Nine Venoms Sect Founder

Chapter 102: The Saint-Empress' Collapse

From elementary insight to mandate, each of a mystery's six levels carried extreme difficulties. But the hardest to break into were the first, the fourth, and the last. Profound enlightenment in any Mystery was a massive leap, enabling the cultivator to accomplish legendary feats such as creating tsunamis out of thin air or making flame arrows rain from the sky. Before the Grand Cataclysm, most top Empyrean Monarchs were at the profound enlightenment stage, while Demi-Emperors either were at profound enlightenment or at the sublime state. Granted, Heaven's laws stunted their progress, Harun's Mystery cultivation speed was still off the charts. 

But to cross this step, secluded cultivation wasn't enough. Experts had to immerse themselves in the element they attempted to comprehend—cultivating in volcanos and graveyards was a routine matter. The 120 Desolation Corpses were Harun's Life and Death whirlpool, channeling those two forces at a perfect balance to feed him insights. Three days of cultivation passed in a heartbeat, and though he was still far from a breakthrough, Harun had taken another step toward it. At the same time, his avatar's free miracles helped him collect a large quantity of Spiritual Incense and worshippers by the hundreds. At this rate, one to two months of cultivation in the Dark Stone city would be enough to break through to the suffering-stage of the Human Realm. 

Of course, the attachment Harun built through the miracles wasn't as strong as his Birusk clansmen's yet. At the same time, it carried many sufferings that'd batter him during his breakthrough. Still, Harun was satisfied by his current achievements, and wasn't the only one making headways. Jiyan refined plenty of toxic souls, making her first Yin Core grow larger and more robust. Mehran studied and compared the fifth elder's formation attainments to his own—and grew steadily as well. 

Tapping his cosmic pouch, Harun summoned and laid down the 10,000 Serene Soul Crystals sent by Reverend Weeping Soul. As their name implied, Serene Soul Crystals were soul tranquilizers refined from a sentient being's peaceful death. Few understood the refinement process, but not only did Serene Soul Crystals heal the soul, they also increased its fortitude and amplified soul-related gains. For Harun and Jiyan who recently refined hundreds of souls, they had a superb appeal. Harun set aside 4,000 for himself, 3,000 for Jiyan, and the rest for future refinements—then returned to cultivation. 

At first, he wished to infiltrate the Soul Refining Hall to steal their core method, and destroy them from the inside. But now that he obtained the mantra from the souls, he could start working on comprehending and transforming it. 

"So many things to cultivate. So little time…" Harun lamented, but before he could shift back to cultivation mod, a desperate call of his avatar brought him out of the system. There, Jiyan stood—dressed in an off-the-shoulder gown—and welcomed Harun with a smile. 

"Took you long enough. Cultivation is all nice and good, but you can't just lock yourself behind a door for a century. Break time," Jiyan declared, pulled Harun by the arms, and laid him into the healing city's nightlife. 

"Cultivation, night with Jiyan. Night with Jiyan, cultivation…" Harun quickly weighed the options, and made the only rational choice possible. josei

…

Meanwhile, a young woman with long, curly white hair, hobbled down a dim cavern's alleyways. Fresh blood stained her golden robe, the embroidered blue orchids lost their shine, and the jet-black sword she held in her right hand trembled uncontrollably. Gasping for breath, the woman used the walls to support herself as she limped at a distant gate. Who could imagine that the Saint-Empress, one of the main players of the 10,000 Sect War, would fall to such dire straits? 

Tattered and bloodied, Dilnaz reached the gate and tumbled down. Though she knew that this place carried extreme dangers that made past Emperors avoid it like the plague, she'd not expected that even the worst rumors couldn't compare to the truth—what a slaughterhouse. Then again, considering her condition, it's not like she had a choice. Dragging herself from the ground, Dilnaz sat up, resting her back against the cavern walls. 

