Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 1203 - Second-Level Transcendent Realm
Chapter 1203 – Second-Level Transcendent Realm
Unleashing three forms at once multiplied the power of the Nine Heavenly Dragon Forms a hundredfold, and the pressure on the five Origin Conversion Realm cultivators spiked instantly. A shadow of a mythical art bolstered Qin Ming’s sword art, but it shattered on contact and couldn’t resist the technique’s crushing might.
The merged aura descended like a dome, sealing the battlefield and forcing the five to face it head-on.
Horror rippled through the Transcendent Realm disciples watching from the perimeter; none of them could find words for what they were seeing.
Above, thunderclouds thickened and roared. A divine dragon prowled within that storm. It lashed its tail once, instantly tearing a first-level Origin Conversion Realm expert to pieces and stripping the laws from his body for Liu Wuxie to reap.
As the Origin Conversion Realm laws gathered within the Sky Devouring Divine Cauldron, Liu Wuxie readied himself to break through to the second-level Transcendent Realm.
Having felled one opponent, the pressure on him eased. He wheeled deliberately around Qin Ming, intent on isolating and culling them one by one. His movements flowed together like a dragon spiraling through the clouds, a storm tightening around the survivors.
Their counterattacks couldn’t get close. They could only watch, helpless as fist-shadows cascaded from the sky. Liu Wuxie’s footwork and punches bent at strange angles, and he moved like lightning—how could they possibly defend against his attacks?
Another enemy went spinning away, his body burst in mid-air, resulting in a rain of blood splattering the ground.
Elder Huang’s eyelid twitched. Words failed him; the Dharma Institute’s losses were piling up. Many in the Dharma Institute favored Qin Ming for first place, and even if Liu Wuxie hadn’t killed him, the aftermath would have still been disastrous.
“Second level of the Transcendent Realm—shatter!” Liu Wuxie declared. After he stripped the laws from two Origin Conversion Realm experts and drove them through the cauldron, he finally met the conditions for a breakthrough.
A more terrifying current surged outward at once. His aura slammed down, bowing heads in every direction. If he stepped into a higher level now, he would become unstoppable.
“This is bad! Stop his breakthrough—now!” Qin Ming roared. He saw the precipice before them; once Liu Wuxie advanced, they were dead men. He bit the tip of his tongue and spat blood essence, igniting it to force a surge in power.
The other two Origin Conversion Realm cultivators dared not delay. They bit their tongues as well, burning blood essence until three dreadful waves of force exploded from them. Qin Ming’s aura climbed to match a third-level Origin Conversion Realm expert.
“Too slow,” Liu Wuxie sneered. It was already over. With his breakthrough complete, his momentum surged beyond restraint, and the divine dragon above doubled in size in a heartbeat.
……
“How is this possible? How can his true essence last this long, and why is his divine dragon more condensed than ours?” a War Dragon Institute elder cried, raking his hair in frustration.
They, too, practiced the Nine Heavenly Dragon Forms, but the dragons they conjured reached lengths of up to thirty meters.
Liu Wuxie’s dragon coiled across the heavens at nearly one hundred fifty meters, blotting the sky. Other elders nodded grimly; after years of practice, their own versions felt counterfeit compared to Liu Wuxie’s.
……
Liu Wuxie’s aura swelled and crashed, and he pressed Qin Ming and his two remaining allies underfoot again. Qin Ming choked on humiliation. He had burned blood essence, yet Liu Wuxie still crushed him.
“Time to end this,” Liu Wuxie said. His voice held neither joy nor sorrow, like a heavenly decree pronouncing sentence. The fused triple-form power was irresistible.
After his refinements, the Heavenly Sacred Dragon Scripture no longer lagged behind cultivation methods from the celestial realm; it even surpassed the Heavenly Dragon Sect’s complete version in elegance.
“The fusion of three forms. This…” Elder Ding faltered, stunned to see the first three forms truly combine. It had been staggering enough that Liu Wuxie could sustain all three at once; to merge them shook the foundations of their understanding.
“He’s a monster!” the other Heavenly Martial Institute elders blurted, elated despite themselves. If a prodigy like this continued to grow, he would become a pillar of the sect.
“Hmph. Pure luck. His method’s already deviated from the Nine Heavenly Dragon Forms,” Huang Shan snapped. He wasn’t entirely wrong—Liu Wuxie’s path had strayed from the sect’s orthodoxy.
However, why would mythical arts remain shackled to a fixed pattern? Dao techniques, once perfected, would evolve into mythical arts; mythical arts, once perfected, would become immortal arts. Every immortal art was simply a mythical art refined to its limit.
No one humored Huang Shan. All eyes were transfixed on the field.
Liu Wuxie had spent all his astral stones to force his advance to the second-level Transcendent Realm. Now, when the three forms truly fused, the sky dimmed as if doomsday itself had arrived.
