Chapter 71: The Blood Pool at the Mountain's Summit

“Damn it, that guy really doesn’t give up.” After quite an effort on the Blood Spirit Mountain path, Luo Hao finally managed to shake off the chubby Tongtian—or rather, he had talked him into leaving. He had no desire to be burdened with such a dead weight at his side.

The moment he stepped near the mountain's summit, Luo Hao's expression grew grave. Atop the peak, he could sense countless powerful presences. Each one emanated a formidable aura of blood energy—they must be the outstanding disciples of various factions. At the same time, the ancient mirror in his dantian, quiet for so long, began to resonate violently again. Clearly, something atop Blood Spirit Mountain filled it with deep hostility.

“When the cart reaches the mountain, there’ll be a way through. For now, I’ll have to play things by ear.” Luo Hao decided to blend in with the crowd and observe. After all, aside from Yang Li, Xue Yue, and a few others, not many people here recognized him. With this in mind, he walked toward a protruding platform just beneath the summit.

The platform beneath the peak was perfectly level, the cross-section as if hewn cleanly by a sword. At its far end, a winding stone stairway led directly to the summit. The air was thick with the scent of blood. Luo Hao quietly merged with the crowd, careful not to draw attention.

“Hey, little lecher, over here! We’re here!” Suddenly, a voice as clear as jade rang in Luo Hao’s ears. He looked up to see little Su Yao waving at him energetically not far away.

Luo Hao was instantly dumbstruck. Indeed, what’s more fearsome than a godlike enemy is a teammate as dense as a pig. Thanks to Su Yao’s shout, many curious eyes turned their way.

“That’s impossible—how could it be him? The Death God’s Enchanting Seven-Colored Dream… Once trapped inside, how could anyone survive?” Yang Li of the Myriad Demon Sect stared in disbelief, his eyes narrowing, then widening with shock. He simply couldn’t fathom how Luo Hao had escaped the Seven-Colored Dream.

On the left side of the platform, Guo Tian of the Sky Sea Sect sat astride a giant wolf, several of his sect brothers behind him. He glanced at Luo Hao, then lost interest.

“Well, I’ll be damned—he’s still alive!” exclaimed Xue Yue of the Infinity Sword Sect. At his side, Yue Jingfeng remarked with interest, “It’s rare to see you so rattled, junior brother.”

“Forgive me, senior brother, but allow me to explain.” Xue Yue quickly recounted what had happened. As Yue Jingfeng listened, his aloofness gave way to shock.

“The Death God’s Enchanting Seven-Colored Dream… No wonder!” From that moment, Yue Jingfeng’s gaze toward Luo Hao changed.

Feeling all those eyes upon him, Luo Hao almost believed his reputation was ruined in a single day. Among them, only the gaze from the Myriad Demon Sect was cold enough to chill the marrow, brimming with murderous intent.

Luo Hao swept his eyes over them and gave Yang Li a wicked grin—no need for further pretense between them. Yang Li’s face darkened, killing intent boiling within him. Luo Hao had to die!

Sensing Yang Li’s sudden hostility, Sun Wutian followed his gaze to Luo Hao, then looked back at Yang Li in surprise. “Why does a mere seventh-level Qi Spirit ant provoke you so, Brother Yang?”

Yang Li took a deep breath and explained everything to Sun Wutian. Sun’s expression, once calm, shifted just as Yue Jingfeng’s had, a cold glint now in his eyes as he looked at Luo Hao.

Thanks to Su Yao’s shout, Luo Hao’s plan to muddle through fell apart. Left with no choice, he forced himself to walk over to the three young women, greeting them, “Senior Sister Ji, when you disappeared as we entered the secret realm, I was terribly worried.”

The three women, however, only gave him a look of contempt—thick-skinned, indeed! Worried about us? You looked as though you’d rather never see us again.

A sharp cracking sound rang out from the stone steps at the edge of the platform. A flash of crimson swept across the winding staircase, and a path revealed itself before everyone.

“The seal on the stairs is open!”

For three whole days, many had tried to reach the summit, only to be repelled by the seal. Now, it was finally broken—the peak of Blood Spirit Mountain was within reach.

Without hesitation, various factions surged forward, rushing up the stairs, eager to be the first to reach the top. Three days ago, many had witnessed the five-colored treasure cauldron with their own eyes.

“The Taiji Blood Pool!”