*Cough* *Cough* *Cough* 

After coughing three mouthfuls of blood, she regained some of her breath, and glanced at the gate which seemed so close—yet completely out of reach. Nearly two centuries had passed since the Grand Cataclysm. But though Dilnaz's strength and influence had increased massively, the years had not been kind to her. The unrivaled cultivation speed her sword granted her was soon offset by bouts of blind rage and madness that brought her increasingly closer to complete insanity. 

From the get-go, Dilnaz knew the risks. But even the threat of madness couldn't challenge her devotion to supreme power. Dilnaz didn't doubt that without the sword, to say nothing of a leading position, she'd have been sacrificed by the clan already. But knowing that her madness would later lead her to self-destruction, Dilnaz rushed into this ancient place, hoping to snatch some opportunities—the result spoke for itself. 

A veil of darkness covered the ground. Misty arrows shot up, stabbing Dilnaz's forehead. Her eyes glazed over, and again she tumbled down. This time, though, Dilnaz leaped up, full of strength, and moved left and right—seeking someone in an imaginary crowd. 

"Jiyan? Where are you? Come back. Jiyan! Jiyan! I'm sorry. I will try to be better. Come back, please? Jiyan!" Dilnaz's voice grew more hysterical. Her eyes went bloodshot, and she clawed at the cavern wall—as if pulling something, someone, back to her. The Saint-Empress' magnificent nails broke, the friction hacked at her palm and fingers, yet she still clawed away. Stumbling, Dilnaz dropped on her knees. The imaginary crowd and hope to find Jiyan disappeared, replaced by a middle-aged man with short white hair worn in a topknot. 

The man smiled at her and offered his right hand. But when their icy-blue eyes met, Dilnaz broke down, and tears freely streamed down her cheeks. 

"Agiri? You're back? I knew you wouldn't abandon me. Anyone can abandon me, anyone can betray me. But you...only you, will always stay with me," Dilnaz blurted and rushed into Agiri's arms, but the illusion vanished—returning her to the cavern world. Dilnaz's face twisted with a blend of rage and grief. Hatred mixed in, and her eyes never seemed to know what emotion they wished to portray. 

"AAAAAAAAARGH!" She howled and banged her fists against the cavern walls. But as the walls could withstand the all-out attack of a peak-level Dao Emperor, Dilnaz only managed to break her fists, and exhaust that brief surge of strength.

As weak as a mortal woman, Dilnaz fell, bit her lower lip till blood dripped, and glanced at the door. Past memories flooded her brain—how a forced marriage became a fairy tale, yet still ended in a nightmare. 

"All men are worthless. And Agiri...you are the crown of worthlessness," Dilnaz barked and crawled toward the door. Another male face materialized in her mind, a seemingly helpless young man who twice held her fate in his palm—dominating her entirely. More than anything, Dilnaz loathed that feeling. Using that hatred as fuel, she banged her bloodied palm against the door, sending ripples throughout the whole cavern. 

The move drained all her reserves, and falling unconscious, Dilnaz didn't see the gate open. A young man dressed in a monastic robe stepped out, glanced at the unconscious empress, and dragged her into the secret chamber. 

Hours passed before Dilnaz awoke, and she was startled to see the back of a young monk with short black hair. 

"That's a lot of animosity and grief for one person to carry. No wonder you dared jump into this place with your cultivation level. You must not value your life. Still, impressive that you reached the gate," the monk started, but the words flew past Dilnaz's ears. From the monk, she could feel a familiar and nauseating energy that gave her murder-urges. But at the same time, while he didn't display the tiniest bit of aura, the monk's presence dispelled all negativity from her, preventing her from making a move.

The pitch-black sword by Dilnaz's side morphed into an armored male's appearance. Without glancing at Dilnaz, the male prostrated himself toward the monk, and dared not speak a word.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Dilnaz blurted out. At her words, the monk arched his head back, casting his golden eyes at the ceiling. 

"Who am I? What do I want? Good questions. Unfortunately, I suffer from an identity struggle and can't answer. Who am I supposed to be? Who do I want to be? I'd like to know as well," the monk replied, then cast a sidelong glance at Dilnaz.

"Though, something does surface. You can call me Little Six."