Chapter 842: Container

Yan Buji's fingertip touched that spatial fissure, and the mutated Dao Mark in his left eye suddenly burned intensely. He saw his finger disintegrating into countless ethereal blue light particles, being torn forward by the suction from the fissure.

The Heavenly Demon King's final words still echoed in his ears, but now there was no turning back; his whole being felt like being thrown into a raging vortex, his bones groaning under the unbearable weight.

When his vision cleared again, he was kneeling on a bronze altar. The altar's surface was engraved with demonic script similar to the Slashing Sword, each groove flowing with lapis-colored liquid.

From afar came the sound of a babbling creek, yet looking around, there was neither sun nor moon nor heaven and earth, only endless bronze-colored mist.

"The seventh." A crisp child's voice suddenly came from behind.

Yan Buji spun around sharply, the mutated Dao Mark flashing a warning blue light. Under a bronze tree three zhang away sat a girl about seven or eight years old.

She was barefoot, with a string of glowing bells tied around her ankles, and most striking were the crystal-clear antlers on her forehead, only palm-sized yet radiating starlike light.

"Xiao Lu..." Yan Buji subconsciously uttered the name. The Heavenly Demon blood mark on his wrist was heating up, resonating wondrously with the girl's antlers.

The girl tilted her head, studying him, her pupils pure lapis: "You aren't the people waiting for Sister Jianfan." She lightly tapped, and the golden pattern on Yan Buji's chest floated into midair, forming an incomplete star map, "But you have a mutated Dao Mark, and the old demon lord's mark... barely qualifies."

The altar suddenly trembled. The liquid in those grooves rose into mist, coalescing before Yan Buji into the shape of the Slashing Sword. Yet this sword had no substance, like a lapis-colored shadow hovering in the air.

"To take the sword, first hear the price," Xiao Lu's bells rang without wind, emitting an ethereal tone, "First, you will become the new Container."

Before Yan Buji could react, his left eye was struck by excruciating pain. The mutated Dao Mark spread like a living thing, instantly crawling over half his cheek. He horrifiedly realized these markings were gradually synchronizing with the demonic script on the phantom sword's blade.

"Second, you will inherit Sister Jianfan's unfinished business," Xiao Lu, somehow already standing at the altar's edge, placed her tender hand on his chest, "They are awakening."

With her touch, Yan Buji saw a terrifying vision: twelve bronze coffins trembling somewhere on an ice plain, the sealing runes on the lids extinguishing one after another. In the central coffin, a hand covered in star patterns was slowly extending...

"Third..." Xiao Lu suddenly leaned close, whispering in his ear, "You will forget the most important thing."

Yan Buji tried to ask, but the altar suddenly sank. The phantom sword automatically flew into his right hand; the moment of contact flooded his mind with a torrent of information. He saw Sister Jianfan kneeling on the same altar, thrusting the real Slashing Sword into her own chest; he saw the Heavenly Demon King standing before the ice wall of the Youming Jie, holding a cup of deer heart blood; finally he saw Xiao Lu crying, her tears turning into lapis-colored pearls that fell onto the altar...

"Now it's time to give you Sister Jianfan's message," Xiao Lu's voice suddenly became extremely distant. Yan Buji found his right hand becoming ethereal, merging with the sword's shadow, "She says..."

The whole space suddenly shook violently. The bronze tree began to wither, the mist torn open by an invisible force.

Xiao Lu panicked, looking toward a direction, her antlers' light flickering rapidly: "Too late! They've found this place!"

She shoved Yan Buji hard. As he fell into the newly appeared spatial fissure, Yan Buji only heard fragmented broken words:

"Beichuan... Zhenbing... remember the third pattern on the sword hilt... the demon is not..."

In the real world, the air hit his chest like a hammer. Yan Buji lay on snow in some part of the Nan Ting Mountain Region, coughing violently, the Slashing Sword in his right hand already solidified. The sword hilt's carved deer head was missing a horn, exactly matching the antlers on Xiao Lu's forehead.

He tried to recall the full message, but found the memory of that strange space fading rapidly. Only a few keywords remained deeply etched in his mind: Beichuan Zhenbing, third pattern on the sword hilt, the demon is not...

The Slashing Sword suddenly emitted a warning tremor.

Yan Buji looked up; in the distance the sky showed an unnatural bronze hue. Within the clouds faintly visible were twelve black dots, scattering at terrifying speed in all directions, the central one clearly flying toward his location.

The burning sensation from the mutated Dao Mark in his left eye resonated wonderfully with the Slashing Sword. Yan Buji suddenly understood what Xiao Lu meant by "Container."

His body was becoming a bridge linking two strange forces. The Heavenly Demon blood mark on his right wrist suddenly cracked, the lapis-colored blood droplet fell onto the snow, turning into a tiny deer shadow that raced northward.

"Beichuan..." Yan Buji wiped away his nosebleed, gripped the Slashing Sword and stood. The third pattern on the blade glowed, vaguely forming an incomplete star map. As he stared at those points of light, the mutated Dao Mark automatically completed the missing part—clearly the coordinates of the Youming Jie entrance.

The snowfield suddenly began to quake!

At the moment Yan Buji turned, the Slashing Sword automatically slashed behind him. Amid the clang of gold and iron, a bronze long halberd was cleaved in two. The wielder, cloaked in a star-patterned cape, had wrists covered with golden patterns similar to Yan Buji's chest.

"The first to awaken..." Yan Buji grinned. The deer head on the Slashing Sword suddenly opened its eyes, lapis flames spreading along the blade to his right arm. He could feel a lingering will, a kind of almost gentle killing intent.

The cloaked figure lifted his hood, revealing a face dotted with stars. His pupils were pure bronze, and when he spoke his voice sounded like metal rubbing: "Container... hand it over..."

Yan Buji said nothing. The arc of light the Slashing Sword traced lingered in the air as a lasting lapis trail; this strike seemed slow but had already severed the opponent's connection to the present world.

The cloaked man was astonished to find his evasive movements became as slow as a snail, this being the Minglu clan's innate divine skill "Instant Eternity."

Amid the muffled thud of the blade entering flesh, Yan Buji saw a dreadful scene: the cloaked man's wound bore no blood, only constantly writhing star patterns. These patterns were trying to crawl along the sword toward his arm, tearing at the mutated Dao Mark.

"I see..." Yan Buji snapped the sword back, "You aren't human either!"

The cloaked man's body suddenly swelled and exploded. The splattered star patterns on the snow formed a map, exactly a spot on the Beichuan ice plain showing a bronze coffin diagram. A hoarse voice rang directly in Yan Buji's mind: "Come... complete the ritual..."

The wind and snow intensified abruptly. Yan Buji noticed the third pattern on the Slashing Sword brightened a few more points, as if confirming the map's authenticity. The mutated Dao Mark in his left eye sent a warning sting!

He suddenly recalled the very end of the memory, Xiao Lu's unfinished words "the demon is not...". Looking down at his wrist, the Heavenly Demon blood mark was slowly changing, gradually becoming an incomplete deer head design.

This discovery sent chills down his spine; could the Heavenly Demon King have some unknown connection with the Minglu clan?

A massive roar of glacier cracking echoed from the far end of the snowfield!