Chapter 87: Raising Arms in Offense

After revealing everything, the girl in the purple dress grew tense. Her vitality was now feeble; five heavenly gates had shattered, leaving her weaker than ever. For these travelers, taking her life would be effortless—merely extinguishing the last gate would suffice.

“There’s one more question: why do you not speak the universal language of the Spirit Qi Universe?” Qing’er’s bright eyes flickered with golden flames, piercing through everything. Her skin was like snow and ice, her bearing subtle and serene.

The girl in the purple dress parted her lips but communicated mentally; the language she spoke was taught by the “God,” used by all who were born in that world’s divine shrines. It was, in essence, a mother tongue.

The group exchanged glances, thoroughly surprised. After nine eras, the Spirit Qi Universe had long unified its language—yet here was another. Could this so-called “God” be some foreign race from the fringes of the universe?

“What else do you know?” Feng Shang’s interest was piqued. The white twin-energy pearl spun swiftly between his fingers, swirling with mist, as if yin and yang were rotating.

The girl in the purple dress shook her head, pale as death.

“Young master, this matter is extraordinary. The chaos caused by the divine shrines is far more severe than anticipated. I must report this to the Sacred Starsea Hall.” The young man’s expression was grave. After a moment’s thought, he produced a brilliant golden tablet, inscribing lines of text, which were then transmitted away.

The message did not specify the exact number—one hundred thousand shrines—but merely hinted that their numbers exceeded all expectations. More ominously, behind them was someone capable of endlessly creating new shrines.

“Master Wuming, worry not. The Sacred Starsea Hall is not to be underestimated. Since we’ve come to the Ancient Origin Cultivation Domain, we should seek out more shrine creatures—perhaps following the trail will lead us to the god behind all this.” Feng Shang was now intrigued.

His sense of smell was sharp; he detected the scent of treasure. The god behind the shrines might be worth a fortune.

“That’s wonderful. With the young master’s assistance, we can surely eradicate many disasters.” Feng Shang’s abilities were unrivaled, on par with a Domain Lord. With him on their side, collecting shrines would be no challenge.

“Let’s head to the eastern region of Ancient Origin. I’ve heard it’s the worst hit.”

…

A small crimson wolf, its body aflame and eyes silver, fur as smooth and lustrous as silk—beautiful and strange—slipped quietly into this starry expanse.

It seemed to sense something, gazing into the distance. There, faint spatial ripples spread and diffused. Slightly puzzled, its eyes darted, and with a swift movement, it vanished into the dark cosmos.

Just then, a golden Dao ship entered a stream of space, beginning a long-distance jump.

The fire wolf hesitated, twitching its nose to lock onto the scent, then followed into the spatial current. Though its speed could not match the Dao ship, so long as it kept pace, it would eventually catch up.

…

The Pure Yang Sect, rooted in the eastern reaches of the Ancient Origin Star Domain, was a storied celestial sect. Legend held that it was founded by a Lord of Light, who left behind many divine arts and ancient methods. Today, Pure Yang was ranked as the eighth-tier force in the universe, boasting six ancestors who had slain fate itself, as well as the ancient Dao treasure, the Pure Yang Diagram, which refined stars and anchored the sect’s foundation, its fame resounding in the surrounding star worlds.

Its gate was thriving; Pure Yang disciples were proud and ambitious, their methods formidable. They dominated neighboring powers, arrogant and unruly—even the Star Realm Authority yielded to their might.

Thus, though many forces had long suffered Pure Yang’s plundering of cultivation resources and harbored grudges, the sect’s power left them angry but unable to speak out.

However, months ago, several divine shrines appeared, plunging nearby star realms and systems into chaos. The evil star forces, once suppressed by Pure Yang, rose swiftly and now marched together in arms.

At this moment, within the Dao grounds of this celestial sect, a scene of great tension was unfolding.

“Pure Yang scoundrel, come out and face us!” A long, piercing shout echoed through heaven and earth, stirring violent cosmic winds.

A middle-aged man in elegant black silk, with sword-like brows and stars in his eyes, his face set in a cold grimace, radiated a proud solitude and vibrant energy. In his hands he held an ancient dark shrine, emanating an inviolable imperial aura.

Behind him stretched an army of star evildoers, covering the heavens, numbering over ten thousand, each radiating powerful waves of cultivation.

These invaders carried a murderous air, as if black clouds pressed upon the realm, obscuring the sky, tens of thousands of troops poised for battle.

The Pure Yang Dao ground spanned hundreds of miles, paved with heavenly star stones—snow-white, flawless, and unyielding.

In the distance floated palatial halls, exquisite and grand, suffused with the strongest Pure Yang force. Surrounding spirit peaks towered, their exotic fruits fragrant—a paradise of immortals.

“Who dares trespass upon Pure Yang?” A graceful white figure, moving like a flash across the horizon, arrived in the Dao ground’s sky.

The newcomer was a man in white, his features chiseled and heroic, exuding powerful fate-slaying energy, gazing coldly at the amassed army of star evil.

“I know you—Yan Youxing, Pure Yang’s most prized disciple! Back then, you were at the peak of Realm King, slaughtering at my Demon Cavern! Today, let us settle that score!” A burly, bald giant barked, staring at the white-robed man, eyes blazing with hatred. Above his head, there was also a shrine.

It was blood-red—a glance revealed endless seas of blood, countless corpses, innumerable souls wailing in agony, a scorching stench assaulting the senses.

Clearly, this shrine had sacrificed countless lives. Since acquiring it, the giant had offered up billions of cultivators, draining an entire life-bearing star.

“Evildoer Li, so it’s you. Your heads are worth three thousand spirit treasures in the Star Realm Authority. Slay you, and every Pure Yang disciple will reap riches.” Yan Youxing stood with hands behind his back, white robes fluttering, heroic bearing, eyes aloof, posture proud, his tone indifferent.

“Hahaha!” The giant burst into laughter, his expression growing colder.

“Yan Youxing, so arrogant! Tell that Pure Yang old bastard to come out—we’re here to slaughter the sect today!”

“Enough talking! Pure Yang has accumulated arrogance since ancient times, looking down on us for years. Today, let me put an end to their pride.” A sharp, mocking voice rang out—a gaunt and shadowy elder, another star giant, known as Elder Nightlord, who bore a deep grudge against Pure Yang; his own child had once been slain by Pure Yang disciples.

Elder Nightlord spread his five fingers; each bore a black copper ring. He clenched his fist, the rings glowing, and a hazy yellow-skinned shrine appeared.

Hiss!

The shrine trembled; five strips of yellow skin flew forth, enlarging into something like medicinal plasters, strange and unique, but their power was not to be underestimated. The yellow skins swept out, instantly enveloping five spirit mountains of Pure Yang.

With a boom, the yellow skin devoured the peaks, twisting and grinding them to dust, which drifted across the vast starry sky.

“What!” “Cloudfall Peak is six thousand feet high, yet it was obliterated—how could it be so powerful!”

The Pure Yang disciples were stunned. Learning that star evildoers had invaded, they all retreated into the grand Pure Yang Hall.

Witnessing this scene, they were shaken—the unremarkable shrine possessed such destructive power!