“You can die now!” His momentum surged, and a colossal dragon palm formed in mid-air—akin to the Great Dragon Aspect Art. The fused strike turned like a colossal millstone.
“It’s a mythical art!” Qin Ming cried, his composure shattering.
Even a wisp of mythical-art resonance in that fusion would be enough to crush them.
“Run!” The surrounding Transcendent Realm disciples scattered in panic. They needed to spread the word: anyone who wanted Liu Wuxie dead would require far higher cultivation.
However, why would Liu Wuxie let wolves slink away to regroup? Since they had come, none would leave alive.
“Frost Dao Art!” he invoked, unleashing a true mythical art. In an instant, a domain of ice swept across several thousand meters.
Dozens of fleeing figures froze solid, death sealing the last expression on each face.
The twelve elders outside the mountains sucked in a collective breath. Liu Wuxie hadn’t merely touched on mythical arts—he had mastered one.
“Is he really only in the Transcendent Realm?” a Dharma Institute elder whispered, suddenly unsure of everything. They had only managed to grasp a sliver of mythical-art intent after reaching the Primal Origin Realm. Yet, Liu Wuxie had commanded a full art just after stepping into the Transcendent Realm.
Had they known he’d comprehended one back in the Heaven Profound Realm, they would have gone mad on the spot.
Qin Ming and the two Origin Conversion Realm survivors stared, souls half-fled from terror as their allies fell. Liu Wuxie seized the opening. The dragon palm descended.
Three crisp cracks rang out. All five Origin Conversion Realm cultivators died.
Liu Wuxie felt hollow after the breakthrough; he needed laws in vast quantities to fill the void. Energies and laws from the three Origin Conversion Realm experts he had just slain poured into his desolate world, and his aura climbed again as he used them to consolidate his cultivation.
When he drifted down and surveyed the devastation, even he felt a shock run through him.
“So this is the power of a mythical art,” he murmured.
On Anlu Star, his cultivation had muzzled his arts. Now, in the Transcendent Realm, the muzzle was gone. No one would believe a Transcendent Realm cultivator could wield a mythical art—most in the Origin Conversion Realm couldn’t—yet here he stood.
He flicked his hand. The ice statues shattered, the frozen world thawed, and streams of stolen energy and law flowed into him. He gathered more than fifty interspatial rings, over five hundred thousand astral stones, and more than a hundred jade tokens tucked within.
“Plunder really is the fastest way to amass wealth,” he said, smiling like a devil.
He had burned through all his astral stones, forcing his breakthrough, but the fallen Dharma Institute disciples had refunded him handsomely, with pills to spare. When the ice retreated, the cold killed the surrounding vegetation.
“We must stop him. We can’t allow this rampage to continue,” a Dharma Institute elder blurted, eager to halt the first segment entirely. If this went on, Liu Wuxie could depopulate the trial.
“What a joke. Stop the training now? Who proposed allowing killing in the first place?” The Heavenly Martial Institute elders finally found their moment to mock, and they took it with relish.
The War Dragon and Dharma elders could only grind their teeth. They had lifted the stone to smash Liu Wuxie, only to drop it squarely on their own feet. They had pushed to permit killing, hoping to erase him.
However, the situation had spiraled out of their control. Not only was Liu Wuxie alive, but they even lost many of their disciples.
“Wuxie, why didn’t you keep one alive to learn who’s behind this?” He Yingwu asked as they left the icy graveyard behind.
“It’s useless. They’re small fry. At best, you’d hear that Huang Shan sent them,” Liu Wuxie said, shaking his head. He had already scoured several souls, but He Yingwu hadn’t noticed.
As for the true hand behind the curtain, even Liu Wuxie couldn’t yet name them. He toyed with the idea that Li Chen could be involved, but would Li Chen really order his death over a mere refusal?
That level of pettiness smelled wrong. There had to be more.
With one day left in the first segment, many disciples banded into larger groups. No one yet knew Qin Ming and the Dharma Institute squad had died. Others had already taken most of the jade tokens, and Liu Wuxie alone had seized eight fifth-grade spiritual pills, enough to push He Yingwu to the second-level Transcendent Realm.
“Mu Heng, the first segment ends tomorrow. Should we move?” War Dragon Institute disciples grew restless. Why hadn’t Mu Heng struck? What was he waiting for? With nearly a hundred under his banner, even a three-headed, six-armed foe shouldn’t escape.
“No hurry. Half a day remains,” Mu Heng said. He had stopped hunting tokens two days prior and now sat atop a mountain, forcing his own breakthrough toward the third-level Origin Conversion Realm.
Many disciples had already headed for the exit, most of them having surrendered their hopes. By afternoon, the land shook. More than a hundred figures moved as one, creating a tidal wave that was driving toward a narrow valley.
