Chapter 533: Ashes of Corpses in the Uncanny Demon Sea

On the far bank of the Yellow Spring waters, a desolate stretch of land bore an illusory ancient tower standing between heaven and earth; its existence seemed like a bridge linking heaven and earth, mysterious and ancient.

As the cultivators uncovered the secret of the Heaven Tomb, the ancient tower's power returned, and it began to display unprecedented miraculous changes.

The ancient tower used itself as the main pole, absorbing the law power of Tianji Shengyu.

This power, like the source of life, flowed through every inch of the tower's stone bricks, causing it to burst with vigorous vitality.

Each stone brick of the tower began to emit a faint glow, as if endowed with new life.

As time passed, these glows grew brighter, until the entire ancient tower was enveloped in a layer of soft radiance.

At the base of the ancient tower, its four feet began to sprout mysterious green leaves.

These leaves differed from any plant in the world; they were crystal clear, like jade carved into shape, each leaf radiating brilliant light.

The leaves swayed gently in the breeze, like spirits dancing; their light flickered with the rhythm of the sway, like the brightest stars in the night sky.

The cultivators stood beneath the ancient tower, gazing up at this unbelievable sight, their hearts filled with awe.

They knew this was the sign of the ancient tower's power awakening, and also the endpoint of their journey to explore the Heaven Tomb.

Longling stood at the forefront, his eyes deep and resolute, feeling the ancient tower's power resonating with his soul—a primordial and mighty force.

"Within the illusory ancient tower, a mysterious power is awakening; we must prepare." Longling's voice echoed among the cultivators, his words hinting at anticipation.

The cultivators nodded, knowing this would be the most important moment of their cultivation lives.

They began to sit cross-legged around the ancient tower, adjusting their breath, preparing to welcome the impending change.

As the ancient tower absorbed more and more law power, its body began to emit a stronger light.

These lights flowed like liquid along the tower's body, eventually gathering upon the green leaves at its feet.

After absorbing these lights, the leaves began to radiate even more brilliant light; their glow spread outward, forming a huge light shield that enveloped the entire ancient tower.

Within this light shield, time seemed to slow, and space became distorted.

The cultivators felt their souls enveloped by a warm force, their bodies growing light, as if they might float away on the wind.

Longling closed his eyes, feeling the ancient tower's power guiding his soul, and began attempting to communicate with this force.

His soul began to rise slowly, passing through the tower's body and reaching its summit. There he saw a bright world, the place where the law power of Tianji Shengyu converged.

In that bright world, Longling saw countless law runes flying about, like living things constantly combining and splitting, forming wondrous patterns.

These patterns contained the most profound laws of heaven and earth; they are the foundation of the universe's operation.

Longling's soul wandered among these law runes, beginning to try to comprehend their true essence.

As time passed, his soul began to change, his body emitting a faint glow—the sign of law power flowing within him.

The cultivators beneath the ancient tower also sensed Longling's change, knowing he was undergoing a soul metamorphosis.

They too began attempting to communicate with the tower's power, hoping to receive a baptism of law power like Longling.

As time passed, the tower's green leaves grew more luxuriant, and their light grew brighter.

The illusory ancient tower seemed to become a giant tree, its branches and leaves stretching to the horizon, connecting with the law power of heaven and earth.

The cultivators trained within the tower's light shield, and their souls received a great enhancement.

They began to understand that the tower's power was not merely an external force, but an inner awakening.

Only when their hearts were pure enough and resolute enough could they resonate with the tower's power and truly absorb the law power.

Within the tower's light shield, the cultivators underwent a soul baptism; their minds became purer, their wills more steadfast.

They began to realize that cultivation is not merely training power, but also an exploration and transcendence of the self.

As the cultivators' souls were enhanced, the tower's green leaves began to emit even more brilliant light.

These lights began to spread outward, illuminating the entire desolate land.

Under the illumination of this light, the desolate land began to change: dried-up rivers flowed again, withered plants regrew, and everything burst with new vitality.

The cultivators stood beneath the illusory ancient tower, their spirits received a tremendous shock. He

They began to understand that the tower's power was not merely a mysterious force, but a life force; it could awaken the vitality of life and let all things revive.

Longling, at the tower's summit, had his soul completely fused with the law power.

