Chapter 137: Raw Materials

Chapter 138: Raw Materials

Seana slowly raised her dark blade, letting the crimson Qi coalesce along the edge until it hummed with overwhelming authority.

The ethereal lotus behind her dissolved into drifting red mist.

Then—

A colossal Crimson Moon rose into existence behind her back, casting an ominous, blood-soaked radiance across the shattered battlefield.

Opposite her, Jules’s nine ancient lightning glyphs rotated at blinding speed, screaming with black-tinged electrical fury.

Seana’s Crimson Moon climbed higher.

Neither of them spoke. Neither took a breath. For a single, suspended heartbeat, the entire cathedral-sized chamber fell into dead, suffocating silence.

Then, Jules completed the final hand seal.

"Die."

The nine celestial lightning glyphs descended like falling guillotines!

Seana’s eyes remained tranquil—as still and deep as an ancient mountain lake.

She took a step forward. One step. Then another.

Her dark blade pointed straight toward the vault. The Crimson Moon behind her began its descent in perfect synchronicity with her stride.

Her voice was soft, barely a whisper, yet it resonated through the marrow of every stone in the Ancient Palace:

"Crimson Blood Sovereign Art..."

The Crimson Moon shuddered, igniting into liquid fire.

"...Second Form."

BOOOOOOM!

The collision between the Crimson Moon and the nine dark lightning seals tore the space of Sector Three to shreds.

——————————

[Far above, in Sector Four — The Core...]

Lothe’s eyes snapped open.

His [Spatial Perception] registered the massive concussive ripple tearing through the lower leylines. A familiar, suffocating wave of crimson sword intent had violently collided with something vile and corrupt.

For a fraction of a second, his icy, detached expression softened with warmth.

"Seana..."

Beside him, Professor Sy turned sharply, his scholarly robes fluttering in the atmospheric backlash. "You recognize that energy signature?"

Lothe stared into the darkness of the lower conduits, his eyes turning to carved stone. "I know the one who forged it."

Before the professor could ask more, another shockwave pulsed through the palace’s conduits. This one wasn’t crimson.

It was pitch-black, rancid, and filled with necrotic malice.

Lothe’s pupils contracted to pinpricks. "...And the other signature carries the same foul scent as Situ Li."

Lucan stepped up, the circular blades at his waist humming with tension. "What does that mean?"

Lothe slowly rose to his feet, his fingers tightening around the shaft of the Void Spear.

"It means the palace is no longer merely observing their duel," Lothe whispered, his gaze shifting toward the pulsating silver-black heart at the center of the room.

THUMP.

"It has actively entered the field."

——————————

[Back in Sector Three...]

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The collision inverted the chamber’s lighting into pure, blinding white.

The floating basalt platforms shattered like brittle glass, raining multi-ton boulders across the lower floor.

KRAK! KRAK! KRAK!

The Argon sisters were blasted backward by the atmospheric pressure. Asher drove Myriad Forge straight into the flagstones, expanding a dome of golden Metal Qi around the three women.

"Stay behind me!" Asher roared over the din.

Ambiel shielded her eyes, gritting her teeth. "What in the world is happening out there?!"

Asher didn’t answer. His eyes were locked onto the epicenter of the crater.

As the dust and ozone thinned, two silhouettes remained upright.

Seana and Jules.

Both were drenched in blood. Their robes were shredded, their breathing ragged and shallow, yet neither had fallen.

Jules slowly lifted his head, blood leaking from his nose and hairline. His lightning flickered weakly around his knuckles.

CRACK.

A sharp, black spark danced across his fingertips.

Jules looked down at his hand, a manic, breathless chuckle escaping his throat. "It seems... I’ve grown even stronger."

Seana said nothing.

The porcelain flower mask covering her face had fractured down the middle; half of it had shattered into dust, revealing the sharp, breathtaking contour of her cheek and her icy, blood-red-tinted gaze.

Her dark blade trembled in her grip. The Second Form had not fully matured—it was still rough, unrefined.

Yet something profound had awakened within her. Her Crimson Blood Qi was no longer just circulating through standard meridian channels; it had fused with her physical bloodstream itself. Her entire body had become an extension of the Sovereign Art.

Then—

THUMP.

Every cultivator in the room froze.

The sound did not come from Jules. It did not come from Seana.

It resonated from the ancient palace itself.

The golden inscriptions lining the basalt walls suddenly burned a deep, bruised crimson. One after another, dozens of sealed archways ground open throughout Sector Three with heavy, grinding groans.

KRRRRRRRR—!

Asher’s expression shifted. "Those gates... were not there before."

A violent tremor rippled through the bedrock.

Simultaneously, a cold, blood-red system prompt flashed before the vision of every awakened cultivator in the sector:

[WARNING]

[Palace Integration Threshold Reached.]

[Sector Three has entered Phase Two: The Great Harvest.]

[All unauthorized lifeforms are reclassified as:]

[RAW MATERIAL.]

Dead silence hung in the air for one terrible second.

Arvessa’s face drained of all color. "Raw... material?"

Then, from the newly opened corridors in the distance, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the quiet:

"AAAAAAAH!"

Everyone whipped their heads toward the sound.

Another scream followed. Then a third. Then hundreds of desperate, shrieking voices echoed through the labyrinth:

"HELP US!"

"THE WALLS ARE DRAINING US!"

"RUN!"

Ambiel’s whip snapped into her grip, her eyes wide with shock. "There are other survivors trapped in this sector!"

