Chapter Sixty-Nine: Leaving the Battlefield

“Whew!”

Luo Hao, who sat cross-legged before the dragon bone as motionless as an eternal boulder, suddenly trembled after a long stillness. The next moment, his resolute face slowly opened its eyes, a sharp gleam flashing through them before a faint smile touched his lips.

As he awoke, a vast and mysterious pattern of dragon runes appeared in his mind—profound and abstruse. It was nothing other than the Dragon Concealment Eight Steps he had acquired within the Dragon Rune Temple. These esoteric runes coalesced into a divine dragon that wound itself deep into his consciousness, branded there indelibly.

The Dragon Concealment Eight Steps—within eight paces, one possessed a speed that surpassed even the Kunpeng of ancient lore. To roam the myriad realms with such swiftness was enough to make the heart race with excitement.

Ancient Kunpeng—speed that defied the world!

Luo Hao, his interest thoroughly piqued, immediately tried to stir the coiled dragon within his mind. Yet, no matter how he tried, the divine dragon remained motionless, its proud demeanor reminiscent of the ancient mirror’s own arrogance.

“It is just as Senior Long Ao said—the minimum requirement to cultivate the Dragon Concealment Eight Steps is the Heaven Astral realm. It seems I must break through to that realm as soon as possible. Otherwise, no matter how wondrous this art is, it will be useless to me.” With a soft sigh, Luo Hao ceased his attempts to move the slumbering dragon.

“Luo Hao!”

“Senior Long Ao.”

Abruptly, Long Ao’s voice echoed from within the dragon bone. Luo Hao sprang to his feet, and saw a faint, ethereal figure emerge atop the bone. Who else could it be but Long Ao? Yet now, even a Qi Spirit realm martial artist such as Luo Hao could sense the power within this apparition rapidly dissipating, the figure itself growing ever more insubstantial.

“Senior Long Ao, what’s happening to you?”

“It’s nothing. I perished countless ages ago. Now that I have passed on my legacy, it is time for dust to return to dust. Remember the words I spoke to you within the Dragon Bone World—remember them well, above all else!” Long Ao’s form was on the brink of collapse, his voice growing intermittent.

“I will remember, and never utter a word of it.” Luo Hao’s expression was solemn as he spoke, the embryonic spirit within his mind echoing with the golden Mark of Battle at its brow.

If everything Long Ao had told him in the Dragon Bone World was true, Luo Hao dared not imagine what fate awaited the entire Ancient Continent in days to come.

“The Battle-Heaven Seal at your spirit’s brow—never reveal it before you are strong enough.” Long Ao’s faltering voice grew heavier, then sighed: “Your future is shrouded in mist, and even I cannot see through it. But never forget—a true powerhouse draws strength from within. Only with a strong heart can one stand atop the mortal world.”

“Senior, I will remember your teachings. Is there anything else you wish to say?” Luo Hao asked with grave respect. This was a mighty warrior, an elder at the dusk of his legend, yet one who had handed down such a peerless art as the Dragon Concealment Eight Steps without reservation. Luo Hao’s gratitude was beyond words.

Long Ao gazed once more at this world, a flicker of struggle and sorrow crossing his face before he spoke, “After I vanish, the dragon bone will disappear with the wind. The remaining power within will send you away from this forsaken battlefield. Until your strength is great enough, do not seek the Wall of Origins to return here. There is an unfathomable presence at the heart of this battlefield.”

As he spoke, Long Ao’s gaze was like lightning, sharper than a hawk’s, as if piercing layer upon layer of chaos to see the very center of the lost battlefield.

Luo Hao was astonished by that look—he could clearly sense fear and defeat within it. What sort of terrifying being could make even the proud Dragon Clan lower its head?

“Yes, I will remember every word,” Luo Hao replied. As Long Ao’s apparition faded and his presence dwindled, Luo Hao felt a lump rise in his throat.

In the lonely, forsaken battlefield, Long Ao’s heroic figure grew ever more insubstantial. On this vast earth, only Luo Hao, a mere Qi Spirit realm martial artist, bore witness to the sorrowful passing of such a peerless being.

There was no earth-shattering tumult, no stirring battle, only the calm eyes of one who had seen through life and death, and the fearless bearing that accompanied them.

