Chapter 387: Spirit Transformation Heavenly Tribulation

Above the Immortal Palace Ruins, the aura of the Heavenly Tribulation was frenziedly condensing.

That was not the ordinary Heavenly Tribulation drawn by a common cultivator breaking through Spirit Transformation, but a tribulation capable of being recorded in the Spirit Realm's annals, unprecedented and chaotic. In the void, countless strands of chaotic-colored lightning were intertwining and colliding; each collision erupted with a roar capable of tearing the void, each roar making the void within a radius of a thousand li tremble.

Those bolts of lightning were not a single color, but displayed an ineffable strange spectacle—sometimes blazing like the sun, golden-red light illuminating the entire void; sometimes cold as the moon, silver-blue light making one's heart and spirit chill; sometimes deep as an abyss, purple-black light swallowing all light; sometimes bright as noon, pure white light so glaring one could not keep their eyes open.

They tumbled, tangled, and merged within the tribulation clouds, finally forming a sea of chaos that obscured the sky and covered the earth.

That sea, boundless.

That sea, unfathomable.

That sea hovered directly above the Immortal Palace Ruins, like a giant eye slowly opening, belonging to the Heavenly Dao itself.

"This… this is…" Venerable Black Tortoise lifted his head to gaze at that sea of chaos, his pupils contracting violently. He had lived eight thousand years, seen countless cultivators undergo tribulation, even personally witnessed the heavenly tribulations of three Spirit Transformation-stage powerhouses. But now he felt his understanding completely overturned.

"This is no ordinary Spirit Transformation Heavenly Tribulation." His voice trembled; this old man who had never retreated before a single strike of Spirit Transformation now felt a shudder rising from the depths of his soul: "I have seen Spirit Transformation Heavenly Tribulations before, but at most they were only nine rounds of lightning tribulation, each lasting a few breaths, ending within half an hour. But this…"

He did not continue.

Because that sea of chaos was slowly rotating.

Each rotation, countless tiny bolts of lightning spilled from the sea, tracing strange trajectories in the void before merging back into the sea. Those lightning bolts were not meaningless random wandering, but were sketching some ineffable pattern—sometimes a flame totem, sometimes an ice rune, sometimes a lightning brand, sometimes a spatial wrinkle.

They were proclaiming a fact—

This heavenly tribulation is not to test the one who undergoes tribulation.

but to destroy him.

Immortal Maiden of Hundred Herbs tightly held Jiu Er, her face as pale as paper. She had cultivated for eight thousand years, saved countless people, considered herself accustomed to life and death. But now she felt her hands trembling, her heart quivering.

"This child… can he really make it through?"

No one answered her.

Because no one knows the answer.

Yu Liuli cradled an ancient zither, her fingers unconsciously plucking the zither strings. The zither sound was intermittent, not a melody, yet it happened to resonate with the rhythm of those lightning bolts in the void. Her eyes were full of worry, but she said nothing. She knew any words now would be superfluous. She could only wait, wait for that person to walk out of the underground palace.

Cang Xuan stood at the highest point of the ruins, hand on sword hilt, motionless.

His complexion remained stern, but his knuckles had turned white.

Sword cultivators do not believe in fate, only trust the sword in hand. But now he felt for the first time that some things cannot be solved by the sword.

Heavenly tribulation can only be borne by oneself.

No one can help.

You Ying stood at the entrance of the underground palace, motionless.

She did not lift her head to look at that sea of chaos, did not look at those terrifying lightning bolts, did not look at anyone. She merely gazed at the tightly closed stone door, at the faint light seeping from the crack, hands clenched tightly before her chest.

Her lips had already been bitten until they bled.

But she made no sound.

She knew Wang Ping was inside.

He needs quiet.

He needs focus.

What he should hear is not her crying.

Suddenly—

A small hand gently grasped her fingers.

You Ying lowered her head, seeing Jiu Er already awake, standing beside her. That small face bore a seriousness beyond her years, those lively big eyes gazing at her.

"You Ying elder sister, don't be afraid."

Jiu Er's voice was soft, yet carried a strange power.

"Big brother is very strong. He promised Jiu Er he would return alive."

