Holy Land Trial Chapter 18 Crimson Lotus Inferno?

Within the Land of Thunderblades.

A piercing, miserable scream echoed across the heavens. Deep within a cavern, Jian Zhongli heard the cry drifting in from outside, but paid it no heed. Instead, his expression was alight with excitement as he watched the final wisp of spiritual energy seep into the halo at Shi Ling’s brow.

A moment later, the halo faded. Shi Ling, suspended in the air, slowly opened her limpid eyes and gazed around with curiosity. At last, her gaze settled on Jian Zhongli. Seeing this, Jian Zhongli immediately bent in a deep bow.

“Jian Zhongli, third-generation Swordwarden of the Thunderpool, pays respects to Her Highness Shi Ling!”

Upon hearing this, Shi Ling’s aura shifted in an instant. The innocence on her face was replaced by stern dignity, her gaze turning piercingly cold—an air of both chilling beauty and regal aloofness.

“Oh? I never thought that after millions of years, you old thing would still be alive.”

Once she finished speaking, Jian Zhongli straightened, a faint smile flickering across his features, and bowed again toward Shi Ling.

“Thanks to Your Highness’s blessing, I am fortunate to live to see you again in this lifetime. I have no more regrets.”

Shi Ling gave no answer. She paced the cave a few times, then stopped before Jian Zhongli’s true form. After a moment’s scrutiny, she turned to him.

“Tell me, how did you know it was me?”

Jian Zhongli drifted before her, stealing a glance at his own true form behind Shi Ling, not daring to be careless. After bowing deeply again, he stood upright and smiled.

“It was by chance, when I aided that little fellow Luo Chen in separating Your Highness from his divine soul—”

He hadn’t finished, when a tremendous force burst forth, battering the surroundings. Under the immense impact, Jian Zhongli’s soul-form was flung forcefully against the pitch-black stone wall.

A few breaths later, he steadied himself, a look of terror fixed on the center of the energy storm. The power emanated from Shi Ling herself.

The dreadful pressure that followed made Jian Zhongli’s soul-body tremble uncontrollably, his expression growing ever more panicked.

At that moment, the murderous intent blazing in Shi Ling’s eyes swept through the cave, her gaze fixed on Jian Zhongli.

“Speak. What did you do?”

“I do not know by what offense I have angered Your Highness. I beg you to forgive me!” Jian Zhongli stammered in terror, his soul shuddering. He understood well—the killing intent in Shi Ling’s eyes could end him in an instant.

Yet he was puzzled. What had he done wrong to so abruptly incur divine wrath?

Suddenly, another anguished wail echoed through the depths of the cave, reaching both their ears. Their eyes turned simultaneously to the cave entrance.

“Master?”

Shi Ling shot Jian Zhongli an angry look, then abruptly withdrew her hostile aura. Her expression hinted at alarm, and she paid no further attention to Jian Zhongli. In a flash, her figure turned into a stream of light, speeding outside.

Seeing this, Jian Zhongli collected himself, forced down his panic, and hurried after her.

After a few breaths, Shi Ling came to a halt at the edge of a cliff, her gaze fixed intently on the Thunderpool below.

Jian Zhongli appeared behind her, observing her delicate silhouette. To him, that figure was just as it had been millions of years ago. For a moment, he was lost in memory, recalling a grand gathering centuries before, where he, as insignificant as an ant, had watched the girl who stood sovereign above the sky.

In his vision, she gazed down upon all realms and worlds, with myriad universes bowing beneath her feet.

“Old man, centuries have passed and you’re still as dense as ever. No wonder you were always the weakest among the four Swordwardens of the forbidden lands. No, perhaps I should call you by your old title: One of the Four Sacred Swords—Traceless Sword of Separation. Isn’t that right?”

Hearing Shi Ling’s teasing tone and sensing that her anger had vanished, Jian Zhongli chuckled, rubbing his head as he stepped forward a few paces. He knew she wasn’t wrong.

“For Your Highness to still remember my former name is fortune beyond measure.”

“What am I to do with you? When I handed the ‘Primal Wilderness Codex’ to my master, I sensed your presence. I meant to use the Codex to prove my identity, and to let you use your Thunderblade to help master rebuild his spiritual channels. Who knew your mind would still be so muddled after all these ages, daring to use the Codex to immolate yourself for spirit refinement?”

Jian Zhongli froze, fear etched across his face. He swallowed hard and fell to his knees.

“I beg Your Highness’s forgiveness. I believed that, in your slumber, you left the Codex for me to help him rebuild his meridians. Forgive my dullness for failing to grasp your true intent. I accept whatever punishment you decree.”

Shi Ling slowly turned to look at the kneeling Jian Zhongli and could only sigh softly.

“Enough. What’s done is done, and I can no longer prevent it. But you had better ensure master comes to no harm. If even the slightest misfortune befalls him, I will bring another twilight of the gods upon us and tear down your Thunder God’s Seat myself.”

