The old man, Hei Jiu, deeply wounded by the Vermilion Bird’s arrow yet unyielding, gazed with longing at the altar. Despite his maimed body, his spirit remained resolute as he climbed higher and higher, enduring the burning flames of the Vermilion Bird.

“Kill him! Don’t let him summon a deity!” bellowed Great Chieftain Dan Lie. The arrow he had just fired had drained most of his power. Though his voice was steady, it now carried a hint of weakness and a growing fear of the Wu Jiu god’s descent.

Lu Gu and the other great chieftains knew the gravity of the situation. Once the Great God Wu Jiu descended, their cause would be lost, beyond redemption. However, despite their late-stage Golden Core cultivation, their spiritual senses were ordinary, making them unable to withstand the Vermilion Bird’s flames and thus forbidden from approaching the altar. They were also typical barbarian body cultivators, formidable in close combat but weak in long-range attacks. Any ranged techniques they possessed were sufficient for killing low-level Golden Core cultivators but utterly useless against the Wu Zhu of the Wu Jiu tribe, especially in front of their Young Master and numerous generals.

Just then, Yan Zhu stepped forward and said, “Everyone, help me ascend the altar.” Throughout this altar war, Yan Zhu, as the Royal Court’s High Wu, had remained largely inactive. In other words, he had been “preserving his strength.” Physical combat for Golden Core cultivators was not the primary role of a Wu Zhu. Their most important mission was the confrontation on the altar itself.

Qing Zhu also emerged, saying, “We will go kill that old man, Hei Jiu, and stop the god’s descent.”

Great Chieftain Dan Lie clasped his hands and expressed his gratitude in a deep voice, “I leave it to the two of you.”

Yan Zhu said no more, immediately transforming into a streak of fire and soaring towards the altar. Qing Zhu, enveloped in a radiant glow, followed closely behind. As their escape lights reached midway, the Young Master of Wu Jiu sneered, “Seeking death,” and immediately activated dragon patterns, unleashing a sea of black energy towards Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu. Other Wu Jiu generals also surrounded them.

Dan Lie, Lu Gu, and the other great chieftains engaged the Wu Jiu generals, fighting fiercely to buy time for Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu to reach the altar. They fought for hundreds of rounds, yet the deadlock persisted.

Seeing the old man, Hei Jiu, climbing higher and higher on the altar, Yan Zhu no longer held back. With murderous intent and a flash of fire in his eyes, he unleashed his divine sense wizardry, joining his fingers and, in the blink of an eye, pointed at the eye of a Wu Jiu general. This was the same move he had used against Mo Hua.

The Wu Jiu general, targeted by Yan Zhu, felt a burning pain in his eye, and his sea of consciousness tormented as if mountains were burning and seas boiling. This move had been trivial when used against Mo Hua, who was in the late Foundation Establishment stage. But against a late-stage Golden Core Wu Jiu general, it was instantly devastating. Moreover, this was on the altar plaza, surrounded by the Vermilion Bird’s flames. Although the flames on the plaza were not as intense as those on the altar itself, their power was still not to be underestimated.

The Wu Jiu general, his sea of consciousness defense shattered by Yan Zhu’s divine sense wizardry and then infiltrated by the Vermilion Bird’s flames, had his will instantly destroyed by the mutually amplified divine sense powers of the same origin. The Wu Jiu general collapsed to the ground, clutching his head, and died with fire flowing from his eyes. Yan Zhu’s first move had killed a Wu Jiu general.

On the other side, Qing Zhu was equally formidable. Her figure, wrapped in a blue robe, suddenly became incredibly graceful and alluring, making it impossible for anyone who gazed upon her to look away. At the same time, her face began to change, revealing a faint “fox shadow,” her features becoming more delicate and enchanting, with faint pink light shimmering in her eyes. Anyone who met her gaze would be consumed by lust.