You Ying looked at her, at the trust and determination in her eyes, a warm current surged in her heart.

She crouched down, gently embraced Jiu Er.

"Mm. Elder sister knows."

Just at this moment—

In the void, a low rumble transmitted.

That rumble was not thunder, but some older, more terrifying existence, awakening.

Everyone's gaze simultaneously turned toward that sea of chaos.

In the sea, a huge vortex was forming. At the vortex's center, a cluster of indescribable light was condensing— that was the light from the initial opening of chaos, the first ray of light at the birth of the universe. It contained the dual power of creation and destruction, contained the ultimate mystery of order and chaos.

That light grew brighter and fiercer, finally—

A light pillar shot down from the vortex's center.

That light pillar was over a hundred zhang thick, its entire body presenting an ineffable chaotic color. It was not pure gold or silver, but seemed to contain all possible colors in the universe— sometimes crimson, sometimes deep blue, sometimes pitch black, sometimes pure white. Each color change was accompanied by a violent tremor of the laws.

Wherever the light pillar passed, the void collapsed.

Not tearing, not shattering, but utter 'annihilation'. Those spaces that originally existed, swept by the light pillar, vanished then, as if they had never existed. What remained was an absolute void— no light, no darkness, no time, no space, no perceivable existence.

Those remaining fragments of order seals, swept by the light pillar's aftermath, instantly turned to ash. Those order disciples who couldn't escape far enough, though still a hundred li away from the light pillar, screamed one by one as they turned to void, even their screams swallowed by that light, leaving no trace.

Those two mid-Spirit Transformation existences had faces as white as paper.

They frantically retreated, disregarding everything, tearing the void to try to escape this area. But the heavenly tribulation's pressure was too terrifying; their evasion techniques, before that pressure, were as slow as a turtle's crawl.

That burly mid-Spirit Transformation gritted his teeth, desperately circulating order power, condensing one after another silver light wall before him. Those light walls, each capable of blocking a full-force strike from an early-stage Spirit Transformation cultivator, were now layered, amounting to over a hundred.

But the light pillar's aftermath merely swept lightly over those light walls—

The first, shattered.

The second, shattered.

The third, fourth, fifth, …

A hundred light walls, like a hundred sheets of thin paper, were swept away by that residual wave, all shattering.

The tall Nascent Soul cultivator let out a miserable scream, his whole body flung backward, blood spurting wildly. The residual wave struck his chest, leaving a deep wound down to the bone. Silver-colored Order Origin surged madly from the wound, dissipating into the void.

The thin, tall Nascent Soul cultivator was even worse. The silver crack on his brow, struck by the light, instantly exploded. He covered his face, letting out a piercing wail, his whole body tumbling and struggling in the void, finally turning into a silver streak of light, madly fleeing, not daring to look back.

And those Order Apostles—

Thirty elite Nascent Soul Great Perfection cultivators didn't even have time to scream before being swept away by that light. Their existence was utterly erased, as if they had never existed.

Merely a residual wave.

Merely a residual wave of the heavenly tribulation.

It heavily wounded two mid‑Nascent Soul cultivators and wiped out all thirty Order Apostles.

Just how terrifying must the main body of that heavenly tribulation be?

Everyone stared blankly at all this, remaining silent for a long time.

Mysterious Turtle Venerable murmured, 'Old me… old me has lived eight thousand years… never seen… never…'

He couldn't continue.

Yu Liuli's ancient qin had a string snap. The clear crack rang out, especially grating in this deathly silence.

Hundred Grass Fairy clung tightly to Jiu Er, trembling all over. Though she had cultivated for eight thousand years and thought herself accustomed to storms, now she felt like a child just setting foot on the Dao, facing the heavenly way's might, as tiny as an ant.

Jiu Er widened her eyes, gazing at the light pillar booming toward the Earth Palace; her tiny frame also trembled.

She did not cry.

【77> She merely gripped You Ying's hand tightly, murmuring, 'Big brother… big brother will surely manage…'

She just tightly held Youying's hand, murmuring: "Big brother…… big brother will definitely be able to……"

You Ying said nothing.

