Chapter 895

This is not the attitude a prisoner should have.

Wu Tie began to undo the rune chains wrapped around Qingwu, undoing all the vicious restrictions and imprisonments on him.

A prisoner? Me?

Qingwu let Wu Tie do as he pleased, laughing "heehee haha": "My true self still loftily resides above the firmament, looking down on you ants. I am merely one of my true self's myriad incarnations... You imprison a single hair of my true self and dare to claim you've imprisoned my true self?"

Wu Tie laughed and tapped Qingwu's head: "Mischievous... a single hair isn't you? Hehe."

Qingwu suddenly felt something was off; seeing Wu Tie's eerie smile, he recalled the gods who had died mysteriously while he was observing the outpost.

Especially not long ago, several members of the Ice Spirit Divine Clan were inexplicably cursed to death.

Moreover, the source of those curses seemed to come from the Three Kingdoms Continent... they were precisely incarnations that descended onto the Three Kingdoms Continent and were then inexplicably slain by supreme divine powers.

"Hey, those few from the Ice Spirit Divine Clan a few years back—weren't they killed by you?" Qingwu asked Wu Tie hurriedly, a bit guilty.

"Huh? What are you saying? Oh, you mean those guys with fish tails?" Wu Tie lifted his head, pondering: "A few years ago, there was indeed an icy-cold great beauty, tsk, and also... what was it, her brother or something?"

"Oh, right, she also said she was the destined consort of a great figure of the Ice Spirit Divine Clan?"

"Heh, but that's about it... an altar, a sacrifice, an ancient curse... she should already be dead, right?"

Wu Tie lightly whistled: "She hasn't done any good deeds here, heh—killing whole families, abducting maidens, none of that is good... What was her name again? Anyway, she's dead, right?"

Qingwu's face turned deathly pale in an instant.

The identity of the destined consort of a certain great figure of the Ice Spirit Divine Clan is indeed correct.

The one who was cursed to death was indeed the very Martial King Wu Tie before us... but according to the information Qingwu gathered, and according to the analysis by Qingwu's true self convening the clan's great sages, this Martial King Wu Tie, now the focus of attention, should have been an obscure nobody back then.

Back then, Wu Tie probably didn't have much ability.

How could that be? At that time, did he have the power to curse a deity to death?

"What do you want to do? What do you want to do to me? What do you want to do to my true self?" Seeing all his bonds and restraints undone, Qingwu did not feel happy or glad; instead he screamed in terror.

"You... let me go, let me go!" Qingwu shrieked hoarsely.

Suddenly, an exquisite rune like a scroll with a gem as its axis and light as its pages lit up on his forehead.

Waves of strange soul fluctuations spread outward; Qingwu's body suddenly collapsed inward. He employed the Wisdom Divine Clan's secret art, preparing to self-destruct his flesh so that this strand of his divine sense could escape.

The Wisdom Divine Clan's frontal combat ability is lacking, but their various soul secret arts are myriad and ever-changing; in terms of eerie cruelty they fall a bit short of the Dark Soul Divine Clan, yet when it comes to divine marvel and variability, the Dark Soul Divine Clan also falls short of them.

A single essence-blood incarnation is nothing to them.

Self-destructing an essence-blood incarnation gives Qingwu's strand of divine sense a 100% chance to escape easily.

Throughout the Blazing Dynasty, Qingwu has prepared no fewer than ten thousand essence-blood incarnations; he can change his facade at any time and reappear in the mortal realm.

Otherwise, during the last siege of the Yin Prince's Manor, Qingwu was blown to smithereens by a single punch from Feng Bian—how could he reappear so quickly?

However, just as his body began to contract inward, Wu Tie tapped a finger on Qingwu's brow; a horrifying withering power swept over his entire body, draining all his essence-blood energy and magical power completely dry.

A bomb with its explosive removed, leaving only an iron shell—do you still think you can self-destruct?

Qingwu let out a strange cry; his divine sense was about to flee this failed self-destruct incarnation.

Wu Tie pointed a finger; rings of black light shot from his fingertip, swiftly entering Qingwu's body. Thus, each cell of this incarnation seemed coated in viscous glue, firmly sticking Qingwu's divine sense within the flesh.

No matter how Qingwu struggled, howled, or screamed in panic, his divine sense remained glued tightly inside this incarnation, unable to break free.

Qingwu successively employed dozens of soul secret arts, even using three forbidden techniques, hoping to burn away his divine sense and completely erase this strand.

But all those secret arts were utterly ineffective.

"This is the Dark Soul Divine Clan's Soul-Imprisoning Curse!"

Qingwu suddenly realized the origin of those black lines; he screamed hysterically: "This is the Dark Soul Divine Clan's Soul-Imprisoning Curse... you are merely a lowly human—how could you possibly cast such a curse?"