All the Wu Jiu generals present sensed the danger and dared not look. Yet, desire is born from the heart, and anyone who saw Qing Zhu’s enchanting figure couldn’t help but want to see her face. They wanted to know what kind of captivating face the owner of such an alluring body possessed. All the Wu Jiu generals were doing their utmost to suppress the turmoil within them.

One Wu Jiu general, who was particularly fond of wine and women, eventually couldn’t resist glancing at Qing Zhu’s face. Naturally, his eyes met hers. It was a pair of extremely charming eyes, full of tender affection and allure, stirring the heartstrings. These eyes seemed to speak, conveying intense love and desire to men, as if a single glance would lead to uncontrollable passion and addiction. The Wu Jiu general, captivated by these eyes, felt his body burning with frenzy, trembling uncontrollably.

And as he was immersed in desire, he was completely unaware that his spiritual sense was being drawn out of his sea of consciousness and absorbed into Qing Zhu’s eyes. Once the spiritual sense was excessively depleted, the Vermilion Bird’s flames, omnipresent, would also “take advantage of the weakness.” The Wu Jiu general lost control of his mind, irresistibly walking towards Qing Zhu, wanting to touch her body, to caress her face. Yet, his sea of consciousness was enduring the dual burning of Qing Qiu’s lustful fire and the Vermilion Bird’s divine fire. He collapsed after only a few steps, dying from exhausted desire and will. Even in death, his pale face was full of lust.

In a short span of time, two Wu Jiu generals had died. The Wu Jiu Young Master’s expression became exceedingly grim. With this advantage, Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu finally transformed into streaks of light and stepped onto the altar.

Stepping onto the altar was akin to stepping into a forbidden land for “mortals.” For ordinary flesh-and-blood barbarian cultivators, it was a “place of death.” But for Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu, as Wu Zhu who believed in gods and practiced shamanism, this was their “domain.” The unfolding situation could only be controlled by them, the Wu Zhu. Mortal cultivators, no matter how high their cultivation, how strong their bodies, or how noble their bloodline, could not meddle in the realm of the gods.

After ascending the altar, Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu wasted no time, heading straight for the old man, Hei Jiu. Killing the old man would definitively prevent the descent of the Great God Wu Jiu. Once the Wu Jiu god’s descent failed, the Wu Jiu tribe’s ambitions would be completely crushed. This great battle would then conclude.

Thus, Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu showed no mercy, striking with lethal intent. Both pushed their respective divine paths, which they worshipped, to the extreme. One was covered in fiery patterns, his spiritual power surging like raging flames; the other’s eyes flowed with seductive charm, her spiritual power like silken threads enticing desire. One attacked, the other disrupted. They joined forces to assault the old man, Hei Jiu.

The old man, Hei Jiu, his face grim, knew that success or failure hinged on this battle. If he won, the altar would be ignited. The Great God Wu Jiu would descend, and their grand plan would succeed. If he lost, everything would turn to dust, all his efforts wasted. At this moment, it was almost a do-or-die situation.

The old man, Hei Jiu, roared up to the sky, his voice eerie, like the shrill cry of a Wu Jiu. Simultaneously, his face completely transformed; his eye sockets grew blacker, his nose became hooked like an eagle’s, making him appear half-man, half-vulture. Patches of flesh on his face had also decayed. His life force was rapidly draining away, replaced by his spiritual power, which steadily climbed. He was overdrawing his life, enduring the divine power of the Great God Wu Jiu beyond limits, making a final desperate gamble.

Seeing this situation, Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu dared not be careless, pushing their spiritual power and shamanic arts to their limits. Three late-stage Golden Core Wu Zhu, with the power of High Wu, engaged in a fierce, desperate battle on the ancient altar.

Yan Zhu’s spiritual power, derived from the Candlelight Divine Path of the Great Wilderness Royal Court, could burn and destroy the spiritual power of others, possessing immense might. Qing Zhu’s spiritual power, inherited from the God of Qing Qiu, could charm hearts and absorb spiritual sense, making it impossible to defend against. And the old man, Hei Jiu’s, spiritual power, borrowed from the Great God Wu Jiu, contained a decaying force, like a potent poison, clinging like a maggot to the bone, causing the sea of consciousness to rot.

