Chapter 150
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Chapter 150: The Saint’s Corpse! The Path of a Saint! The Holy Treasure!
Moonview Tower moved swiftly and decisively. After gaining Yi Ren Zui’s approval, Yilie used his authority to summon a large number of elite experts, particularly those at the Ascending to Heaven realm.
At the same time, Embrace Moon Tower also made its move.
Leading them was the young lady Qiu Yuwan, who sought to compete with Yi Ren Zui once again.
Other major forces—including the Liu Family, the Great Xia Empire, the Golden Cauldron Sacred Land, Ziyang Sacred Land, and the four great forbidden zones—all sent their most powerful and elite disciples to join the fray.
The younger generation of the Southern Region was about to clash in the Daybreak Phoenix Ruins.
Outside, the atmosphere was chaotic as countless talents gathered in Fengyu Town.
Inside the ruins, Zhang Yang embarked on his solitary journey.
Choosing a direction, he ventured deeper.
From the outside, the Daybreak Phoenix Ruins appeared vast—about one-third the size of Mo City.
Yet, once inside, it stretched out like a small, independent world, as large as several Mo Cities combined.
Looking up at the sky, he saw the Daybreak Phoenix Luan soaring overhead, radiating light as brilliantly as the Daybreak Sun in the outside world.
There was no night here. It was eternally daytime.
The land stretched endlessly before him, with towering mountains and vast seas in the distance—a miniature version of the world itself.
Scanning his surroundings, he found himself completely alone in this expansive realm.
A strange sense of ease settled over him.
Knowing that countless others were still anxiously waiting outside while he was already inside, exploring freely, he felt no hesitation.
Why hold back?
He would take everything he could.
He employed his Three Steps of Mountains and Rivers technique, transforming into a streak of light. Wherever he passed, he collected anything that seemed valuable, regardless of its nature.
As he progressed, his haul became increasingly bountiful.
Exotic flowers and rare herbs were everywhere.
Half an hour later, he stopped, his gaze fixed on a shocking sight before him.
A colossal figure—a hundred-meter giant—stood impaled by a spear.
The giant had been a Saint.
The spear was a holy weapon.
What was most incredible was that this scene, clearly from a distant past, had remained preserved until now.
The Saint’s immense body showed no signs of decay; even the wound in his chest, pierced by the holy spear, still revealed traces of fresh, red flesh. The spear, which had impaled the Saint, extended a thousand meters into the sky. Its sharp tip, buried deep in the earth, had skewered the giant’s chest, leaving a visible path of destruction that led toward the heavens.
Zhang Yang was entranced.
He had heard stories about such sights in the Daybreak Phoenix Ruins, but witnessing one firsthand delivered an overwhelming visual shock.
"It’s said that scenes like this are not uncommon in the ruins," he murmured. "The power of a Saint endures for a thousand years without fully dissipating. That’s why, even now, no one has been able to grasp the holy spear or touch the Saint’s corpse."
"The limitations of realms can only be worn down by the passage of time. Who knows when the day will come when the Saint’s power diminishes to the Ascending to Heaven realm, allowing future generations a chance?"
He took a deep breath, calming his mind.
He stepped forward, approaching the fallen giant. But when he was about thirty meters away, he was overwhelmed by the intense Holy Might radiating from the corpse. It carried the sorrow and unwillingness of a Saint at the moment of death, and the sheer weight of it pressed into Zhang Yang’s heart, stirring an uncontrollable sense of despair within him.
Startled, he realized he had been affected.
Taking another deep breath, he attempted to clear the disturbance from his mind. Yet, under the overwhelming Holy Might, a blurry image flashed before his eyes—a fragmented vision of the Saint’s final moments. Though indistinct, he could hear the giant’s mournful scream before death, and the echo of that despair shook him to his core.
He closed his eyes, choosing not to look but to feel.
He let the Holy Might wash over him, trying to comprehend the power that had endured for a thousand years, the sacred aura enveloping the area, and the deeper meaning within the lingering traces of holy light—a concept Liao Qingshan had once spoken to him about.
Liao Qingshan had previously provided him with valuable insight, pointing out that despite possessing numerous martial arts techniques, they were ultimately just manifestations of soul power.
Soul power, however, was far inferior to holy power.