Wu Tie smiled at Qingwu.

From the deep Wu clan bloodline, he inherited the myriad heterodox Dao from the cluster of spiritual light that accompanied Pangu the Sage when he cleaved heaven and earth.

Those heterodox Dao—Wu Tie can only comprehend a little over thirty percent before reaching his limit; neither his body nor his soul can endure any more Dao pressure. Even one more would cause total collapse of body and soul.

Within that little over thirty percent of Dao he has grasped, Wu Tie selected those chiefly related to soul, wisdom, life, death, and so on.

Other, more basic Dao such as the Five Elements, Yin-Yang, strength, and blood-vitality—these more 'down-to-earth' Dao, Wu Tie, with a hint of petty pride, did not bother to study or fuse these overly 'fundamental' Dao.

Thus, Wu Tie now has profound comprehension and extensive mastery of the myriad soul Dao hidden within the Dark Soul Divine Clan's bloodline.

A mere Soul-Imprisoning Curse poses no difficulty when cast.

"Impossible, unless you are a Dark Soul Divine Clan being... otherwise... you, you... no one can cast the Soul-Imprisoning Curse."

Qingwu was already somewhat incoherent.

Then he suddenly calmed, staring fixedly at Wu Tie and muttering: "The thief who stole our divine clan's glory—is it you?"

Qingwu said in a deep voice: "What we feared most has finally come to pass... among Pangu's descendants, someone has obtained that damned thief, who has taken... our gods'..."

"What did Pangu take from you?" Wu Tie asked Qingwu curiously.

"Why should I answer you?" Qingwu glared at Wu Tie, his face twisted and ferocious: "Although this question is trivial, after all he's already succeeded... but why should I answer you?"

"You have obtained what he stole... you damned... thief!"

"Fine, I don't need your answer either." Wu Tie chuckled lightly: "I roughly know what it is—your bloodline's mystery, your primordial origin, the source of all your divine powers and abilities... or, in other words, the 'Mother of Creation' of you gods."

"See, I know a thing or two." Wu Tie hummed a little tune lightly, hoisting Qingwu up: "Alright, it's fine if you don't answer; anyway, I just need this strand of your divine sense."

"If your true self refuses to come see me, then I'll force it to come." Wu Tie lowered his head to look at Qingwu in his hand, grinning: "Guess whether I can calculate your true self through you."

Qingwu's facade twisted, his lips turned deathly pale, his body trembled slightly, and countless thoughts flashed through his mind.

He was rapidly assessing Wu Tie's strength, his own power, and all the information he knew about humanity, which churned in his mind.

Could Wu Tie pose a threat to his true self?

Overtaxing his brain, Qingwu's forehead immediately beaded with sweat, which then turned into wisps of white mist rising upward.

Wu Tie smiled, took hold of Qingwu, and left the underground prison a thousand li deep.

Three days later, on the barren Burying Army Plain southwest of Zhu Province, where not a blade of grass grows.

This is the battlefield where the Blazing Dynasty, the Western Demon Kingdom, and the Southern Ghost Kingdom have clashed for centuries; on average every hundred years or so a fierce battle erupts here, with the Blazing Dynasty deploying elite forces numbering in the tens of millions, while the Demon and Ghost Kingdoms send out lackeys more than a hundred times that number.

Usually, there are often minor skirmishes here; every day, there are combatants from the three sides who die here.

Countless evil and vicious curses fill the Burial Army Plain, causing this area of tens of thousands of li to have no grass growing, no insects surviving; ordinary living beings that step in even a foot are tainted by the ferocious qi, at least falling gravely ill, and often dying outright with body and spirit destroyed.

This is also, in the vicinity of the Fire Prefecture, the most perilous deadly ground Wu Tie can find.

Hundreds of Wu Tribe Elders came from the Three Kingdoms Continent via a teleportation array, holding bone staffs, walking across the Burial Army Plain, chanting ancient obscure incantations; strands of strange magical power surged, enveloping the entire Burial Army Plain.

The entire Burial Army Plain was like a corpse buried deep underground for tens of billions of years, suddenly awakened by these Wu Tribe Elders.

Vast expanses of ominous qi in gray, red, black, and dark green rose from the ground, winding and rising, gradually condensing over the Burial Army Plain into a mass of sinister wind and evil cloud a thousand li thick, stretching hundreds of thousands of li, nearly substantive.

Accompanied by a low rumbling, the ground of the Burial Army Plain cracked open, and chunks of bone, large and small, variegated in color, all filled with rampant baleful qi, killing qi, evil qi, and yin qi, as well as various forces of death, plague, misfortune, and ruin, rose slowly from the earth.

Over countless years, countless soldiers of the Fire Dynasty died here, and countless experts of the Demon State and Ghost State died here.