The three fought, relying on their cultivation and physical bodies, but the true killing moves were the various spiritual powers attached to each strike. This invisible confrontation on the “divine sense” level was the real danger. The slightest mistake could lead to irreversible damage to the sea of consciousness, or even the death of the spirit and the dissipation of the Dao. Moreover, the even fiercer Vermilion Bird divine fire continuously surged on the altar. The battle of the three High Wu was like fighting on the edge of a cliff, every move terrifying, treading on thin ice.

Below the altar, the various great chieftains and generals watched with pounding hearts. They could not step onto the altar, nor could they intervene in this struggle. The outcome of this struggle, the victory or defeat between the several Wu Zhu, would largely determine the final direction of the protracted tribal war. Everyone felt anxious and uneasy, even finding it difficult to breathe.

The three Wu Zhu, however, unleashed every technique they had, holding nothing back, as if they wanted to smash each other’s brains out. The scene was instantly bloody and incredibly tragic. After fighting for a while, the old man, Hei Jiu, eventually began to lose ground. Although he originally had the highest cultivation, the deepest Dao, and the strongest spiritual power, he had been severely wounded by Dan Lie’s arrow earlier, faced a two-on-one situation, and was overdrawing his life to borrow divine power, making it difficult to sustain himself for long.

In the high-intensity battle, the old man, Hei Jiu, eventually revealed a flaw, and his sea of consciousness was injured by Yan Zhu’s candlelight spiritual power. He was then tempted by Qing Zhu’s eyes, stirring his desires. With desire aroused, reason briefly vanished, and the old man, Hei Jiu, was momentarily beyond his own control. This “loss of self” was almost fatal.

Qing Zhu, using her spiritual power to ensnare the old man, Hei Jiu, seized this rare opportunity, about to cooperate with Yan Zhu to deliver a “fatal blow.” But when she turned, she found that Yan Zhu had not moved to kill the old man. Instead, while Qing Zhu and the old man, Hei Jiu, were entangled and unable to disengage, Yan Zhu had climbed higher up the altar by himself. Qing Zhu immediately understood Yan Zhu’s intention and cursed in great anger, “Bitch!”

Yan Zhu sneered, ignoring her, and instead focused his spiritual power, resisting the Vermilion Bird’s divine fire at the upper part of the altar while stepping up the stairs, one by one, towards the divine throne. In his eyes, there was only the Vermilion Bird statue and the ancient divine throne beneath it.

Qing Zhu’s heart was filled with hatred, and her alluring spiritual power involuntarily weakened. The old man, Hei Jiu, regained some of his senses, glanced at Qing Zhu, and said in a hoarse voice, “Let go, I’ll stop him.” Qing Zhu naturally didn’t want to let go, but she also didn’t want to make sacrifices for others. Seeing Yan Zhu climbing higher and higher, Qing Zhu gritted her teeth and released her threads of desire.

As the old man, Hei Jiu’s desire vanished, his mind instantly cleared. He then no longer hesitated, manifesting black wings to protect himself, and charged towards Yan Zhu. Qing Zhu’s gaze turned cold, and she also pursued Yan Zhu. However, both had delayed for some time, and during this interval, Yan Zhu had climbed higher and higher.

Before the old man, Hei Jiu, and Qing Zhu could catch up, Yan Zhu had already reached the summit, crossed the long steps, and arrived at the altar. The lifelike Vermilion Bird statue, shimmering like flowing fire, was within reach. The golden divine throne, exuding an ancient aura, was also only a few feet away. The Vermilion Bird statue held a golden ring in its mouth, beneath which was a golden tree. At the base of the golden tree was an empty golden plate. Ordinary offering plates held sacrifices. The golden plate, however, held “divine objects.” Placing a divine “token” on the golden plate could ignite the Vermilion Bird statue and summon the divine path. This was considered a “secret” among the Wu Zhu.

