Chapter Twenty-Nine: Realm of the Dao Body

"Fat Dun, I plan to enter seclusion and challenge Killing the Firmament. I sense I'm already on the verge of stepping into the Dao Body Realm," Li Ruoyu said seriously, looking at Wang Bo.

"I've also touched the barrier to the late stage of the Dao Body Realm," Wang Bo replied.

Meanwhile, in a cave to the northeast of the Demonic Abyss, several corpses lay scattered on the ground, judging by their attire—there were members of the Meng family, nobles from the Chu royal clan, as well as disciples from Zhao’s Four Great Sects, the Dream Sect, and the Gate of Lifelessness. At this moment, Ling Wuchang, Feng Ruoxian, Man Gu, Ji Heng, and Mei Yingxue, along with the people of the Eternal Nine Sect, were exploring deeper into the cave. As they advanced, more corpses appeared along the way—monks from Mount Putuo, seductive women of the Tianyi Sect—all lay dead here now. Royals from Yan had met a tragic end, the remains of Taixian Sect disciples were strewn about, the broken swords of Sword Sect disciples lay silently among the ruins, and the bodies were mangled and incomplete. The numbers from every sect and school were staggering, evoking dread at a single glance.

As they descended further into the cave, they found the skeletal remains of those who had entered the Demonic Abyss in ages past, their garments rotted away and covering the white bones beneath. Each had a broken neck, killed with a single blow. As Ling Wuchang and his group ventured deeper, they saw ahead a circular platform, its edges inscribed with ancient patterns, some parts damaged and one corner missing.

"A teleportation array," someone murmured.

It was an ancient teleportation array. Around it lay a thick layer of ash mixed with bone fragments, exuding a dense aura of death. Ling Wuchang and the others shivered as they gazed at the ash—so much bone dust, how many had died, and over how long a span, to create such a scene?

Atop the array, a young man sat cross-legged, clad in white with a few streaks of violet in his robe, seeming utterly out of place. His features were ordinary, almost forgettable, and white hair flowed down his shoulders, lending him a mournful air. His eyes were closed; it was unclear if he noticed Ling Wuchang and the others.

"I feel like I've seen that face before," Ling Wuchang muttered as he studied the white-haired youth's unremarkable appearance.

"Another batch of blood food," the youth opened his eyes, filled with loneliness, sorrow, and resolve.

"Not good, run!" Ji Heng shouted.

Behind the white-haired youth, a broken sword rose slowly into the air, just two feet and one inch long.

"It's the ancient fiend, the Butcher—he's still alive. Run!" Ling Wuchang exclaimed, recognizing the origin of his own inheritance.

What happened today nearly shattered Ling Wuchang's worldview. The Butcher, a figure from the ancient past, separated from the present by an unfathomable span of years, yet still existing in the world. Was he an immortal, or merely someone similar, or perhaps a successor?

The Butcher—armed with a broken sword, his legend was a near-universal belief among the ancients. The world did not know his true name; in ancient times, he massacred all the prodigies of his era. The Immortal Bloodline was severed by his sword; the Path of the Yanmo Body was destroyed by him. Thus, the world called him the Butcher.

The sword itself was unremarkable, but it shot towards the group with terrifying speed. It left no trace in the air, but with each body it pierced, an Eternal Nine Sect disciple fell lifeless to the cold cave floor. Ji Heng, a calm and heroic young man in his twenties, was cut in two at the waist as the sword passed by.

"Senior brother!" Mei Yingxue’s cheeks were wet with tears as she resolutely stopped fleeing and charged toward the broken sword.

The sword swept by; blood splattered through the air.

"Senior brother, Xue’er is coming to join you—you won’t be alone on the road ahead," Mei Yingxue whispered, stroking Ji Heng’s cold face, a faint smile on her lips as her tears ceased.

Soon, the cave was littered with corpses; only Ling Wuchang, Feng Ruoxian, and Man Gu continued their frantic escape. The broken sword quickly caught up to Ling Wuchang, who unleashed his own broken sword against it.

"Oh? I’ll let you go," the white-haired youth on the teleportation array murmured, as if lost in memory at the sight of Ling Wuchang’s sword. The pursuing sword halted.

Once Ling Wuchang, Feng Ruoxian, and Man Gu escaped the cave, the blood of the Eternal Nine Sect’s fallen flowed toward the white-haired youth. After absorbing it, a fleeting flush of color appeared on his face, but quickly vanished.

"Still not enough—I can’t break the seal. That old Daoist’s seal is truly formidable," the youth muttered softly, his words vanishing like the wind.

The Dao Body Realm—one must manifest the "Dao Image." Those with special constitutions possess extraordinary Dao Images, while ordinary people cannot manifest one, treating it as merely a realm to cultivate. This is why those with special physiques hold such an advantage at this level.

Li Ruoyu studied the method for entering the Dao Body Realm from the Celestial Burial Art engraved in his mind: "Lead all your cultivation into every part of your body, infuse it throughout..."—the essence of the Celestial Burial Art. Li Ruoyu pondered it deeply, contemplating its secrets. When he thoroughly understood it, he began breaking through.

