Chapter 1038: The End of All Things for Dong Xue He Wang

In the distant Mo Teng Xiao Gao Jie, within the already-destroyed Mo Ye Wang clan, a Daoist in a blood-red robe sat cross-legged, with a person-sized blood cocoon carelessly placed beside him.

Within several thousand li around him, there was not a single living creature—no bugs, no earthworms, no birds—nothing at all; it was utterly silent, save for the howling of heaven and earth's spiritual energy rushing in, flowing into his body and being refined by his meridians.

Several more decades had passed since the last war ended.

During this period, Jiang Ding went nowhere. He annihilated the Mo Ye clan once more, and had been cultivating nonstop on this fifth-grade spiritual vein, using the many heavenly materials and earthly treasures he had seized, along with the essence blood of kings, to shore up his own foundation.

And, he cultivated the "Dao Heart Slave-Seeding Scripture," peering toward the Da Di Jing.

Today, at last, a result was finally beginning to emerge.

Crack—

Crack… crack…

Accompanied by the faint sound of flower petals blooming within his divine soul, the aura on the blood-robed Daoist abruptly rose by one tier, then gradually steadied—sharp and profound.

If any well-informed Horned Demon Imperial Clan powerhouse were to arrive, they would be utterly horrified, because at this very moment, this slave-king's aura was already incomparably close to that of a king-tier imperial son!

Even a king-tier imperial son here might not necessarily be able to defeat him.

"The slave seed… has reached great completion."

"The Dao Heart Slave-Seeding Scripture has been cultivated to its peak. I can now attempt to break through to the Imperial realm. If I can obtain the slave-seed master's permission, the chance of success… is half."

Jiang Ding slowly opened his eyes.

A fifty percent chance.

This was already an incomparably terrifying matter.

One must understand that Dong Xue He Wang had no—and would never have any—Imperial-grade auxiliary pills or treasures, nor would anyone impart any experience to him; he wouldn't even have an Imperial-grade spiritual vein. For him to achieve this much with his tattered foundation was already extraordinarily commendable.

Of this fifty percent chance, nine-tenths came from the human Dao son's split soul.

If relying solely on Dong Xue He Wang himself, even with the same slave scripture, achieving a one percent success rate would already prove the reputation of Jiao Jiao Mingyu, the foremost human prodigy, was no empty boast.

It was not that Dong Xue He Wang's talent was lacking.

Rising to the peak of Soul Transformation in such a brutal, harsh environment—who could say his talent was lacking?

It was simply that the Xiandao Sect education he had received, his Xiandao foundation, and his breadth of knowledge were truly too poor, and his talent was not so far beyond the level of a Dao Body either.

Furthermore, for the "Dao Heart Slave-Seeding Scripture" to advance to the Imperial realm, one must obtain the slave master's permission!

The Horned Demon Imperial Clan, as a realm-dominating species, had considered everything; every net was woven extremely tightly, and no loophole could possibly be exposed.

This great-emperor slave scripture was inherently structured this way—no individual could modify it.

To modify it, one would have to tear it down and start over.

Anyone capable of modifying this great-emperor slave scripture—

—would already be qualified to independently create a great-emperor scripture of their own, and would have no need to cultivate someone else's work. It was truly a fantasy.

"Now, let's go."

"Let me go see my slave master, see what he's thinking…"

Jiang Ding slowly stood up and chuckled softly.

Beyond the necessity of advancing to the Imperial realm, the various bizarrely intimate feelings and loyalties transmitted from the slave seed had gradually begun to sprout within his divine soul—spreading, multiplying, expanding—impossible to clear away no matter what.

These thoughts ceaselessly told him: you were born a slave; you must be loyal to your master, Yan Liu Di Zi, with total devotion—even unto death. Even if Yan Liu Di Zi ordered you to kill your own parents, wife, and children, or even ordered you to take your own life, you must do it.

You must do it immediately, without the slightest hesitation!

This is a slave's duty!

This is the sole meaning of your existence, the core of your Imperial-realm rules!

"Yan Liu Di Zi… master…"

Jiang Ding's gaze began to haze and blur as he murmured.