Yan Zhu began to walk towards the golden plate, but after only two steps, his gaze was completely drawn to the distant divine throne. “This is the divine throne… It is said that only gods and their avatars are qualified to descend upon the divine throne…”

“I am a Wu Zhu…”
“I believe in gods, I…”
“I… can…”

Yan Zhu’s eyes began to redden, his inner ambition filling his chest, making his heart and blood boil. He almost uncontrollably walked towards the divine throne. But after only two steps, still a full nine zhang from the throne, a sudden thunderous roar shook his ears, as if a god from the Nine Heavens was enraged. The wrath of a god, mighty and awe-inspiring, shattered the soul.

Yan Zhu instantly fell to his knees, trembling violently, not daring to lift his head. His ambition, along with the blood in his body, turned cold. In that instant, he felt like a mere “ant,” a humble worm, who had dared to covet a divine position. He truly deserved to die a thousand deaths…

“I deserve to die… I deserve to die… I deserve to die…” Yan Zhu’s heart seemed to be dying bit by bit under the intimidation of the divine might.

Just then, the fire patterns on his body flickered. The candlelight deity he worshipped passively helped him offset some of the divine power. Yan Zhu’s heart slowly revived. “Yes, that’s right… I must believe in my god, I must walk my path, I cannot betray my faith, only faith can save me…” Yan Zhu murmured.

He struggled to his feet again, this time not daring to covet the divine throne, but instead turning towards the golden basin beneath the Vermilion Bird’s golden ring. He intended to place his deity’s token in the golden basin. The Wu Jiu tribe wanted to use the Vermilion Bird Altar to summon the Great God Wu Jiu. Yan Zhu, as a Wu Zhu of the Candlelight Divine Path, also wanted his worshipped deity to descend upon the barren land. Otherwise, he would not have cared about the fate of Vermilion Bird Mountain at all. At most, he would have looked after the Dan Que tribe, bestowing a small favor to obtain the “fine jade” that was Dan Ling. This way, he would have a legitimate reason to coerce Dan Ling to repay him with her body later. But ultimately, it was all for the sake of the gods, for his own path.

Shaken by the divine power and still fearful from coveting the divine throne, Yan Zhu trembled as he approached the Vermilion Bird statue. With terror and awe, he tore open his own chest with his bare hands, and from his bloody chest, he took out a fiery red, crystal-like stone with flowing flames. This was the Candlelight Jade Crystal, the divine token of the deity he worshipped. Yan Zhu’s hands were covered in blood as he attempted to place this Candlelight Jade Crystal on the Vermilion Bird’s golden plate, as a “tinder” to ignite the divine fire.

But just then, a black wind suddenly rose, and a putrid smell assaulted him. Yan Zhu quickly held the Candlelight Crystal to his chest, rolled awkwardly on the ground, and dodged the black wind. Looking up, he saw the grim-faced old man, Hei Jiu, already standing before him. Yan Zhu cursed inwardly. If he hadn’t been greedy just now, directly offering the divine token, he would have already ignited the Vermilion Bird’s divine fire, drawing the God of Candlelight to Vermilion Bird Mountain. But he had been arrogant, greedy, and delayed, which gave the old man, Hei Jiu, an opportunity to catch up.

Soon, a fleeting silhouette appeared, and Qing Zhu’s figure also emerged on the altar. Seeing Yan Zhu, Qing Zhu’s eyes were filled with anger. “How can a contemptible person like you be a Wu Zhu?” Yan Zhu sneered, “Everything is for the gods; how can it be contemptible?”

Qing Zhu looked at Yan Zhu with icy eyes, but the next moment, those cold eyes softened like water, filled with lingering, enchanting desires. Yan Zhu was startled, thinking to himself, “This is bad.” He inwardly examined his spiritual sense and indeed felt his carnal desires stirred, making him curse uncontrollably: “This bitch!” But with the stirring of desire, reason weakened.