His body began to emit a dazzling light, the sign of law power flowing within him.

He was attempting to guide these law powers into the ancient tower, hoping to make the tower's power stronger.

With Longling's efforts, the tower's green leaves grew more luxuriant, and their light began to become even more brilliant.

The entire ancient tower seemed to become a huge light source, illuminating all of heaven and earth.

The tower's green leaves swayed in the breeze, their emitted light seeming to have reached its utmost; yet, at the peak of this radiance, an unknown power began to awaken deep within the ancient tower.

This power differed from the previous warmth and vitality; it carried a cold and vicious aura, making the cultivators present feel a chill.

Longling stood at the summit; he could feel the fluctuations of this power, and a sense of unease rose in his heart.

This power did not come from the law power of Tianji Shengyu, but was another kind of power inherent in the ancient tower itself—an ancient and dangerous force.

Longling slightly lifted his gaze and walked out of the Heaven Tomb; this illusory ancient tower and the Tianji Shengyu's ancient tower were originally two, originally a mysterious and holy object, so why did it become the breeding ground of the Nine Wheels Heaven?

This mysterious ancient tower is certainly not ordinary; it surely has an unknown aspect, and now they seem to have grasped something.

As this power of the illusory ancient tower awakened, the tower's green leaves began to change.

They were no longer purely verdant, but gradually tinged with a hint of blood red, as if contaminated by some evil force.

The light on the leaves also became flickering, as if struggling against some force.

The cultivators sensed this change, all rising to their feet and warily watching the ancient tower.

The tower's power was not only its positive aspect; it also hid unknown secrets and dangers.

Suddenly, the tower's body began to vibrate; a powerful aura surged from its base, rushing straight to the clouds.

This aura carried endless ferocity and violence, as if it wanted to devour the whole world.

The cultivators felt an unprecedented pressure, their hearts filled with fear.

"Everyone be careful, the ancient tower's power is changing; we must prepare." Longling's voice echoed among the cultivators, his eyes revealing a hint of caution.

The cultivators nodded, knowing this would be another major trial in their cultivation journey.

They began to sit cross-legged around the phantom of the ancient tower, adjusting their breath, preparing to welcome the impending change.

As the ancient tower's vibrations grew increasingly violent, cracks began to appear on its body, and streams of black qi burst from the cracks; these black qi condensed in the air, forming hideous faces that emitted shrill screams, as if they wanted to tear the cultivators' souls apart.

Longling and the cultivators gripped their weapons tightly, warily watching the ancient tower's changes, knowing this would be another major trial in their cultivation journey.

Suddenly, the earth began to tremble, the ground split open with countless fissures, and muddy slurry surged forth like boiling hellish water.

The cultivators retreated in horror as the ground beneath their feet turned into a mire, devouring everything.

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A young cultivator exclaimed, "What is happening? Why has the earth become like this?"

His voice was filled with fear and confusion.

"Get off the ground!" Longling shouted loudly, his eyes revealing a hint of resolve.

The cultivators unleashed various spells, trying to escape the land that was turning into a mire.

However, the mire's devouring speed was extremely swift; some cultivators with lower Cultivation Level failed to escape in time, were swallowed by the mud, and emitted desperate cries for help.

"No! Save me!" a cultivator struggled in the mud, his body tightly wrapped by the mud, unable to move; his eyes filled with fear and despair, knowing he might not survive.

"Hold on!" Longling dove down, trying to pull him out of the mud, but the mud's force was too great; even Longling felt immense pressure.

She gritted her teeth, concentrating all her strength in her arms, and finally pulled the cultivator out of the mire.

"Thank you, Senior Longling!" the cultivator thanked tearfully, knowing he owed Longling his life.

However, the crisis was not over.

The mire continued to expand, eventually becoming a mysterious demonic sea.

The sea water was pitch‑black like ink, exuding a suffocating stench.

The cultivators hovered in mid‑air, horrifiedly gazing at the demonic sea that had suddenly appeared.

They did not know what unknown dangers this demonic sea would bring.

"Look! What is that?" a keen‑eyed cultivator pointed at the center of the demonic sea, where a huge coffin was slowly rising.

The coffin was immeasurably huge, as if it could contain the entire world; its body was pitch‑black, covered with ominous runes, emanating a palpably unsettling aura.

