Fu Tianluo’s heart seized in terror.

  The divine sense that had just flared into existence was like a fleeting sword-light—sharp, overwhelming, and chilling enough to make one’s blood run cold.

  In that instant, he understood: the young man sitting calmly in the silver-bladed wheelchair was an old monster of the Soul Projection realm!

  Soul Projection… a realm that far surpassed the limits of a Mid-Tier Martial world.

  Fu Tianluo had always been arrogant because he believed himself invincible. As the supreme master of a Mid-Tier Martial plane, what did he have to fear in a world that had only just stepped into the top tier?

  His power stood at the apex here. He could look down on every living soul.

  So he acted without restraint—arrogant, unrestrained, fearless.

  He could suppress anyone in this world.

  Because his strength was the ceiling.

  No one could be stronger than him.

  Yet Lu’s appearance shattered that certainty.

  Soul Projection?!

  “Impossible… You can’t be Soul Projection! How could a world like this birth someone of that realm?!”

  Fu Tianluo roared, his voice cracking.

  “You’re clearly only at Qi Condensation!”

  He swept his divine sense across Lu again. Yes—only Qi Condensation, not even perfected.

  So why did this pressure feel like a mountain crushing his soul?

  Lu smiled faintly.

  Runes birthed from his simulated Inscription Dao surged forth like ten thousand venomous serpents, lunging at Fu Tianluo.

  Shaken as he was, Fu Tianluo hadn’t lost his wits.

  His hands flew through seals, drawing upon his divine sense. In an instant, golden runes formed into identical serpents that crashed head-on against Lu’s.

  The collision warped the void itself, space rippling like disturbed water.

  Lu lounged in his Thousand Blades Chair, one hand propping his chin, an eyebrow raised.

  “So that’s how it is.”

  He adjusted his understanding of the Inscription Dao on the spot.

  “Soul Projection, huh?”

  Hearing Fu Tianluo’s shocked exclamation, a glint flashed through Lu’s eyes.

  “Spirit Severing, Soul Projection… so those are the stages after Infant Transformation?”

  He murmured, fingers idly stroking the dark ring on his thumb as a gentle breeze lifted strands of his hair.

  “Yin Spirit Dao Lotus corresponds to Spirit Severing, and the Nine Yang Spirit Steps should correspond to Soul Projection…”

  “From this man’s words, the Yin Spirit realm is the limit of Mid-Tier Martial worlds.”

  A thoughtful look crossed Lu’s face.

  His strength came primarily from Qi Refining.

  Yet strictly speaking, his power existed beyond the Three Realms and outside the Five Elements—untouched by the laws of heaven and earth.

  Thus, even in the current Mid-Tier Five Phoenixes, his strength could surpass the Yin Spirit realm.

  “Senior, from which High-Tier Martial world have you descended?”

  Fu Tianluo suddenly asked, voice tight.

  His eyes locked onto the serene Lu, every muscle coiled.

  Dao Intent, divine abilities, Soul Projection…

  What kind of monstrous world did this boy come from?

  He just wanted to go home.

  At this moment, Fu Tianluo finally understood why the burly man and the bald monk hadn’t appeared alongside him.

  They must have known something was wrong with this world.

  He hated them.

  Those two had screwed him over.

  “High-Tier Martial world?”

  Lu blinked, then chuckled and shook his head.

  “I’m no great power from a High-Tier world.”

  “Just a humble Qi Refiner.”

  The words fell.

  Lu struck again with fresh inscriptions.

  Fu Tianluo’s gaze turned icy. The technique Lu used was the exact one he himself had just displayed.

  This boy was stealing his Dao—right in front of him.

  Worse, he was using him as a live training dummy.

  Treating him like a proper tool.

  Utter humiliation!

  Madness flickered in Fu Tianluo’s eyes.

  His hands—flesh and bone—blurred through ancient seals. Inscriptions poured out, coalescing behind him into a pair of radiant golden wings.

  With one beat of those wings—

  His body turned into a streak of light, shooting toward the heavens like lightning.

  He chose to flee.

  Fight? Against a Soul Projection monster?

  That realm belonged to High-Tier Martial worlds.

  Staying meant death.

  BOOM!

  The wings unleashed shockwaves, carving a thick white trail across the sky.

  “Young Master Lu!”

  From afar, Du Longyang’s expression shifted.

