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Ch124 - The Third Bloom




Chongjue followed the Kunlun Jade’s aura and found exactly what he expected.
Su Xuanlin hadn’t perished, but was possessed and entered the tower.
The Heaven-Reaching Tower was vast, seemingly endless. Chongjue walked along the edge of the formation, his gaze cold as he looked at his long-unseen friend.
Su Xuanlin was no different from sixteen years ago. He stood tall in the formation, lazily lifting his eyes, offering a smile—neither warm nor cold.
Su Hansheng stood behind him like a kitten, his wrist held. Seeing Chongjue, he quickly said, “Uncle!”
Chongjue looked at Su Hansheng in the formation, lightly frowned, and beckoned him.
Su Hansheng had been caught for a long time. Seeing this, his face turned green. He thought, “This fake father finally caught me after all that effort. How could he possibly let me go easily? You beckon, just fight him to the death and take me back…”
Just as he was thinking, Su Xuanlin, who had been tightly holding his wrist, suddenly loosened his grip.
Su Hansheng stumbled, not thinking twice, and quickly ran away—fortunately, the formation hadn’t activated, and Su Hansheng escaped, crashing into Chongjue’s arms.
Chongjue touched his head, gently pulling him behind him, and said indifferently to Su Xuanlin, “Long time no see.”
Su Xuanlin smiled. “Not long…”
Before they could finish their polite greeting, Chongjue’s spiritual energy surged, and his demon-subduing rod appeared, instantly turning into a streak of light shooting toward Su Xuanlin.
Su Xuanlin burst into laughter, the companion spirit black magpie on his shoulder screeching, transforming into a dazzling sword, meeting Chongjue’s fierce attack head-on.
Su Hansheng: “…”
They started fighting without even finishing their greeting. Were the elders always so fierce?
Su Hansheng didn’t expect these two powerful cultivators to start fighting before even finishing their surface-level pleasantries. His small body was almost blown away by the spiritual energy, and he quickly ran to hide.
Fortunately, the Heaven-Reaching Tower was large, and Su Hansheng had many protective artifacts. He managed to find a narrow cave before being buried in rubble, quickly ducking inside to avoid being caught in the crossfire.
Su Hansheng could only hear the deafening bang-bang-bang of spiritual power clashing as the World‑Honored One and an Immortal Lord exchanged blows; the flashing blades and shadows were so blinding he couldn’t make anything out.
So this is the Great Ascension stage?
A mere Golden Core rookie had his horizons broadened.
Su Hansheng couldn’t possibly intervene in their battle. As he watched, his gaze was drawn instead to the colossal array of the Heaven‑Reaching Tower.
The sigils were so dense that even a patch held innumerable interlaced arrays, to say nothing of a formation spanning hundreds of zhang.
Reckless as ever, Su Hansheng released the companion tree from his pouch and flicked his fingers. “Go.”
The companion tree was as fearless as its master, its roots surging outward with imposing momentum.
But before the roots touched the formation, Chongjue glanced over and said softly, “Don’t touch it.”
Seeing the roots already beginning to wither, Su Hansheng guessed there was something off about the array and obediently recalled the companion tree.
“Oh.”
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Worthy of the title Immortal Lord.
Chongjue acted as if nothing were wrong, unmoved by that single bone chain, and coldly swung the demon‑subduing staff again.
As the beads whirled, bursts of spiritual power exploded around the two with thunderous bangs.
When the dust cleared, Su Xuanlin had somehow caused a bone chain to appear around Chongjue’s left wrist as well, the links floating about him like serpents.
Su Hansheng’s frown deepened.
He fought to seize back control of the Sumeru Mustard, but gradually realized that even if Su Xuanlin had given it to him, the bone chain was still his life‑bound artifact.
If he couldn’t reclaim the Sumeru Mustard, even more bone chains might be summoned onto Chongjue.
Su Hansheng stared fixedly at the Sumeru Mustard on his finger, his eyes falling by chance on the talismans etched across his fingertips.
If it can’t be reclaimed, then destroy it.
He decided on the spot, summoning ten talismans at once. Unafraid of injuring his own fingers, he slammed them straight into the Sumeru Mustard without blinking.
Bang!
The talismans sank into the Sumeru Mustard one by one, but nothing happened.
“Tch,” Su Hansheng thought. Without panicking, he dragged a hard stroke across one finger, forcibly erasing the suppressing sigil Qifu Yin had given him that kept the phoenix bone’s fire in check.
A bead of bright blood gathered at his fingertip and fell silently.
Sizzle.
Su Hansheng stirred the phoenix bone that had lain dormant for years. Orange‑red flames surged up from within, like a ravenous ghost that devoured vitality, sweeping across his body in a blaze.
With Qifu Yin’s talisman, he hadn’t endured the full body‑burn of the phoenix bone for three years. When the pain crashed over him again, he only knit his brows slightly.
His long, blood‑streaked fingers formed a seal to guide the phoenix bone fire into the Sumeru Mustard on his finger.
But after three years, the bone‑fire, finally tasting daylight, screeched and refused, wanting only to burn Su Hansheng into ash.
Irritated by the unruly phoenix bone, Su Hansheng snapped under his breath, “Don’t move.”
With the suppressing sigil erased, the phoenix bone naturally wouldn’t listen, its shriek growing sharper.
Su Hansheng lost all patience. His lips parted slightly, and the tip of his tongue touched his teeth—on closer look, he’d kept one last trick: the same suppressing sigil was carved onto his tongue.
