Chapter 231: Deity Transformation (2)

The war between the Northern Plains and Ganzhou remained frantic, with cultivators and mortals alike dying every second. Fortunately for the cultivators of the Northern Plains, that Deity Transformation Cultivator had not struck again. Most likely, an entity of that caliber was bound by certain unwritten rules, making it inconvenient to lightly interfere with the struggles of the cultivation world.

As for what benefits Xue Huomo had promised to convince a Deity Transformation Cultivator to send a wisp of their divine sense as an incarnation to aid the battle, no one knew. Yet it was precisely that single wisp of an incarnation that had caused the Northern Plains to suffer immensely in the early stages of the war.

The Ancient Sacred Master died in battle on the spot. The remaining Grandmasters and Great Grandmasters also suffered casualties; many failed to escape even with their Nascent Souls. Then there was that sword Dao Grandmaster—rumors claimed he had fled long ago, but no one knew where he had gone. Some said he was chased down and slain by that revered Deity Transformation entity, while others claimed he had simply left the Northern Plains out of fear of that existence. Opinions were varied and widespread with no consensus, and no one could confirm the truth.

This great war lasted for over two hundred years, only gradually subsiding when both sides could no longer sustain the effort.

Both sides had invested countless men and resources. The casualties were unimaginably tragic, with blood staining territories spanning far more than tens of millions of li. Dozens of Nascent Soul cultivators had perished, and no fewer than a hundred had their physical bodies destroyed, leaving only their Nascent Souls behind. Thousands of Golden Core Cultivators had fallen, and the losses at the Qi Refining and Foundation Establishment stages were simply immeasurable.

The Northern Plains had been severely weakened, but fortunately, the Thirteen Supreme Tribes had remained united from start to finish, curbing even greater casualties.

In contrast, although the Three Demonic Path Sects only consisted of three main sects, they controlled thousands of affiliated subordinate sects. However, rifts existed among them, and internally they were far less unified than the Northern Plains.

Among those demonic path cultivators, some made their fortune from the war, some backstabbed their peers, and some spoke without keeping faith. Such instances were too numerous to count. Unlike the cultivators of the Northern Plains, they were not fighting for their tribes or their survival, nor did they hold the defense of their homeland as their core conviction.

The demonic path cultivators had no convictions. They only believed in themselves—whoever had the larger fist would live longer and loot more in this war.

Far too many had died in this war. On some of the major battlefields, yin energy condensed into a thick haze, even spawning ghost creatures. However, these ghosts were not strong and had yet to develop sentience. If they appeared in the territories of the Northern Plains, Grandmaster-level figures would step in to eradicate them; if they fell into the hands of the Three Demonic Path Sects, those cultivators would quickly refine them, never letting them stick around for long.

About two hundred and twenty years into the war between Dayong and the Northern Plains, the Righteous Path sects of Dahan spotted their opportunity. Raising the banner of rescuing the myriad lives of the Northern Plains and seizing the moral high ground, they entered the fray and launched an attack on the demonic path.

The Three Demonic Path Sects had been fighting for over two hundred years; their vitality was depleted and their footing unsteady. If the Righteous Path sects did not seize this chance to claim a share of the spoils, it would have defied reason.

Naturally, these exalted Righteous Path experts did not truly care about the life or death of the commoners in the Northern Plains. They were men, not saints; human nature dictated that benefits came first. Their methods were simply more roundabout than those of the demonic path. They always made sure to don the guise of protecting all living things, allowing them to reap the practical benefits while occupying the moral high ground—accomplishing both without delay.

Seeing the situation turn grim, the Three Demonic Path Sects also decided they had had enough of fighting. The high-level cultivators had already profited immensely from the war, their pockets thoroughly lined, so they dispatched envoys to the Northern Plains to negotiate.

They had their eyes on the potential of the Ancient Battlefield. Plunging deep into it was certainly treacherous, but merely establishing strongholds on its periphery offered massive benefits to the demonic path cultivators. Furthermore, that region was far away from Dayong; even if a surge of yin energy erupted, it would not threaten them.

The foundational strength of the Northern Plains fell far short of Dayong's. Even though the Saintess had broken through to Peak Mid-Nascent Soul and could use the Sacred Relic, they still steadily lost ground despite its aid.

The Northern Plains groaned in misery from top to bottom. Though thoroughly unwilling, they had no choice but to sign the treaty. They permitted the Three Demonic Path Sects to open market towns on certain spirit veins and build several fortresses along the edge of the Ancient Battlefield, simultaneously ceding a thousand li of territory bordering Dayong.

In exchange, they gained a momentary peace.

After the news spread back to the Northern Plains, some wept tears of joy, while others seethed with indignation. There were also those who spoke softly into the wind, praying.

"May lovers finally be united in marriage."

"May our loved ones return safely."

"May war never happen again."

"May the Holy Master and the Saintess protect us."

"May those who were separated be reunited."

"May the weather be favorable and the four seasons proceed as usual."

"May..."

Just like that, Dayong and the Northern Plains coexisted in peace for over twenty years.

...

