Chapter Thirty-One: When You Chant, I Am Listening

Wuyun instructed the Dou King to slightly lift the lid of the cauldron, collecting a multitude of metallic solutions. Then, in the cool interior of the cauldron, the temperature began to rise. Just as the suffocating heat peaked, a cyan barrier formed on the exterior, sealing off the searing energy.

Bang!

The cauldron knocked open a corner of its seal. Amidst the Dou King’s incantations, it shrank smaller and smaller before plunging into the Soulwater of Mo Kong. At the current temperature of the cauldron, entering the Soulwater was like boiling water roiling furiously. But strangely, after passing through, all signs of turbulence vanished.

Once the cauldron emerged, the Soulwater dissipated, revealing a massive passageway. Inside stood a dull-witted Bull-faced Ming Clan member, so powerful he could slay a peak Godbreaker in an instant, yet now left dazed and confused.

Before he could roar in fury, a feeble ray from the Eye of Destruction shone upon him, locking onto his location. In his terror, a crimson beam shot forth. Only cultivators who had mastered the art of space and the power therein could outrun the speed of light!

The Bull-faced Ming Clan knew nothing of such cultivation. In an instant, he was struck at three hundred thousand meters per second, his spirit form instantly shattered.

Without the protection of the Soulwater, he was powerless to resist in the face of such overwhelming force. Yet he was not utterly destroyed. Under the faint ray, his spirit body dispersed into mist—a desperate survival method, akin to rebirth from a drop of blood. In this state, he could do nothing as the Eye of Destruction ravaged him, unable to flee or hide, until the faint ray could no longer sense him and the attack gradually receded.

By rights, the Bull-faced Ming Clan should not have been struck so many times; even his secret arts should have shielded him. Why, then, did it come to this?

As peace slowly returned to the space, the misty spirit form gathered once more. Opening his eyes, he strained to see—the cauldron was right beneath the mist.

No wonder the assault never ceased—the shrunken cauldron was hidden here!

A mouthful of green blood spurted from the Bull-faced Ming Clan’s lips as he whispered feebly, “I die with regrets. Though I am but a phantom soul of Emperor Fanna, I retain many of his memories. Who are you, to know the cauldron’s incantation?”

Who could imagine that controlling this cauldron required only the right incantation? Whether whispered or recited, possession belonged to whoever knew it. This was Emperor Fanna’s cunning: to prevent his phantom souls from developing independent will, he set this restriction.

If a phantom soul perished before completing its task, it mattered not. The cauldron would remain, awaiting another soul—so long as the incantation was transmitted from the Immortal Realm, another would come to claim it and fulfill the mission.

“My true self cannot possibly send commands down from the upper realm. If I still exist, he would know! Who sent you, no—who are you?” the Bull-faced Ming Clan pressed.

As he questioned, the cauldron grew, and images of Wuyun and the others appeared upon its lid. First, they monitored the Tiger-faced Immortal’s actions. Once certain he was still entangled with tribulation lightning, Wuyun teased, “Think back—when you recited the incantation, was anyone eavesdropping?”

The Bull-faced Ming Clan was dumbstruck. He strained to recall each time he’d uttered the words, and at his level, his memory was as vivid as an image: every detail crystal clear.

“There was only one time that’s suspicious!” He seemed to remember, gritting his teeth. “That time, the collected Soulwater boiled, soul power surged, and a massive cloud formed. I paid it no mind, only that once, when I recited the incantation…”

“You—you used some divine art to overhear? Impossible! This cauldron bears the character of ‘immortal’ inscribed by Emperor Fanna himself, blocking all divine senses and supernatural powers. Even someone from the Immortal Realm, forcing their way in, would perish together with it—never would it yield.”

The Bull-faced Ming Clan pointed at Wuyun. The latter nodded. “I was that very cloud!”

“What a coincidence. I dozed off, and when I woke, I heard you endlessly muttering. The controlling spell was so simple, and yet you even got it wrong and had to repeat it!”

“I’ll fight you to the death!” The Bull-faced Ming Clan lunged forward, hoping to seize control of the cauldron from within. But the Dou King had long since sealed the four entrances. As soon as the Bull-faced Ming Clan clung to the lid, a gentle tremor from the cauldron shattered him once more.

“Emperor Fanna trusts no one but the words he left within this cauldron! What a magnificent vessel, yet it cannot fully descend into this world!” Wuyun lamented. Despite all his calculations, with the Tiger-faced Immortal in relentless pursuit, their efforts had failed; the treasure could not be preserved.

As for the Eye of Destruction withdrawing, it was because the cauldron, once a grand artifact, had been damaged and reduced to the level of an ordinary Dao implement—no longer a threat to this space. Indeed, the spirit of space itself, the so-called laws of heaven, might even refine it into a weapon for its own use!

Manifesting again, the Bull-faced Ming Clan was even weaker. Without the cauldron’s protection, he could not withstand the immense pull from the space rifts and was drawn helplessly backward, swallowed by a fissure as terrifying as a demon’s maw.