"Is that… a coffin?" an elder cultivator trembled, his eyes filled with fear.

He had never seen such a huge coffin before, and he did not know why it had appeared here.

"No, that is not merely a coffin, it is……" Longling's voice suddenly turned hoarse, his eyes revealing a hint of shock.

He could sense the powerful force emanating from the coffin, an ancient and evil power capable of destroying everything.

Suddenly, the coffin lid creaked open, and a stream of gray ash drifted out.

The ash floated in the air like ghosts, emitting streaks of ominous energy that contaminated all living beings around it.

The cultivators felt an unprecedented fear, as if their souls were being corroded by the ash, beginning to undergo abnormal changes.

"Ah! My body……" a cultivator cried out in horror as he discovered his skin turning grayish, his muscles withering, as if his vitality were being drained.

His voice was filled with pain and despair.

"Quick, use your magic treasures to shield yourselves!" Longling shouted loudly, knowing the ash's corrosive power was extremely strong, making even magic treasures hard to resist.

The cultivators produced their magic treasures, attempting to block the ash's invasion.

However, the ash's power was too great; the radiance of the magic treasures gradually dimmed under its corrosion and eventually became contaminated.

"No! My magic treasure……" a cultivator cried out in horror as he discovered his magic treasure losing its luster, turning dull and dark.

He knew that once a magic treasure was contaminated, it could no longer be used.

"What is happening? Why can't even magic treasures resist this ash?" a young cultivator asked in horror, his voice full of bewilderment and fear.

"These ashes contain ancient evil power; they can contaminate all living beings, including magic treasures." Longling said in a deep voice, his eyes showing a hint of determination, adding that we must find a way, otherwise everyone will be corroded by the ash.

"What should we do? Are we just going to wait to die?" a cultivator shouted in despair, his voice filled with fear and unwillingness.

"No, we cannot give up." Longling's voice was firm and powerful, his eyes revealing a hint of resolve. "We must find a way, otherwise our souls will be tainted by the ash and our bodies will be corroded."

The cultivators exchanged glances, their eyes showing a hint of determination.

They knew Longling was right, could not give up, and must try various methods to find a way to resist the ash's corrosion.

"Look quickly, those ashes seem to fear the power of the ancient tower." a cultivator pointed at the ancient tower, noting that the ash instinctively avoided it when approaching.

His voice carried a hint of surprise and hope.

"Exactly, the ancient tower's power can resist the ash's corruption." Longling's voice showed a hint of resolve. "We must draw near the ancient tower and use its power to resist the ash."

The cultivators nodded in agreement, knowing this was the only way. They began to approach the phantom of the ancient tower, hoping to use its power to resist the ash's corrosion.

However, as they neared the ancient tower, a stronger force surged forth from within it.

This force carried an icy and ferocious aura, making the cultivators present shudder.

They felt an unprecedented fear, as if their souls were being suppressed by this force, rendering them immobile.

"What is going on? Why has the ancient tower's power become like this?" a cultivator asked in horror, his voice full of fear and bewilderment.

"This force does not come from the ancient tower but from the coffin." Longling said in a deep voice, his eyes revealing a hint of shock. "The power within the coffin is affecting the ancient tower, making it violent and dangerous."

"What should we do? Are we just going to wait to die?" a cultivator shouted in despair, his voice filled with fear.

Above this demonic sea shrouded in fear, the cultivators' hearts were filled with dread of the unknown and anxiety about death.

What they faced was not only the ash's corrosion but also that icy and ferocious force within the ancient tower.

All of this exceeded their comprehension; they had never imagined encountering such a terrifying foe on the path of cultivation.

"What should we do? This force is too strong; we cannot resist it at all!" a cultivator's voice trembled, his eyes full of panic.

"Our magic treasures have failed, and our spells are mere child's play before this force!" another cultivator said in despair, his body trembling involuntarily.

"Could it be that we are really going to die here? Our cultivation, our efforts—could they all come to nothing?" a young female cultivator wept, her tears mingled with fear, her heart filled with reluctance.

Longling stood at the forefront of the cultivators, his eyes firm and profound.

Above the Demon Sea, phantoms layered upon layers, the gloomy aura like substance, permeating every inch of space.