Asher raised Myriad Forge, his expression turning grim. "We need to move."

Before anyone could take a step—

BOOM!

A colossal golden array ignited beneath the distant corridors.

Hundreds of foreign cultivators and surviving martial artists were instantly pinned to the floor by crushing gravitational pressure.

Their energy didn’t just dissipate—the floor actively drank it.

Spiritual Qi. Blood essence. Elemental attributes. Physical vitality.

The trapped humans screamed in agony as their skin withered and their hair turned gray in real-time.

One desperate Foundation Establishment realm cultivator struck the array’s barrier with a warhammer.

BANG! The metal shattered on impact. Another unleashed a high-tier sword art—the blade disintegrated into rust before it even touched the light.

The system prompt updated with chilling indifference:

[Life Energy Extraction: 3%]

[Qi Extraction: 8%]

[Spiritual Essence Extraction: 5%]

Jules stared at the horrific scene in the distance, a flicker of human unease momentarily piercing his madness. "What... what is this?"

Seana’s voice was as cold as a glacier: "The palace has sat down for its meal."

BOOM!

A human body was hurled violently through the nearest archway, slamming into a basalt pillar and painting the stone in fresh crimson.

Dead before he hit the ground.

Another terrified cultivator sprinted past their platform, his eyes wild with terror: "RUN! THEY AREN’T GUARDS! THEY’RE—"

SWISH!

A streak of pure black crystal flashed across the hall, crossing fifty meters in the blink of an eye.

SLASH.

The fleeing cultivator was neatly cleaved in two.

The attacker didn’t pause to consume the flesh. It turned its glowing, faceless head toward the next target.

It was a humanoid entity constructed entirely of jagged, pitch-black crystal, its surface crawling with ancient red extraction runes.

A Harvester.

Asher’s knuckles turned white around his hilt. "These aren’t trial guardians. They’re slaughterhouse butchers."

A fresh notification materialized in the air:

[Sector Three Target Population: 1,284]

[Suitable Cultivation Vessels: 713]

[Unsuitable Biomass: 571]

[Processing Status: Active]

The top number flickered.

[1,283]

[1,282]

[1,281]

[1,280]

The headcount was plummeting by the second.

Ambiel gritted her teeth until blood seeped from her gums. "They’re systematically exterminating everyone."

——————————

[Sector Four — The Core...]

"No," Professor Sy’s strained voice broke the silence of the chamber, causing Lucan to turn to him in alarm.

"They aren’t being executed," the professor whispered, his hands trembling against his scholarly robes. "They are being refined."

Lucan’s eyes widened. "What practical difference does that make?!"

Professor Sy looked toward the beating silver-black heart with profound horror. "An execution is meant to eliminate a threat. A refinement... is meant to build a foundation."

Silence fell over Sector Four. For the first time, genuine dread flickered deep within Lucan’s eyes.

——————————

[Sector Three...]

On the platform, Jules channeled dark energy into his wounds. His flesh knitted back together at an unnatural, terrifying speed.

Behind him, the crystalline sphere pulsed violently.

THUMP.

His lightning flared—pure, suffocating, pitch-black.

The whisper in his mind roared like a tidal wave: Take it. Consume the sphere. Become the Sovereign.

His fingers curved into rigid claws. He no longer cared where the voice came from; the sheer intoxication of absolute power had drowned out the last remnants of his sanity.

Seana watched his posture tense.

Reaching up with a calm, deliberate motion, she unclasped the cracked remnants of her red porcelain mask, tossing the shards onto the floor.

Her striking, ethereal beauty was laid bare beneath the dim crimson glow of the hall, causing even the battle-hardened Asher and the Argon sisters to momentarily lose their breath.

"Step away from that sphere, Jules," Seana said calmly, her dark eyes pinning him to the spot.

"Get out of my way, woman!" Jules snarled, his voice carrying a metallic, layered echo.

"You don’t even possess the mental capacity to comprehend what that object is doing to your soul," Seana replied, cold disdain dripping from every syllable.

The insult shattered Jules’s fragile pride. "I understand enough to know that you are all envious! You want to rob me of my ascension!"

BOOM!

A tempest of black lightning detonated around his frame!

"Do not flatter yourself," Seana murmured, raising the Blood Moon Sword level with her chin. "You aren’t an ascendant. You are merely the next meal."

BOOOOOOM!

Before they could clash, a colossal, sector-wide formation ignited beneath their boots.

Vast golden and crimson leylines spread across every corridor, linking every platform, every room, every living cultivator, and every fresh corpse into a single, unified circuit.

The entire third sector had become one colossal slaughterhouse floor.

Asher’s eyes widened in horror. "The entire sector... is the furnace!"

Suddenly—

BZZZZT!

The communication crystal hanging from Asher’s belt began vibrating violently, emitting high-pitched static.

Then, Nyren’s panicked, breathless voice broke through the channel from deep within Sector Four:

"Asher—! Can you hear me—?!"

Static roared.

"GET OUT! THE CORE IS AWAKE! IT’S—CRACK!"

The communication crystal shattered into fine powder against Asher’s hip.

Asher’s face drained of all color. "Nyren...?! NYREN!"

Nothing.

Only the cold hum of the dying palace.

Ambiel stepped up to his side, her face pale. "Something catastrophic just happened."

Asher gripped Myriad Forge, his eyes blazing with absolute urgency. He spun toward the sector exit.

"We are leaving. Right now!"​