Chapter 612: The Nine Tripods Emerge, the Earth Veins Stir

Water shimmered, blurring the vision.

The Prince of Formlessness hovered between sleep and wakefulness, as if adrift at the bottom of a dim lake, carried by the current, only seeing things clearly as they drew near.

He saw halls built of stacked boulders and cast in bronze, layered with moss and coral, fissures oozing a faint blue glow…

He saw stalactites hanging from the ceiling, as if encasing the spine of some colossal beast, transformed into pillars, inscribed with ancient Shu script…

Is this the Dragon Palace's watery mansion?

The Prince of Formlessness saw it, and felt a strange disappointment.

In many strange tales, the Dragon Palace brimmed with treasures, gilded and radiant—grasp a handful, and wealth beyond measure awaited outside.

But this place resembled little more than a monster's den…

The Prince of Formlessness wished to explore, but he was already trapped in a dream, wrapped in water, utterly powerless.

Suddenly, a faint light appeared ahead.

As the current pushed him closer, he realized it was a winding corridor cave, its stone walls embedded with clamshells, half-open shells rolling with perfect, luminous pearl orbs.

The pearl-light radiated aura, illuminating bas-reliefs on the walls:

A colossal dragon-serpent churned storms and floods, while tiny figures knelt, burning incense, throwing boys and girls into the river…

It was the River God, Great Lord!

The Prince of Formlessness instantly grew excited.

Could this be his treasury?

Even more joyfully, the current seemed to understand his desire, gently pushing him toward the cave.

"Kama, duosangla…"

As he entered the corridor, eerie whispers filled his ears.

The voice made his head spin, his whole body ache.

He did not know that his true body, hidden in the Eastern Palace tower, bore burn marks on chest and back—shaped like vertical eyes.

These were the voices of the corrupted ancient Shu shaman.

Having absorbed the demonic qi of the yao sheng, he had long become a malevolent entity; though scattered by the Qingcheng Sword Array, his curse remained.

The shaman's murmurs pierced the Prince of Formlessness's soul, darkening his vision in waves, threatening to tear him from the dream.

"No, I won't leave!"

The Prince of Formlessness screamed inwardly, gritting his teeth to hold on.

In that moment, countless memories rose to his heart.

His family had fallen from grace since childhood; though now he was the top boss of Chengdu's underworld, he had carved out a name, yet in the entire Jianghu, the entire Daoist sects, he remained beneath notice.

His only ambition now was to climb higher.

He was no longer young.

The Nine Tripods were his only chance.

How could he possibly leave?

With sheer willpower, the Prince of Formlessness clung on, barely maintaining a thread of clarity, refusing to break free of the dream.

Yet he did not know that his physical body, outside, was now covered in vertical-eye scars, black blood oozing from all seven orifices, his features twisting uncontrollably…

Finally, he passed through the cave.

Before him opened a vast space—but no treasures appeared. Instead, a small coffin, bound in chains, swayed and rocked, emitting the eerie weeping of boys and girls.

The Prince of Formlessness's scalp prickled; he wanted to retreat.

He did not know what it was.

But he was certain—it was no good thing!

Yet he was powerless, drawn inexorably toward the coffins.

Fine, heaven denies me opportunity…

The Prince of Formlessness sighed inwardly, preparing to exit the dream.

Hummm!

At that moment, the surrounding space trembled violently.

The small coffins, as if sensing something dreadful, shook wildly, shrieking in agony, chains straining to snap.

But as the trembling intensified, all coffins shattered, revealing tiny skeletons within.

They were the boys and girls the River God, Great Lord, had devoured long ago, their souls refined and stored in the cave as defense.

After the coffins broke, the skeletons turned to dust.

The Prince of Formlessness stared, his scalp crawling.

He had intended to flee—but his vision suddenly blurred, then a blinding golden light erupted, dizzying and radiant.

Like a blazing sun, within it a dark, ding-shaped shadow.

The Nine Tripods!

Precisely—one of the Nine Tripods.

After Yu the Great divided the Nine Provinces, he ordered each to contribute bronze to cast nine tripods, each named after its province: Ji Province Tripod, Yan Province Tripod, Qing Province Tripod, Xu Province Tripod, Yang Province Tripod, Jing Province Tripod, Yu Province Tripod, Liang Province Tripod, and Yong Province Tripod.

The Nine Tripods traveled through the earth's veins; none knew which one this was.

But even one was enough to defy heaven and alter fate!

At that moment, the Prince of Formlessness went utterly mad. Ignoring his crumbling soul, he stretched out desperately, reaching for the Nine Tripods.

His vision grew ever dimmer.

His will grew ever firmer.

Finally, just before fainting, his hand touched the Nine Tripods…

…………

Outside, on the square, the battle grew fiercer.

Puff~

Amid a swirl of green smoke, Lu Sheng's "Precious Litany of the Earth Official's Pardon" ignited spontaneously in the gale, its ashes scattered by the wind.

Seeing it, he felt another pang of grief.

This was no common vegetable—countless schemes lay behind it; even he possessed only two scrolls.