The seawater was pitch black like ink, as if it could swallow all light, even starlight unwilling to set foot in this dead silent place.

On the sea surface, strange bubbles occasionally rose, and when they burst they emitted a chilling whisper, as if evil spirits slumbering in the deep sea were murmuring.

The sea wind carried a piercing chill, howling past, stirring up waves of nauseating stench.

This wind was not natural; it was more like a yin wind blown from the depths of hell, carrying the breath of death, making people shudder.

The cultivators hovered in the air, daring not to touch the strange seawater lightly, fearing they would be devoured by it.

In the center of this Demon Sea, a huge coffin slowly rose; its very existence was a symbol of terror. The runes on the coffin flickered with a faint light in the darkness, writhing like living things, each rune containing ancient curses and endless resentment.

Each tremor of the coffin was accompanied by violent surges of seawater, as if the entire sea were mourning it.

In the surrounding air, phantoms shuttled like ghosts; they had no physical form, yet their presence could be felt.

These phantoms varied in height and form; some resembled elongated shadows, others like twisted smoke.

Their eyes were hollow and deep, as if they could perceive the deepest fears in people's hearts.

The phantoms emitted a silent scream, a terror beyond hearing that pierced straight into the cultivators' souls.

As time passed, the phantoms became more active, leaping and dancing on the sea surface, even attempting to approach the cultivators.

Whenever a phantom drew near, the cultivators felt a chill surge from the soles of their feet to their heads, as if their life force were being siphoned away bit by bit.

The cultivators had to cast spells, trying to dispel these phantoms, but the spells' effects were minuscule; the phantoms seemed immune to such attacks.

Above this Demon Sea shrouded in fear, the cultivators' hearts were filled with dread of the unknown and anxiety about death.

What they faced was not only the erosion of ashes, but also the icy, ferocious power from the ancient pagoda; all of this surpassed their understanding,

They never imagined they would encounter such a terrifying formidable foe on the path of cultivation.

Yet even in such dire straits, the cultivators' eyes still flickered with an unyielding light.

They knew that only by uniting as one could they possibly find a sliver of hope.

Longling stood at the forefront, his gaze firm and deep, as if seeking the key to break the situation; upon this exceedingly gloomy Demon Sea, the cultivators' hearts were gradually being eroded by despair.

Their strength appeared so insignificant before this ancient evil force, as if even struggling were futile.

Fear clung like vines, tightly wrapping around everyone's hearts, constantly tightening, making it hard to breathe.

Although Longling remained calm, his brows were tightly knit, and anxiety could not be hidden in his eyes.

He knew that if they did not quickly find a countermeasure, this despair would completely destroy the cultivators' will, robbing them of their last strength to resist.

"We must stay calm," Longling's voice echoed in the wind, even though he himself could feel that icy power continually eroding his will, "Despair is the greatest enemy, more terrifying than any external force."

However, the cultivators' spirits had already begun to waver.

A young cultivator, his eyes filled with tears, voice trembling: "Can we really survive? I feel my power slipping away bit by bit..."

Another elder cultivator, though experienced, grew pale under the Demon Sea's oppression: "My magic treasure has failed, my spells are useless; what can I rely on?"

Despair spread among the cultivators, their strength continually waning; some even began to abandon resistance, letting themselves slowly sink, as if wishing to merge with this Demon Sea.

Just then, Longling drew a deep breath, knowing that if they did not rally promptly, they would lose hope entirely.

He closed his eyes and began to silently recite his heart method, seeking inner peace.

He knew that only inner strength could be the key to opposing this evil force.

"Listen to me," Longling's voice suddenly became firm and powerful, he opened his eyes, gaze like a torch: "We cannot give up; we still have ourselves, we still have each other. Our strength may be weak, but our will can be unbreakable."

His words were like a beam of light, piercing the gloom in the cultivators' hearts.

Some cultivators began trying to steady their minds, knowing Longling was right, they could not just give up like that.

"We can try to unite," a cultivator proposed, "Perhaps our strength alone is insufficient to oppose this force, but united we might create a miracle."

The cultivators began trying to draw near each other, joining hands to form a circle.

They began to silently recite their heart method, attempting to link their powers together to form a protective shield against external erosion.

