Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 1270 - Divine Race
Chapter 1270 – Divine Race
Everyone outside could see everything happening inside the event.
“Have any of you noticed? This year’s Myriad Race Ceremony seems more brutal than in the past,” whispered disciples aboard the warship. Previous festivals had never grown this intense.
“That’s because in the past, the winner gained at most several years to a few decades of mining rights on the reward planet,” an elder replied. “This year is different. The winner receives a thousand years of ownership over Gos Star.”
A thousand years would allow any force to transform the Gos Star into its own territory. Even if rivals contested it later, they would find infiltration difficult. In truth, the reward differed little from permanent ownership.
Every year, countless people die fighting over unoccupied planets, and the races clash without end. This had gone on for years and would only intensify until this year. The powerhouses of the various races finally sat together and agreed: this festival would determine the ownership of those unoccupied worlds. That decision made this year’s ceremony far more ruthless.
Liu Wuxie formed seals with both hands, and the Dragon-Grasping Hand kept changing lines and angles. Each time a dragon claw raked the ground, stones exploded into shards. The three rakshasas couldn’t even approach him.
They shot arrow after arrow—hidden crossbows throughout their bodies loosed a storm. The bolts flew terrifyingly fast, leaving no readable trajectory. Mid-flight, they could bend, veer, and reacquire him—no matter how Liu Wuxie dodged, the arrows curled after him.
“What bizarre archery,” Liu Wuxie murmured. The rakshasas’ shots weren’t just tricky; they clung like shadows. Some remarkable ability must have let the arrows track their target.
“You can’t kill us,” the three rakshasas said, rotating positions and accelerating until they blurred. Only then did Liu Wuxie realize they were steering the arrows with a strange language. He had never seen anything like it.
“Is that so?” he asked, a hint of mockery flashing in his eyes. Did they think this was his full strength?
The Dragon-Grasping Hand shifted again, one ripple divided. Hundreds of dragon claws manifested and descended from the sky.
The rakshasas’ faces changed at once. They finally understood he had been toying with them. A rain of dragon claws falling from the heavens—terrifying.
“Long Shan, is he the one you chose?” Zhuge Ming asked, suddenly appearing behind Elder Long.
“That’s right,” Elder Long answered. He had waited a full hundred years for a successor.
“Not bad,” Zhuge Ming said. He was a man of few words and seldom spoke at length with anyone.
The sky of claws left the rakshasas no room to dodge. Liu Wuxie slapped aside even the arrows they released with a single palm.
“You can all die now,” he said, voice cold as a reaper’s decree. The screen transmitted no sound, but Elder Long could see every motion.
A battle at the low levels of the Origin Conversion Realm drew little outside attention. Only Elder Long and Zhuge Ming kept their eyes on Liu Wuxie. Everyone else had already shifted their focus to the contestants most likely to take first place, while each faction watched its own disciples and rarely glanced beyond.
The light screen was vast, and the participants upon it looked like ants. Because the mountains held millions of participants, no one could watch them all.
The dragon’s claws clenched. The dragon’s claws seized the three rakshasas in iron grips, and they struggled uselessly.vv
A heartbeat later, Liu Wuxie crushed them into blood mist and summoned the Sky Devouring Divine Cauldron to devour the remains. The surge of asura energy poured into him and quickly merged into the desolate world within.
The asura clan gave rise to both the rakshasa clan and the abyssal race, and they bear its bloodline.
The desolate world began to evolve once more, giving birth to another region. The sight made Liu Wuxie suspect the desolate world would ultimately give rise to the myriad races. He could hardly imagine how breathtaking it would be when all races stood together inside it.
He believed the desolate world would become a real world once it reached a certain threshold, capable of sustaining countless people.
After killing the three rakshasas, Liu Wuxie walked to the Earth Gold vein and brought the Heretic Blade down, shearing free a golden stone the size of a basin. Though this Earth Gold held impurities, he would purge them with ease using his blacksmithing skill.
He stored the prize and continued deeper into the range to seek more materials. He kept no preconceived design; he would tailor the artifact to what he found. For the moment, he had no plan.
Standing on a ridge, he gazed across the distant slopes. Now and then, several human cultivators hurried by. Then his brow tightened and a grim light flickered in his eyes: the Ancestral Tree was reacting.
“The divine race found me so fast? Do they have some secret technique?” he murmured, brows pinched. He had not gone looking for the divine race—they had come to him. They clearly possessed some method to track the Ancestral Tree; he didn’t yet know what it was. The divine race held ancient heritage and their own language, unlike most other races, which used scripts created by humans.
