyes finally fixing on the huge spatial rift above the sea surface that grew ever clearer, ever more unstable, its edges constantly twisting and tearing, radiating a chaotic hue that made the heart palpitate.

Beyond that rift lay the Spirit Void Secret Realm, a possibly treasure‑laden world where the Myriad Methods Pool's creation might be hidden, or where countless heavenly prodigies' bones could be buried.

Contending with the top‑tier, most monstrous Golden Core heavenly prodigies of myriad races, seizing that sliver of heaven‑defying, fate‑changing opportunity…… All this is about to unfold a bloody yet glorious curtain.

The five‑element spiritual energy within him, uncontrolled, quietly accelerated, surging like rivers. In the depths of his sea of consciousness, that strand of innate sword‑qi seed, nurtured for long and lying dormant like death, now emitted a barely perceptible yet crystal‑clear hum— the hum was not shrill but filled with longing— a longing for battle.