Chapter 152
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Chapter 152: Reaching the Pinnacle and Unifying the World
The “path of the dead saint” was the name given by the people of Phoenix City and Ghost City to these seven steps.
At the end of this path lay the holy treasure and the inheritance of the saint—something even the Great Xia Empire and the Ghostly Divine Platform coveted. A thousand years ago, during the devastating Great Battle, countless saints had fallen like rain, and few had managed to leave behind an inheritance. To have one openly available spoke volumes about the power and terrifying strength of the saint who had left this behind.
Yet, despite occupying this place for so long, they had still failed to seize it.
That was why they had named it the path of the dead saint.
Luan You’er sneered, convinced that Zhang Yang was seeking his own death.
Ghost Wind and Ghost Tiger shared the same thought.
They did not believe Zhang Yang could leave this path alive.
Every year, someone attempted the path, and every year, without exception, they perished.
But Zhang Yang felt no fear—only excitement.
He had always thrived on challenges, craving them. The more difficult the problem, the calmer he became, especially when entering that wondrous state of tranquility, as if he were one with the heavens.
This time was no different.
Each time he entered that state, it felt as if he transcended, allowing him to make precise judgments about everything around him.
Without hesitation, he took another step, ascending to the second step.
At that instant, a powerful Holy Intention surged forth, and the Holy Might spread. For a moment, it felt as if a saint was about to step out. A spiritual pressure enveloped him, making his body feel as though it might collapse. A faint, indistinct Holy Voice echoed in his ears.
He paused briefly, then stepped forward again.
The third step.
The moment his foot landed, the scene before him changed drastically.
The awe-inspiring Holy Intention and the overwhelming Holy Might coalesced into the tangible form of a saint. Though blurry, its presence felt undeniably real. A terrifying holy pressure bore down on him, striking directly at his heart, accompanied by a faint, indistinct Holy Voice.
“What is martial arts?”
“What is the path?”
“What is the purpose of martial arts?”
“In front of the saint, what will you do?”
A series of questioning Holy Voices reverberated through his soul, attempting to shake the very core of his martial heart. They urged him to bow his head in reverence, to listen and submit to the wisdom of the saint’s path.
For a brief moment, Zhang Yang felt a flicker of doubt.
But that was all.
He raised his head once more, his eyes gleaming with divine light. A powerful voice erupted from within him as he roared,
“What is martial arts? What is the path? My Dao needs no explanation from you!”
“I cultivate martial arts by following my heart—I need not explain it to anyone!”
“Saint?”
“Sorry! I seek to become an immortal, so I shall be fearless and undaunted. What does a saint matter?”
This was his martial arts—his inner self.
From the moment he had stepped into the world of martial arts and learned of the saints, he had never taken them too seriously.
He had felt this way when facing Chi Zhenyi’s spirit.
He had felt the same when confronting Liao Qingshan.
Even when the revered Saint Liu Yinhua had visited Mo City, he had not hesitated to choose to slay a saint!
Because in his eyes, there were immortals.
The blurred figure of the saint remained before him as he resolutely took another step forward, shattering the obstacles in his path without hesitation.
He ascended three more steps in quick succession, reaching the sixth step.
Only one step remained ahead of him.
This process unfolded so quickly that Luan You’er, Ghost Wind, and Ghost Tiger—who had been coldly waiting for him to perish on the path of the dead saint—looked on in shock.
“He actually reached the sixth level?”
“Could it be that the holy treasure and the inheritance of the saint are truly within his grasp?”
“Something that our two cities could not achieve… he can? No wonder the Ghostly Divine Platform and the Great Xia Empire joined forces to issue an order, even temporarily abandoning the search for the Phoenix Woman. This person is remarkable!”
Their hearts wavered.
Yet, Zhang Yang’s determination remained steadfast. From the very beginning, he had never taken saints too seriously.
His ultimate goal in martial arts had always been… immortality.
Perhaps it was because he was different from others. From the moment most warriors began their training, they were taught to revere martial arts, to fear the overwhelming might of the saints, and to accept that the path to immortality had long been severed. They grew up with a deep-seated fear of saints and a sense of despair toward the pursuit of immortality.
But he was different.
That was why he walked a path of his own.
And now, the path of the dead saint subtly made him understand what his heart had been persistently seeking all along.
He was beginning to grasp the true essence of his martial arts.
“Ha…”
He exhaled a deep breath and wasted no time before stepping onto the final step.
