Chapter 137: The Eternal Cataclysm—A Bloody Battle Across Three Thousand Miles

Jian Chen and Bu Jingyun clashed fiercely, their battle so intense that soon the surroundings were riddled with scars and craters. Sword slashes carved deep ravines; countless palm imprints marked the ground.

Nie Feng watched as Bu Jingyun was completely overwhelmed and wanted to intervene, but he suddenly felt locked down—targeted by a woman dressed in red. He didn’t recognize her, yet sensed an overwhelmingly terrifying threat: if he made a move, she would surely strike with thunderous force.

“Who exactly are you?” Nie Feng asked in alarm.

“Just passersby,” Ye Hongyu replied calmly. “You’d better watch quietly.”

Nie Feng’s face darkened, but in the end, he restrained himself.

Meanwhile, in another place...

When Jiang Ming questioned, the Mud Buddha did not answer directly. Instead, he gazed skyward and said, “The changes of heaven and earth, the merciless flow of fate—we are all fish trapped in a pond, unable to leap beyond or struggle free. Even if one glimpses the course of destiny, the power of predestination is unbreakable. I have long accepted this, and thus have no mind to concern myself with the bloody calamity looming three years hence over the world.”

“But in you, I see a glimmer of hope to break free from destiny.”

“To live is best, naturally; to see hope is to struggle for it.”

“Standing by your side, even the sores on my face itch less.”

“Fate, fascinatingly captivating.”

The Mud Buddha wore a constant smile, speaking neither hastily nor slowly, but with measured calm.

Ye Hongyu glanced that way, frowning slightly.

“You want me to shelter you,” Jiang Ming understood, smiling. “What can you offer me?”

“I can give you a piece of news: three years from now, Da Wu—or rather, the entire Nine Domains—will face a calamity spanning a thousand autumns. I vaguely foresaw the collapse of the imperial dynasty, the wailing of millions, the land turning into a sea of blood, mountains piled high with corpses.” The Mud Buddha’s expression grew grave. “I peered into heaven and earth, into fate, and nearly perished then. It was my little granddaughter who saved me, allowing me to cling to life until now.”

“A thousand autumn calamity in three years?” Jiang Ming frowned, a measure of understanding dawning on him.

Since descending here, he had sensed something amiss.

Because twenty people had arrived simultaneously, his mission was to slay an eighth-level powerhouse to achieve success and bring back all gains.

What about the others?

Likely the same.

That meant twenty eighth-level adversaries must be killed.

But in the Nine Domains, it was uncertain if even twenty such powerhouses existed, creating a paradox.

Now, with the Mud Buddha’s words about the impending calamity three years hence, coupled with their instructor’s earlier warning that this blood-red trial was a prerequisite before entering the Ten-Thousand Worlds Battlefield, the picture became clear.

This world was destined for upheaval.

“The calamity arrives in three years, yet I do not comprehend how such devastation could unfold even with conflicts between the Nine Domains.” The Mud Buddha sighed. “Ten years ago, I foretold Boss Xiong’s fate—that in ten years I would die at his hands. The power of predestination cannot be broken, nor do I wish to concern myself with what comes after. I wander aimlessly, waiting to be captured by Xiong Ba.”

He fell silent, then looked aside.

A tall, burly figure clad in black and masked charged forward like the wind, instantly closing the gap and reaching for the Mud Buddha.

Clang!

Ye Hongyu drew her longsword to block but was blasted aside by a single punch.

“Heaven’s pressure!” she exclaimed, alerting Jiang Ming.

Jiang Ming acted swiftly, a fist punching through the opponent’s celestial pressure, sending him flying a hundred meters away.

The assailant retreated decisively.

Nie Feng looked on, puzzled.

Bu Jingyun, wounded by Jian Chen and no longer fighting, narrowed his eyes at the departing black figure.

“It’s him!” the Mud Buddha whispered.

Jiang Ming smiled.

“You guessed correctly,” the Mud Buddha affirmed. “I owe you my life and must repay it. What do you need? I have traveled far and wide, studied the shapes of mountains and rivers, traced the veins of the eight directions and six harmonies, and hold knowledge of many ancient secrets.”

This old man was intriguing, quite astute.

“I plan to enter seclusion for cultivation. Tell me, where is the best place?”

“Lingyun Cave!” the Mud Buddha answered without hesitation. “It’s the nearest and most suitable. Deep within lies a convergence of dragon veins and the burial place of Emperor Xuanyuan. The vitality there far surpasses the outside world. Perhaps there’s even a dragon’s spine, undoubtedly harboring earth-shaking power. However, a fiery qilin dwells inside, making it a forbidden zone. The Tomb of Xuanyuan may hold other obstacles.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me.”

“Within Da Wu’s territory, the Sword Sect’s forbidden ground is another excellent place for seclusion, though it is frozen over; the Sword Saint’s retreat in Wushuang City is also good, but he is still immersed in reaching the supreme realm of swordsmanship; there is also a place beneath Supreme City where dragon veins converge and vitality condenses into liquid. Yet, though the Martial World Supreme is weak now, he is far from comparable to the current Xiong Ba.”