She merely stared fixedly at the light pillar approaching the Earth Palace, fists clenched, nails digging into her palms, blood dripping between her fingers, yet she felt nothing.

In her heart there was only one voice—

To live.

You must live.

Within the Earth Palace, Wang Ping sat cross-legged at the center of the secret chamber.

Around him flickered a faint chaotic light, resonating with the tribulation light descending from heaven, as if proclaiming—I am here.

His eyes were closed.

His breathing was steady.

His mind was immersed in a void.

Within his dantian, the chaotic nascent soul slowly opened its eyes.

It lifted its head, as if it could pierce the Earth Palace's stone walls, pierce the vast void, and directly see the light pillar descending.

Then it smiled.

That smile was exactly like Wang Ping's—calm, composed, fearless.

Come on.

The light pillar descended with a boom.

At that moment, the entire Earth Palace trembled.

The stone walls covered in runes, the ancient guardians that had slept for thirty thousand years—before this light pillar they were like papier‑mâché. Cracks spread from the ceiling, countless stones crashed down, yet the instant they touched the light pillar they turned to dust.

The Earth Palace was collapsing.

Wang Ping did not move.

He merely sat there, letting the light pillar slam into him.

Boom—

A tremendous roar shook the heavens, chaotic light exploding.

At that moment, the entire ruins of the Immortal Palace were bathed in that light. The shattered halls, the broken pillars, the land soaked in blood—none could hide from its glow.

Within the light, Wang Ping's figure flickered in and out of sight.

His robes had long since turned to ash.

His mortal body was disintegrating.

Cracks spread from his chest, like dry earth's fissures. Within those cracks there was no blood, only chaotic light surging madly.

That was the purest chaotic force, clashing head‑on with the heavenly tribulation's power.

His bones were exposed. Though they should have been deathly pale, they now flickered with a faint golden light—the imprint of the chaotic Dao left within him from a hundred years of cultivation, the essence he had condensed.

But now those bones too were shattering.

From his fingertips onward, bit by bit, they turned to dust.

Then came flesh, meridians, the five viscera and six bowels—

Wang Ping's entire body was disintegrating.

Such pain cannot be described in words.

This was not the pain of the flesh, but the ultimate agony of soul torn apart, dao heart probed, existence denied—each crack was the heavenly way asking him—

What right do you have—

What right do you have to survive the tribulation—

What right do you have to become a Nascent Soul—

What right do you have to keep living—

Wang Ping gave no answer.

He merely gritted his teeth, desperately circulating the chaotic Dao.

The chaotic domain unfolded around him.

Three chi.

Only three chi.

But within those three chi, chaotic power and the source of disorder were frenziedly fusing. They were no longer two independent forces, but truly became one—possessing both the stability of order and the change of chaos; both the constraint of rules and infinite possibility.

The disintegrating flesh and blood, within the chaos realm, began to regenerate.

The newly born flesh and blood were tougher, purer, and closer to the essence of Chaos than before.

The fracturing bones, within the chaos realm, began to heal.

The newly born bones were harder, more profound, and faintly countless tiny runes flowed within them.

Disintegration and rebirth, destruction and creation, unfolded simultaneously under the bombardment of the heavenly tribulation.

With every breath, he was dying.

With every breath, he was reborn.

The first heavenly tribulation lasted the length of an incense stick.

When that pillar of light finally dissipated, Wang Ping's body was utterly transformed—there was not a single patch of intact skin, nor a whole bone left, yet he still lived.

He opened his eyes; the chaotic light in his eyes swirled, deeper and calmer than before.

"The first—"

He muttered, a weak smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"There are still eight."

Outside the underground palace, the crowd stared blankly at the dissipating pillar of light, silent for a long time.

What did they see?

They saw a heavenly tribulation capable of obliterating a mid-stage Void Refinement cultivator bombard the underground palace, reducing the entire palace to ruins; within the ruins they saw a figure flickering in and out of existence, disintegrating in the light and then reborn within it.

They saw—

That person was still alive.

"He… he withstood it?" Venerable Xuan Gui's voice trembled, filled with disbelief.

