Chapter 425 - 382: Grand Emperor

At the farthest reaches of the North Sea, on the border of the Returning Ruins Rift.

This place could no longer be described as an ordinary part of the ocean.

The seawater was a viscous, ink-like black that reflected no light, an abyss that seemed to swallow all light sources.

A nauseating sliminess clung to the currents.

No fish swam here, no algae grew, not even the smallest plankton existed.

Only an eternal, suffocating, deathly silence remained.

Thirty thousand fathoms below the surface, there was neither light nor darkness, only endless pressure.

A massive platform forged entirely from Returning Ruins Sinking Iron floated silently here.

The platform was a perfect octagon, each side nine hundred and ninety-nine fathoms long. Its surface was inscribed with ancient, hair-thin draconic script, packed densely together.

The draconic script now glowed with a faint yet resilient, ethereal blue light, pulsing like a breath as it held the "well" in the center of the platform firmly locked.

A well.

It was no ordinary well.

It was more like a "wound" upon the world.

It was a circular opening, barely three fathoms in diameter, with a jagged, uneven rim, as if violently torn open by some unspeakable, colossal force.

The well’s mouth did not lead straight down. Instead, it was "plunged" diagonally into the platform’s center at an unnatural angle. The walls twisted and spiraled inward into a bottomless depth.

The strangest thing was the "substance" gushing from the well’s mouth.

It was not water, not gas, not light.

It was a "mist-like fluid," as viscous as a living creature, constantly churning and shifting, with a turbid, deathly-gray hue.

This fluid spilled silently from the well’s mouth, only to be held back by the ethereal blue draconic script at the rim, unable to spread.

It could only pile up and roil about a foot above the opening, occasionally coalescing into indescribable, malicious, blurry shapes before immediately dissolving again.

Merely gazing at the well from a distance stirred a primal, instinctual urge to flee, to vomit, to scream.

This was one of the forbidden grounds suppressed by the North Sea Dragon Palace—

The Celestial Demon Well.

On the edge of the platform, two figures quietly appeared, illuminated by the ethereal blue glow.

The North Sea Dragon Lord still wore his simple, ethereal blue robe, his ink-black hair tied back. His expression was as grim and solid as Ten Thousand Years Profound Ice.

He stood with his hands behind his back, his narrow dragon eyes fixed on the wellspring of filth. The glow of the ethereal blue Seal was reflected in his gaze.

Half a step to his side, Nether Spring’s blood-red robe billowed, and his black hair danced wildly in the imperceptible, foul aura.

Beneath his feet, the Blood Sea, no more than a hundred fathoms across, began to boil of its own accord. Blood waves surged, and the phantoms of Blood God Children rose and fell on the crests, shrieking.

"This is the place."

The Dragon Lord spoke. His voice was exceptionally clear in the deathly silent depths, yet also exceptionally cold.

"The Celestial Demon Well is no ordinary prison.

Within, time does not flow, and the logic of space does not apply. There is only the strangeness of the Celestial Demons, accumulated over countless eons.

They are formless and substanceless, yet capable of a Thousand Transformations. They excel at eroding the Dao Foundation, defiling the Divine Soul, and assimilating all things."

He turned his head, his gaze falling upon Nether Spring’s face. An ethereal light swirled in his narrow eyes.

"Your Blood Sea may be foul, but it is still inferior when compared to the primordial evil of this place.

The Seal on this well was jointly cast by the Ancient True Monarchs of my Dragon Race. They borrowed the power of the Four Seas and the Abyss of the Ruins to barely suppress it.

The moment you step inside, the Seal will open a temporary passage for you, then close.

When you can get out, or even *if* you can get out...

...it all depends on your own Creation."

These words were both a reminder and a warning.

Nether Spring, however, acted as if he hadn’t heard.

The flames in his blood-red pupils burned ever brighter. His lips slowly curled into a grin, revealing stark white teeth.

"No passage of time... Isn’t that even better?"

He slowly raised his right hand, splaying his fingers. He aimed his palm at the well, which was continuously seeping its foul fluid, as if he meant to seize it.

"It saves me the trouble of outside interruptions. Perfect for me... to slowly savor it."

The Dragon Lord gave him a deep look and said no more.

He knew this Demon Cultivator before him had already made up his mind. Any further persuasion would be futile.

"In that case..."

The Dragon Lord raised his hand, his fingertip tapping the void nine consecutive times.

With each tap, a corresponding section of ancient draconic script on one of the platform’s eight corners flared to life, shooting out a thick beam of ethereal blue light that converged directly above the mouth of the Celestial Demon Well!

The nine ethereal blue beams of light intertwined, forming an impossibly complex, slowly rotating Dragon Race Talisman Seal that hung suspended over the well.

The center of the Talisman Seal aligned with the constantly churning foul fluid and slowly descended.

HSSS—!!!

It was like a branding iron plunged into snow, or like clear water poured into boiling oil!

The moment the foul fluid and the ethereal blue Talisman Seal made contact, a violent, teeth-grinding reaction erupted!

The turbid death-gray and the pure ethereal blue clashed madly, annihilating each other and stirring up terrifying, space-distorting ripples visible to the naked eye!

The fine draconic script at the well’s rim flared with light, letting out a low resonance like the cry of an ancient dragon!

At that very instant, as light and darkness churned and the Seal operated at full power—

—in the center of the well’s mouth, where the foul fluid was thickest, the ethereal blue Talisman Seal forcibly "pried open" a fissure just wide enough for one person, extremely unstable, its edges constantly collapsing and reforming.

Just a wisp of aura leaking from the fissure was enough to make the surrounding black seawater emit a corrosive SIZZLE. Even the surface of the Returning Ruins Sinking Iron platform became coated with a layer of dull, deathly gray.

"The passage is open. It will only last for three breaths."

Nether Spring’s blood-red pupils flared!

Without another moment of hesitation, he let out a long laugh.

"I’ll see you later, Dragon Lord!"

Before his voice had even faded, he transformed into a streak of viscous, bloody light. Ignoring the terrifying corrosive power gushing from the fissure, he plunged headlong into it!

The instant his figure vanished into the fissure—

ROAR!!!

—a collective, inhuman, non-bestial howl, filled with endless malice and seemingly pent up for countless eons, erupted from the depths of the Celestial Demon Well!