Chapter Thirty-Nine: The Heavenly Tribulation Slays the Enemy

Li Ruoyu watched the members of the Lifeless Sect charging toward him, a strange smile flickering across his lips. As he released the suppression on his cultivation, an aura of breakthrough surged from his body, while rolling tribulation clouds began to gather in the sky, locking onto him and everyone near him.

"It's the heavenly tribulation! Retreat, quickly! What a ruthless boy!" cried the blue-robed leader of the Lifeless Sect to his comrades. But no matter how swiftly they reacted, once marked by the tribulation, escape was futile.

The thunderclouds massed above Li Ruoyu and the Lifeless Sect disciples, their power undiminished by the number of victims—if anything, their might grew even more terrifying with every soul drawn in.

Wang Bo gazed up at the gathering clouds, his face etched with worry for Li Ruoyu. Since ancient times, the reason no one could assist another in weathering the tribulation was precisely this: lightning fell from the heavens, relentlessly smiting both the Lifeless Sect disciples and Li Ruoyu. In an instant, some were wounded, others killed outright by the tribulation’s fury. After all, not everyone was like Li Ruoyu, who, possessing the Desolate Body, also cultivated the mysterious Heavenly Burial Art.

At that moment, Li Ruoyu, as ever, pressed on into the heart of the tribulation lightning. Before his eyes appeared the traces left by celestial artifacts and peerless beings, as well as nine endless roads leading to unknown destinations. Upon each path stood a vague figure, shrouded in sorrow and despair.

Artifacts and the marks of supreme beings ceaselessly attacked him—traces of vanished creatures, some resembling qilin, true dragons, or phoenixes, others akin to kunpeng, heavenly silkworms, or divine apes. Blood-drenched, Li Ruoyu coughed up blood, wounded by the scars of heaven and earth. Yet, even as they battered him, the destructive force within the tribulation tempered and strengthened his body, forging him toward a form of ultimate physical might. Like a merchant glimpsing a three-hundred percent profit, Li Ruoyu hurled himself madly into the onslaught to hone his flesh.

In these moments, all his usual composure fell away, replaced by a wild and tyrannical abandon. Perhaps this is the nature of a cultivator—the path of cultivation is never smooth, beset by calamities and perils, where a single misstep spells annihilation. Indeed, not only cultivators, but all living things under heaven face such trials: a blade of grass, a butterfly, or a common soul—none is exempt from hardship. Even the careless tread of a beast may end a grass's brief existence.

But where there is gain, there is loss. Why did the Heavenly Sword Grass dazzle the ages and dominate its era? Only by enduring tribulations unimaginable to ordinary men. All who reach the absolute pinnacle in cultivation have survived countless disasters and dangers; rarely does anyone ascend unchallenged.

Li Ruoyu’s tenacity at this moment was, in truth, a trait forged in childhood. Usually hidden, it was awakened when he returned home and severed his mortal ties; entering the path only deepened his resolve, engraving it upon his soul and into his very bones. Without such stubbornness, he would never have refused to learn his uncle’s craft of carving.

With each wave of tribulation lightning, Li Ruoyu felt the pressure mounting, enough now to destroy him. He understood that the power of the tribulation had multiplied, intensified by the presence of so many Lifeless Sect disciples.

Now, not only Li Ruoyu but the survivors of the Lifeless Sect bathed in blood beneath the heavenly punishment. Most had already perished under the lightning; only the blue-robed cultivator and a few others remained, yet the tribulation showed no sign of ending.

Bolt after bolt crashed down, determined to annihilate all within its reach. The blue-robed man spat blood, his once-handsome face now blackened and smoking, his body nearly roasted alive, as though he had been burned by fire. Deep within the tribulation, Li Ruoyu withstood the onslaught with his Age-Transcending Fist, not daring to let the full force of the lightning strike him again.

When a particularly vicious bolt left him gravely wounded, Li Ruoyu realized this tribulation was no longer something he could use to temper his body; it was now a force that could claim his life. Without hesitation, he summoned the Grand Soul Banner for defense and unleashed the Age-Transcending Fist, striking at the tribulation lightning to lessen its power. Once marked by the tribulation, there was no escape: either survive and live, or fall and die, reduced to ash.

In the end, Li Ruoyu was struck until he resembled charred wood, his whole body blackened and thin wisps of smoke curling from him. As the tribulation ended, he plummeted from the sky, about to crash headfirst into the ground. At that moment, Wang Bo sped over and caught him just in time.

"First, search the Lifeless Sect for their treasures—they probably have something like a Sumeru Pouch," Li Ruoyu urged Wang Bo as soon as he was caught.

Wang Bo, still holding Li Ruoyu, blinked in confusion, surprised at how money-minded Li Ruoyu had suddenly become.

Seeing Wang Bo's puzzlement, Li Ruoyu snapped, "Fatty, what are you staring at? Haven’t you heard of robbing the rich to help the poor? Go on!"

"When did our little radish-head become so scheming? I bet you’ve had all this planned from the start," teased Jing Hong, reaching out with her right hand to hook Li Ruoyu’s chin as was her habit.

Now utterly unable to move, Li Ruoyu could only endure Jing Hong’s teasing, as helpless as a courtesan in a red chamber, subjected to a patron’s playful torment.

Watching this spectacle, Yu Qing curled her lip in scorn at Jing Hong’s wanton behavior.

Jing Hong, as if she had eyes in the back of her head, sensed Yu Qing’s thoughts. Taking advantage of Yu Qing’s distraction, she seized Yu Qing’s hand and, imitating her earlier gesture, proceeded to give her a hands-on lesson. At first, Yu Qing resisted, but Jing Hong’s skill soon prevailed.

After a moment, Yu Qing’s eyes lit up with newfound amusement, and, with a mischievous glint, she found herself drawn into the game, joining in Jing Hong’s teasing of Li Ruoyu. Now, Li Ruoyu could only wish for tears, cursing heaven for its injustice, cursing how proximity to vermilion makes one red, to ink makes one black.

Seeing the glint in Yu Qing’s eyes, Li Ruoyu knew well: first, she was repaying him for the slight during her convalescence; second, she had simply been corrupted by that demoness Jing Hong. Before his eyes, Yu Qing, once the aloof fairy, had transformed in an instant into a vengeful and cunning enchantress. Li Ruoyu now realized profoundly the truth of the sages’ words: "Of all things hard to raise, none is harder than a woman."

At this moment, Li Ruoyu was like a pure white lamb, delivered into the hands of two butchers, utterly helpless and at their mercy. He could only hope Fatty would hurry back and rescue him from this sea of suffering.