Clang!

The undying Dong Xue He sword intent hummed softly, sweeping clean his sea of consciousness.

Jiang Ding's gaze abruptly cleared; he came back to himself.

"The slave-emperor scripture…"

For a moment, he fell silent.

Even the Di Si Jing undying sword intent of the sword Dao could not root out the slave-Dao will within the slave seed—it could only grant him temporary clarity.

Because these slave-thoughts originated from within his body and divine soul; they simply could not be killed off or eradicated completely!

This temporary clarity would, as time went on, grow less and less effective, until finally, even the Di Si Jing undying sword intent could no longer reverse his descent, and he would become a true slave.

It was estimated that in another twenty years, these slave-thoughts would completely drown him.

For the strong within the slave clan to rise—this was how difficult it was.

Even an unparalleled prodigy whose talent exceeded even the Dao Body level was useless in the end; all would sink.

Dong Xue He Wang was born in unfortunate times.

Had he been born in an era when the Horned Demon Imperial Clan's realm-ruling order was tottering, he might truly have risen against the tide and become a great human emperor.

"Let's go."

Jiang Ding swept his sleeve, transforming into a streak of blood-light as he flew toward the transmission array of Hua Teng Xiao Gao Jie.

His master had urged him several times already.

……

Mo Shi Xiao Gao Jie.

In this place where Dong Xue He Wang was born, accompanied by the light of the transmission array, a Daoist in a blood-red robe slowly appeared at the center of the formation.

In an instant, a terrifying aura of coldness, slaughter, and bloodlust spread out in all directions.

This was not any kind of pressure—it was simply that this Daoist had slaughtered too many living beings, and the incalculable grievances of those beings had accumulated upon him;

the aura he merely radiated was enough to make general-tier living beings suffocate.

Truly, General-realm cultivators are like ants.

"Greetings, Your Highness Dong Xue He Wang!"

Someone had long since come to welcome them — several thousand cavalry, all General-realm Horn Demon Imperial clansmen, the personal guards of Prince Yanliu.

—With the Prince's War concluded and over ten worlds effectively unified, countless living beings once again falling under Prince Yanliu's banner, the guard ranks had been instantly refilled.

These Imperial guards, at this very moment, showed none of the Horn Demon Imperial clan's usual arrogance, none of the lofty air of looking down on slave-race kings; their bodies bent of their own accord, paying respects as if trembling.

The blood-robed Daoist before them had personally slaughtered dozens of Imperial kings!

They were merely General-realm ants — what He Deheneng did they have to look down on him from above?

Even if they themselves went mad, their bodies would not make a single move!

"Your Highness Dong Xue He Wang, the Prince has sent us to welcome you…"

The leading General-realm peak Horn Demon Imperial general dropped to one knee, speaking in a trembling voice.

The blood-robed Daoist's gaze swept indifferently over these Imperials.

He gave no reply; with a sweep of blood-light he flew off into the distance, quickly vanishing beyond the horizon, seemingly having no intention of meeting Prince Yanliu face to face — not even the slightest courtesy.

"This…"

The General-realm peak Horn Demon Imperial general stood frozen on the spot, yet did not dare curse or rebuke; he could only gaze with a pleading look toward the distant void.

There, two tall, imposing figures slowly emerged — it was King Chenshan and King Moshan.

From beginning to end, neither of them had dared to obstruct anything.

"He… what does this mean?"

King Moshan said in astonishment.

"Just a visit to his homeland, that's all."

King Chenshan waved a hand, seemingly knowing something: "Dong Xue He Wang's homeland seems to be a place called Shan Sect? His sect, his relatives, his clansmen — all of them are already dead, but the land is still that same piece of land, no changes."

"Since he chose to come meet the Prince, he must have already compromised."

"In fact, whether he compromises or not, it changes nothing."

King Chenshan said indifferently.

"The outcome is already decided."

With the cover of the Prince's War gone, facing a true Great Emperor head-on, a mere slave king is just a slightly stronger ant, no longer some critically important figure.

Everything had long since ended.