Just then, the old man, Hei Jiu, his fingers like the claws of a Wu Jiu, charged at Yan Zhu with sinister spiritual power. Yan Zhu could only grit his teeth and deal with the old man, Hei Jiu. After dozens of rounds, Yan Zhu felt something was wrong. He turned his head and saw that while he was being forced back by the old man, Hei Jiu, the graceful Qing Zhu was already standing beneath the Vermilion Bird’s golden tree. She had cut off a strand of her blue hair, emitting a clear light from her Baihui point, and was placing it on the golden plate. This was the Silk of Qing Qiu, her divine token.

Yan Zhu was enraged and swore, “You bitch! Aren’t you trying the same thing?!” The old man, Hei Jiu, and Yan Zhu stopped fighting each other and instead joined forces to attack Qing Zhu. Qing Zhu’s ritual was interrupted, and she cursed under her breath, only able to do her best to contend with the two of them. Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu both hated each other for being treacherous and lowly, so they fought most fiercely. But as they fought, they realized that the old man, Hei Jiu, had disappeared. Looking around, they saw that the old man, Hei Jiu, was also standing in front of the golden tree, having gouged out his last remaining eye, intending to offer it on the Vermilion Bird’s golden plate.

The Eye of Wu Jiu. This was also the old man, Hei Jiu’s divine token, and furthermore, the catalyst for the descent of the Wu Jiu god. Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu broke out in cold sweat, immediately casting aside all other concerns and rejoining forces to kill the old man, Hei Jiu. Among these three deities, the one that absolutely could not descend was the Great God Wu Jiu. Once the Wu Jiu god descended, it would be the end for the Vermilion Bird Mountain tribes.

The old man, Hei Jiu’s, ritual was also interrupted, forcing him to turn and fight with Yan Zhu and Qing Zhu again. At this point, the three most powerful Wu Zhu were once again locked in a deadly battle, the situation utterly chaotic. In the melee, everyone wanted to place their own divine token on the Vermilion Bird Altar, while simultaneously treating others’ divine tokens as trash.

The Candlelight Jade Crystal, barely placed on the golden plate by Yan Zhu, was slapped away by Qing Zhu. As Yan Zhu went to retrieve the Candlelight Jade Crystal, Qing Zhu placed the “Silk of Qing Qiu” on the golden plate. But the next moment, a black wind suddenly rose, blowing the “Silk of Qing Qiu” away. Qing Zhu went to retrieve it, while the old man, Hei Jiu, seized the opportunity to place his “Eye of Wu Jiu” on the golden plate. And at this moment, Yan Zhu, having retrieved the Candlelight Jade Crystal, had also returned, continuing to attack the old man, Hei Jiu…

This continued repeatedly. On the altar, the three esteemed “Wu Zhu Lords,” disregarding their dignity and decorum, fought and struggled against each other with almost every ounce of their strength. They simultaneously tried to prevent other Wu Zhu from guiding their gods, while hoping they could summon their own deities. Each of their struggles was desperate and brutal, every contest potentially deciding the war’s conclusion and the fate of the entire Vermilion Bird Mountain realm.

Below the altar, the cultivators from various tribes watched, their nerves taut, filled with fear and anxiety, some even struggling to breathe. This battle of the Wu Zhu was long and agonizing. In the end, Yan Zhu, Qing Zhu, and the old man, Hei Jiu, were all utterly exhausted. They had expended almost every bit of their cultivation in their spiritual seas, every ounce of strength in their bodies, and their spiritual power was nearly depleted. Their once mighty seas of consciousness, having been continuously burned by the Vermilion Bird’s flames for a long time, were on the verge of drying up. Their respective divine tokens were scattered on the ground. As for themselves, in their extreme exhaustion, they could barely move a single finger.

All three were gravely wounded. The chaotic and frenzied altar fell into a deathly silence. The three exhausted Wu Zhu, struggling against the Vermilion Bird’s flames, barely clinging to life, were unable to move. No one else could ascend the altar.

In this stagnant situation, under the gaze of all, a frail and slender figure suddenly appeared high above on the altar…

(End of Chapter)