Chapter Seventy-Three: The Truth

They leapt outward from the mirrored heart.

A speck of red light, like the first rays of a rising sun, seized their vision. In an instant, that red expanded into an enormous eye, swirling with black and white, suffused with blood, casting the entire world in a crimson hue.

The eye gradually shrank, growing more animated, and as it drew back, other colors returned to view.

Then, a human head appeared before Xu Zhong and the others, its mountainous size pressing down on them with an unbearable weight.

The eyes of the head followed Xu Zhong and his companions as they moved.

A heavy, gusting breath echoed through the strange space.

Xu Zhong noticed that within the head nested true dragons, each exhaling dragon’s breath, weaving in and out of the ears, nostrils, mouth, and other orifices, their purpose unknown.

This, too, seemed to be a kind of great cauldron.

They found themselves inside it: the uneven mountains around them coiled into the shape of a dragon, the peaks like its scales, and the spiritual energy within the cauldron revolved alongside this dragon form, creating deep, resonant dragon songs that set their bodies ringing in response.

The dragon’s roar resonated with the apertures of their bodies.

Thus, within Xu Zhong and the others, a dragon seemed to awaken.

Peering inward, Xu Zhong saw the dragon threading through his Five Luminaries: its tail began at the hidden Water Luminary, its body pierced Earth, Wood, and Metal, and its head ended at the Fire Luminary.

Suddenly, Xu Zhong realized he was immobilized, and all his vital energy was pouring into the dragon’s body.

The true dragon was awakening, its form forged from illusion into reality.

“This cauldron—is it trying to refine us?” Xu Zhong’s heart leapt.

He activated his cultivation method; the Five Luminaries shifted, and in each a Thunder Lake God opened its eyes, his organs transforming into five thunder-filled lakes. The Thunder Lake Gods stood atop the lakes, reaching out to seize the dragon.

No matter how the dragon writhed and struggled within him, it was to no avail.

Xu Zhong crushed the dragon, letting its dissipating power course through his Five Luminaries, and soon enough, he refined it fully.

His spiritual power grew thicker, deeper.

The others, however, were invaded and bound tightly by the dragon’s energy.

Unlike Xu Zhong, they had no Thunder Lake Gods forged from the seeds of the Five Elements Divine Thunder; they could only rely on their own Five Luminaries to refine the dragon’s energy.

Xu Zhong saw black and white light splitting off from Yun Yong, the two hues clashing and devouring each other—black for the dragon energy, white for his spiritual power.

The others were much the same.

With a thunderous rumble, Tang Yuan’s body erupted in noise, and a surge of fire burst from him, igniting the dragon’s energy around him, painting the space in red clouds swirling with the incomplete outlines of a dragon.

That dragon form was filled with terror, its foreclaws scrabbling in the flaming clouds, only to be dragged in by an immense suction.

A high, piercing dragon cry sounded from within Tang Yuan.

Xu Zhong watched as that dragon form was refined into Tang Yuan’s Five Luminaries.

Tang Yuan then opened his eyes, catching Xu Zhong’s gaze and looking surprised. “Oh? You finished even before me. You must have cultivated a technique similar to my Blood Furnace.”

“Blood Furnace?” Xu Zhong had never heard such a peculiar name; he only knew of the Heaven and Earth Furnace.

Yun Yong, having just subdued the black energy and awakened, heard their exchange and explained: “The Blood Furnace uses the body as a crucible, blood as fire, and the world’s spiritual energy as fuel, forging the flesh. That’s the Blood Furnace.”

“I’ve heard the Blood Furnace is a secret art of the Tang clan in Tiandu—a powerful body-forging method. The body becomes a furnace, the blood starts at the spine and surges through the body, tempering the bones. When blood flows, it sounds like roaring waves. When all the blood is unified, it moves through the body like a great dragon.”

He continued, “At its peak, one’s blood can even manifest as divine weapons. That’s why your Tang clan rarely cultivates spells or uses magic treasures, relying solely on blood and flesh. With the Blood Furnace, your strength rivals the ancient beasts.”

Tang Yuan smiled. “Not just rivals—surpasses.”

What Xu Zhong had glimpsed earlier was likely not a true dragon, but the manifestation of Tang Yuan’s blood power.

“They should be waking soon,” Yun Yong said just as Li Feiyu and Fang Yuan slowly regained consciousness.

“We can’t hold out much longer.” The spiritual energy here seemed sealed. Once their spiritual power was spent, they would inevitably be refined by the dragons.

Suddenly, the dragon on the cauldron wall seemed to come alive. It tore itself free, golden light bursting forth, gathering endless dragon energy.

It extended a claw downward.

Instantly, the entire cauldron began to boil, a pure golden light overwhelming all, blinding them with its intensity, even causing a piercing pain that left them all temporarily sightless.

