Chapter 989

Name.

Void-Piercing Vibration Superluminal Sharp Self-Moving Magic Blade · Fiturel.

Age.

I don’t know.

Gender.

Huh? I’m a magic blade—do I even have a gender?

Of course you do. If some people’s gender is a toilet, yours should be a magic longsword. Negril swiftly wrote “Magic Longsword” in the gender field.

Alright, my gender is Magic Longsword. Fiturel was as obedient as could be, because the full bucket of black crystal hung directly beneath it—any slip from Ang would send it falling.

Who forged you? Negril glanced at Anthony’s prompt board and asked instead.

Forged? You mean who made me? Fiturel said: I don’t know. Since I gained memory, I’ve always been like this—the blade is my body.

Negril nodded: A native magic blade, like the Earth Sacred Hammer. Then who named you?

Fiturel said: I don’t know. The name was just carved into me. Look—just below the hilt, there’s a line of writing: Fiturel.

Negril and Anthony leaned in. Sure enough, there was a line of script—but Negril didn’t recognize the script.

Isn’t it just Fiturel? What about Void-Piercing Vibration? Who gave you those? Negril asked.

Though a sword has no face, its tone carried a hint of pride: I earned them. When I pierced space, I became Void-Piercing Fiturel. After mastering vibration, I became Void-Piercing Vibration Fiturel.

Wow, you can do that? One day you slay a dragon, and you’ll add Dragon-Slayer Fiturel to your name? Negril exclaimed.

This naming style resembled the Main Plane—each new attribute added to the name, each new kill appended, until it became as long as Lu Se’s Dragon-Grain Steel-Core Water-Infused Sword.

Fiturel sneered: Dragon? What right does a dragon have to be part of my name? I’ve slain countless divine spirits of the Deathlord—what’s one measly dragon?

You can’t cut the Dawn Goddess, Negril scoffed.

Can you stop bringing up the Dawn Goddess? Her body is a crystal wall—a crystal wall, do you understand? Besides her, name me any other deity, and I’ll cut him down with one strike. Fiturel snarled.

Negril pointed his claw at Ang: Him. The God of Cultivation.

The God of Cultivation? Impossible. He made me… he’s an exception. Name me another. I’ll cut him down with one strike. Fiturel roared.

To be suppressed like this by the God of Cultivation? Are you kidding a child? This little fat dragon hasn’t spoken one truth.

After asking a few more questions, Ang picked up the blade and returned to cutting black crystal. Negril and Anthony huddled together, whispering: Ten questions, nine unknowns—this magic blade is useless.

It’s just a magic blade—a sword at heart. What could it know? But from it, we can infer something: the force imprisoning the Dawn Goddess has existed for a long time, and it’s massive, with its own operational rules. It’s definitely not a minor faction—it must lie within the Divine Light Alliance’s territory. Have Silver Coin keep watch. Anthony said.

Even if it’s outside the Divine Light Alliance’s territory, it’s not far. Grand Councilor is incompetent. His domain has developed such a powerful force—one that can build its own prison and imprison deities—and he didn’t notice? Negril muttered in disbelief.

Anthony said: There are dozens of planes. How easy is it to monitor them all? Back then, the Church of Light had massive surveillance on the Main Plane—and still, you quietly built Meishencheng in the desert, and they knew nothing. They even sent the Dragon Knight Corps to charge in blindly.

Anthony paused, then added: Besides, I think the Infinite Prison is a dimensional space. That makes it even more unpredictable—it can hide anywhere.

Forget it. At least Ang got a tool to cut black crystal. Not a bad deal. But what about the Dawn Goddess? Negril asked.

Anthony said: I gave her a locator stone. As soon as she escapes the Infinite Prison and activates it, the Master will instantly sense her location. But it’s been half a day already, and the Master hasn’t reacted at all. Either she didn’t escape, or she didn’t activate the stone.

As he finished speaking, Ang—still cutting black crystal far away—suddenly shoved the cut crystal into Little Phantom’s mouth, then sprinted over, sword in hand.

Everyone gathered. Ang clamped the magic blade under his armpit, rubbed his hands together, and slapped a teleportation array onto the ground.

When they reappeared, their feet stood on an ocean of magma. Above them, a layer of rock—like the gap between a plane’s underground magma and its crust.

Several massive stone pillars rose from the magma, stretching upward. Each pillar extended a thick chain, entwining into a colossal iron chain ball at the center.

Ang and the others had teleported out from directly above this iron chain ball.

The Infinite Warden Samus immediately spotted them. His gaze landed on Anthony, then shifted to the magic longsword under Ang’s armpit.

It’s him—it’s him! He freed the Dawn Goddess and stole my sword! Kill them! Samus shouted.

Ang immediately noticed: dozens of humans stood atop the scorching magma. They wore high-collared black robes, were bald, and barefoot—yet walked on the boiling lava as if it were solid ground.

At Samus’s cry, all the black-robed bald men took flight. Shadows rose from their bodies—each shadow cradling a massive magma fireball, hurling them toward Ang and the others.

But hurling magma fireballs before Ang was sheer overconfidence. Ang swept his hand across the air—and the incoming fireballs instantly lost their fire, becoming mere rock spheres—Deprivation.

Stripped of fire, the rock spheres were shattered by Ang’s Void-Piercing Vibration Superluminal Sharp Self-Moving Magic Blade.

Seeing this, several burly black-robed men shouted in unison, and surged their power.

From below, boiling magma erupted into several columns, surging onto the bald men and rapidly filling their shadows.

In moments, several towering magma giants appeared in the air. They stomped forward with massive strides toward Ang.

Magma magic without primordial force posed no threat to Ang. He didn’t even need to transform—he simply unleashed high-speed fire magic, reducing the magma giants to fragments.

When the dense hail of fire meteors obliterated the last magma giant, the remaining bald black-robed men exchanged glances, then nodded in unison.

All the black-robed mages tore off their robes and chanted loudly: I am the Supreme Fire, flowing through the earth’s core. I am the flowing stone, the Highest…

The black-robed mages, who had walked barefoot on magma without harm, now smoked and sizzled as soon as they shed their robes, sinking into the lava and igniting.

Anthony gasped: What are they doing? Are they insane? Don’t they want to live?

Negril cursed: They’re sacrificing themselves. Damn it, are they crazy? If they can’t win, just run! We’re not going to hunt them down. Why sacrifice themselves? What are they trying to summon?

Soon, everyone knew. A powerful consciousness was slowly awakening beneath the magma.

Negril exclaimed in shock: No way. The Plane’s Will? How the hell did they even pull this thing out?