The Blazing Sun God-Seat crawled and scrambled as he retreated into the gates of the Sacred Ground. In this moment, the towering White Bone Divine Gate seemed stripped of all its former majesty. Soaked in golden divine blood, the skulls of ancient gods mounted upon the gateframe emitted sharp, cracking sounds as they began to splinter.
The golden blood coating Cang Yaochen had not yet dried. As he strode forward, he left a trail of shocking, crimson-gold footprints across the long stairs of pristine white jade.
"Li'er, catch."
Without looking back, Cang Yaochen flicked his wrist, tossing a purple divine core wrapped in crackling remnants of lightning toward his rear. It was the source essence he had just ripped from the mangled corpse of the Purple Lightning God-Seat.
Jiang Li caught it cleanly. She was already holding the Withered Wood God-Seat's emerald-green core in her other hand, ruthlessly siphoning its laws of vitality straight into the crimson cinnabar mark between her brows. With the source essence of two God-Seats in her grasp, the eerie, chilling aura unique to her heretical god heritage receded substantially. In its place rose a tempestuous, violent pressure—the hallmark of an entity that had feasted upon divinity.
"The hounds of this Sacred Ground possess rather nourishing cores," Jiang Li murmured, wiping a streak of blood from her face as her crimson robes whipped wildly in the gale.
Treading upon a path littered with shattered armor, the duo stepped into the world hidden behind the White Bone Divine Gate.
It bore no resemblance to the celestial paradise spoken of in mortal legends. There were no thousands of auspicious vapors, nor were there divine cranes soaring in unison. Instead, colossal bronze pillars as massive as mountain ranges supported a sky of darkened gold. Bound to each bronze column by heavy chains were gargantuan, desiccated ancient beasts, their divine energy continuously drained and channeled toward the deepest recesses of the zenith.
This place resembled less of a divine sanctuary and more of a massive, meticulously crafted slaughterhouse.
At the far end of the grand hall stood a colossal throne, forged from the molten remains of countless golden divine seats. The Blazing Sun God-Seat was currently kneeling on the stone steps beneath it. The divine blood leaking from his severed arm had been stanched, yet he did not dare to so much as raise his head.
Seated upon the throne was a man who appeared to be in his early twenties.
He wore a plain, unblemished white robe of coarse cloth. His black hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his feet were bare against the golden steps. He possessed neither the terrifying, tempestuous gaze of the Purple Lightning God-Seat nor the scorching true-flames of the Blazing Sun God-Seat; he appeared as clean and unburdened as a pool of mountain spring water from the mortal realm.
Yet, the moment Cang Yaochen's eyes fell upon him, the demonic blade in his hand let out a piercing, resonant hum. It was the instinctive defense of the God of War spine, sensing an existential threat.
"The First God-Seat... Taichu," Jiang Li uttered the name, her fingers tightening around her broken sword until her knuckles turned white.
During the grand siege three thousand years ago, this First God-Seat had never once shown his face. Some claimed he had long perished in the war of gods ten thousand years prior, while others rumored he had already assimilated into the Heavenly Dao itself.
"So, you have returned."
Taichu slowly raised his head. His eyes were exceptionally bright. As he looked upon Cang Yaochen and Jiang Li, there was no anger, nor was there any killing intent. Instead, his gaze resembled that of an elder watching two unruly children who had finally come home after wandering too long.
"Taichu, the lives of the one hundred thousand disciples of the Xuanying Sect three thousand years ago—it is time to settle that debt today," Cang Yaochen declared, taking a massive stride forward as his demonic blade pointed directly at the throne.
"A debt?"
Taichu let out a soft, amused chuckle. Rising from his throne, he walked barefoot down the golden steps. As he moved, the chains binding the bronze pillars began to emit deafening, metallic screeches. The energy of the entire dark-gold sky seemed to ebb and flow like a tide in perfect synchronization with his breathing.
"Do you truly believe the Xuanying Sect was destroyed because the Sacred Ground willed it?"
Taichu came to a halt fifty zhang away from the duo, his hands resting casually behind his back.
"Cang Yaochen, that God of War skeleton inside you was stripped from its original host by my own hands all those years ago. Jiang Li, that Heretical God Heart of yours was dug out under my explicit orders. Do you honestly think I covet such meager power?"
Jiang Li's brow furrowed sharply. "What are you trying to say?"
Taichu pointed to the dark-gold canopy above, then gestured to the divine hall beneath their feet.
"This Sacred Ground is nothing more than a glorified livestock pen. The thirty-six God-Seats are merely cattle I raise, to be slaughtered at regular intervals as blood-sacrifices to feed the 'Heavenly Dao.' Three thousand years ago, the Xuanying Sect crossed the line. You wished to shatter this sky to see the world outside. What you failed to realize is that if the sky breaks and the things from the outside slip in, not a single soul within this pen will survive."
He looked toward the dark-red cinnabar mark between Jiang Li's brows, his tone carrying a faint trace of a sigh.
"You believe that to be the catalyst of a heretical god? In truth, it is a boundary stone I forged using the souls of your entire clan, solely to seal the largest 'Void Fissure' in this world. To use it as your capital for revenge... what utter foolishness."
BOOM—!
The moment Taichu's voice fell, the dark-gold canopy above the grand hall shuddered violently. Streaks of deathly pale light began to bleed through emerging fractures. The aura it exuded was identical to the energy of absolute annihilation found within the Forbidden Zone of the Gods.
He had not yet struck, but the invisible pressure of his absolute laws made it excruciatingly difficult for Cang Yaochen and Jiang Li to even raise their hands.
This was the sky of the Sacred Ground—and the true, unbridled power of the First God-Seat.