Chapter Twenty-Six: The Blood Pool of Ten Thousand Spirits

Ancient mountain stream.

With a sweep of his hand, Luo Hao summoned a fierce wind that scattered the thick, bloody scent lingering in the air. He then tossed the sword-wielding disciple, whom he had slammed underground, into a nearby beast’s lair and watched as the corpse was ripped to shreds before his eyes.

By now, the reek of blood in this region had faded; the disciples of the Purple Micro Pavilion would never suspect that their comrades had met their end here. As for the remaining traces of blood, in a place such as the ancient mountain stream, they could not be more ordinary—indeed, the absence of blood would be more suspicious.

When all was done, Luo Hao clapped his hands, an evil smile curling upon his lips. “Since the scum of the Purple Micro Pavilion wishes to plot against me, Luo Hao, then let me play along with you.” As he spoke, his figure vanished, heading straight for the Dragon Ape’s lair.

A quarter of an hour after Luo Hao’s departure, three figures clad in purple appeared. They exchanged glances, then shook their heads in mutual bewilderment.

“This doesn’t make sense. Senior Brother Wang and Junior Brother Shen clearly headed this way. How could they simply vanish?”

“Could something have happened to them? Or did they encounter Luo Hao?”

“Enough wild guessing, both of you. Junior Brothers Wang and Shen are both at the Eighth Level of Qi Spirit cultivation. Besides, Senior Brother Wang has the Autumn Water Sword at his side. As long as they steer clear of the overlord beasts of the ravine, there’s little danger. As for Luo Hao, with his mere Fifth Level Qi Spirit, what could he possibly do? They’re probably just delayed. Let’s look elsewhere.”

The other two nodded in agreement. In their eyes, even if something had gone awry, Luo Hao could not possibly be the cause. The gap between a dragon and an ant could not be bridged so easily! As for Luo Hao’s victory over Wei Wuya, they considered it nothing but a joke.

Luo Hao moved with astonishing swiftness. With the domineering cultivation method, Twin Dragons Overseeing the World, the twin dragons within him howled, devouring spiritual energy from all directions with every breath, keeping him perpetually at his peak.

Within the complex mountain ravines, Luo Hao darted like lightning, weaving through the terrain. After several dozen minutes, his speed slowed, his gaze turning grave as he looked ahead.

A vast gorge came into view, flanked by steep, jagged cliffs and grotesque rocks. The entrance to the valley was shaped like a gourd.

Even more chilling, the valley’s perimeter was littered with fearsome bones—some as massive as small hills, some smaller, some still whole, others shattered and scattered. Most belonged to beasts, but amidst them, Luo Hao clearly identified dozens of human martial artists’ remains. A savage, violent aura surged from the valley like a hurricane.

Suddenly, a vivid slash of crimson among the bones caught Luo Hao’s eye. It was the remains of an enormous, unknown beast, exuding a dreadful presence.

One could imagine how formidable this beast must have been—yet even so, it had perished here. Fragments of flesh and lingering blood still clung to its white bones. The aura from this skeleton brought Luo Hao a sense of grave danger, but from it he also sensed a second presence—something extremely brutal and wild, like the aura of a primordial beast.

“Dragon Ape!”

The words escaped him, heavy with dread. The alternate aura on the bones made Luo Hao’s heart pound wildly, his breath growing heavy. He realized he had underestimated the strength of Blood Condensation realm martial artists, and even more, the Dragon Ape that bore an ancient bloodline.

Carefully suppressing his own energy, Luo Hao crept to one edge of the valley, then peered inside. Instantly, a great shadow loomed—a figure more than thirty feet tall, overwhelmingly menacing, seizing his gaze.

Even this shadow alone made his heart race uncontrollably, a sharp gasp escaping him. Luo Hao could feel with painful clarity the monstrous power hidden beneath that giant silhouette. The savage, brutal aura was so intense that, for a moment, he wanted to turn and flee. This was his body’s instinct, faced with mortal peril, regardless of his own will.

Pressing himself flat against the valley’s edge, Luo Hao dared not move. The Dragon Ape was so close, and yet he knew he stood no chance against it. In terms of strength, the Dragon Ape could kill him as easily as crushing a chick. In size, his own body was not even enough to fill the gaps between its teeth.

Days passed, the sun rising and setting, yet the Dragon Ape showed no intention of leaving its valley. On the other side, Luo Hao grew anxious—he could not win, nor could he escape. He was already within the Dragon Ape’s perception, and any movement would mean certain death.

On the evening of the third day, at last, the colossal beast stirred. It took thunderous steps toward the valley’s exit, likely to hunt for food.

Only when the Dragon Ape’s figure had faded completely from sight did Luo Hao emerge from hiding, and even then, he waited another half hour in silence, ensuring the valley was truly deserted before entering.

He had thought the bones outside were numerous enough, but upon entering, he realized how mistaken he was. The heaps of bones within the valley dwarfed anything outside; “mountainous” barely sufficed to describe them. A stench so foul and thick it nearly made him faint enveloped him in an instant.

“Damn, it’s worse than poison gas,” he muttered, forcing back nausea and holding his breath as he ventured deeper. This valley was the Dragon Ape’s lair, and for both humans and other beasts, it was a forbidden zone.

Dragons delighted in hoarding treasures and spiritual objects; though the Dragon Ape was imbued with only a trace of draconic blood, it had inherited this trait well. Along the way, rare spiritual herbs and flowers grew in abundance. With a sweep of his hand, Luo Hao collected them all without hesitation, then quickened his pace, intent on scouring the valley as swiftly as possible—he could hardly afford to let such wealth slip through his fingers.

After half a cup of tea’s time, with his spoils considerable, he finally reached the valley’s deepest recess. There, a small pool came into view.

The pool was not large, scarcely three feet across, but what it held was not water, but a viscous mass of fresh blood. From this pool, Luo Hao could feel a vast, raging power radiating outward.

Strangest of all, at the pool’s center swirled a pair of blood-colored vortices, beneath which something seemed to be absorbing the pool’s energy, throbbing like a beating heart.

“What is this?”

Staring at the pool of blood before him, Luo Hao’s eyes betrayed a hint of bewilderment. At that moment, the ancient mirror in his dantian, silent for so long, trembled once more, and a message surfaced in his mind.

“Ten Thousand Spirits Blood Pool—formed by gathering the essence of myriad spirits, refined for a hundred days, it can be used to break through the shackles of cultivation and ascend to higher realms.”

The message instantly made Luo Hao recall the uncountable bones outside and the heaps of corpses within.

“This Dragon Ape is truly ruthless. No doubt all those corpses had their life essence forcibly extracted.” Gazing at the blood pool so close at hand, Luo Hao licked his dry lips, a mad, resolute light flickering in his eyes.