“If the Martial World Supreme is so strong, why allow Xiong Ba to run rampant?”

“Perhaps he feels threatened, or perhaps he knows terrifying powers watch silently from the shadows.”

“You know quite a lot!” Jiang Ming laughed. “Then let’s go—to Lingyun Cave!”

He led the way.

As for Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun?

He paid them no mind.

Whether they were protagonists or not was of no concern to him.

The Mud Buddha glanced at Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun, his expression complex, but left them with one warning: “Beware of Xiong Ba!”

Nie Feng and Bu Jingyun were baffled.

Beware of Xiong Ba?

Had anyone else said it, they might have ignored it, but this was the Mud Buddha.

They looked toward Jiang Ming at the front, tempted to intervene again, but in the end restrained themselves.

One Jian Chen was enough to defeat Bu Jingyun.

Beside him, the woman was even more terrifying.

And the other figure?

A single punch earlier had already made them tremble with fear.

If the fight was hopeless, they would retreat to report back. They were not so foolish as to challenge what they could not overcome.

On the road...

“Brother Jiang, is the man in black really Xiong Ba?” Ye Hongyu asked curiously. “If so, that’s really disappointing. Da Wu’s realm is vast, with the potential to dominate the world, yet his cultivation lags far behind.”

“Don’t underestimate him,” the Mud Buddha said with a smile. “He’s naturally suspicious, but gifted beyond measure. If not for his lust for power and constant entanglement in clan affairs, he might have long reached the realm of the Celestial Being.”

Jiang Ming believed this without doubt.

Xiong Ba was not to be taken lightly.

“Mud Buddha, do you think our journey to Lingyun Cave will go smoothly?” Jiang Ming asked, a thought stirring within.

The Mud Buddha furrowed his brow, a divine light flickering in his eyes. His expression turned strange, then shocked.

“Could something be wrong?” Jiang Ming queried.

“Danger without peril,” the Mud Buddha mused. “Peering into heavenly secrets always wounds fate. The power of predestination must not be profaned; this is why my lineage does not live long. Early in cultivation, one can see through the world, becoming arrogant and unable to resist demonstrating one’s holiness and basking in glory. But when truly bearing impossible burdens, regret comes too late. Just now, I calculated the backlash—I barely survived, and my hidden wounds are still slowly healing.”

“You are neither favored nor troubled by fate!”

“No, no!” The Mud Buddha shook his head, confusion printed on his face.

Jiang Ming silently marveled at the Mud Buddha’s skill.

Yet as for fate?

He cared little.

Because having descended here, fate held no sway, and he possessed the innate gift of “Favor of Fate.”

But the Mud Buddha’s words—danger without peril—were intriguing.

They sparked a flicker of alarm.

This could be serious.

The Mud Buddha’s little granddaughter was carried by Jian Chen; their speed had not slowed much.

That day, ahead lay a mighty river. Upon arrival, they spotted a fierce battle underway.

One man was surrounded by several powerful foes; mountains crumbled, rivers roared, and the unleashed force rippled even kilometers away.

“Zhou Tian!” Jiang Ming exclaimed in surprise.

He was one of the descendents, striving to open his acupoints fully to form the Zhou Tian Star Protection Technique.

Incredibly strong.

Yet the eight attackers were formidable, three among them possessing sixth-level martial cultivation.

For Zhou Tian to withstand so many at fifth-level made him terrifyingly powerful.

“No celestial pressure, yet he can hold off eight strong opponents!” Ye Hongyu gasped.

Jian Chen’s expression shifted.

The Mud Buddha was even more moved.

He could not fathom Zhou Tian, just as he could not fathom Jiang Ming.

“Their power does not belong to Da Wu,” Jian Chen said solemnly. “They likely hail from other regions.”

“This is demonic cultivation, almost certainly from Dayuan!” Ye Hongyu guessed.

Jiang Ming looked elsewhere.

A great Buddha statue leaned against a mountain, facing the river.

Atop stood a figure in black; the air around him twisted, obscuring his features.

This one was stronger.

“Wait here,” Jiang Ming said, stepping into the air and appearing a hundred meters from the battle.

The raging gale and flying sword qi parted around him.

“Brother Jiang!” Zhou Tian saw him, his solemn face breaking into joy. “Ha! You’re here; I’m not afraid anymore!”

“Then fight!” Jiang Ming’s voice rang out.

He saw Zhou Tian had not yet unleashed his true strength, clearly wary of the figure atop the Buddha.

The federation’s top twenty prodigies possessed miraculous talents, able to fight beyond their grade in tests—especially after descending to this world.

“Good!” Zhou Tian roared. “Damn it! I’ve been quietly cultivating here, and you all attack me without rhyme or reason, thinking I’m easy prey!”

“Zhou Tian Star Domain, manifest!”

He trembled, all 365 acupoints glowing divine light, manifesting outside and rapidly expanding, encircling the eight attackers.

Even their celestial pressure was forcibly pushed back.

The eight fighters faltered.

“I am the Star God, subduer of all demons!” Zhou Tian’s figure soared, like the lord of stars seated in the cosmos, commanding the heavens.

