Chapter 84: The Third Scheme of the Northern Abyss

The Palace of the Demon Master stood atop the principal vein of the Northern Abyss, beneath ten thousand fathoms of black ice. Encircling it were hundreds of layers of prohibitive formations set by Kunpeng himself—most cruel and deadly, some meant for slaughter, others for annihilation, and still more for bewilderment. Even a Great Luo Golden Immortal would have no hope of surviving a single layer if forced through by brute strength, let alone hundreds stacked atop one another. After all, Kunpeng was among the earliest innate beings born at the dawn of creation. Who could say how many millennia, how many myriad years he had devoted to the Northern Abyss? Little wonder, then, that even with the might and cunning of Emperor Jun and Taiyi, and the power of the Chaos Bell and the River Diagram and Luo Book, the palace had yet to fall.

The hundreds of layered arrays had long since been activated day and night without rest. The energy expended was immense, but with the support of the principal vein of the Northern Abyss, it mattered little. Looking around, one would see a myriad of rainbow lights, hazy and indistinct, dazzling the eye with their brilliance, their shifting hues bewitching the heart, each strange and fantastical scene concealing supreme lethality.

At the very heart of this expanse, spanning tens of millions of kilometers, stood a palace complex of pure white crystal, covering several hundred miles. Exquisite and opulent, yet grand and solemn, it towered majestically as a mountain, seamlessly blending the best architectural features of the White House, the Forbidden City, and the Imperial Palace of later ages, and embodying the profound mysteries of the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams. Treasure light flowed and swirled—clearly, this was no ordinary structure, but a true spiritual treasure, the Demon Master’s Palace, Kunpeng’s life’s work. Fused from dozens of lesser innate treasures, refined over countless eons with the essence of black ice and a myriad of rare materials, and tempered through tens of thousands of years of ritual, it was a rare wonder of heaven and earth. Even when matched directly against the Chaos Bell and the River Diagram and Luo Book, it had emerged with only minor damage—proof enough of its might.

Within the main hall of the Demon Master’s Palace, Kunpeng sat alone upon a throne of snow-white black ice. His gaze wandered over the vast, empty hall, flanked by two rows of forty-eight pure white columns inlaid with gold, jade floors, marble steps, a glazed dome, and a purple-gold cauldron. His heart was lost in confusion. These days felt like a dream—his painstakingly built foundation nearly gone, all eighteen disciples utterly destroyed, and of the tens of thousands of followers, barely one in ten survived. If not for the countless giant beasts and sea monsters of the Northern Abyss, he likely would not have endured this long.

“Hmph! Emperor Jun, Taiyi, you two mangy birds, if you think you can use me as a stepping stone for your prestige, you’re deluded! Elsewhere, perhaps, but here in the Northern Abyss, you’re not qualified! This time, you’ll get nothing but loss for your trouble, mark my words! Heh heh heh…” The words, low and harsh as a night owl’s cry, issued slowly from Kunpeng’s lips. His hatred for Emperor Jun and Taiyi was now bone-deep, impossible to dispel even if he scoured every river and sea.

Kunpeng’s appearance was distinctive—just over seven feet in height, gaunt and thin, clad in a dark green Daoist robe. His sparse curled green hair was gathered with a single white black-ice hairpin. He had a hooked nose, phoenix eyes, thin lips, and a complexion tinged green, exuding a sly, ruthless, and unkind aura. Little wonder few wished to associate with him; his appearance alone was off-putting enough.

Thud, thud, thud…

At that moment, hurried footsteps echoed through the hall, making Kunpeng tense—were Emperor Jun and his forces launching another attack?

Presently, a large, stumbling figure entered the main hall—a giant with the head of a shark and the body of a man, standing a full ten or twenty feet tall, clad in thick black-ice armor, wielding a water-splitting trident.

“Such reckless behavior—what news do you bring? If it fails to satisfy me, hmph!” Kunpeng’s tone was icy.

The shark demon trembled violently, fear etched across his features. Yet, remembering the message he carried, he steadied himself and knelt, voice ringing out: “Master, forgive me, but the Solar strategist Bai Ze has sent word in secret. He wishes to join forces with you to kill Emperor Jun and Taiyi. If successful, the Chaos Bell will be yours, while the River Diagram, Luo Book, and Emperor Jun’s legacy will go to him.”

Simple and direct.

“What?” Kunpeng sprang to his feet, deeply shaken by the news. His expression shifted rapidly as he weighed his thoughts.

“Hmph! What a paltry trick—trying to lure me out with such a ploy? Emperor Jun and Taiyi are not the sort to be betrayed by their own so easily.” Kunpeng sneered, clearly skeptical, though inwardly he was tempted. Having witnessed the power of the Chaos Bell, he coveted it greatly—not only could it suppress fate, but it could also aid in attaining the Dao. The opportunity was tempting, but his cautious nature warned him not to act rashly; Emperor Jun was no easy opponent.

“Master, according to Bai Ze, Emperor Jun and Taiyi are in a bind—unable to advance or retreat. They cannot defeat you, but if they withdraw, they’ll become the laughingstock of the world, their grand ambitions shattered. The brothers may wish to fight to the bitter end, but Bai Ze and the other generals do not wish to perish with them, and the troops are already grumbling, morale at an all-time low,” the shark demon explained, echoing Bai Ze’s reasoning.

“Oh? So that’s how it is. Still, one must never lower one’s guard. Relay my words to Bai Ze: let them act first—I will wait and watch,” Kunpeng replied. Though somewhat convinced, his cautious nature demanded near certainty before making a move.

“Understood!” The shark demon bowed and withdrew, a sly smile flickering at the corner of his mouth—gone in a flash, unseen by Kunpeng.

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Above the Northern Abyss!

Millions of troops were camped, their numbers blotting out tens of thousands of miles of sky. The blazing golden radiance of the sun shone down, and even the perpetual dark ice covering the vast Northern Abyss was melting day by day, the temperature steadily rising.

The Solar clan’s True Sun Fire was unmatched—one of the greatest flames of the primordial world, capable of boiling seas and burning mountains. Few strange waters could restrain it, and once unleashed, disaster was inevitable.

Within the main command tent—

“My lords, the fish has taken the bait,” Bai Ze rushed in, beaming at the sight of Emperor Jun and Taiyi.

“Excellent. Now we can move to the next phase. There must be no mistakes,” Emperor Jun replied, barely able to contain his delight.

“Rest assured, my lord. The generals are prepared; there will be no errors. The sooner we act, the better—if there’s so much as a hint of a leak, all will be lost. We must strike with the force of thunder and capture Kunpeng in one fell swoop, then all will be settled,” Bai Ze advised.

“Just so. Convey my command: three days from now, we move!” Emperor Jun waved his sleeve, slicing through the air, his spirits soaring.

“Yes, my lord!”

After Bai Ze departed, Emperor Jun closed his eyes and silently prayed, “A month—this plan has taken a full month. Please, let nothing go wrong!” For this operation, he and Taiyi had spent a century’s cultivation to obscure the heavens, and would be sacrificing a hundred thousand Solar Dragons—a cost beyond reckoning. If they failed to capture Kunpeng in one stroke, he’d be beside himself with rage.

While Emperor Jun and Kunpeng each gathered their strength for the coming clash, in Wanqiu, Qingxu was just completing his cultivation—the events ahead would only grow more thrilling.