Vast, pure spiritual energy reverberated within the cauldron.

Suddenly, an explosive sound thundered in their ears.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

Five dull thuds, one for each of them, as the shockwave slammed them against the cauldron’s wall.

Xu Zhong forced his eyes open.

The golden haze faded as he willed it, and he saw countless “Mind Monkeys and Will Horses” rise—thoughts and desires, coalescing into myriad cultivators: scholars in tall hats, immortal-like Daoists, and sinister demon lords.

These thoughts joined forces, attacking the true dragon.

The thoughts originated from the immense head.

Through the deep, hollow eyes, Xu Zhong saw into its Niwan Palace.

Within, countless starlights gathered, forming a divine soul.

Just then, the soul opened its eyes.

Its gaze pierced the dragon like two nails, pinning it to the cauldron wall.

The dragon writhed and trembled.

The soul spat out a breath, which struck the dragon, twisting and shrinking it until it became a mural once more.

The soul, towering and vast, stood atop the head, looking down on Xu Zhong and the others.

“So, the spirit of this cauldron—has it gone mad, burning its own essence to kill me?” He smiled. “But it turns out it wasn’t trying to kill me. It’s because you—” his finger pointed at Xu Zhong, lifting him into the air, “—carry my aura.”

Threads of gray smoke drifted from Xu Zhong, intertwining, coalescing into a mirror before him.

Within the mirror, scenes from Xu Zhong’s life unfolded—yet many memories had been erased.

Curious, the soul tried to forcefully view the hidden past.

Instantly, a bolt of thunder circled above his head, crashing down on his soul, black smoke pouring from his orifices. His mind faltered, countless distracting thoughts rampaged within him, his expression shifting chaotically.

But in the next moment, he regained control, subdued his errant thoughts, and fixed Xu Zhong with a steely look. Through clenched teeth, he spat, “Thunder Ancestor!”

No sooner had he spoken than bolts of lightning struck him again.

He fell silent.

He continued his search but avoided what could not be seen.

All those secrets were connected to the Thunder Ancestor.

Xu Zhong, seeing his calm face, began to guess the truth.

“The one who dismembered and cooked him was likely the Thunder Ancestor.”

The soul shaped the gray smoke into the scene he wanted: an enormous heart, covered with countless faces.

“That heart from the outer realm?” Xu Zhong’s own pounded furiously.

His heart had been cut out.

Yet he should have been outside the Yu Kingdom—how had he entered?

Suddenly, a wild idea struck him.

“The Great Emperor of Dragon City once left the Yu Kingdom.”

Perhaps only that could explain how this soul’s heart ended up in Yu.

“He left Yu, found this secret realm on the Endless Sea, entered, and took away a heart. But why a heart?” Xu Zhong could not understand.

The soul, seeing the heart, smiled slightly.

Then his expression changed, for he saw a man, a sword, and a flash of sword light.

That sword light burst from Xu Zhong’s mind, piercing the gray smoke and cleaving into the soul.

The soul was struck.

Sword energy, dense and unyielding, clung to him—like the inverted Milky Way, splitting his soul and spirit. Even after recombining, a massive wound remained, devouring him unceasingly.

He let out a muffled groan.

Xu Zhong, meanwhile, was stunned.

That sword light had come from his Niwan Palace, but at the time, he couldn’t possibly have unleashed such a strike.

“Situ Nan!” Xu Zhong saw his image in the mirrored fragment.

That sword light—it was Situ Nan’s doing.

The sword intent within it was overwhelming and deeply familiar.

It was the Great River Sword Will, the way of Zhou Jing, yet refined with his own understanding.

“He comprehended Zhou Jing’s sword path long ago and made it his own,” Xu Zhong thought.

“But with such mastery, why did he need the art of Fate Transference?”

Perhaps that sword light was a brand, left between heaven and earth—whenever someone tried to pry into his secrets, the sword would manifest and strike the intruder.

It might not rival the Thunder Ancestor’s direct retribution, but it was nearly as terrifying.

This meant that before leaving such a mark, Situ Nan’s cultivation already matched the Thunder Ancestor’s.

Yet Xu Zhong couldn’t fathom why such a powerful cultivator would graft his fate onto Xu Zhong’s. Out of fear?

“Perhaps he, too, discovered the world’s truth long ago, but lacked the Great Emperor’s courage and the ancient Dao’s resolve. All he sought was to transfer his fate onto mine, making his escape easier.”

Xu Zhong shook his head. “Maybe not just his fate—perhaps even the Thunder Ancestor’s Yang aspect.”

“That’s why the Heart Devil of Heaven’s Way was born within me. That’s why my path has been so fraught.”

Xu Zhong’s brow throbbed violently.

“With Situ Nan so powerful, how can I ever hope to kill him?”