As the cultivators' will gradually coalesced, their powers also began to merge with one another.

A faint light began to flicker between them, weak yet steadfast. This light gradually expanded, forming a light shield that protected the cultivators within.

The phantoms tried to strike the light shield, but were all repelled, unable to intrude.

The cultivators felt a glimmer of hope, knowing that as long as they remained united, they might find a way out.

Longling watched all this, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes.

However, as the Demon Sea churned violently, the surface resembled boiling ink, roiling with black foam.

The cultivators gripped their magic treasures, warily observing the surroundings; this sudden turmoil foretold the imminent appearance of something even more terrifying.

Suddenly, the sea surface split open, and streams of icy netherworld qi gushed forth, accompanied by piercing screams and low roars.

Netherworld demons, these creatures from the abyss, varied in form; some resembled giant octopuses, tentacles everywhere, each tentacle covered with suckers and barbs;

others like deformed dragons, scales covering their bodies, eyes flashing with green evil light;

still others like cursed humans, bodies twisted, skin rotting, mouths emitting heart‑wrenching wails.

The appearance of these netherworld demons made the already gloomy Demon Sea even more terrifying.

Their target was clear, pointing straight at the cultivators, as if trying to drag them into the endless abyss.

"Everyone be careful, these demons are no small matter!" Longling shouted loudly, his voice echoing among the cultivators, attempting to boost morale.

The cultivators immediately responded; solo combat would only be picked off one by one by these demons, so they began to form formations, some responsible for attack, some for defense, and some for support and healing.

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The netherworld demons launched an attack, their tentacles like long whips lashing the air, emitting piercing tearing sounds.

Some cultivators struck by the tentacles instantly felt an icy force invade their bodies, as if seeking to freeze their souls.

"Use fire, these demons fear fire!" a cultivator shouted; the fire treasure in his hand blazed with dazzling light, scorching the approaching demons into squeaks.

The cultivators immediately changed tactics, concentrating on fire‑ and light‑type spells, which naturally countered the netherworld demons.

Fire and light blossomed in the Demon Sea like lighthouses, illuminating the darkness and giving the cultivators a sliver of hope.

However, the number of netherworld demon creatures was truly too great, and their attacks grew increasingly fierce.

The cultivators fought desperately, yet they still felt overwhelmed. Some cultivators began to be injured, and some were even dragged into the sea by the demons, disappearing into the dark waters.

Longling watched all this, his heart filled with anxiety,

Just then, he noticed an abnormal phenomenon in the sea.

In the depths of the Demon Sea, a light flickered; though faint, it stood out starkly against the darkness.

"There, there is light!" Longling pointed at that light and shouted loudly.

The cultivators looked in the direction he pointed, hope rekindling in their eyes, for that light might be their only way out.

Longling led the cultivators, weaving through the attacks of the netherworld demon creatures, advancing toward that faint light.

Their silhouettes rose and fell in the waves of the Demon Sea, like a lone boat in a storm, constantly in danger of being swallowed.

The netherworld demon creatures seemed to sense the cultivators' intent, and their attacks became even more frenzied and fierce.

Gigantic tentacles stretched out from the sea, like the scythe of the grim reaper, mercilessly harvesting the cultivators' lives.

Some cultivators lost their lives in the fierce battle; their souls dissipated in the Demon Sea, turning into wisps of ghostly light, swallowed by the darkness.

"Don't give up! Hold on!" Longling's voice rang out especially firm amid the chaos, the magic treasure in his hand emitting a dazzling light, each sweep taking the lives of several netherworld demon creatures.

That figure moved through the Demon Sea like a beam of light, leading the cultivators forward.

The cultivators closely followed Longling; though their hearts were filled with fear, Longling's figure gave them courage.

They knew that only by following Longling could they possibly find hope of survival.

As they gradually approached that light, the netherworld demon creatures in the Demon Sea became even more savage.

They seemed to be guarding something, not allowing anyone to approach that light.

The cultivators' pressure doubled, yet their steps did not cease.

Finally, they arrived at the source of that light. There stood an ancient altar, its surface covered with strange runes that emitted a faint glow.

These runes remained unyielding despite the attacks of the netherworld demon creatures.

"This is…!" Longling exclaimed in surprise, immediately realizing that this altar was extraordinary.