Chapter 365: Deal With Du Sha

“Is there truly the slumbering egg of a Tier-5 ancient beast sealed within that tomb?”

“I-I swear on my Dao Heart, Senior Du! Just promise to grant me the antidote for my poison, and I will hand over every scrap of information!” the lanky cultivator stammered frantically, grinding his forehead violently against the damp dirt.

Du Sha’s cold gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat.

“I promise you the antidote. Speak quickly, or I will feed your soul to my vipers.”

Panicking, the lanky man hurriedly retrieved a pitch-black jade slip from his spatial ring and presented it with trembling hands.

“I extracted this intelligence from the ring of a rogue cultivator I slaughtered! I scouted the location myself and found the exact pitch-black gate described within the volcanic caldera!”

Du Sha gave a subtle nod.

Behind him stood two burly twin brothers, Ou Hu and Ou Ba, completely unbothered by the noxious, emerald venom-mist Du Sha exhaled with every measured breath.

Both wore coarse black robes that mirrored their master’s, though devoid of the intricate, venom-green embroideries reserved exclusively for the Thousand Poison Sect’s head disciple.

The brothers looked like mirror reflections, dark, sun-baked skin stretched tight over broad muscular frames, thick callous lips, and gleaming bald scalps coiled from nape to temple in winding, jade-green serpent tattoos.

Ou Hu stepped forward, snatched the black jade slip from the kneeling cultivator, and closed his eyes to sweep his divine sense across its contents.

A moment later, Ou Hu opened his eyes, nodding respectfully to his master.

“What he says is authentic, Senior Brother.”

A sinister grin stretched across Du Sha’s blackened lips.

Taking the slip, he scanned the ancient records himself, noting the explicit requirement for living blood sacrifices to pry open the tomb’s outer ward.

Tucking the jade away, he casually ordered the lanky leader to lead the march.

Driven by ruthless efficiency, Du Sha’s entourage swept across the jagged landscape, aggressively capturing every lone demonic cultivator unfortunate enough to cross their path.

A day later, the squad arrived at the volcanic caldera, coming to a halt before the towering, pitch-black stone gate.

Du Sha cast a cold, meaningful glance backward.

Understanding his unspoken intent, Ou Hu and Ou Ba stepped forward, dragging four captured demonic cultivators across the jagged basalt and violently forcing them onto the four cardinal nodes.

With a callous shove, Ou Ba hurled a fifth captive straight onto the central altar.

The captive shrieked, weeping and thrashing against his spirit-iron bindings as he begged desperately for his life, well aware of the horrific fate awaiting him.

No one spared him a shred of pity, least of all the remaining bound captives on the sidelines, who let out quiet, shuddering breaths of relief that they had not been chosen first.

Stepping closer to inspect the glowing grooves, Ou Ba’s brow furrowed into a deep, suspicious frown.

“Senior Brother Du, something is amiss with this runic lock,” Ou Ba warned, tracing the carved channels with a clawed finger.

“The mechanism does not require a single sacrifice. It demands at least four to five full blood offerings at the central node to fully satisfy the blood-tribute. A single body won’t even scratch the seal.”

Hearing this, cold sweat cascaded down the lanky leader’s back.

He dropped to his knees in a panic, his voice cracking as he stammered, “S-Senior! I swear on my soul I knew nothing of this! I handed over every single word recorded within that black jade!”

Du Sha didn’t even look at the groveling coward.

A faint, vicious smile touched his pale lips as his gaze drifted toward the surplus of bound demonic captives kneeling nearby.

Being inherently cautious by nature, he had made sure to capture extra pawns along their march to account for any sudden complications.

The captives immediately burst into frantic wails, straining violently against their spirit ropes and begging for mercy.

“Throw three more onto the center,” Du Sha commanded, his voice as flat and indifferent as an executioner’s gavel.

Without a second thought, Ou Hu and Ou Ba stepped forward, grabbing three screaming cultivators by their collars and hurling them onto the central altar atop the first.

Turning their venom-dripping blades toward the four terrified figures pinned to the cardinal nodes, the twins bared their teeth.

“Channel your Qi into the formations beneath your boots,” Ou Ba snarled, a thick, green miasma hissing from his blade.

“Hesitate by half a breath, and you join the pile on the altar.”

Gritting their teeth in sheer despair, the four cultivators had no choice.

They frantically drove their spiritual energy downward, flooding the array with their dark reserves.

WUMMMM—!

Just as when Shen Yu had broken the seal, the basalt floor shuddered violently as harsh, blood-colored light erupted from all four cardinal nodes.

Intricate runic veins etched into the volcanic rock ignited with a blinding, incandescent crimson, snaking across the stone like ravenous scarlet serpents before converging straight onto the central platform.

The moment the energetic circuit snapped shut, the central array jolted awake with an unearthly, soul-shredding shriek.

The sweltering air turned instantly frigid, saturated with the suffocating reek of fresh gore and ancient malice.

From the glowing crimson grooves, dozens of sickly blood-red tendrils, thick, writhing strands of condensed baleful Qi, sprouted like parasitic vines.

They whipped violently through the sulfurous smog before lunging straight into the bodies laid out across the altar, ruthlessly siphoning their life, marrow, and essence to shatter the primordial seal.

The crimson tendrils tore through the air, their razor-sharp tips plunging directly into the flesh of the four sacrifices.

Squelch! Splat!

High-pitched, blood-curdling shrieks tore from the throats of the victims as the barbed roots punctured straight through their chests, bellies, and limbs.

The tendrils burrowed beneath their skin like writhing, parasitic worms, visible as bulging, glowing red lumps tearing through muscle tissue and wrapping violently around their internal organs.

“Aaaagh! S-Stop! It hurts, MY DANTIAN!” one of the cultivators howled, his eyes bursting with ruptured blood vessels as thick, dark crimson leaked down his cheeks like tears.

Crack… squelch… hiss…

The sickening crunch of collapsing bones and boiling marrow echoed through the sweltering caldera.

Within seconds, the plump muscle on their frames melted away, violently converted into raw, liquid vitality.

Their skin lost all color, stretching paper-thin and turning a necrotic, bruised gray that glued itself directly to their sharp, protruding ribs.