The Blood Altar

Swish, swish, swish. Keke’s status rose sharply as the group descended deeper into the Sacred Mountain. All eyes grew hotter with greed for the little creature, wishing to hold it close and claim it for themselves. But the tiny beast understood nothing of their intentions. It blinked its large eyes at the crowd, apparently displeased by the attention, and waved its small paws in protest, letting out a dissatisfied "Ya-ya."

The group continued forward, each mind occupied with its own calculations. The palace complex below drew nearer. Suddenly, a flash of light—Xiao Chen nearly vanished, but Keke barely managed to anchor him in place, though it seemed to struggle. The mysterious woman, Liu Mu, and Yizhen all reached out to help, dragging Xiao Chen back.

"No, we can't go on," Xiao Chen said, stopping. "At this rate, none of us will reach the foot alive." He had no wish to die. Earlier, Keke had been able to rescue him, but now it grew ever harder. One mistake and they would all be lost.

"Then what? Do we wait here to die?"

Fear spread through the group. No one had a solution.

"Look over there... is that an altar?" Liu Ruyan’s voice cut through the tension. Beyond a pile of rubble, a massive structure stood—an altar, fully ten meters high, built of dark brown rock and radiating an aura of boundless antiquity.

Xiao Chen said, "Rather than be trapped here, I'd rather take a gamble."

"Heh, then let's bet it all!" Dugu Jianmo agreed. Proud as he was, he saw no other way out.

They stepped onto the ancient altar. A fierce, blood-soaked aura rose from the stones—though endless ages had passed, traces of dried blood still stained the surface. Yet when the dozen or so people stood upon it, nothing happened. It seemed an ordinary platform.

"Blood sacrifice. This platform seems to need fresh blood," someone suggested, noting the dried stains.

"Very well. Everyone, shed some blood."

They cut their fingers and let droplets fall onto the altar. Though the blood was scant, the altar clearly responded. Its entire body flushed red, emitting a bloody radiance. At the same moment, beams of starlight descended from the heavens, converging on the ancient platform. Blood light shot into the sky, dazzling and fierce.

A strange vision appeared before them—the Dead City. All were horrified, fearing they would return there. But the vision was only an image, not their destination. Within the Dead City, the battle still raged: the Buddha’s Dharma Wheel, the Ancestral Dragon’s Horn, and the Bronze Eight-Trigram hammered against the Divine Stele, while the dragon clans attacked and endless evil spirits surged with murderous aura toward the stele.

What terrified them more was a sea of blood floating above the Dead City, and in its center, a mountain of white bones atop which stood a sinister castle.

Everyone was stunned—these were the very engravings from the Divine Stele, now manifesting in reality! They recalled the images on the stele’s front face, still vivid in their minds: at the top, an endless blood sea with towering waves and a white bone mountain; in the middle, countless primordial savage dragons galloping through the sky, roaring in grief, while humans and gods struggled beneath them; below that, a dead city with a half-open hell gate; and at the bottom, a peaceful pure land with palaces, divine trees, and fields of immortal herbs, barely visible near the stele’s base.

Now the blood sea and bone mountain appeared, and the Dead City had emerged. Was there truly a pure land beneath the Dead City? Everyone was filled with questions. All signs indicated that the engravings on the Divine Stele recorded a real world!

Blinding blood light flared as the starlight was absorbed by the ancient altar, then a burst of intense radiance overwhelmed their sight. They knew they were about to be transported to an unknown destination. Without doubt, they were risking their lives—the altar was not meant for spatial travel but for offerings. If their guess was correct, they might be sent directly to the being that received the sacrifice. But they had no choice; they had to gamble.

Another bout of spatial traversal, much like before. Beams of light flew past like shooting stars through the void, countless stars gleaming as they traveled through a brilliant starry sky. Time became chaotic—whether flying or flowing slowly, they could not tell. Until a dazzling light exploded and they emerged from that strange space, and all was still.

A cold wind howled. Snowflakes danced. Before them stretched a vast white world—they were in a great snow mountain!

This was the great snow mountain west of the Bone Sea! The eastern Sacred Mountain, the central Bone Sea, and the western great snow mountain—three points on a straight line—were exceptionally special regions on Dragon Island. Xiao Chen had never imagined they were so deeply connected.

Everyone remained tense, unsure if they had truly escaped. It was just before dawn. The eastern sky showed a pale white. The wind howled and snow raged. This world of white was bitterly cold.

"There isn't some infinite terror here, is there? We won't be... eaten as offerings, will we?" A cultivator’s voice trembled. Having faced death so many times in such a short span, his will had grown brittle. He could bear no more blows.

After a series of harrowing ordeals, only sixteen people had escaped here, including King Qin Guang and King of Reincarnation—counting only the living, a mere thirteen.

As they braced themselves, Keke let out a cry of joy. It leaped from atop the Purple Dragon King’s head into the snow, rolling happily like a cheerful snowman. The young Purple Dragon King seemed quite put out, letting out a low growl at the much smaller Keke, but did not attack.