As soon as a martial artist set foot on the summit, a cry of astonishment rang out. At the center of the mountain’s crest, a blood-red mist swirled, connecting directly with the sky above.

Beneath the bloody firmament lay a pool of water, red as fresh blood, occupying nearly half the summit. A thick miasma of blood energy billowed from it, along with a strange and seductive power that drifted through the air. Most bizarre of all, the pool’s surface formed the shape of a Taiji diagram.

“What a sinister blood pool!” Even Luo Hao, prepared as he was, felt his heart jolt. A faint golden sheen appeared in his eyes, reflecting the entire blood pool.

“There really is a five-colored treasure cauldron!”

In the golden depths of his vision, at the Taiji’s yang eye, a mysterious five-colored light flickered. Within that light, a great cauldron with two handles and three legs floated at the yang eye.

Suspended over the blood pool, the treasure cauldron shimmered with five-colored brilliance, two opposing forces interacting to form the symbol of Taiji.

In Luo Hao’s memory, even in ancient China, the cauldron held great significance—like Yu the Great’s Nine Cauldrons. In ancient times, the cauldron was a symbol of supreme authority and the power to suppress all things.

“Junior Brother Luo, did you see something?” Su Yu, who had been watching him, spoke quietly. Luo Hao nodded gravely—the cauldron suppressing the blood pool’s yang eye was hardly a good omen.

“Now!” Suddenly, Sun Wutian of the Myriad Demon Sect shouted. In an instant, several powerful auras erupted. There was no doubt—their owners were all at the Blood Gathering Realm. Clearly, the Myriad Demon Sect had prepared thoroughly for this secret realm.

Seven figures from the Myriad Demon Sect, wielding formidable spiritual power, tore through the bloody miasma above the pool, charging straight for the five-colored treasure cauldron.

The other factions merely watched coldly, making no move to interfere, as the seven shadows drew near the yang eye.

All at once, the five-colored divine light erupted, forcing the seven back. But they hesitated not at all—their spiritual power surged like a breached river, seven torrents stirring wind and cloud, pushing back the dazzling light.

A thunderous shout rang out, and the surging power became a monstrous spectral hand, reaching for the treasure cauldron. The seven’s eyes gleamed with triumph—it seemed the cauldron was theirs.

Now, even the previously indifferent factions revealed flickers of alarm. Was the five-colored cauldron truly about to fall into the Myriad Demon Sect’s hands so easily?

Suddenly, disaster struck. From within the blood pool beneath the cauldron, which had been deathly still, a towering wave of blood erupted, blasting both cauldron and spectral hand aside. The air was instantly filled with the reek of blood.

A hellish, nauseating stench poured from the Taiji’s yin eye as a colossal wave surged skyward, blotting out the sun. The seven from the Myriad Demon Sect reeled in shock, but quickly rallied their power to resist the oncoming deluge.

“Impossible! How can this be?” It wasn’t just the seven—every faction around the pool was stunned. The seven torrents of spiritual power clashed with the bloody wave, but were instantly swallowed whole, offering no resistance.

Crackling sounds echoed as seven streaks of blood, like iron whips, lashed out from the wave, striking the seven figures. Drenched in red light, the seven were finally seized by terror. Not yet at the Sky Gang Realm, they could not fly, and under the assault, they were flung back, vomiting blood.

“Senior Brother Sun, save us!” the seven cried out to Sun Wutian at the pool’s edge. But he remained utterly cold, making no move.

In the next instant, seven beams of bloody light pierced their chests. Yet, to everyone’s horror, not a drop of blood spilled from their wounds. Their eyes glazed over, as if their souls had been sucked away. Then, seven pairs of eyes, burning with bloody fire, fixed coldly on those around the pool, crimson demonic patterns crawling across their faces.

The bloody rays did not vanish. The seven disciples of the Myriad Demon Sect rose into the air as though at the Sky Gang Realm.

A chilling, inhuman laughter burst from their lips—a screech like a broken windmill that made every listener frown. With each guttural howl, the terrifying aura around them distorted the very air.

In that moment, everyone became tense, for the gulf between the Blood Gathering Realm and the Sky Gang Realm was insurmountable.

Amid the crowd, Luo Hao’s expression hardened, his heart clouded with questions. The aura surrounding the seven, the demonic patterns crawling across their faces—it all felt disturbingly familiar. It was the aura of the Blood Clan, just like that of Xue Gu.