The moment his foot landed, the world suddenly shifted. Boundless holy might surged forth. From the horizon, a massive hand emerged, blotting out the sky and sun, covering the heavens, crushing everything in its path, and descending straight toward him.
A terrifying holy voice echoed across the world, shaking the depths of his heart and reverberating through his mind.
“Below the saint, all are ants!”
This was the stance of the saints—lofty beings who sat high above, viewing all living things as insignificant. It was an overwhelming will meant to crush Zhang Yang’s martial heart, to suppress his resolve with the absolute might of an invincible saint.
Zhang Yang looked up at the colossal hand, its markings distinct and intricate. He muttered softly, “A saint? If I become an immortal, then a saint is nothing more than an ant!”
He did not bow his head.
He stayed true to his own path.
The thundering holy voice grew even more domineering:
“To insult a saint is death!”
The massive hand tore through the void, transforming into a real palm that struck down violently.
At that moment, Zhang Yang’s blood boiled within him, as if he had returned to a past where he had bled and suffered countless wounds.
Each time he had bled, he had felt an unbearable fury—an instinctive sense of shame that seemed to come from the depths of his bloodline and soul. Even when the saint Demon Warlord had wounded him in the Vast Forest and the Demon Sword Forbidden Area, he had still felt humiliated.
Now, under this suffocating pressure, something within him surged—a distant, ancient roar, echoing from the depths of his boiling blood.
Zhang Yang couldn’t hear it clearly. All he felt was a boundless rage, an overwhelming sense of defiance.
The shame of being looked down upon by the saints burned wildly inside him. In that moment of fury, he felt as if he resonated with some mysterious force buried deep within his bloodline.
He roared, “If even immortals are like ants, then what is a saint?”
As soon as the words left his mouth, the enormous hand blotting out the heavens… shattered.
All the strange phenomena around him vanished like smoke.
Only the boiling blood within him remained, surging wildly, making him feel as if the Southern Region, no—the entire vast world, the Primal Universe, and all of existence—were beneath his feet.
He then ascended to the seventh step.
The moment he reached it, it felt as if the heavens and earth had expanded infinitely, placing him at the very pinnacle of the world.
Though the seven steps were only about ten meters high, standing at the top, it felt as though he was overlooking the entire Daybreak Phoenix Ruins.
From his vantage point, he could see the magnificent Phoenix City to the east.
He could see the eerie, shadowed Ghost City to the west.
He could see the colossal form of a hundred-meter-tall giant.
He could see the ancient dragon bones stretching for hundreds of miles.
He could see the radiant Daybreak Phoenix Luan, illuminating the entirety of the ruins.
He knew—this was left behind by the master of the holy treasure and the saint’s inheritance.
The seven steps tested the depths of one’s inner world. Those who could not endure would collapse, their lives at risk. But those who reached the top would feel as though they had conquered a small world—because, in the vast world after Eternal Night, the existence of a saint was supreme.
Zhang Yang lowered his gaze.
Luan You’er, Ghost Wind, and Ghost Tiger—aside from their shock—now had something else in their eyes.
Greed.
“The path of the dead saint is akin to the trial of the Small Boundless Realm for one’s martial heart. Even those in the Small Boundless Realm struggle to overcome it, yet you have succeeded.”
Luan You’er’s beautiful eyes gleamed with an unusual brightness, her voice trembling with excitement. Her gaze drifted toward the jade bottle—the holy treasure.
“You did it! Truly impressive! No wonder we abandoned the search for the Phoenix Woman to pursue you. The result is beyond extraordinary! You have obtained the holy treasure… and that means you can now be killed for it!”
Ghost Wind greedily added, “Within the holy treasure lies the inheritance of a saint. We at the Ghostly Divine Platform have already determined that this saint is likely the Soaring Saint—the one who once challenged the First Saint, God King Taiyi, of our platform. If he inherits this power, he will undoubtedly become one of the undefeated saints of this age.”
Ghost Tiger could hardly wait to kill Zhang Yang and seize the treasure.
As Zhang Yang looked down at them, a cold smile spread across his face.
Forget about the contempt for saints that had been ignited by his boiling blood—his fearless and undaunted heart, even in the face of opponents far beyond his realm, still burned with an unyielding fighting spirit.
He wanted to test the true strength of the fifth level of Ascending to Heaven.
He hoped they wouldn’t disappoint him.
Kill and seize the treasure?
He wanted to kill and seize the treasure too!