Fortunately, with the destruction of the "Precious Litany of the Earth Official's Pardon," Li Yan and the others reached their limit, unable to sustain the Jingyang Altar.

The burning footprints, meteor fire rain, phantom spears of flame…

All faded gradually.

Even summoning Wen Lingguan had failed to drive away the Dragon Palace's watery mansion.

On the rooftop of the Zhuangyuan Tower, the one hundred and eight ritual flags could no longer hold—they burst into flame instantly.

Puff!

A Qingcheng disciple's face turned crimson, spewing blood.

Others' robes turned charred yellow, their skin blistered as if burned, collapsing unconscious.

Daoist orthodox sects summoning Lu soldiers required hundreds of personnel, each assigned specific roles, days of preparation, and shared burdens—to avoid injury.

Summoning Wen Lingguan with so few was already strained.

That they held out this long was remarkable.

Li Yan's condition was equally dire.

As the altar's master, he bore the greatest burden; his eyes were bloodshot, his internal organs seared as if in fire, his throat cracked and bleeding, unable to speak.

The moment he opened his mouth, a wisp of green smoke spewed out.

Ming Shanzi had the highest cultivation, yet he was utterly exhausted. Seeing Li Yan try to rise, he sighed and urged, "Li Shaoxia, you've done enough. Don't force it—risk your foundation."

"Don't worry, the demon Zhao Jie is dead; they cannot succeed…"

His words had barely ended when his eyes widened.

Above the Wang Fu, clouds churned violently, gales howled, sand and stones flew.

On the square before the Chengyun Hall, white mist surged into a colossal vortex, golden light flickering within—as if something was rising.

Boom!

The ground trembled violently.

Nearby shops collapsed, bricks and tiles clattering down.

Earth dragons turned—some poorly built houses, with unstable foundations, crumbled outright in the snowstorm.

"Earth qi is shifting—it's the Nine Tripods!"

A Qingcheng disciple gritted his teeth, eyes bulging.

"Impossible!"

Ming Shanzi stared, stunned, unable to believe it.

They had exerted so much effort—even killed Zhao Jie, who had infiltrated to steal the Tripods—and still the Nine Tripods were pulled forth.

"Stay here!"

A sharp cry rang out ahead—a figure shot forward like a whirlwind.

Where Li Yan had stood, the space was now empty.

Ming Shanzi gritted his teeth, struggling to rise—but searing pain in his organs forced him to spit blood and collapse.

The Qingcheng sect was now incapacitated.

Elsewhere, Li Yan sprinted full speed; before he even touched ground, his Great Luo Dharma Body whirled rapidly, healing all his wounds.

Crack!

The Dharma Body suddenly shattered, one soul flame went out.

But after entering Shu, to quickly reach Golden Core, he had constantly pushed himself to the limit in cultivation, and his Great Luo Dharma Body had long accumulated hidden injuries.

This time presiding over the altar pushed him far beyond his limit.

His five viscera and six bowels had long been scorched by fire, and his heart meridians and blood vessels had snapped countless times—wounds severe enough to destroy his foundation.

This repair naturally cost him one life.

Yet Li Yan merely paused for a moment, then ignored it.

He unleashed hidden force beneath his feet and activated the Northern Emperor Divine Step; the rooftop beneath him exploded violently as he shot forward like an arrow released from a bow, gliding as if riding the wind.

In just two leaps, he passed through the broken Xiao Wall.

At this moment, Chengyun Gate was engulfed in roaring flames.

The Shu Prince's Black Feather Guards wielded powerful Divine Fire Guns and, relying on terrain advantages, had held out until now.

But they too were spent.

Their gun barrels glowed red; many had exploded outright, and even their preloaded magazines were nearly empty.

Worse still, atop the city walls, numerous evil cultivators had been defending, using spells to prevent soldiers from scaling the walls.

But earlier, the Two-Eyed Golden Bullets had driven them into hiding, and then Wen Lingguan had descended and burned several to death; the rest, sensing the tide had turned, fled in panic.

The soldiers immediately bypassed the most dangerous gate entrance, some hoisting cloud ladders to scale the walls, others jamming blades into brick gaps to climb over the surrounding ramparts.

From above, it looked like a dam bursting under a flood.

Meanwhile, the Bamboo Grove Six Idle and other reinforcements had crossed the walls and were preparing to block the demons from seizing the tripod.

Whoosh!

Li Yan leapt forward, stepping atop the wall and soaring high.

Wu Ba was also on the wall, coordinating with Sha Li Fei to reload the Tiger Zun Cannon, preparing to deploy this heavy weapon against the enemy.

Seeing Li Yan leap over the wall, Wu Ba understood instantly—he raised both arms and pushed off with his feet.

As Li Yan descended, he landed squarely on Wu Ba's arms.

"Roar!"

Wu Ba bellowed, and Li Yan shot upward again, soaring nearly a hundred meters through the air before descending toward the golden glow.

But before he could draw near, he sensed something wrong—his expression changed, and midair he executed a sharp kite flip, landing within the white mist vortex.