After a long while, Long Yi nervously asked, “Elder, is he truly dead? It’s said the Ming Clan have many ways to escape death, cunning and resourceful, often rising from the grave to strike back. He…”

“He’s dead! See how the character left by Emperor Fanna glows with a lustrous sheen? It is relaying this information to the main body.”

Long Yi shuddered. If this cauldron could be sent once, then perhaps dishes, bowls, and towers could come a dozen times! Before he could voice his worries, Long Yun boasted, “In the message just transmitted, I added a divine phrase. By the time they decipher the insult, we’ll be long gone!”

Everyone was speechless.

Just as the Dou King urged the use of the collected metallic solution and Soulwater to repair the cauldron, a few bubbles drifted over from afar. Before they could envelop anything, the aura from the cauldron burst them apart!

A joke—now that they possessed a Dao implement, what need was there to fear the illusions of dreaming bubbles?

The Tiger-faced Immortal approached, his face dark, body shrinking, each step accompanied by thunder as he advanced upon Wuyun. The immense gravity did not budge him in the slightest, and atop his head a monstrous, peacock-like tree endured countless bolts of tribulation lightning, its branches charring by the hundreds.

Seeing this, Long Yi sighed in admiration. “The charcoal left from the failed tribulation of this demon tree can be used to cultivate fire and lightning arts—it’s a rare treasure even in the Immortal Realm!”

The rainbow-hued demon tree was near death. When its life finally faded, its soul was drawn into the gem on the Tiger-faced Immortal’s forehead, and the tribulation lightning, its task complete, slowly vanished into thin air.

This was the art of transference—the Tiger-faced Immortal had used the demon tree as a shield, shifting the target onto himself as well. In an instant, one of the three strongest beings on Qianluo Star was gone.

“Trying to escape?”

Just as the Tiger-faced Immortal raised his bell, the cauldron instantly teleported away, vanishing without a trace.

This, too, was one of the cauldron’s abilities: it could shift space briefly. After three uses, a strange tunnel appeared.

“Elder, where are we?” Long Yi asked with the utmost respect. Seeing that Wuyun did not answer after a long while, he decided to observe for himself.

All passages within the Magnetic Star led to danger—space rifts. Of the seventeen known to Liu Ruyan, none were suppressed by treasures; Wuyun knew of forty-three, twenty-six of which contained treasures.

Some were grand artifacts, others Dao implements. In the world of Qianluo, what did it mean if a small realm possessed not even a single Dao implement?

“The last three, I understand. Of the remaining forty, I know only these ones,” Wuyun said obliquely. Long Yi did not press further—the cauldron was under the Dou King’s control.

The Dou King repaired the cauldron while directing its movements. When a dead end appeared ahead, everyone’s gaze turned in anticipation.

“Where… where are we?” Wuyun realized he was lost. In his memory, every passage was remarkably similar, and with the passage of time, some had shifted—how could he tell them apart?

They couldn’t possibly return to the planet’s surface just to confirm their location.

Thinking of the Tiger-faced Immortal, everyone gave up the idea. Wuyun said, “As long as we avoid those three terrifying places, with the cauldron for protection, there’s no harm in opening the way.”

Time was running out; the Tiger-faced Immortal could track them down at any moment. If not for the unique environment, a mere few hundred meters’ teleportation would be like moving his left paw to his right.

But with the cauldron, Little Bug finally relaxed—until Wuyun’s gaze fixed on him once more.

“The Buddhist light is spent, truly gone!” Little Bug confessed helplessly, pointing to his chest with an embarrassed grin. “Unfortunately, I managed to accumulate some Buddhist energy from redeeming wandering souls!”

“How did you do that?” Little Bug’s eyes widened with envy, wishing he could crack open the other’s head to learn the secret. His greed flared, but he quickly calmed himself through meditation.

“All things obey the law of energy conservation. When a soul’s power vanishes, another force must arise. This technique can only be grasped intuitively, not taught or explained.”

It wasn’t that Wuyun was unwilling—some truths ran too deep, touching upon the essence of things. Like primitive civilizations wielding atomic bombs without mastering steel—for the world around, it would be a calamity, a sin!

Besides, he couldn’t teach what he himself had only dimly comprehended in a muddled trance blessed by Buddhist power.

With the Buddhist light replenished, Little Bug was instantly invigorated, repeating his old trick. As soon as he entered, the cauldron shrank and followed.

Passing through the passage Little Bug opened, they pressed on for hundreds of kilometers, then a thousand, but still found no trace of him. Even the winding tunnels this time seemed unlike Little Bug’s usual industrious manner.

“Elder, just how much Buddhist light did you give Little Bug? If he keeps going, he’ll burrow right through the planet!” the Dou King complained, drained from using his energy, stamina, and spirit to control the cauldron. He had thought owning a treasure would make him a winner, but instead he’d become a laborer.

At his words, Long Yi calmly calculated, “When we entered, the diameter was one hundred and thirty meters, and every three hundred meters the tunnel bent. By now, we’ve passed through more than three thousand three hundred bends. Something’s wrong!”