Ch. 1337 - Ancient Samsara God Realm

A voice spoke from the side.

“The Azure Dragon Altar, back then, the Scarlet Blood Saint Sovereign obtained a drop of supreme blood here and ultimately ascended to the Saint Sovereign Realm. I wonder, is there any pattern to it?”

The speaker was a young man in white, holding a folding fan and smiling as he spoke. His name was Bai Zhige, the young sect master of the Heavenleaf Sect.

He addressed a red-robed youth standing opposite him.

That young man carried a massive saber on his back, his sharp eyes curved like an eagle’s, his nose high and straight. The crimson character embroidered on his robe already revealed his identity, he was from the Scarlet Blood God Realm, the very sect founded by the Scarlet Blood Saint Sovereign himself.

His name was Chi Qianyu.

“Brother Bai, that question doesn’t make much sense,” Chi Qianyu said. “If there were a pattern to claiming treasures from the Azure Dragon Altar, my Scarlet Blood God Realm would’ve long since dominated the entire Godfiend Abyss Heaven. We wouldn’t be where we are today.”

“That’s true,” another added. “Back then, the Violet Mist Saint Sovereign spent unimaginable effort to snatch the Azure Dragon Altar down from beyond the heavens. There’s no pattern to its treasures, wouldn’t you agree, City Lord He?”

At that, a middle-aged man seated deeper within the pavilion slowly turned around.

He had remained silent until now, accompanied only by an old woman at his side.

Still, since these youths were all heirs of nearby major sects, he did not dare take them lightly.

This man was He Changkong, the city lord of Skywind City.

He had governed the city for over a century, humble in manner, generous in heart, and well-regarded throughout the region.

“Who can say for sure about such matters?” He Changkong said mildly. “As for whether there’s a pattern to obtaining treasures from the Azure Dragon Altar, my Purple Mist Holy Land does not know. But if any of you can discover one, then naturally, the treasure will be yours.”

As the group chatted, a commotion suddenly rose outside the pavilion.

“Meng Lunhui is here!”

“What? Why would he come here? The Ancient Samsara God Realm is a holy land in its own right, do they really care about our humble Azure Dragon Altar?”

“Exactly! The Ancient Samsara God Realm already has everything they could want. Why come and fight us for treasures?”

The crowd surrounding the altar buzzed with speculation.

A grand palanquin was being carried up the steps.

It was made of Ancient Dustwood, radiating Daoist aura, and draped in embroidered silk woven with rivers and mountains, light shimmering from every thread.

Even the bearers of the palanquin were cultivators of the God Meridian Realm, a testament to the exalted status of the person within.

“Meng Lunhui, what is he doing here?” someone inside the pavilion said coldly, clearly unwelcoming of his arrival.

“Who is Meng Lunhui?” Xu Zimo asked the Ancestral Warden.

“I don’t know much,” the Ancestral Warden replied. “He’s the heir of the Ancient Samsara God Realm, said to be the person of this era closest to becoming a Saint Sovereign. Ten years ago, he’d already reached the God-Unity Stage.”

“I’ve also heard,” the Ancestral Warden added, “that Meng Lunhui might be the reincarnation of some ancient powerhouse.”

“Interesting,” Xu Zimo said, stepping to the edge of the pavilion to get a better view.

Before them, the Azure Dragon Altar spread out in magnificent splendor.

A roaring waterfall cascaded down in front of it, plunging thousands of feet, yet making no sound at all.

Above the waterfall floated the head of an Azure Dragon, suspended in midair, emanating a majestic dragon’s might.

The dragon’s head was enormous, nearly filling the entire sky. It was connected to the pavilion itself, and its exhaled breath radiated scorching heat.

Xu Zimo walked step by step toward He Changkong.

As he neared, the old woman stepped forward to block him.

“I wish to speak with the City Lord,” Xu Zimo said with a calm smile.

The old woman said nothing, but turned to He Changkong for instruction.

“It’s all right, Nanny,” He Changkong said with a genial smile. “All guests are welcome.”

The old woman stepped aside.

He Changkong looked at Xu Zimo and asked, “And how should I address you, young sir?”

“Xu Zimo,” he replied. “I came to ask the City Lord about something.”

“Please, speak freely,” He Changkong said with a nod.

“I came here seeking Skywind Valley,” Xu Zimo said with a faint smile. “Yet all I’ve found is Skywind City. I wonder, are the two related?”

“It’s just a coincidence of names, nothing more,” He Changkong said, shaking his head. “You overthink it, young sir.”

“And the original Skywind Valley?” Xu Zimo pressed.

“I’m afraid I don’t know,” He Changkong said lightly. “When we built this city, this area was already a wasteland. Why the sudden interest, young sir?”

“I’m searching for the Ancient Wind God’s inheritance,” Xu Zimo said, making no effort to hide it. His gaze locked firmly onto He Changkong’s eyes.

“The Ancient Wind God’s inheritance?” He Changkong repeated, his expression mildly puzzled. “I’ve never heard of such a thing. Though… lately, there’ve been rumors about some so-called ‘Divine Treasury.’ Perhaps that’s what you’re referring to?”

“If the City Lord doesn’t know, then I’ve troubled you enough,” Xu Zimo said with a polite nod.

He turned to leave.

But as he did, He Changkong’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Go investigate his background,” he murmured.

The old woman beside him disappeared silently from the pavilion.

“Master, how did it go?” the Ancestral Warden asked quickly when Xu Zimo returned.

“He Changkong definitely knows something,” Xu Zimo said with a faint smile. “He just won’t say it. But that’s fine, so long as he knows. I only fear if he truly knew nothing.”

As they spoke, Meng Lunhui had already stepped out of his palanquin.

He wore an exquisite robe, unlike any common garment, its surface shimmered with starlight, as though a galaxy had been draped across his shoulders.

At his waist hung a sword.

Though the blade remained sheathed, the two characters engraved on the hilt, “Heavensward”, were enough to strike fear into countless hearts.

It was the Heavensward Sword, ranked seventy-sixth among all Grand Thousand Treasures.

“Well, well,” Meng Lunhui said with a light laugh as he approached. “So many of you gathered here, what a lively scene.”

Several young geniuses immediately yielded their seats to him.

The pavilion was vast, yet its seating limited. And though they too were considered prodigies, none dared compare themselves to Meng Lunhui, behind him stood the Ancient Samsara God Realm, guarded by two Saint Sovereigns.

Meng Lunhui sat down arrogantly, unbothered by the chilly silence that followed.

“This Azure Dragon Altar’s treasure will be mine,” he said with a smile.

“Treasures depend on fate,” someone nearby said calmly.

“Fate? What nonsense,” Meng Lunhui sneered. “If I, Meng Lunhui, want something and the Azure Dragon Altar doesn’t yield it, then I’ll destroy it myself.”

“How arrogant can one man be?” someone muttered under their breath.

“Let him,” another whispered. “With the Ancient Samsara God Realm’s power, only the Ancient Demon Race can challenge them in the entire Godfiend Abyss Heaven. He’s earned the right to be arrogant.”

“Meng Lunhui,” He Changkong said, “the Azure Dragon Altar will open soon.”

“When exactly?” Meng Lunhui asked.

“When one more person arrives,” He Changkong replied.

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