Chapter 230: Deity Transformation

The Ancient Battlefield in the Land of the Extreme North was shrouded in black mist year-round. The fog hung thick and unyielding, like ancient grievances seeping from the depths of the earth, refusing to dissipate even after thousands of years. Countless powerful ghosts lurked within. Even if ordinary cultivators traveled in groups, they dared not venture too deeply into its expanse.

Rumors claimed that a terrifying existence surpassing Nascent Soul cultivators lay coiled in the deepest parts of this Ancient Battlefield. A Deity Transformation cultivator had once forced his way inside, only to return with a shattered spirit body, passing away in meditation shortly after. Though no one could verify the tale, it was enough to make the world wary.

Recently, however, the vicious entities within the Ancient Battlefield had grown restless. Several ghosts rivaling Nascent Soul cultivators had even broken out, unleashing a river of blood before the Northern Plains dispatched high-tier cultivators to barely suppress them.

Alongside the upheaval in the Ancient Battlefield, the frontlines in the Northern Plains were strained. The war had raged for over thirty years. They had lost two Holy Masters in succession, and their defensive lines had been pushed back by thousands of miles, leaving countless lower-level cultivators dead or injured.

Ever since the battle at Beiliang Mountain, the sight of Deity Transformation cultivators taking the field had completely shaken the morale of the Northern Plains tribes. Cracks gradually appeared within the alliance. Some advocated fighting to the bitter end, while others wanted to surrender to Ganzhou, terrified of further retaliation. A few small and medium-sized tribes had already submitted in secret, leaving the masses severely restless. If not for the remaining eleven Holy Masters stepping forward together to stabilize the situation, the war likely would have collapsed long ago.

But that brief window of wavering morale was enough for the people of Ganzhou to push the frontlines forward by another several hundred miles.

Making matters worse, the black mist of the Ancient Battlefield—which normally erupted only once every few centuries due to overflowing yin energy—chose to surge forth right when the war was at its most critical juncture. Caught completely off guard and attacked from both sides, the Northern Plains suffered miserably. The higher-ups were forced to divert high-tier cultivators to garrison the borders of the Ancient Battlefield and prevent the black mist from spreading further.

With fewer high-tier cultivators on the frontlines, the Three Demonic Path Sects seized the opportunity to press their advance. The Northern Plains' defensive lines fell one after another. In total, fifty or sixty Nascent Soul cultivators had perished.

An atmosphere of pessimism permeated the entire Northern Plains.

Strangely, after spreading for a time, the black mist suddenly and rapidly withdrew. This anomaly happened without warning, and no one could explain the cause. But for the Northern Plains, it at least meant they were no longer fighting enemies on two fronts. The freed-up manpower could dedicate their full strength to repelling Ganzhou's offensive.

Even though the mist had receded, no one could guarantee it would not make a comeback. As such, the alliance still stationed a small number of cultivators confident in their abilities at the edges of the Ancient Battlefield to constantly watch its movements. No one knew if it would surge again, but preparing for it was better than doing nothing.

Deep inside this Ancient Battlefield—a place that left people turning pale at the mere mention—an ordinary-looking black rock cave dwelling sat at the bottom of a treacherous valley. Hidden amidst yin energy and jagged boulders, it was completely unremarkable from the outside.

Inside the cave dwelling, a figure sat cross-legged, his entire body veiled in a faint golden halo. A strange, serene fragrance drifted from him. It was clear and continuous—neither too thick nor too light—yet it stubbornly refused to fade. This was the sign of physical sandalwood transformation. His mortal frame was gradually transforming into a spirit body, the very texture of his flesh, blood, and bones changing bit by bit.

If this had been an ordinary cultivator, completing this single step would have required decades, if not a century, of painstaking effort. For Jiuyou to reach this point in just over thirty years was already a testament to his extraordinary methods.

Yet this was merely the first step of Deity Transformation. After the physical sandalwood transformation, he still needed to coalesce his primordial spirit and accommodate worldly spiritual energy before he could truly step over that threshold. After all these years, that black soul seed had long since matured. Now, he only waited for everything to be ready before initiating the final push.

Deep within the cave dwelling, a Qiankun Pouch rested quietly on one side of the stone platform. Inside it, spiritual plants were sown in distinct batches, scattered methodically across a vast, open field.

The most precious among them—the Violet Exquisite and the Heavenly Divine Treasure—had been accelerated to ten thousand years of maturity using his special methods. Their medicinal efficacy was so overflowing it almost solidified, filling the entire space with an impossibly dense, suffocatingly rich herbal fragrance.