Cang Xuan didn't speak, but his hand gripping the sword relaxed a fraction.

Yu Liuli's eye sockets reddened slightly.

Bai Cao Xianzi tightly held Jiu Er, murmuring, "Heaven bless… heaven bless this child…"

Jiu Er widened her eyes, gazing at the ruins, then shouted loudly, "Big brother! Keep it up!"

You Ying didn't speak.

She merely gazed at the ruins, at the faintly visible figure, tears sliding down silently.

Those were tears of joy.

Those were tears of hope.

That was—

Tears of belief.

The second heavenly tribulation descended after half an hour.

This time, it was no longer a pillar of light, but countless fine threads of lightning.

Those lightning threads, like living things, twisted and crawled out of the chaos sea, spreading across the sky and earth toward the underground palace. Wherever they passed, space twisted and wrinkled, leaving strange marks.

Each lightning thread contained a law—some blazing like fire, some cold as ice, some sharp as a sword, some heavy as a mountain. They surged from all directions simultaneously, attempting to pierce Wang Ping's body through every possible gap.

Wang Ping sat cross-legged amidst the ruins, his chaos domain unfolding once again.

This time, he was no longer passively 'withstanding,' but actively 'evolving'.

Within the chaos domain, countless minute changes began to appear—some spots turned into extreme cold, temperature plummeting to absolute zero; some spots turned into scorching flames, fire sufficient to incinerate all yin evil; some spots had space warped, forming countless tiny spatial rifts; some spots had time halted, causing all attacks to fall into eternal stasis.

Those lightning threads drilling into these changes were frozen, burned, swallowed by spatial rifts, or halted by time stasis.

One, two, three…

Ten, a hundred, a thousand…

Those lightning threads, like an endless flood, surged frenziedly into the chaos domain. But Wang Ping's domain was like a bottomless abyss, swallowing, transforming, and digesting them one by one.

This heavenly tribulation lasted a full two hours.

When the last lightning thread dissipated, Wang Ping was already drenched in blood. His body bore countless tiny wounds, traces left by the lightning threads piercing him. Yet his eyes remained bright, his breath steady.

"The second—"

He muttered, his voice hoarse yet resolute.

"There are still seven."

The third heavenly tribulation was a heart-demon tribulation.

It was the most bizarre and impossible to guard against.

It had no pillar of light, no lightning threads, no heavenly signs. It descended silently, directly drilling into Wang Ping's soul's depths.

Wang Ping only felt his vision blur, finding himself standing in an endless darkness.

In the darkness, a voice asked him.

"Do you regret it?"

Wang Ping remained silent.

The voice continued.

"Do you regret stepping onto this path? If not for you, the Mountain-Moving Old Ancestor would not have died. If not for you, those refugee warriors would not have sacrificed. If not for you, You Ying would not have slept for thirty thousand years. You constantly say you want to protect, yet those you protect die one after another. What have you protected?"

Wang Ping's fists clenched.

The voice continued.

"You are too weak. You cannot save anyone. You only bring disaster. If you did not cultivate, none of this would happen. If you did not cultivate, so many would not have died for you. You—"

Shut up.

Wang Ping's voice was low and calm.

That voice left them stunned.

Wang Ping raised his head and gazed toward that darkness.

You're right. I am weak. I cannot save everyone. The Mountain-Moving Senior died, the refugee warriors died, the Nether Shadow slept for three years. These are facts.

He paused, and the chaotic-colored light in his eyes swirled.

But what of it?

If I am weak, I will become strong. If I cannot save everyone, I will risk my life to save them. Since they died, I will live on in their stead, avenge them, and protect what they wished to protect.

This is my Dao.

Not a perfect Dao, not an invincible Dao, not a Dao that can save everyone——

But this is, my Dao.

The instant his words fell, that darkness burst apart with a boom.

The third heavenly tribulation has passed.

The fourth, fifth, sixth——

Each one stronger than the last, each one more terrifying than the last.

With each heavenly tribulation that descended, the entire Immortal Palace ruins trembled. The remaining structures had long been reduced to flat ground. The stone tablets inscribed with runes had long turned to powder. The seventy-two formation bases had long lost their light.

