Chapter Sixteen: Killing With Every Step

Ninety-nine thousand steps—an insurmountable number for countless candidates. Nine has always been regarded as the ultimate, and on the ninety-nine thousand steps, Luo Hao was crushed under the overwhelming pressure, pinned helplessly to the stone. The terrifying force pressed from all directions, contorting and fracturing his bones, blood streaming from his eyes until his vision was torn apart, and every pore on his body spurted blood outward. Even his skin began to split into ugly, centipede-like cracks.

At that moment, Luo Hao resembled a blood-soaked corpse struggling and howling in a pool of gore. The chilling screams echoed down to the candidates below, causing a shudder in their hearts as they wondered what monstrous presence dwelled above.

"Damn it, mere pressure wants to take my life? I still have to find my sister! What about Meng Li—if I die here, what will become of her? Alone in this ancient land where only the strong survive, how will she manage?" As Meng Li's sorrowful face flickered through Luo Hao's mind, his heart trembled.

"Double Dragon Sovereign Technique, Misfortune Mirror, help me again!" He growled inwardly, desperately circulating the Double Dragon Sovereign Technique, trying to stir the ancient, floating mirror in his dantian, but the proud artifact paid him no heed.

"You’ve got to be kidding—at a time like this, you choose to sulk? If I die, who knows whose hands you'll fall into next. This continent is nothing like the twenty-first century." Luo Hao felt a surge of frustration, but it was immediately drowned in soul-rending agony.

"Damn, it really won’t act—provocation is useless." He raged silently, but the ancient mirror was unmovable, so he could only grit his teeth and frantically absorb the vast spiritual energy.

"What are these patterns?" Luo Hao sensed that his speed in refining spiritual energy into dragon power had increased dramatically. He noticed the two dragon heads behind him had become clearer, their scales shimmering with golden light, revealing mysterious markings.

Whenever he refined spiritual energy, these intricate marks appeared—unknown to him, yet possessing a distinctive beauty, reminiscent of the wild, graceful brushstrokes of ancient Chinese calligraphers, imbued with the aura of time.

The dragon race had once forged a glorious civilization, and dragon patterns were among the oldest inscriptions in all the heavens, naturally infused with the resonance of ages past.

"It seems I still have much to learn in cultivating the Double Dragon Sovereign Technique." As golden dragon power continued to flow through his meridians, Luo Hao's battered form finally shifted. Though barely, he managed to sit cross-legged atop the stone steps. The spiritual energy atop the Heavenly Pillar Peak was profuse—even as he absorbed it madly, it showed no sign of thinning.

A roar thundered behind him as the golden dragon heads seemed ready to sprout something new, though nothing emerged yet. Luo Hao’s heart raced—could the true form of the Double Dragon Sovereign Technique be the successful manifestation of two dragons? Regardless, the technique had already transformed greatly since he first acquired it, though whether for better or worse, he could not say.

Within his meridians, a myriad of dragons roared, challenging the heavens. Under the influence of draconic cries, Luo Hao felt his spinal dragon burning hot, though he was a mess, his blood already hardening into scabs. With the surge of immense dragon power, the bones that had been deformed began to crackle and gradually mend.

"Open!" His body shuddered, and Luo Hao sprang upright, black and red hair floating, his gaze resolute. The only flaw was the tattered beggar's clothes fluttering in the wind—a discordant sight that undermined his heroic aura.

In the next instant, domineering golden dragon power soared skywards, forming a massive golden palm that lifted the crushing pressure like divine might. Bathed in golden light, his slender, blood-stained figure strode forward with unwavering steps. Though tiny beneath the vast heavens, he seemed capable of supporting the sky alone.

Taking a deep breath, Luo Hao stepped forward—only a thousand steps remained. No matter what, he would cross them. As his foot landed on the ninety-nine thousand and first step, all pressure vanished, as if it had never existed.

He flexed his limbs in surprise, finding himself able to move freely. With a grave expression, he surveyed his surroundings, discovering a world swathed in dense, white mist. The stone steps beneath his feet were no longer visible.

"Strange—could the elders of the Heavenly Sea Sect have designed the trial to end here, with no pressure for the final thousand steps?" Luo Hao wondered, when suddenly, a black gleam flashed in the mist ahead, swelling rapidly in his vision. A sense of danger instantly surged in his heart.

Without hesitation, golden dragon power erupted, no attempt to dodge. With a roar, his entire arm was enveloped in gold, transforming into a pillar like divine iron, sweeping out with mountain-crushing force.

A thunderous boom—dragon roars and tiger cries echoed from Luo Hao’s fist as it collided fiercely with the incoming black ray. His body shuddered, hair bristling, spinal dragon unleashing terrifying force. Golden dragon power shattered the black ray, and his punch drove on, blasting into the white mist.

A deep reverberation—the overwhelming dragon power surged forth, as if to pierce the misty world, but it struck something solid instead.

"What kind of trial is this? Old man of the Heavenly Sea Sect, damn your immortal ancestors!" Luo Hao cursed as the scene before him grew clearer.

"Hmm, who’s cursing me?" At the same time, in a pavilion in the Heavenly Sea Sect, an elder touched his itchy nose and muttered.

A grinding sound—before Luo Hao stood an ancient stone statue, ten fathoms tall, its surface etched with faint stone lines. He heard its joints creaking, and watched as its murky stone eyes flickered with light.

With a resounding crash, the colossal stone statue awakened—though statues cannot speak, its massive fist tore through the void, smashing toward Luo Hao like an ancient millstone grinding all before it.

"Tiger King Salutes the Moon!" Golden dragon power surged, and with barely a pause, Luo Hao met the blow head-on. His golden fist crashed down like a mighty bell against the statue.

Two fists, vastly different in form, collided fiercely in the air, distorting the space between them with their immense force.

Luo Hao roared, dragon and tiger cries echoing from the golden power, shaking the entire void. The golden bell shuddered, shattering the millstone, and terrifying force exploded forth, striking the statue’s chest.

A thunderous eruption—the statue’s chest was pierced in an instant, and under Luo Hao’s gaze, the ten-fathom giant toppled, dissolving into a cloud of mist as the world before him swiftly cleared.

The scene changed again—Luo Hao now found himself standing on the ninety-nine thousand and first step.

"Was it all an illusion just now? No, I clearly felt my energy drain. Is the final thousand steps meant to be a gauntlet, fought by strength all the way to the summit? Who on earth designed such a monstrous trial?" He shuddered at the thought—a thousand steps, each with an opponent, a thousand foes in all. He imagined the adversaries would grow stronger with each step.

"Hmm, odd—so many people cursing me today." In a pavilion on the Heavenly Pillar Peak, the elder again touched his itchy nose, puzzled, for he had not shown himself in the Heavenly Sea Sect for ages.

"It seems I must rely solely on my strength to ascend—let the storm rage all the stronger!" With a steely resolve, Luo Hao strode forward once more.