In a border region of the Ancient Battlefield, a pink petal flashed by. A Qi Refining Stage ghost was wrapped in layers of petals, and after a brief struggle, it lost all signs of life. It transformed into a pink flower that drifted back into the hand of a female cultivator in a long pink dress.

Weird, eerie patterns were tattooed across the female cultivator's face. She glanced at the flower in her palm, her voice as sharp as tearing silk.

"The yin energy here is so dense, and there are all these evil ghosts. For ghost cultivators like us, this is practically a heavenly paradise."

The four companions following behind her nodded in agreement. Along the way, they occasionally captured a few evil ghosts, and when they grew tired, they would find a spot rich in yin energy to sit cross-legged and meditate. As long as they did not venture too deep, the outskirts of the Ancient Battlefield were an inexhaustible treasure trove for these demonic path cultivators.

Aside from this squad of demonic path cultivators, there were many other travelers along the border, as well as Northern Plains cultivators braving the fringes to seek opportunities. Everyone kept their guard up against one another; they had to deal with the yin energy and evil ghosts, while also watching out for murder and robbery.

Over twenty years had passed, and such a lifestyle had become commonplace for both the Northern Plains and demonic path cultivators.

However, today seemed somewhat unusual.

The spiritual qi at the edge of the Ancient Battlefield was already thin, but for some unknown reason, it suddenly grew restless, as if stirred by an invisible, massive hand. As the fluctuations of spiritual qi rippled outward, countless cultivators felt a simultaneous jolt in their hearts. An indescribable sensation swept through their limbs and bones, as if something far away was slowly waking up.

Almost at the same time, everyone looked up toward the depths of the Ancient Battlefield. But they were too far away to see anything clearly. They only vaguely sensed that something momentous was taking place over there.

Yet those Golden Core stage cultivators who had ventured deeper into the Ancient Battlefield—and even a few Nascent Soul Stage cultivators—witnessed a sight they had never seen before in their lives.

Deep within the Ancient Battlefield, a murky black vortex tore up from the ground, connecting heaven and earth. All the yin energy within a radius of hundreds of thousands of li was dragged in, rushing toward the center of the whirlpool. The extracted yin energy instantly brought clarity to massive swaths of the region, while the ghosts hiding within shrieked as the vortex ripped them apart and devoured them, their souls and spirits scattered into absolute nothingness. The surviving ghosts frantically fled even deeper, lacking even the courage to look back.

Immediately after, streaks of colorful light materialized out of thin air across the firmament. Visible to the naked eye, they converged from all directions like trickling streams and poured into the black vortex.

Among them was ordinary spiritual qi, but there was also a far deeper, more primordial aura—origin qi.

That origin qi gushed out from countless mountains, ravines, and the spirit veins in the void. The wind and clouds within a thousand li roiled in response, and the light of the sun, moon, and stars was thrown into disarray. Even in broad daylight, faint stars became visible in the sky.

The void was torn open, and the cloud layers were shredded. Space itself slightly distorted under the torrential flow of origin qi, allowing the faint glimmer of the chaotic void beyond the realm to peek through the cracks.

A formless Dao sound rang out between heaven and earth. Low and drawn-out, it was neither the boom of thunder nor the howl of the wind; it was the echoing tremor of the laws of heaven and earth being touched. It spread out far beyond ten thousand li, so resonant that even the cultivators who had not entered the Ancient Battlefield could faintly sense it with their divine sense.

At the border, a Nascent Soul cultivator was the first to realize something was wrong. He snapped his head up, the spiritual light in his hand trembling slightly.

"That is..."

The words reached his lips, but they caught in his throat, and he failed to finish the sentence.

The people beside him followed his gaze and were similarly stunned.

"This isn't right, this aura... This doesn't seem to be just spiritual qi," someone murmured.

His voice was tight, tinged with uncertainty.

That wave of aura grew increasingly obvious, to the point that even the veteran Nascent Soul cultivators in perennial seclusion could no longer sit still. Figures appeared in midair, gazing at the churning sky in the distance with solemn expressions.

"This is origin qi... Someone is manipulating the origin qi of heaven and earth."

"Origin qi?" someone nearby picked up the conversation. "Isn't that a power only Deity Transformation Cultivators can touch?"

"Quick, report this immediately! Whatever that is, we absolutely cannot stay here any longer!" someone urged, pulling out a Communication Jade Plaque. His voice strained as he spoke into it, "Elder, there's an anomaly deep in the Ancient Battlefield! A power at the Deity Transformation level appears to be surging! The exact cause is unknown, and this subordinate dares not approach!"

"We can't worry about the rest. Retreat first!"

"Send word to the Headquarters! Let the Holy Master decide!"

"Go!" someone shouted frantically, yet he did not move immediately. It was as if his feet were nailed to the ground. Only a moment later did he snap back to his senses, his Adam's apple bobbing as he snapped, "Why aren't you running? Are you waiting to die?"

The few people next to him finally summoned their escape light and sped away in the opposite direction of the Ancient Battlefield.

Streaks of escape light flared up one after another. Some rapidly fled into the distance, while others remained rooted in place, staring blankly at the heaven-piercing vortex. There was also a tiny minority of bold individuals who, instead of retreating, quietly activated their escape light and flew straight toward the whirlpool.

...