The phoenix bone fire faltered.
Su Hansheng spat a pulse of spiritual power and, in an instant, forced the rampaging bone‑fire to obey.
After a phoenix’s anguished cry, he finally drew the all‑scorching flames into the Sumeru Mustard.
In the distance, five bone chains had already appeared on Chongjue. His expression remained steady as the demon‑subduing staff pierced straight through Su Xuanlin’s shoulder, pinning him to the central stone pillar of the tower.
Bang!
Su Xuanlin seemed oblivious to pain, smiling as he gripped the blood‑soaked staff. “What, do you want to drag me down from the Ninth Heaven again, like sixteen years ago?”
Chongjue replied coolly, “A demon daring to claw at the heavens calls itself ‘of the Ninth Heaven’?”
Su Xuanlin’s face darkened.
Bone chains encircled Chongjue, yet his gaze stayed calm. “Two thousand years ago you failed to forge a body using Heaven’s sacred objects; now the four sacred objects are in the tower and the formation is active—what do you fear?”
Su Xuanlin stared straight at Chongjue, then glanced toward Su Hansheng. “You’re right. The phoenix bone has undergone nirvana once; it won’t block my great work like it did two thousand years ago. What should I fear?”
Though Chongjue had long suspected that Su Hansheng’s past tragedy and rebirth—his “body‑seizing”—were orchestrated, hearing this still made his chest ache.
Su Xuanlin’s mask split; black miasma like that from Infinite Hell crawled across his face. His hand‑seal snapped.
The bone chain at Chongjue’s throat began to answer his command, looming in and out.
Chongjue’s bead‑holding hand paused. For all his heaven‑piercing cultivation, those bone chains bound his meridians tight.
A flash of killing intent crossed Su Xuanlin’s eyes—he formed a killing seal.
Just then, a phoenix’s clarion cry rang out.
Orange‑red light exploded. A phoenix spread its wings above Su Hansheng’s head. Propping himself against the wall, he slowly stood, face pale as paper, one hand dangling and bleeding.
The Sumeru Mustard was charred black by the phoenix bone fire—ruined.
Seeing Su Hansheng’s injured hand, a chill flickered between Chongjue’s brows. Instinctively, he moved to go to him—but as the Sumeru Mustard failed, the Nine‑Nine Bone Chains on his body collapsed like white snow and scattered at once.
Spiritual power flowed freely in an instant.
At another sector of the formation a hundred li away—
Qifu Yin suddenly felt his body lighten, the bone chains binding him vanished completely.
He couldn’t tell whether it was Su Xuanlin’s doing or Su Hansheng’s; he curled his lip—either way, he wasn’t fond of it.
Qifu Yin turned and asked, “Hey, you—have you reached Spirit Transformation yet?”
Xu Nanxian, who had blundered into this place and was still probing the surroundings, sneered at the brat’s lazy, imperious manner. “Who are you talking to? Believe it or not, I’ll—”
Moments later, after another beating, Xu Nanxian’s face had gone green. Reluctantly, he said, “Just advanced to Spirit Transformation.”
“Well, decent talent,” Qifu Yin glanced at him. “Once I activate the formation, protect me. Don’t let anyone approach.”
Xu Nanxian frowned. “What formation? I came to find Zhuang Lingge.”
Qifu Yin snorted and pointed. “And that is?”
Following his finger, Xu Nanxian saw only the endless mountain range dozens of li away. “A mountain.”
Qifu Yin stared at him in disbelief. “You’re really Su Xuanlin’s disciple?”
Xu Nanxian: “…”
Feeling doubted and insulted, Xu Nanxian was about to curse him out.
Qifu Yin said, “That is Zhuang Lingge, transformed into a dragon.”
Xu Nanxian froze.
Su Xuanlin wanted to gather the four sacred objects and continue the plan from two thousand years ago—use the sacred objects to reforge a body. The least lethal of them, the Dragon of the Fallen Abyss, would be first.
But he’d meant to lure the sacred objects into the tower bit by bit; he hadn’t expected Chongjue and the others to deliver themselves to his door all at once.
Su Hansheng hastily wrapped his mangled wound, then, hearing just a few words exchanged between Chongjue and Su Xuanlin, raised a surprised brow. “He isn’t possessed by Heaven’s Will?”
Chongjue had already strode over with a dark face to inspect Su Hansheng’s injury. At that, he said coolly, “Yes—and no.”
The Heaven‑Reaching Tower guards the Three Realms and also suppresses the demons eight thousand zhang below. But as the tower connects to the Chongxiao Shrine in Infinite Hell, demonic miasma has seeped upward for millennia.
The thing seeking a body isn’t the true Heaven’s Will, but a “Heaven’s Will” corroded by demonic miasma that longs for a vessel.
Su Hansheng half‑understood—it sounded awfully profound.
Great. Time to use my brain.
Would rather go back to the academy and sleep.
He made a respectful effort to parse it. “So: two thousand years ago he tried to forge a body, but Qifu Yin escaped and the plan was exposed; sixteen years ago he made a comeback and you ruined it; now this is the third attempt to shape a body and kill the sacred objects, right?”
Seen that way, it’s the same person stirring trouble all three times.
Pretty easy to follow—not that complicated.
Chongjue had already healed the wound on Su Hansheng’s hand with spiritual power.
Hearing that guileless line, he hesitated, looked at Su Hansheng, then after a long silence patted his head. “Why don’t you go play over there.”
Su Hansheng: “…”
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