  They couldn’t let this man escape. If he fled and brought back High-Tier Buddhist experts, Five Phoenixes would be finished.

  Yet Lu remained perfectly calm.

  He hadn’t expected Fu Tianluo to run, but… did the man really think he could?

  This was Lu’s home turf. Did Fu Tianluo think he could come and go as he pleased without costing Lu face?

  Lu’s pale fingers closed around the snow-white Sword of Heaven Covering—the core of the Heaven Covering Formation.

  With the array eye in hand, Fu Tianluo had no hope of breaking a ground-tier formation.

  Sure enough.

  The man shot into the misty sky… only to burst out again moments later like a bolt of lightning.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  He hovered in the air, golden wings flapping, face ashen.

  “Why… why am I back?!”

  He stared down at Lu, whose faint smile sent chills through his entire body.

  Once more he beat his wings and plunged into the mist.

  He had to break through this damned fog and return to Tianluo Continent—away from this cursed place.

  Yet it was like hitting an endless ghost wall. He flew until his energy faltered, only to emerge from the mist once more—still trapped.

  Despair swallowed him whole.

  “A formation…”

  “This entire world is sealed by a formation!”

  Silver light bloomed.

  Thousand Blades stacked into a chair. Lu reappeared before him.

  Countless inscriptions shot skyward, slamming into Fu Tianluo.

  “Senior… mercy!”

  Fu Tianluo roared, voice cracking.

  He didn’t want to die. Even though Lu had yet to truly attack, the mere pressure of his divine sense crushed any will to resist.

  At his core, Fu Tianluo was nothing but a bully who feared the strong.

  Lu regarded him coolly, brows faintly furrowed.

  A moment later, the crease smoothed.

  “There’s always a way to live.”

  The moment those words left Lu’s mouth, hope flared in Fu Tianluo’s eyes.

  Living was always better.

  Who would choose death when they could live?

  He had clawed his way through countless near-death experiences to reach this point. His life was precious.

  “I’m actually pretty easygoing,” Lu continued lightly. “So just keep that proper tool mindset, and you won’t die.”

  The hope on Fu Tianluo’s face froze solid.

  Keep the tool mindset?

  He wanted him to stay a training dummy?

  Struggle twisted across Fu Tianluo’s face.

  BOOM!

  His wings beat again—he’d rather risk escape!

  But the instant they moved—

  Thousands of silver blades erupted, weaving a dazzling galaxy of light before him.

  Fu Tianluo stared, stunned.

  BOOM!

  The blades condensed into a single gigantic palm.

  It slapped down.

  Fu Tianluo desperately layered his inscription wings in front of him, but the palm shattered them like glass.

  His body shot downward like a meteor, smashing into the Vast Sea.

  BOOM!

  A colossal crater formed in the ocean, swirling like an abyssal vortex.

  Silver blades reassembled into the wheelchair. Lu sat calmly atop it.

  “Didn’t you hear what I said?”

  His tone was serene, yet carried unshakable authority.

  He raised both hands and began forming seals—slow, deliberate movements that seemed to resonate with the world’s very origin.

  Rumble…

  Countless inscriptions surged from the heavens and earth.

  Crack… crack…

  The sea froze solid.

  A towering crystal ice pagoda slowly rose from the depths.

  Inscriptions birthed from Lu’s origin resonance cascaded down, etching themselves across its surface.

  Inside the pagoda, Fu Tianluo let out a despairing howl.

  He slammed against the walls, but the inscribed ice was unbreakable—a perfect prison.

  His once-elegant hair hung in wild strands; all traces of his former grace were gone.

  “Venerable One! Save me!”

  He pounded the ice with fists of flesh and bone, roaring into the void.

  No answer came.

  Regret flooded him.

  Why had he followed that Buddhist lotus light to this world?

  He who had destroyed countless worlds… had finally capsized in a gutter.

  Walk by the river long enough, and your shoes will get wet.

  BOOM!

  The ice pagoda crashed onto the sea’s surface, soaring into the clouds, refracting sunlight into a myriad of radiant colors.

  Far away, Ye Shoudao began his tribulation.

  The Yin Spirit Tribulation was perilous, yet like Du Longyang before him, Ye Shoudao had long accumulated enough foundation—he only lacked the final spark.