Time flowed quietly. The blizzard ceased. The eastern sky revealed rosy clouds, spilling golden light—a morning full of hope. The group walked cautiously across the snow, climbing a peak to see green mountains in the distance. No danger found them here.

"There are no restrictions here. We’re saved!" a cultivator shouted joyfully.

The illusionist spiritist Kailuo was the first to fly into the air, speeding away into the distance. Once certain they were safe, he had to flee—otherwise, he and Xiao Chen would have to settle their mortal feud. This was no longer a time to stand together.

"Haha..." Dugu Jianmo laughed, his voice clanging like metal. He glanced at Yizhen and Xiao Chen, then soared away with his iron sword. The woman wreathed in rainbow mist drifted off with the Purple Dragon King. One by one, the survivors departed.

Liu Ruyan did not leave. She smiled a genuine, bewitching smile, her jade hand firmly gripping Yan Qingcheng’s wrist to prevent her escape—a gesture that set Yan Qingcheng’s teeth on edge.

"At last, we’re free!" Liu Mu said, then collapsed into the snow. He was badly wounded, exhausted, and constitutionally frail. With the tension released, he fell into a deep sleep.

"A rebirth, a transformation," Yizhen murmured, seeming deeply moved. He sat in the snow facing the morning sun.

Xiao Chen, a martial artist with a constitution far stronger than ordinary men, felt some fatigue but had no desire to rest. The four killing techniques—Slay God, Reverse Chaos, Suppress Demon, and Collapse—called to him like ancient incantations. He plunged into the snow-covered mountains and began to practice the four deadly moves from the Heavenly Stele Divine Diagram.

In the morning sunlight, amid the white snow, Xiao Chen moved like a divine dragon, leaping across the peaks, leaving trails of afterimages like beams of divine light. With a thunderous roar, he shattered the summit of a snow-covered mountain—a truly awe-inspiring display!

In the distance, Liu Ruyan and Yan Qingcheng both changed expression. Even Yizhen, who was meditating, looked up, moved.

Xiao Chen stood on the snowy peak, his tall, robust figure bathed in golden dawn light as though clad in divine armor. In that moment, he truly felt the terror of the four killing techniques. He had only used the first move—"Slay God"—and it had completely drained his power. Yet the force was immense; it had shattered the mountain peak!

If he could wield all four moves without limit, he might soon stand above his peers.

After sufficient rest, Xiao Chen began the second move—"Reverse Chaos." But the same problem occurred: his energy could not sustain it. He could only release a fraction of its power before his strength was drained. This only deepened his anticipation for the four techniques. If they were already so terrifying when incomplete, how powerful would they be when fully mastered?

After using Slay God and Reverse Chaos, despite ample rest, Xiao Chen still felt his Qi and blood unsettled, his body uneasy. He knew the reason. He had felt it long ago—every time he used power beyond his normal limits, this happened. It was also why he suspected his cultivation method was incomplete, that a continuation must exist.

This incursion into the Dead City had been a great fortune. He had found the continuation of the Heaven-Bestowed Qi-Refining Diagram.

Xiao Chen stood quietly on the snowy peak. The method of the Heaven-Bestowed Qi-Refining Diagram was unique; it did not require seated meditation. The celestial diagram imprinted in the depths of his mind emerged, and he began to circulate the profound art according to the engravings.

It was as smooth as water merging with milk—this was truly the continuation of the original Qi-Refining Diagram, perfectly linking with the earlier method. Xiao Chen felt a profound comfort throughout his body. The previously unsettled Qi and blood flowed smoothly.

He stood like this for half a day. Around him, radiant light flickered, staining the snow with a brilliant splendor. Streams of spiritual energy were forcibly drawn in, surging into his body. Finally, Xiao Chen’s feet left the ground by three inches, floating in the air. His flesh glowed with a faint luster, each inch of skin like divine jade.

At noon, Xiao Chen awoke from the mysterious martial trance. A layer of crystalline light flowed over his body. Naturally and peacefully, he had stepped into the Mortal-Shedding Seventh Heaven. It was all because his art had been perfected—he ascended into a new realm with serene ease.

Liu Mu had long since awakened. He seemed entranced, carving mysterious spatial runes in the snow—recollections from the stele’s barriers. To him, they were a treasure. Xiao Chen and Yizhen did not disturb him, letting him sink into that selfless cultivation state.

They had not eaten for two days. Yizhen caught a few snow hares. He and Xiao Chen used true energy to melt snow and wash the meat, then utilized their profound art to roast it with blazing divine light—an unconventional kind of cultivation in itself.

The aroma finally roused Liu Mu from his absorbed cultivation. His stomach betrayed his mind, growling loudly. The beautiful captive Yan Qingcheng was not mistreated, nor did she stand on ceremony. She joined them around the snow to enjoy the wild game.

Only Keke looked pitifully at everyone. It touched its round, full belly in distress and covered its eyes with its tiny paws.

Having survived the ordeal, they all felt a deep emotion. They had escaped the Dead City. Even in this cold, snowy world, life seemed so vivid. The vibrant, spirited real world was too beautiful.