“May Your Highness forgive me. I swear upon my soul, I will not let anything happen to Young Master Luo.”

Jian Zhongli bowed profusely as he spoke, well aware that Shi Ling never made idle threats. Even his mighty Thunder God’s Seat, which had suppressed this world and once held captive a being capable of bringing about the gods’ twilight, could be destroyed at her whim.

But since Shi Ling had said as much, naturally she would not fear such a figure—she could easily shatter his throne.

“Rise.”

At her words, Jian Zhongli slowly stood, watching Shi Ling’s back as she gazed at the Thunderpool, a faint trace of doubt in his heart. He stepped forward.

“Your Highness, this old servant has a question. I hope you will enlighten me.”

Shi Ling did not reply, but instead flew directly before Jian Zhongli. Raising a hand, she pressed a finger to his brow, and a halo of light seeped in.

In an instant, Jian Zhongli’s consciousness arrived in an unknown space.

Beyond him stretched the endless starry river. Upon that river, twelve colossal thrones stood side by side. Above them all was a single silver throne, vaster than the twelve combined. Jian Zhongli beheld Shi Ling seated upon that towering silver seat, gazing down at heaven and earth. Her voice seemed to reverberate through the stars.

“Heaven and earth, ancient and vast—the first generation of old gods built the Ancient Thrones, seeking to rule all realms. In the ‘Chronicles of the Divine Era,’ it is said there are twelve thrones, and the world believes this to be true. Yet above those thrones stands a King’s Seat, and above the King’s Seat, an Emperor’s Seat. Now, I serve him as my master. Surely I need not explain his identity further.”

As Shi Ling finished, the space burst with silver light. She withdrew her hand from Jian Zhongli’s brow.

Jian Zhongli collapsed to his knees, powerless. When he opened his eyes, remorse and confusion filled his gaze, along with terror and grief. Lifting his trembling hands, he summoned a longsword with a wave, holding it up to Shi Ling’s back.

“I have committed a crime against heaven itself. I am willing to pay with the destruction of my soul, if Your Highness will permit it.”

Shi Ling glanced at the kneeling Jian Zhongli, casually took the sword from his hands, and seeing that he had closed his eyes in preparation for death, merely shook her head. She paid him no further mind, her gaze intent upon the sword.

“Thundercry Soulblade. Not bad—not great, but sufficient. Since master has been seeking a suitable sword, I’ll reluctantly accept it on his behalf.”

At her words, Jian Zhongli’s eyes flew open. Watching her turn away again, his face was awash with confusion—he had no inkling of her thoughts.

“Your Highness, this…”

“That’s enough, old Li. You’ll keep your soul for now. Until master truly awakens, you have one task: guard this Thunder Abyss well, and do not let the one sealed below awaken. And as for my origins—let no third party learn of them. You know my temper. As for master, have no fear. This paltry thunder can’t harm him. I pardon your transgressions. I’m off to rest. Later, bring me to see master’s true body.”

With a final glance at the Thunderpool, Shi Ling turned and flew into the cave. Jian Zhongli watched her departing figure, his expression finally easing. He bowed deeply once more.

“Jian Zhongli thanks Her Highness Shi Ling for her great mercy.”

With Shi Ling’s form vanishing into the depths of the cave, Jian Zhongli clasped his hands behind his back, fixing his gaze on the Thunderpool of Tribulation, both elated and faintly anxious.

Within the Thunderpool, Luo Chen’s soul was once again coalescing. With every searing agony of being torn apart, he became acutely aware that each fragment, numbering in the tens of millions, absorbed a trace of thunder’s power with every rupture.

Each time the soul fragments reformed, the interval grew shorter. The thunder’s might increased, and its numbers multiplied. Luo Chen had no idea how much time had passed in this place. All his strength was devoted to the relentless cycle of reassembly, alert for the next descent of thunder. He remembered only that since the first time his soul had been shattered, this was the tenth reformation.

He had endured nine such ordeals so far, and with every reformation, the thunder doubled in number. Now, as he beheld nearly twenty embryonic bolts forming overhead, Luo Chen knew that as soon as his soul reformed, the twenty would descend without mercy.

Panic gnawed at him—though he had survived the previous nine trials, who could say if this round would not obliterate his soul entirely? All was left to fate. Yet, throughout, Luo Chen never relinquished his will to live. His mind was a blank expanse, uncertain why he had come to the Thunderpool or what had transpired before.

Still, an intangible voice within told him his work was unfinished. The Thunderpool was his sole hope—even when his soul was torn asunder, the will to survive remained whole, growing ever more unyielding.

Much later—

“Come, take me to see master’s true body,” Shi Ling said lazily, stretching as she spoke to Jian Zhongli. He said nothing, but pressed his palms together, weaving a sequence of gestures.

A moment later, a glowing array—two meters in diameter—appeared on the ground. With a gesture of invitation from Jian Zhongli, the two of them entered the array, which flashed brilliantly beneath them. In an instant, their forms vanished.