  He passed through the lightning with danger but no disaster, then bathed in the feedback of the world’s origin.

  The countless wounds covering his body slowly healed.

  Whoosh—

  Du Longyang, Ye Shoudao, the Empress, and Young Master Tianxu sped over, gathering beside Lu.

  They stared up at the towering ice pagoda, exchanging stunned glances.

  Zhu Long rode the red dragon quietly behind Lu, obedient as ever.

  “Young Master Lu… this is…?”

  Du Longyang swallowed hard, gazing at the despairing Fu Tianluo trapped within.

  The invincible Fu Tianluo had been suppressed as easily as an ant.

  Just how strong was Lu?

  And what exactly was this “Soul Projection” realm Fu Tianluo had mentioned?

  “I was just testing their Inscription Dao,” Lu said mildly.

  For someone aiming to forge an ultra-fantastical world, no lineage or tradition could be overlooked—each might offer unique inspiration.

  Though Five Phoenixes already had many paths of cultivation, adding the Inscription Dao would only make it richer and more vibrant.

  “Who is he?” Du Longyang asked.

  “Probably a scout sent by that High-Tier Buddhist powerhouse. I did ruin his Bitter Disciple’s plans and slaughter his followers, after all.”

  Lu’s tone remained casual.

  With a thought, he raised a hand.

  Ice crystals condensed into five inscribed tokens, which he tossed to Du Longyang and the others.

  Even Zhu Long received one.

  “These are passes to enter and exit the ice pagoda. With a token, you can open the tower and spar with him whenever you like.”

  Everyone who caught a token froze.

  Then they sucked in sharp breaths, looking at Fu Tianluo—who was still frantically hammering the walls—with faces full of sympathy.

  This was just too miserable.

  Lu hadn’t bothered lowering his voice. Inside the pagoda, Fu Tianluo heard every word.

  He roared in fury and grief.

  But it was useless.

  This time… he could not escape his fate as a tool.

  A wretched, broken laugh tore from his throat.

  This world was hell.

  And that boy in the wheelchair?

  A devil.

  Lu turned to Zhu Long.

  Her eyes were closed, long lashes trembling slightly.

  “Your divine ability has just entered the second stage. Train hard—aim for the third.”

  Zhu Long’s lips curved, dimples appearing as she nodded.

  Then Lu’s figure vanished like a passing breeze.

  Only Du Longyang and the others remained hovering above the Vast Sea.

  They rubbed the tokens in their hands, eyes gleaming.

  They glanced at the ice pagoda.

  Then—

  Ye Shoudao, who had only just broken through and needed to stabilize his realm, couldn’t wait. He activated his token and shot inside.

  From within the pagoda came Fu Tianluo’s furious roar.

  A fierce battle erupted.

  A long while later, the pagoda doors opened.

  Ye Shoudao drifted out, covered in blood and aura weakened, yet his face was filled with deep satisfaction.

  He sat cross-legged on the sea, consolidating his cultivation and savoring the fight.

  Du Longyang rubbed his fists, eager to follow.

  But Zhu Long was faster—she activated her token, red dragon in tow, and slipped inside.

  Soon black-and-white light exploded within, terrifying shockwaves rocking the sea into towering waves.

  Fu Tianluo’s roars carried helpless, resigned sorrow.

  …

  Origin Lake, Lake Heart Island.

  Lu returned like a gust of wind.

  Green grass swayed, purple bamboo rustled.

  Before the Dao Stele, Ning Zhao’s aura surged violently before a profound conceptual intent began to spread.

  She had comprehended it.

  A Sequence Dao Intent—at last.

  The stele floating within Lu’s soul vortex glowed, words appearing upon it.

  “Ning Zhao, Fourth Sequence Dao Intent—Ice Frost Dao Intent.”

  Lu tapped the armrest of his wheelchair, eyebrow raised in mild surprise.

  Fourth Sequence?

  He hadn’t expected Ning Zhao’s talent in Dao Intent to reach this level.

  Though her overall aptitude wasn’t exceptional, she had revealed remarkable gift in this particular path.

  Fourth Sequence was excellent.

  After merging it with his own, there was no dramatic change—only a subtle strengthening.

  Only another Third or Second Sequence Dao Intent would trigger a true qualitative leap.

  Withdrawing his focus, Lu sent a mental message telling Ning Zhao to stabilize her new intent.