That was why Liao Qingshan had urged him to evolve his soul-based martial arts into holy power techniques, a transformation that would revolutionize his combat abilities.
But holy power originated from the path of a Saint—the highest realm of strength in this vast world—something that a cultivator who had yet to reach the Ascending to Heaven realm could barely comprehend. Even with Liao Qingshan’s teachings, Zhang Yang had not gained enough insight.
Now, standing before this slain Saint, observing the remnants of his once-boundless power eroded by time, Zhang Yang finally grasped a glimmer of understanding.
This was a rare opportunity—one that might never come again.
Though he would not be able to convert his soul power into holy power immediately, he was laying a foundation for the future.
One could only imagine how formidable he would become once his martial arts techniques were refined through holy power.
He steadied his heart, remained patient, and focused entirely on comprehension.
Even if he could grasp just a fragment of this knowledge, it would be enough to propel him forward.
As he meditated, he gradually advanced.
The oppressive Holy Might surrounding the Saint covered only about thirty to fifty meters—proof of the toll time had taken. But every step forward remained a challenge.
Fortunately, as he immersed himself in contemplation, he found he could continue moving forward.
At ten meters away, he reached the peak of his comprehension. Any further, and he risked being overwhelmed.
Yet, unwilling to waste this opportunity, he sat down and continued to seek deeper understanding.
An hour later, he opened his eyes and exhaled a breath of stale air.
“This was a tremendous gain,” he muttered to himself. “It’s still not enough to elevate my soul power to holy power, but the foundation I’ve laid is solid. More than that, my martial arts foundation has become even stronger—an unexpected but welcome surprise.”
Ever since he had sensed instability in his foundation upon approaching the Returning to Origin realm, he had understood the need for constant refinement.
His rapid progression had left him with a shallow and unstable base.
But now, using the essence of the Saint’s lingering power, he had reinforced it beyond what even a hundred years of training could achieve.
He stretched his limbs, feeling the newfound solidity in his strength.
Looking back at the fallen giant, he sighed.
“A thousand years have passed, yet the Saint’s corpse remains intact, still exuding the presence of a Saint. This transcends martial techniques—it’s like an immortal’s method. He must have been extraordinary in life, yet he was killed so cleanly and thoroughly.”
“I wonder just how terrifying the battle of the Saints was back then, here in the Daybreak Phoenix Ruins.”
A wave of emotion surged in his heart.
Saints, with their thousand-year lifespans, their rejuvenation elixirs, and their unparalleled techniques, still could not escape death.
Only celestial beings could transcend it all.
To immortals, even Saints were nothing more than insignificant insects.
True eternity lay beyond the grasp of Saints—only celestial beings could achieve it.
Immortality.
The desire for it burned stronger within him.
With renewed determination, he continued onward.
The vast Daybreak Phoenix Ruins indeed contained immeasurable opportunities, with treasures scattered everywhere. Occasionally, he might even come across divine treasures of unfathomable value.
He was unconcerned about their quality, as he had plenty of storage bags to fill.
Another hour passed, and he made an astonishing discovery—a holy treasure!
A jade bottle floated in midair, radiating a brilliant holy light. Within it, a faint, sacred figure could be seen, illustrating a profound aspect of the path of a Saint.
"A holy treasure! A Saint’s inheritance!" Zhang Yang’s eyes sparkled with excitement.
However, he quickly realized that obtaining this treasure would not be easy.
The holy bottle hovered high above, accessible only by ascending seven void divine stones arranged like steps. Without stepping onto these stones, reaching the bottle was impossible. When he attempted to approach from the side, he found himself trapped in a peculiar spatial distortion—a manifestation of the path of a Saint. No matter how he moved, the bottle remained at an infinite distance, untouchable.
Moreover, as someone at the Touching Heaven realm, he still could not soar freely.
His only option was to climb the steps.
The moment he stepped onto the first stone, sacred runes spread rapidly beneath his feet. A chilling Saint’s intent surged down from above, oppressive and overwhelming. The sheer force nearly drove him back, but before he could even consider retreating, an immense holy power surged behind him, sealing his escape.
This path allowed only advancement—there was no turning back.
As doubts began to creep into his mind, a harsh, sinister laugh suddenly echoed nearby.
Someone had appeared in the vicinity.
