Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 1341 - Seventh Level
Chapter 1341 – Seventh Level
Comprehending three mythical arts wasn’t unusual for Primal Origin prodigies. Casting all three at once, however, was a challenge entirely different.
First, the true essence was finite. Second, most cultivators lacked the divine force to sustain three arts at once. Third, even if both held, the body might still fail under the simultaneous strain.
Only by meeting all three conditions could one unleash three arts at once, and Liu Wuxie did so with ease. In true essence, divine force, and physique, he surpassed the average cultivator.
His true essence and physique rivaled the Void Realm. He had also bolstered his divine force by consuming dozens of Divine Fruits. Against his arts, the demon clan couldn’t even mount resistance.
Deathly energy drilled into their bodies and rotted them from within. Poison essence followed and took their lives. In a blink, corpses carpeted the ground.
He didn’t stop after cutting down over a hundred demonic beasts. He tore open a gap, cast the Great Spatial Mythical Art, and slipped away. The other humans, lacking that art, stayed trapped in the encirclement. The sixth level’s suppression felt strong, but to Liu Wuxie, who had mastered that art, it was negligible.
As Liu Wuxie broke away, the demon clan and abyssal race roared in frustration.
“After him!” they bellowed.
They knew he was too cunning; as their greatest foe, he could seize first if they slipped. They even abandoned hunting other humans, whose threat was no match for theirs.
A deep rumble rolled behind him as demonic beasts thundered in pursuit, their charge whipping up a sandstorm.
Spikes burst from the ground, each brimming with ice energy. As they thrust upward, agonized howls ripped across the sixth level; ice blades pierced the feet of demonic beasts and abyssal devils.
Humans in the distance pulled up short, fear written across their faces.
“Liu Wuxie really holds a grudge,” a Primal Origin pinnacle cultivator whispered. Even as he left, he laid a Great Frost Mythical Art trap to catch the demon clan and abyssal race by surprise.
“You’d do the same in his place,” another human said.
After all, those two races had hounded him relentlessly; his retaliation was only natural.
Hundreds of demonic beasts fell to the ice blades and lost their combat strength. Abyssal devils fared no better; with pierced feet, they halted to recover, shaking with rage and frustration but powerless to advance.
The demon clan and abyssal race had fought shamelessly, yet they hadn’t expected Liu Wuxie to be even more ruthless. His counterstroke also let him break free of pursuit.
He moved along the mountain ridges, yet the seventh-level gate still didn’t show. This year’s tower ran hotter than past years, and by now, participants were usually still on the fourth.
High above White Moon Valley, all eyes fixed on the Divine Sun-Shooting Tower.
“What speed! It’s only the second day, and they’ve already reached the sixth level!” many exclaimed. At this pace, they might clear all nine in five days.
Liu Wuxie sprang onto a colossal tree, sat, and poured over a hundred thousand Pure Yang Pills into his desolate world. They liquefied into spiritual energy, quickly refueling him.
He scanned the surroundings—a vast spiritual array constructed the sixth level’s space. The gate would keep moving, its next appearance unknown. Other humans faced the same problem while seeking safe rest.
As time passed, the demon clan and abyssal race fanned out to hunt for Liu Wuxie.
He cast Ghost Eye and peered through the surrounding space as strange runes surfaced before his eyes.
“Artifact runes,” Liu Wuxie murmured. He had seen runes like these inside the Heavenly Coffin on Eternal Spirit Mountain and deduced then that the coffin was a powerful artifact, and at its prime, likely Immortal-grade.
He captured the surrounding runes, tracked their motion, and deduced the seventh-level gate’s location. On the higher floors, raw cultivation alone wouldn’t carry anyone to the ninth.
“Over there.” Guided by the runes, Liu Wuxie veered left at speed. Several figures appeared in the distance, keeping a careful distance from him.
Word spread that he had gone missing. The rakshasa clan searched from the air, quickly fixed his position, and notified the demon clan and abyssal race.