  Then he turned his attention to the battles within the Heaven Covering Formation.

  He had opened a small breach, allowing Foundation Establishment cultivators from other worlds to descend.

  The third round of the Great Xuan Academy and Western Liang’s competition—the killing field—now clashed directly with these invaders.

  He had his reasons.

  Five Phoenixes’ cultivators still needed tempering.

  With Tianyuan and Five Phoenixes merging, internal conflicts remained, but Zhu Long’s presence deterred large-scale wars.

  Originally, Lu had been thinking of ways to train his people.

  Who would have thought worlds would come knocking, ready to siege Five Phoenixes?

  Perfect—he would use them as whetstones.

  Battle was the fastest path to growth.

  Leaning back in his Thousand Blades Chair, intricate patterns danced in Lu’s eyes.

  …

  Northern Luo City.

  Martial Practice Grounds.

  The entire arena was deathly silent; you could hear a pin drop.

  Only the occasional thud of severed heads rolling out from the misty grand array echoed in everyone’s ears.

  Everyone was dying to know what kind of battlefield lay inside that fog.

  The oppressive, suffocating brutality made many tremble.

  The eliminated contestants stood red-eyed outside the mist, fists clenched.

  Only they knew how savage the fighting truly was.

  Even Ni Yu was curious now.

  What exactly had the Young Master prepared for the third round?

  Bang!

  Jade talismans shattered one after another.

  Each explosion meant another elimination.

  …

  Blood-soaked earth, corpses piled like mountains.

  Zhao Zixu’s eyes were crimson from killing. He panted heavily, blood seeping through the gaps in his armor.

  Around him lay the bodies of nine Western Liang soldiers.

  He didn’t know they would revive.

  He only knew his brothers had died.

  Died in this battle.

  He had watched those monstrous outsiders twist his brothers’ heads off with mocking grins.

  “Kill!”

  With a roar, Zhao Zixu leaped, trading wound for wound. His spear pierced straight through a burly man’s forehead, pinning the corpse to the ground.

  The last of the ten men from the second bronze warship.

  Twenty enemies slain.

  Far away, another warship descended from the sky, landing on the bloodstained earth.

  More towering warriors stepped out.

  Zhao Zixu yanked his spear free and charged like a dragon—his aura trembling on the verge of breakthrough.

  Yet among this ship’s crew was a frown-browed man whose fist, though only Foundation Establishment, carried profound mystery.

  BOOM!

  Zhao Zixu’s spear shattered. His body was blasted into nothingness.

  This man was a divine-sense avatar from the Indestructible Golden Body Continent.

  On the blood-colored plain, Zhao Zixu and the others’ corpses vanished.

  The warrior frowned.

  “Illusion?”

  …

  Martial Practice Grounds.

  Ni Yu turned to look at the jade talismans beside her.

  Bang!

  The very last talisman of the Western Liang side exploded.

  Overlord rose from his seat and flashed to the edge of the array.

  Zhao Zixu tumbled out, a horrific sight—spear broken, chest caved in.

  Xu Chu shot over, eyes bloodshot at the sight. He forced pills down Zhao Zixu’s throat.

  Slowly, Zhao Zixu opened his eyes, confused.

  He saw Overlord, Xu Chu, and the comrades who had died.

  He blinked.

  Then realization hit.

  “No… it wasn’t a dream! It was too real!”

  His breathing came fast and ragged.

  “Calm your mind. Gather your qi. Feel the origin of the world.”

  Overlord suddenly placed a heavy hand on his shoulder.

  Zhao Zixu startled.

  Overlord’s gaze was solemn.

  “You’re about to break through.”

  …

  Blood-colored battlefield.

  Corpses of Great Xuan students and young monks littered the ground.

  Lu Jiulian stood with sword in hand, robes soaked in blood, breathing lightly.

  Across from him, a dust-free-robed young monk stared in wonder.

  To think a Foundation Establishment cultivator could be this strong.

  This monk was a divine-sense avatar from the Prajna Continent—yet he and Lu Jiulian were evenly matched.

  Wind swept across the bloody earth, carrying the stench of iron.

  Lu Jiulian leaned on his sword, spine roaring like a dragon breaking free of its chains.

  On this blood-drenched field—

  Lu Jiulian shattered the Heavenly Lock in a single battle.