However, he had never mentioned the origins of these spiritual plants to Xuan Zhenzi, keeping the secret of the Little Green Bottle perfectly hidden from the man. Though Xuan Zhenzi had been surprised by the existence of the Qiankun Pouch, he easily guessed it had been obtained from Perfected Jinli. As for what was actually inside the pouch, he had never asked too many questions. He still possessed that much tact.

Because of this, Jiuyou had actually managed to spend a relatively peaceful period in this perilous land. While a bloody wind and rain of carnage raged in the outside world, the inside of the cave dwelling was so quiet it felt like another realm entirely.

Meanwhile, deep within a mountain range in Ganzhou, near the borders of the Northern Plains. Inside a secret chamber carved out at some unknown time, Xue Huomo knelt on one knee, his posture displaying the utmost reverence. A black Token hovered above his head, faint spiritual light flowing across its surface.

The voice of Sacred Venerable Yuan Huang emanated from the Token, his tone cold and unhurried. "There are only so many Deity Transformation cultivators in this world. Who isn't keeping an eye on everyone else? I caused such a massive disturbance in the Northern Plains this time; naturally, it couldn't be hidden from the eyes and ears of those other old monsters. We agreed long ago that Deity Transformation cultivators are not to casually intervene in the affairs of the cultivation world. But this time, those old fossils used it as an excuse to extort a heavy price from me. That fellow surnamed Bai had a past connection with one of the previous Holy Masters of the Northern Plains, and he nearly fought me to the death over the matter. If the other three hadn't held him back, I might not even be speaking to you right now in one piece."

Xue Huomo broke out in a cold sweat as he listened, nodding repeatedly. He knew the other party was subtly warning him. As for how much truth lay in those words, he had no way of knowing.

But now that he had boarded this pirate ship, there was no turning back. If he hadn't done all this, how could he have ever gotten Ying Tong to cultivate the Blood Soul Restriction? How else could he have turned him into a walking spiritual medicine to fulfill his own chances of reaching Deity Transformation?

His lifespan was nearing its end; he had to walk this path whether he wanted to or not.

He had sacrificed far too much for this moment, laying out scheme after scheme. He made everyone believe the Blood Soul Restriction was genuine, and racked his brains to help his good junior brother accidentally obtain one primary ingredient after another... He had secretly assassinated the Nascent Soul elders of Evil Valley Heaven and the Demon Fiend Sect, framed the Northern Plains for the murders, and exhausted all his efforts to reignite the flames of war between Dayong and the Northern Plains.

He had given up so much just for Deity Transformation.

Even if he failed in the end, he would not regret a thing.

'No, I won't fail. Why would I fail? I've done so much, so on what grounds would I fail? Right! Deity Transformation. It's Deity Transformation. That door is right there; I've seen it. Just one final step away. I will definitely achieve Deity Transformation. I will definitely stand at the very pinnacle of this world. When that time comes, no one will be able to control me or restrain me. No one! From then on, I will have everyone in the world look up to me and chant my name. I am Xue Huomo.' These frantic thoughts flashed through Xue Huomo's mind, though they quickly dimmed away.

"And that person named Qing You, you still haven't found him?" Sacred Venerable Yuan Huang asked, his tone betraying neither joy nor anger.

"Reporting to the Venerable," Xue Huomo hurriedly replied. "It has been over a century since that man escaped. Your subordinate has constantly followed your orders to search for his whereabouts, dispatching no fewer than ten thousand cultivators to scour every corner of the Northern Plains. Yet, we haven't found a single trace of him. It's as if the man vanished into thin air, or perhaps... he is simply no longer in this region."

After finishing his report, he felt an even greater stifling frustration well up in his chest.

On any normal day, he, Xue Huomo, was the Supreme Great Elder of the Blood Abyss Sect. He was used to throwing his weight around and doing as he pleased. When had he ever been forced to swallow such indignity? Being ordered around like this was truly unbearable. Yet, he didn't dare show the slightest hint of his resentment, maintaining a look of absolute reverence on his face.

It would be soon. Very soon.

Once Ying Tong finished fusing with the Blood Soul Seed, by the time he realized what was happening, it would already be too late. At that point, he would be nothing more than a living spiritual medicine. And he, Xue Huomo, could use that opportunity to reach Deity Transformation in one fell swoop. Once he succeeded, he would settle this score with Sacred Venerable Yuan Huang sooner or later.

Keeping his head bowed, he forced his boiling hatred down into the depths of his heart. His face still wore that same submissive expression, like a dark river—calm on the surface, but surging with scalding currents below.

The spiritual light on the Token flickered slightly before returning to dead silence. The gaze from the other end had shifted away.