“Whoosh!”

Long Ao’s apparition, after a final glance at Luo Hao before the dragon bone, dissolved completely amidst a radiant rain of light. That such a being, after tens of millennia, should end so quietly seemed almost unbelievable.

Dazzling rain of light fell around him. Luo Hao felt a chill in his heart—no matter how heroic, no matter how glorious, in the end all must face death. Even one as mighty as Long Ao could not resist its call. Perhaps only the supreme and the eternal could endure through the ages.

“Farewell, Senior.”

Watching the last of the radiant light fade, Luo Hao bowed deeply, silently wishing this great warrior a safe journey. Perhaps ten, twenty, even a hundred years from now, he would still remember that here, on this forsaken battlefield, he had witnessed the end of a peerless hero.

A low, resonant hum followed Long Ao’s fading spirit, and the dragon bone, dormant until now, suddenly ignited with fierce light. Within that brilliance, golden dragonfire danced, as if it were the embodiment of the Dao of Fire. The golden flames gradually consumed Luo Hao’s body.

There was no pain, no sense of burning. With a final glance at the forsaken battlefield, Luo Hao’s figure vanished, leaving only an unfathomable pit and the vanished dragon bone as proof that any of this had truly occurred.

“Playing dead is no easy task, but at least I managed to trick the boy into leaving. Old fellow, you owe me a great favor for this!” After Luo Hao disappeared from the forsaken battlefield, Long Ao’s vanished figure reassembled above the pit.

He now stood with hands clasped behind his back, silver hair billowing, eyes deep as the abyss of time, a boundless battle-will emanating from him and shaking the entire battlefield. In this instant, his battle-will suppressed all undying war-chants that echoed here.

“When the Holy War begins anew, even if I must defy the Six Paths and the heavens themselves bleed, I shall return!” That ancient, weathered voice rang out like an indomitable vow, echoing through the eternally silent battlefield.

Blood-colored clouds shrouded the sky, turning the heavens into a crimson sea. The air was thick with the oppression that blood-energy wrought.

Within a suddenly-risen blood-red peak, a flash of golden light flared and vanished. Then, from behind a blood-colored boulder, a figure stepped forth—it was none other than Luo Hao, newly departed from the forsaken battlefield.

As the last traces of golden light faded from his body, Luo Hao sighed quietly and whispered, “Senior Long Ao, I will do all I can to fulfill my promise to you.”

“Hurry, faster, move!” At that moment, voices rang out behind the rocks. The blood-stained path echoed with urgent shouts. A group of warriors, swords strapped to their backs and exuding fierce sword energy, raced past, moving with such haste that none wished to linger even for a moment.

Not long after these sword-bearing warriors hurried away, another group of black-robed martial artists rushed along the mountain road. Luo Hao recognized them as disciples of the Myriad Demon Sect, their expressions equally tense.

“Senior brother, what on earth is happening atop Blood Spirit Mountain? Why has our eldest brother summoned us so urgently?” one of the black-robed men asked their leader as they sped along.

“Three days ago, someone neared the summit of Blood Spirit Mountain. From afar, they saw blood-qi soaring to the heavens, stirring the very world. Within that torrent of blood-energy, they glimpsed a treasure cauldron radiating five-colored divine light, with three legs and two handles.”

“A five-colored cauldron?”

“Exactly. Many martial artists from various sects have tried to reach the summit and claim the cauldron these past three days. Our eldest brother has summoned us in haste, likely to seize the cauldron before anyone else. We must hurry—no doubt the other factions are converging at the summit as well.” With that, the group fell silent, channeling their spiritual energy as they sped toward the blood-misted, cloud-shrouded summit of Blood Spirit Mountain.

“So fate has brought me directly to Blood Spirit Mountain, saving me considerable effort. Judging by the anxious faces of the Myriad Demon Sect disciples, the summit must already be crawling with tigers and dragons—the great powers all eyeing the so-called treasure cauldron.”

Luo Hao frowned slightly, then set off toward the summit shrouded in crimson mist. For some reason, an uneasy feeling gnawed at his heart—a sense that an immense peril awaited atop Blood Spirit Mountain.