In the next moment, they reappeared—only this time, the scene before them could only be likened to hell itself.

All around, the air burned with a suffocating, manic heat. Directly ahead lay a vast pool of molten lava, its surface seething and erupting with bursts of fire.

A hundred meters away, amid the sparse glow, could be seen a figure lying suspended above the lava pool. Jian Zhongli waved his hand, conjuring an icy blue barrier that enveloped them both.

With a thought, the barrier carried them over the lava. Soon, a fiery lotus, three meters wide, appeared before them.

“Red Lotus Hellfire?”

As they neared the lotus, Shi Ling immediately sensed an aura of terror—one she had known millions of years ago. She frowned in confusion. The aura was indeed that of Red Lotus Hellfire, yet something about its presence felt different.

She glanced at Jian Zhongli, who stroked his beard as he studied the lotus.

“Your Highness, this is not Red Lotus Hellfire. Have you ever heard of the Divine Emperor Taiyi, the Eastern Sovereign?”

At his words, Shi Ling’s body jolted, her expression shifting to shock. Of course she had heard of the Divine Emperor Taiyi.

In the earliest ages, the boundless heavens and earth were filled with ancient gods, all born of the souls of two Primal Abyssal Gods—with only four exceptions, directly begotten by the Abyssal Gods themselves. The Divine Emperor Taiyi was one of these, indeed the first. Later, after the Abyssal Gods incarnated the world, Taiyi accepted the will of Heaven and founded the Palace of the Abyss, guarding the first firmament.

It was said the Red Lotus Hellfire was created by the Divine Emperor Taiyi. Yet in the middle era of the Divine Epoch, the Palace of the Abyss mysteriously fell, and Taiyi vanished from history.

“Of course I know of Taiyi. But this Hellfire seems different from the Red Lotus Hellfire I once saw left behind by Taiyi himself.”

Jian Zhongli smiled, tossing a handful of herbs and spirit stones into the fiery lotus. Instantly, they dissolved into pure spiritual energy, which surged into Luo Chen’s body.

Luo Chen’s body glowed like heated iron for a heartbeat before returning to normal. Jian Zhongli continued,

“Indeed, Your Highness. This is not true Red Lotus Hellfire. You know well that beneath such flames, even gods and devils perish—let alone Young Master Luo’s mortal body. By my guess, this spirit fire is derived from the Ancient Blaze of Burnt Skies.

To be precise, it is a spark from the Ancient Blaze that fell here during the battle at Sacred Mountain, transformed over millions of years into this spirit flame.”

Shi Ling nodded in affirmation after probing the lotus with her divine sense. The Ancient Blaze indeed originated from the Red Lotus Hellfire, and the aura of this spirit flame matched—but the air of destruction felt more like the Ancient Blaze. No wonder she had sensed something was off; the Red Lotus Hellfire, the first sentient flame in the world, had long vanished. Its proud intelligence could never have remained in such a minor place.

“How is master’s true body? When will the refinement be complete?” Shi Ling asked, blushing as she gazed at Luo Chen’s naked, sleeping form.

“No need to worry, Your Highness. Only a month has passed since the refining began. His shattered bones have yet to fully fuse, and as for physical strength—he’s only just reached the peak of the Yuan Spirit Realm,” Jian Zhongli replied.

At this, Shi Ling whirled around, grabbing his beard with a tiny hand and glaring fiercely, “A whole month, and only the Yuan Spirit peak? Old Li, are you shirking or hoarding your treasures?”

Jian Zhongli waved frantically, face full of grievance and innocence, then answered solemnly,

“Your Highness, you wrong me! Over the past month, I’ve used nearly a hundred items in the refinement. You saw for yourself—my cave’s best things are merely half-King grade; the rest are heaven or earth grade, not even spirit treasures. And I’ve never used or seen the ‘Primal Wilderness Codex’ in practice. I dare not rush.”

As Shi Ling let go of his beard, Jian Zhongli sighed in relief. Indeed, the ‘Primal Wilderness Codex’ was so heaven-defying that in all his millions of years, he had only ever heard of it, never seen it used.

As for the “treasures” hoarded in his cave, while prized in the Mortal Domain, they were mere trash above it. From the lowest human-grade, to earth-grade, then heaven-grade, and only then king-grade, above which lay spirit-grade—only spirit-grade artifacts counted as true treasures.

He glanced at Luo Chen’s body in resignation. Were it not for that catastrophic war, he wouldn’t have been left with such worthless scraps.

With another sigh, he tossed in a rare flower and two earth-grade swords. They vanished instantly in the lotus flame, and Jian Zhongli’s heart ached at the loss—after all, he’d collected them over millions of years.

With a thought, the array beneath his feet reappeared. After one last look at Luo Chen’s body, the two vanished, returning to the cave. Shi Ling suddenly turned to Jian Zhongli.

“Old Li, I’ve been meaning to ask—you didn’t create the abyss outside by yourself, did you? And beneath the Thunderpool, something must be guiding the heavenly lightning, isn’t there?”