Liu Wuxie went full speed, streaking over the terrain like a comet.
“Does he feel no spatial suppression?” asked experts trailing behind, disbelief on their faces. They were Primal Origin pinnacles, and even they felt the pressure here.
Yet Liu Wuxie seemed untouched. He didn’t slow down and even sped up.
“He’s comprehended the Great Spatial Mythical Art. Spatial suppression means nothing to him,” another said.
“Doesn’t that mean he’ll take first in the Divine Sun-Shooting Tower for sure?” The question froze everyone.
“Not necessarily. The seventh level also brings soul suppression. He’s only second-level Primal Origin and will surely feel it there,” said the same youth.
They nodded. If Liu Wuxie took first again, the whole world would envy him.
Liu Wuxie had already noticed the tail. He ignored them and kept moving, then snorted at their talk. “Who says a second-level Primal Origin cultivator’s soul must be weaker than a pinnacle’s?”
Besides his deep soul reserves, the Heavenly Dao Book alone could blunt any soul suppression.
He held a steady pace and, two hours later, stopped before a massive canyon—bottomless, unfathomable, its depths unknown.
No one knew why he had led them here. They halted fifty meters back, wary of coming closer.
Liu Wuxie watched the rolling clouds and, without hesitation, took a leap of faith.
Just then, the demon clan and abyssal race arrived. When he plunged into the canyon, their faces changed. As he jumped, the seventh-level gate rose from the depths; he landed squarely on it and slipped through.
“How is that possible? How did he know the seventh-level gate was here, and that it would rise right then?” the distant humans cried, stunned. No one could explain what they’d seen.
In past years, entrants waited on the spot for the gate to rise. This year, Liu Wuxie triggered it early, unbelievable to all.
“After him!” More humans dove into the canyon and vanished through the gate, with the demon clan, abyssal race, and rakshasa clan in pursuit.
Liu Wuxie’s arrival on the seventh level first cast a gloom over the three races. Even the humans grew uneasy, fearing he might take first again.
Through the gate, suppression crushed him from all directions. Both body and primordial spirit bore immense pressure.
The seventh level lay bare—exposed rock, no vegetation in sight.
When he landed, his legs felt leaden, and each step dragged a gasp from him.
Though he had mastered the Great Spatial Mythical Art, the seventh level still pressed hard; space was so firm that even art couldn’t tear it; he could only rely on his physique and push on, sweat beading with every step.
Yet the benefits were clear—his grasp of the Great Spatial Mythical Art refined with every stride. Then a mysterious force seemed to seal his soul sea, crushing his primordial spirit; a misstep could shatter it.
The Heavenly Dao Book unfolded and released a gentle glow, weakening that force. It lingered, but the suppression fell by roughly seventy percent, well within his tolerance.
After a hundred meters, the close-chasing pursuers finally appeared.
“What crushing suppression!” people groaned as they stepped onto the seventh level, bones creaking.
“We need time to adjust. Slow down!” Veterans of past ceremonies knew the drill and spent a few minutes adapting to the spatial weight and soul sea oppression.
“Strange—why doesn’t Liu Wuxie seem affected?” they muttered, baffled as they stared at his back. By rights, he should have been reeling from the pressure, yet he wasn’t.
He didn’t slow down and sped up. As he read the spatial laws, his Great Spatial Mythical Art advanced swiftly, and the suppression he felt began to ease.
“He’s a freak—he’s cultivating the Great Spatial Mythical Art while marching,” Primal Origin pinnacles said with bitter smiles.
The demon clan’s primordial spirits differed from humans’, so soul suppression hit them less. Their stronger bodies dulled spatial pressure as well, and they began to overtake the humans.
The abyssal race kept pace: with devil seas instead of primordial spirits, they suffered almost no suppression. They surged into a sprint—this was their best chance to catch Liu Wuxie. It was also why first place in the tower rarely went to humans.