The Tree’s reaction grew stronger, tinged with dread. The divinekin approaching was not simple. Whatever they carried could threaten the Ancestral Tree, judging by the fear he felt from it.
“No need to hide. Come out,” Liu Wuxie said, projecting his voice for thousands of meters. Even with the Ghost Eye limited, he knew they had to be near.
With a series of whooshes, five divinekin rushed in from five directions. They formed a ring around him, each exuding the power of a first-level Primal Origin Realm expert. Any other Origin Conversion cultivator would stand no chance.
“This is weird. Why did the divine race go after him?” Elder Long asked, puzzled.
The divinekins who had entered the blacksmithing event showed little interest in it, rarely searching for materials. Why, then, had they come to White Moon Valley?
“From the looks of it, they came for that kid,” Zhuge Ming said with a frown. Among the masses, only the two of them had spared Liu Wuxie any attention.
“The divine race lay tens of thousands of miles from Indigo Bamboo Star—how could they have had any feud with him?” Elder Long pressed. Others might not know, but he was familiar with Liu Wuxie’s story: from the True Martial Continent to the Laman Astral Domain and then to the Indigo Bamboo Astral Domain, where he joined the Heavenly Dragon Sect. Liu Wuxie had omitted specific details; the divine race had no involvement in building an interstellar teleportation array.
The five divinekins hesitated when they saw Liu Wuxie. They had to confirm their target.
One divinekin raised a strange weapon that emitted an eerie light—the very source of the Ancestral Tree’s fear.
“It’s him,” the leader said after confirming the carrier of the Ancestral Tree. The artifact could sense the Tree’s aura no matter how well he concealed it.
“You have finally come,” Liu Wuxie said, the corner of his mouth lifting. His eyes held no fear—only delight.
Five divinekins meant five Divine Fruits. He had recently comprehended the Great Five Elemental Mythical Art and needed more divine force to wield it. His current reserves could only sustain the Great Frost Mythical Art and the Nine Heavenly Dragon Forms. Even if he forced the Great Five Elemental Mythical Art, it would drain him in a heartbeat.
“The news came from the True Martial Continent,” the leading divinekin said. “We didn’t believe it at first, nor did we expect the Ancestral Tree to reappear. That means you have to die here, no matter what.”
Liu Wuxie’s heart sank. How did they know about the True Martial Continent? Had they found a way into the astral domain? It was highly possible that divinekins had entered the Indigo Bamboo Astral Domain, returned with news to their homeworld, and were now preparing an interstellar teleportation array.
When he entered the Western Barren, he had learned from the divine race that an Astral Domain Path had appeared in the Central Plains. Perhaps they had found a way back home.
If so, trouble loomed. He had to set up the interstellar teleportation array before the divine race completed their Astral Domain Path. If the divine race in the astral domain evacuated their counterparts on the True Martial Continent, the continent would face annihilation. Once the Astral Domain Path opened without a protector, the astral wind alone could annihilate the True Martial Continent.
In the span of a few seconds, countless possibilities spun through Liu Wuxie’s mind. He knew that it wouldn’t be difficult for the divine race to open the Astral Domain Path with their ability.
“How did you find me?” Liu Wuxie asked, drawing a deep breath to clear his thoughts. He now had one objective: to obtain a top result and secure first place for the Heavenly Dragon Sect. Only then could he negotiate. With victory, the sect would have no reason to refuse the interstellar teleportation array. If they refused, they would become a laughingstock. The base rewards alone were more than enough for him to digest; the rest he would funnel into building the array.
“You’re dead either way; there’s no harm telling you.” The leader raised the weapon. “This is the Samsara Blade. It can calculate past and future events. We have already captured your fate.”
The blade took the shape of a crescent scimitar or an axe-head.
Liu Wuxie was surprised. He hadn’t expected such a function.
“If I’m not mistaken, the divine race infused this blade with the Ancestral Tree’s energy,” Liu Wuxie said, a devilish smile tugging at his lips. Artisans of the divine race forged the Samsara Blade from the Ancestral Tree’s essence, much like how the Tree once sensed one of its branches back in the Cannibal Valley.
After all, the Ancestral Tree’s essence alone could not bridge such a vast gulf. That said, the divine race could have layered other secret techniques onto it; the blade might even contain the power of samsara.