He guided his power into every part of his body. As it surged through him, he felt a wild energy arise from within. The deeper his insight into his body, the more vividly he sensed a vision:

A black grave, with a few tufts of grass.

A black tombstone, faintly carved with words.

It stood in a world where black snow drifted down from the sky.

"Is this the Dao Image contained in the Withered Wilderness Body?"

"Burial, burial, burial..."

Li Ruoyu heard the words as if whispered in his ear, his spirit touching this strange world. "Aged by the passage of time, the land is suffused with sorrow," he thought, tears streaming down his face, grief welling up unbidden.

"Who is buried? Why does my Dao Image appear like this?" Li Ruoyu wondered.

The black grave, the black tombstone, the world of drifting black snow—these slowly manifested around Li Ruoyu. The black tombstone gently lifted him, so that he sat cross-legged atop it.

At that moment, Li Ruoyu felt himself transforming, as if acquiring an uncanny sense.

"Divine perception."

This was a special ability unique to the Dao Body Realm—an intuition for danger, a heightened awareness of one’s surroundings. His body grew stronger; the wild energy became more responsive to his will.

But to his shock, his lifespan was now only five hundred years—half that of other Dao Body cultivators.

"Is this because of the wild energy? Or is it fate?" Li Ruoyu had no answer.

Standing atop the illusory tombstone, tears running down his face, he gazed at the sky. Dark clouds gathered, tribulation lightning flashed within. Waves of oppressive force bore down on him. The grass atop the black grave swayed in the wind, the world shrouded in snow, as if cut off from all creation, standing alone outside the mortal realm. The wind howled, as though recounting a tale of sorrow, moving all to tears.

A bolt of tribulation lightning struck at Li Ruoyu, like a sword piercing the black snow.

Snow drifted, the sword shattered, the tribulation fell.

Thunderbolts continued to rain down upon the black snow, but before they even reached Li Ruoyu, they dissipated within it.

In the sky, the tribulation changed form—a weapon rack appeared, filled with every kind of weapon: cauldrons, bells, towers, mirrors, brushes, knives, swords, halberds, and more. Many were familiar to Li Ruoyu—the sword resembled the immortal weapon "Spring and Autumn Sword," the tower looked like the "World-Suppressing Tower." Each weapon left the tribulation clouds, descending upon the black snow to suppress it.

These were the imprints of immortal weapons born since ancient times—each, in its day, had displayed boundless power. Now, their traces pressed ever closer to Li Ruoyu within the black snow.

"The power of ages decays all life." As the weapons entered the snow, they turned to ash, as if rotting wood. The black snow seemed the accumulation of time’s passing, falling gently from the sky, like the ceaseless flow of years, never to return.

"Heaven sends tribulation upon me; today, I bring tribulation to heaven."

With these words, Li Ruoyu charged into the heart of the lightning.

As he did, Jing Hong and Wang Bo watched him from afar.

Standing atop the tombstone, Li Ruoyu plunged into the tribulation cloud, where bolts of lightning raged and attacked him. He pressed deeper, the assaults of lightning and weapon imprints all dissolved by the black snow. At the cloud’s core, Li Ruoyu was stunned by what he saw—not new dangers of lightning or weapons, but nine figures.

Each stood upon a path stretching into infinity, walking ever farther away. Their backs were to the world, but now and then one would glance back, revealing a visage filled with desolation, solitude, and emotions Li Ruoyu struggled to name—pity, sorrow, and pain.

As he tried to approach the nine figures, he found them illusory; when he reached for them, he caught nothing but a fleeting dream.

At that moment, the visions around him began to fade, the tribulation clouds dissipated. This marked Li Ruoyu’s official entry into the Dao Body Realm—he could now cultivate celestial arts, secret canons, and other profound techniques.

Once the tribulation ended, Li Ruoyu flew over to Wang Bo and Jing Hong.

"Little Radish Head, you little brat, still crying?" Jing Hong never missed a chance to tease Li Ruoyu, her laughter ringing out.

"Ruoyu, what happened to your left pinky?" Wang Bo suddenly noticed that Li Ruoyu’s little finger was missing.

"It was taken by the tribulation lightning," Li Ruoyu replied.

He was actually relieved for this tribulation; otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to explain it to Wang Bo. When he returned from the Abyss, Li Ruoyu had disguised himself, deceiving both Jing Hong and Wang Bo. But after the tribulation, his disguise was inevitably revealed, so he used it as a convenient excuse.

"Come, let big sister take a look, Little Radish Head," Jing Hong said, taking his left hand, her eyes reddening. "It’ll recover, right?"

"It should! What’s wrong—heartbroken? Seems I’m still quite handsome!" Li Ruoyu joked with a mischievous grin.

"Little Radish Head, don’t flatter yourself," Jing Hong replied, making a funny face.