The manifesting star phenomena spun wildly; four screamed and turned to blood mist.

“Damn it!” The man atop the Buddha narrowed his eyes, stepping forward, palm flipping to form a massive ten-meter-wide handprint, smashing down.

“Brother Jiang, he’s a seventh-level powerhouse. I leave him to you!” Zhou Tian warned.

He had no doubt Jiang Ming could defeat him.

A federation prodigy was no match for wonders of the secret realm, no matter how high their rank.

“Understood, leave him to me!”

Jiang Ming’s feet touched the void, shrinking space as he blocked before the black figure. Pure Yang energy surged from him like nine suns ascending; a punch shattered the palm imprint.

“Your harmony with heaven and earth is incomplete, yet you dare oppose me? Foolish!” The man in black was merciless; heavenly might descended, warping the void, sending Jiang Ming plummeting.

A casual palm strike unleashed thousands of shadowy palm images.

On the ground, Jiang Ming’s eyes snapped open, face grave.

Though less than the Seven Nights Saint Monarch, this man’s heavenly pressure was formidable and contained a mental interference field.

A formidable foe.

Buzz—

Jiang Ming’s true qi burst forth, transforming into yin-yang sword qi spinning swiftly, tearing apart the myriad palm images.

Yet the opponent’s palm smashed the yin-yang Taiji diagram, aiming for his head.

“寸拳 (Inch Fist), twenty strikes.”

“Boundless strength!”

Jiang Ming unleashed his strongest attack.

The terrifying power caused the black-clad man’s pupils to shrink, a chilling dread rising.

Unbeatable.

In a flicker, he flipped his body, evading a blow.

Power surged; the sky cracked.

From the corner of his eye, Jiang Ming saw a mountain peak pierced through, forming a passage.

His heart raced, horrified.

“Is he truly human?”

The man in black’s thoughts flickered; his internal energy shifted to black mist, twisting the air, shrouding hundreds of meters in darkness.

“What a speedy response!”

Jiang Ming frowned deeply.

This was unquestionably a fierce rival.

Now it was life-and-death, not a mere test; he was grimly serious.

The yin-yang sword qi spun faster, erasing the darkness while infusing light to dispel the gloom.

Suddenly, Jiang Ming turned, the long sword condensed in his hand as he slashed, forcing the piercing palm back.

Buzz—

The yin-yang sword qi extinguished the darkness completely.

With a sword that split the void—Sword Nine, a strike of birth and light.

“What keen perception!”

The man in black retreated explosively, then suddenly split into eight images, launching palm strikes, finger-point annihilations, shadowless kicks, and punches that shattered the void.

Each seemed as real as the original.

Jiang Ming paid no mind; his yin-yang sword qi contracted sharply, cutting down all attacks.

A gleam flashed between his brows—a mental strike pierced the black-clad man’s brow.

He trembled, blood streaming from seven orifices, then staggered back three hundred meters in an instant.

“Your spirit surpasses mine, and you’ve grasped such a terrifying mental technique—who are you?”

This time, the man in black was genuinely shocked.

“And you?” Jiang Ming retorted, vanishing with a shift of his feet, passing through the void to the black figure’s left side.

A punch blasted forward.

Blood surged like a raging sea; the fist reigned over the void, crushing all.

The black figure reacted swiftly, dodging and unleashing thousands of palm shadows.

Then he split two palms in opposition, weaving two force fields that left Jiang Ming momentarily disoriented, the yin-yang Taiji diagram torn in half.

Palm strikes descended.

Jiang Ming’s fist exploded in the void, pursuing the fight.

They exchanged blows midair; palm images cut rivers, sword qi cracked mountains, their battle advancing swiftly toward distant peaks.

Trees shattered, mountains split.

The destruction was immense.

Watching, Ye Hongyu and others were utterly shocked.

“He’s this powerful!” Jian Chen was astonished.

During the battle at Lanruo Temple, Jiang Ming had only clashed swords thrice with the Seven Nights Saint Monarch, showing no such devastation.

Now it was different.

It truly was apocalyptic might.

“Too strong. Even my brother is no match!” Ye Hongyu was shaken but looked elsewhere.

The attackers surrounding Zhou Tian were mostly slain; only two remained, trapped within his stellar domain, unable to break through even with celestial pressure.

Their defeat was only a matter of time.

“This one is terrifying as well!”

“They know each other, and their bond is extraordinary—life and death comrades!”

“When has the world produced such geniuses in succession?”

“Is it because the world is vast and our information lagging?”

Ye Hongyu doubted herself.

“Mud Buddha, what are their backgrounds?” she asked.

“Legend says the Haotian Dao possesses the power of heavenly revelation, able to borrow celestial might and glimpse the future. Their vast influence brings the keenest intelligence.” The Mud Buddha smiled. “You do not know; I do not know. Miss Ye, perhaps this meeting is the key to breaking fate.”

Ye Hongyu’s heart stirred.

Ah—

In the distance, two agonized screams rang out. Zhou Tian had slain the last two foes. Taking a deep breath, he glanced this way before moving with a method like riding the wind, suddenly charging toward Jiang Ming’s battle.

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(End of chapter)