Not just him—even Lu Sheng and Li Wenyuan had not approached, their faces grim as they stared at the golden glow at the center.

There, at the vortex's heart, golden light shimmered, revealing a colossal tripod. Its outer walls were engraved with sun, moon, mountains, rivers, the nine provinces' topography, and numerous mythical beasts from the Classic of Mountains and Seas—such as Goumang and Xiangliu the Serpent…

At this distance, Li Yan could see clearly.

The relief maps depicted the ancient Nine Provinces; the engraved mythical beasts were scattered across different regions, large and small.

Among them, Chu territory was Jingzhou, and unmistakably carved upon it was the Nine-Headed Bird.

Seeing this, Li Yan suddenly understood.

Wang Daoxuan had once said that among Earth Masters, there was a saying: in ancient primitive times, when primordial Yin-Yang energies were thick, there were not only dragon veins but also countless superior spirit veins, all symbolized by mythical beasts.

Like the Nine-Headed Bird in Chu, the Ba Snake in Shu.

Could it be that the carvings on the tripod depicted the original terrain?

The Nine Tripods were too mysterious; most had never seen them. Historical records mentioned them, but all were speculative, based on earlier accounts.

No definitive description existed.

Of course, these were not why Li Yan had stopped.

He could feel that the Nine Tripods gathered immensely potent primordial Yin-Yang Qi, even manifesting as golden radiance, far surpassing any cave heaven or blessed land.

It was as if the spirit energy of an entire sacred mountain had been concentrated into a single tripod.

Hanging from the tripod's wall was a figure—the Wuxiang Young Master.

His body was twisted, reduced to half, gripping the tripod's handles as he laughed wildly, "Mine! Mine!"

He failed to notice his flesh was crumbling bit by bit, like a sandcastle dissolving, fading away.

Eventually, his entire body turned to ash.

In the air lingered a voice of bitter regret:

"Mine…"

Seeing this, Li Yan's mind formed a hunch.

The Nine Tripods were sacred relics of Shenzhou, far surpassing all state ritual artifacts, having traveled through dragon veins for millennia, accumulating countless dragon qi.

With heaven and earth as their chamber, the land of Shenzhou as their furnace, and dragon vein energy as fuel, they had long been reforged into something incomprehensible.

Ordinary methods could not even draw near.

Like the Wuxiang Young Master—he forcibly touched it and was instantly reduced to dust.

That bastard!

Li Yan's eyes darkened; he roughly deduced the truth.

The Wuxiang Young Master had obtained a treasure leaking from the Dragon Palace's water mansion. Though Zhao Jie was dead, this fellow had slipped inside and taken out the Nine Tripods.

The Nine Tripods flickered between real and illusory—only half had emerged.

Even so, it had caused considerable disruption.

The entire Chengdu prefecture's earth veins were in chaos; the ground trembled, and from below came continuous thunderous roars, as if a great beast were bellowing.

Li Yan had no idea what to do in this situation.

The Nine Tripods had transformed into a mysterious artifact—he could not even approach.

Within the white vortex, fierce winds howled, whipping his hair and robes.

Only because of his profound Dao cultivation and martial skill could he remain unaffected; outside the vortex, the Yin-Yang Qi was disturbed, making it impossible for other cultivators to draw near.

The white vortex held more than just him.

Lu Sheng and Li Wenyuan had also entered, standing opposite, whispering urgently, and pulling out a large piece of beast hide from their robes.

These two clearly intended to seize the tripod.

Seeing them appear, Li Yan did not hesitate—he immediately pulled out his Soul Warrant and gripped it tightly.

One was a spirit criminal; the other, a fugitive from the Heavenly Court.

Even if they concealed their aura with divine artifacts, as soon as he saw them, he could summon the Underworld's troops and the Heavenly Court's Thunder Department to apprehend them.

Yet something astonishing happened again.

The Soul Warrant lost all response.

"Hahaha…"

Lu Sheng laughed freely across the way, "Boy, you really think those heavenly beings are omnipotent?"

"As long as this thing is here, they can't even manifest!"

Li Yan gritted his teeth, drew his Broken Dust Blade, and moved to circle around, forcing them out of the vortex.

Clang!

At that moment, a streak of bloodlight struck.

It was the Blood Nuo Master, Ba Daiza.

With the Nine Tripods appearing, the old demon was grinning from ear to ear.

"Boy, die!"

Within the vortex, Yin-Yang Qi raged, making spellcasting impossible—so Ba Daiza relied purely on Qiang knife techniques, mixed with some Daoist blade arts.

Bloodlight flashed, stabbing toward Li Yan's chest.

Clang!

Li Yan raised his Broken Dust Blade to block.

The blades clashed, sparks flying.

Both were at the peak of Transformation Stage; their weapons—one a Qiang artifact, the other the Slaying-Jiao Blade—were perfectly matched.

Worse still, Ba Daiza was blocking him, while Lu Sheng and Li Wenyuan had unfurled the hide and were cautiously approaching the Nine Tripods…

(End of Chapter)