Of all the war dead, seventy percent were sent back to the Fire Dynasty for burial, leaving only about thirty percent of the remains here.

But what sort of burial customs do the Demon State and Ghost State have?

The fallen are simply dumped here, left to wind and rain, to shifts in terrain; over the years, they all end up buried deep underground.

Over countless years, the Burial Army Plain's depths have accumulated immeasurable negative energy; now, these negative energies have been stirred by the Wu Tribe Elders' witchcraft, causing chunks of bone that shoot killing qi skyward to rise into the air, slowly piecing together.

"Click-click," countless bones flew wildly across the sky, slowly assembling into an altar towering with evil qi.

Wu Tie stood on a small hill at the edge of the Burial Army Plain, beside him stood Qing Wu, immobilized by imprisonment.

Qing Wu watched as the Wu Tribe Elders carried out their rites, his complexion growing increasingly ashen and pale.

He stammered, "The Wu Tribe… they… are the Wu Tribe…"

Wu Tie gave Qing Wu a sideways glance: "My name is Wu Tie; I'm seeking help from the Wu Tribe Elders—isn't that perfectly natural? What's there to make a fuss about?"

Qing Wu gritted his teeth and stammered: "Our tribe's war records state that in the ancient Descent War, the Wu Tribe's slaughter of the gods surpassed all human factions… they excel at close combat and ranged attacks; their witchcraft is mysterious and evil, the most vicious and ruthless."

"If not for the Myriad Spell Divine Tribe secretly contending with the Wu Tribe in witchcraft, severing the Wu Tribe's fortune and leaving them weakened… those several Descent Wars, the gods' sacrifices would have been unbearable to accept."

Qing Wu murmured: "But the Myriad Spell Divine Tribe, because of that all-out curse assault, had the entire clan cursed back upon themselves, and after ten thousand years they were utterly annihilated."

"On the contrary, the Wu Tribe—how have you… managed to proliferate and grow strong again?"

Cold sweat continually seeped from Qing Wu's whole body as he glanced at the busy Wu Tribe Elders, at the hundreds of thousands of Wu Tribe youths gathered in the Burial Army Plain, then at Wu Tie standing beside him, and at the row of towering, stalwart Wu Tribe elites behind Wu Tie.

Qing Wu suddenly felt like crying.

"You cannot possibly do that." Qing Wu said in a deep voice: "My true form's soul is protected by three pages of the Book of Wisdom, the supreme divine artifact of my Wisdom Divine Tribe; you cannot pose any threat to him."

"'Not necessarily.' Wu Tie released the Grand Dao Crucible; flames roiled within, condensing into the shapes of three implements."

A skull crown, a demonic mirror, and a long-handled scythe.

"'This too is a supreme divine artifact, right? My king, this crucible was forged by devouring them as its base, then fusing countless rare materials.'"

Qing Wu's eyes widened violently; his pupils first contracted to pinpricks, then dilated like those of a corpse, showing how intense his shock was.

"'That… that… fool, Xu Po!' Qing Wu howled like a cuckoo bleeding blood, spitting a mouthful of old blood."

"'The three supreme divine artifacts of the Dark Soul Divine Tribe, he actually brought them all here… and moreover, he actually dares to let those three supreme divine artifacts fall into your hands?'"

Qing Wu's body trembled violently.

The Great Dao Furnace, surprisingly, was formed by devouring the three supreme divine artifacts of the Dark Soul Divine Tribe. Then, the Great Dao Furnace must surely be more formidable than the Book of Wisdom.

Such a simple problem of one plus one equals two—Qingwu could figure it out with just a toenail.

Moreover, Qingwu only has three pages torn from the Book of Wisdom, not the complete book. The power that those three pages of the Book of Wisdom can unleash probably amounts to only... one ten‑thousandth of the full book?

Then, facing the Wu tribe's vicious curses and ruthless witchcraft... especially when the Heavenly Dao Furnace serves as the core and this vicious altar as an amplifier, thereby triggering those vicious spells and ruthless witchcraft...

"I think we can have a good talk." Qingwu rubbed his/her palms together firmly: "Your Majesty the Martial King, we should have a good talk... For our Wisdom Divine Tribe, fighting and killing are the most boring and disgraceful things... All the conflicts and causality in the world, we can resolve them through peaceful negotiation, right?"

"War is merely a last resort..."

"For our Wisdom Divine Tribe, what we despise most is war."

"We should sit down properly, enjoy a good cup of tea, appreciate music and dance, engage in equal and harmonious communication, and then make decisions beneficial to both sides, right?"

Wu Tie merely let out a cold snort, grinning with bared teeth: "Your true form perhaps doesn't think so. So, let your true form experience it first, then we can talk about other things."