But Wang Ping remained seated cross-legged amidst the ruins.

His body had undergone who knows how many collapses and rebirths. His flesh and blood had been renewed countless cycles, each cycle tougher than the last.

His aura was undergoing a qualitative transformation.

It was the transformation from Nascent Soul to Divine Transformation, a transformation from 'man' to 'Dao'.

The seventh heavenly tribulation descended.

This time, it was no longer a single attack, but——a sea of laws.

The entire void became a chaotic-colored sea at that moment. The sea was boundless and unfathomable, with Wang Ping hovering at its center, surrounded by countless laws surging madly.

Some of those laws he knew, others he had never seen. They intertwined, forming terrifying vortices that sought to tear him apart, devour him, assimilate him.

Wang Ping closed his eyes, immersing his mind in it.

He did not resist, did not struggle, but——

Merged.

The Dao of Chaos embraces all things.

These laws, though terrifying and unfamiliar, are likewise part of chaos.

His body gradually dissipated, turning into countless points of light that merged into the sea of laws.

One breath, two breaths, three breaths——

Just as everyone thought he had perished, the sea of laws suddenly surged violently.

A figure slowly rose from the sea.

Wang Ping.

Around him swirled the illusory forms of three thousand laws. Those laws no longer attacked him; they encircled him like attendants around a sovereign.

The seventh heavenly tribulation has passed.

The eighth heavenly tribulation is the ultimate clash of order and chaos.

In the void, two figures suddenly appeared.

One was entirely silver, icy and rigid—the embodiment of order.

The other was entirely dark, frenzied and twisted—the embodiment of chaos.

The two embodiments lunged at Wang Ping simultaneously.

Wang Ping opened his eyes, gazed at the two figures, and suddenly smiled.

He did not resist.

He simply raised his hands slowly, one hand meeting order, the other meeting chaos.

When his hands touched those two embodiments, they both stalled.

Then——

Fusion.

Order and chaos merged in his hands, forming a mass of chaotic-colored light.

That light was gentle and inclusive, containing all possibilities in the universe.

The eighth heavenly tribulation has passed.

The ninth heavenly tribulation.

The final one.

And also the most terrifying one.

In the void, the sea of chaos suddenly surged violently. Everything within it—lightning, laws, order, chaos—at that moment converged into a pillar of light.

That pillar of light was neither gold nor silver, nor any describable color.

It was chaos itself.

It was the instant chaos first opened, the moment the universe was born, the source of all existence, and also the end of all destruction.

It slowly pressed down.

Wherever it passed, the void collapsed, time stalled, and laws dissolved.

Everything, everything, returned to nothing.

Wang Ping raised his head, gazing at the descending pillar of light.

His body was already shattered to ruins. His Chaos Immortal Essence was nearly exhausted. His Chaos Domain remained only a thin layer.

But he smiled.

That smile was calm and composed.

Because he felt it.

Within his dantian, the Chaos Nascent Soul was undergoing transformation.

Those cracks were no longer injuries, but signs of breaking the cocoon. That tiny Nascent Soul was gradually growing, solidifying, and turning into a true True Spirit.

"Come."

He opened his arms, welcoming the Chaos Light Pillar.

The light pillar engulfed him.

At that moment, the entire void fell into absolute silence.

No light, no sound, no existence at all.

It was as if the universe had been destroyed in that instant.

It was as if the universe had been reborn in that instant.

No one knew how long had passed—perhaps an instant, perhaps ten thousand years—

That pillar of light slowly dissipated.

In the center of the ruins, a figure stood still.

Wang Ping.

He closed his eyes, a faint Chaos light swirling around him. That light was gentle yet profound, utterly different from before—no longer a mere murky gray, but seeming to contain the flow of three thousand laws, the evolution of infinite possibilities.

He opened his eyes.

In his eyes, Chaos-colored light flowed, within which countless stars could be seen being born and dying, countless worlds evolving, countless laws intertwining.

His aura was stronger than before by more than a hundredfold.

This strength was not a mere increase in quantity, but a qualitative transformation.

From Nascent Soul to Spirit Transformation.

From man to Dao.

He had succeeded.