Chapter Sixty-Seven: The Temple of Dragon Patterns

“Damn it, could that old man have done this on purpose?”
The jade-like dragon skeleton, gleaming with a pearly luster, stretched across the depths of the lost battlefield like an endless, invisible wall in the void. Standing closest to the dragon bones, Luo Hao could distinctly feel that even though only a corpse remained, the pressure emanating from its soul made his heart tremble.
If not for the protection of the ancient mirror, how could a novice at the Spirit Qi Realm like him have even approached the dragon bones? Most likely, he would have been crushed by the indestructible battle intent scattered across the battlefield the moment he set foot here.
Now, only two paths lay before him: one, to cast his consciousness into the dragon bones and attempt to obtain the “Eight Steps of the Hidden Dragon”—a peerless footwork technique that traversed the heavens, though this came with the enormous risk of instant death; or two, to abandon the Eight Steps of the Hidden Dragon and instead seek a way to escape this lost battlefield.
“All that talk about becoming a peerless powerhouse, about breaking through to the Heaven Stele Realm and going down the mountain to find Meng Li, and now I’m hesitating here? Isn’t it just a matter of risking life and limb? Fortune favors the bold—here goes nothing!”
Gazing at the dragon bones, radiant and suffused with a mysterious jade glow, Luo Hao struggled inwardly for a moment, then gritted his teeth hard, determination flashing in his eyes.
He exhaled deeply. Having made his decision, Luo Hao hesitated no more. He sat cross-legged near the dragon bones. As his eyes closed, all around him seemed to fall into profound silence.
Even in this ancient, lost battlefield, such silence felt utterly unnatural—it was a silence that penetrated the soul.
In the lost battlefield, time itself seemed to have been forgotten, the passage of years unmarked. Before the jade-like dragon bones, a thin figure sat cross-legged within the thick chaos mist. At this moment, he no longer knew how long he had been sitting, as if an old monk in deep meditation, neither sorrowful nor joyful, oblivious to the outside world.
Suddenly, an expression of pain appeared on Luo Hao’s long-still face. His frail body began to tremble uncontrollably, and at that same moment, the dragon bones across from him withdrew their divine radiance.
“Boy, so you’ve finally managed to enter the Dragon Bone Realm. But merely entering is far from enough—unless you can truly comprehend the dragon rune imprints within, it will all be for nothing!”
Upon the jade-like dragon bones appeared a silver-haired, proud dragon’s phantom, looking down at the meditating Luo Hao with an enigmatic light in its eyes and a faint smile on its face.
“It’s so hot... Is this the world inside the dragon bones? To think a world exists within one’s own body—just what level had Dragon Ao reached in his lifetime?”
Within the Dragon Bone Realm, golden dragonfire spread out like a furnace of heaven and earth. If Luo Hao had not cultivated the Twin Dragon Dominance and protected his consciousness with dragon force, he would have long since been incinerated by the dragonfire. Even so, the pain was like searing burns.
Everywhere he looked, pure golden dragonfire flowed like the very essence of the Dao of Fire—a single misstep would mean utter annihilation. Luo Hao dared not be the least bit careless, probing forward only inch by inch.
A sudden, ancient dragon’s roar—vast and majestic like a primordial chant—echoed from the golden light ahead, carrying a domineering disdain for heaven and earth.
“There, a temple.”
As Luo Hao extended his consciousness forward, he discovered, floating within that resplendent golden radiance, an ancient temple unlike any he had ever seen.
Though not large, the walls of this temple were covered with profound patterns, as if forged from iron and silver, yet flowing together as if naturally formed.
Divine dragons coiled atop the beams of the temple; the dignified dragon heads surveyed the entire Dragon Bone Realm like sovereigns. Upon the flying eaves, two more divine dragons poised to take flight.
“These patterns look so familiar… Where have I seen them before?” Luo Hao murmured to himself, then suddenly realized: he recognized these runes not merely by sight. When he first began practicing the Twin Dragon Dominance, these patterns had indeed appeared. The realization stunned him.
Dragon runes—the temple walls were built upon dragon runes. By this logic, the entire temple was constructed from these runes. One of the most profound and powerful inscriptions in all the heavens, used as building blocks for a temple—only a peerless figure like Dragon Ao could conceive of such a thing.
“The dragon race is proud, revering neither heaven nor earth. If they built a temple from dragon runes, what could possibly be enshrined within?”
Among the dragon race, ancient true dragons are born every era—unrivaled, unbound by heaven or earth, believing only in their own invincibility. What, then, would such a race enshrine in a temple built from their own runes? Luo Hao couldn’t help but wonder.
“Strange. Didn’t Dragon Ao say that the power remaining within the dragon bones was deadly to me? Why haven’t I faced any obstacles along the way?”
As Luo Hao’s consciousness neared the ancient temple, his doubts grew. Was Dragon Ao testing his courage? Or had the power within the Dragon Bone Realm long since faded away with the endless passing of ages?
The temple’s doors were not particularly grand or dazzling, but dragon shadows constantly flitted across them. Inside, the four walls were likewise covered with intricate dragon runes, yet there were no decorations at all—not even an incense cauldron.
“How odd…” he muttered again, sending his awareness further in. At last, upon the divine platform at the center of the temple, Luo Hao sensed a power identical to Dragon Ao’s original essence.
“A divine statue? Could it be an ancient true dragon or a Dragon Emperor?”
Upon the platform, golden light shimmered, and a majestic statue stood tall, radiating a certain divinity. Luo Hao felt his very consciousness tremble before it.
He tried to extend his awareness again, but was suddenly wracked by sharp pain; his consciousness nearly collapsed. Good heavens—what kind of person was Dragon Ao, truly? The dragon race’s arrogance was no myth, but this was sheer hubris—the statue was not of an ancient true dragon or a Dragon Emperor, but of Dragon Ao himself!
The statue’s eyes shone like lightning, looking down on all creation, standing as if the sole existence in the universe. It gave the sense that even the heavens themselves were too small to contain it.
To set oneself above all, to look down on everything—was this not the bearing of a true powerhouse? Luo Hao’s consciousness sighed in awe, then he understood.
The martial path is one of defiance—defying fate itself. Without such boundless ambition, such disdain for heaven and earth, how could one ever cut through thorns and reach the highest summit?
Just then, as if sensing an intruder, the statue of Dragon Ao suddenly erupted with a world-shaking aura. If the pressure from the dragon bones outside had been a tempest, this was the whole sky falling at once.
“Trespassers in the Dragon Temple shall be killed without mercy!”
Suddenly, a voice rang out from the statue’s mouth, ancient and hollow like Dragon Ao’s, resounding with the might of heaven as though it had crossed eons from the primordial void.
“Not good!”
A chill of terror surged through Luo Hao’s consciousness—a crisis more dreadful than death itself. The statue atop the platform blazed with dazzling light as every dragon rune glittered like a skyful of stars. Luo Hao only glimpsed a streak of golden light shooting toward him like an arrow loosed from a bowstring.
“So fast!”
He could not sense any change in his surroundings—only that his consciousness was struck by something fierce and began to unravel.
A spurt of blood burst from each of Luo Hao’s seven orifices as he sat cross-legged before the dragon bones, his body shaking violently. It was clear that the life force within him was rapidly slipping away.
Just then, with a strange vibration, the nascent spirit in Luo Hao’s lower dantian suddenly erupted with golden light. An overwhelming battle intent surged forth, and from the “War” character imprinted at his brow came a cacophony of ancient sounds—iron horses, clashing weapons, the spirit of conquest rolling like a tiger swallowing the land.
After a single resonant cry, the golden “War” seal leapt from Luo Hao’s dantian and instantly merged into the jade-like dragon bones before him.