Chapter 149: A Mother's Status Rises with Her Son's Prestige
The silver streaks raining down were all forged from remnants of the strongest divine remains—fragments of supreme treasure bones and hides from Pureblooded Archaic Beasts.
The divine wings of the Solar Crow. The ashen horns of the Chi Dragon. The sacred carapace of the Black Tortoise.
Each piece, once an apex artifact of the ancient world.
Now? Twisted into spectral weapons by some unseen force. Silent. Lethal. Devastating.
Boom!Like the crashing of waves against sheer cliffs, a divine tide of silver streaks slammed endlessly into the dam formed by the Starry Sky Array.
That dam—pillars of pure starlight—held fast, unmoved by the onslaught. A radiant wall of divine defense.
Shi Yi's side was steady. But elsewhere, chaos reigned.
Fierce Beasts and Human cultivators, those who knew only how to run, were dying in droves. The silver tide chased them like wolves. Endless. Relentless. There was no escape. The passage out of the Hundred Shatter Peaks Realm hadn't reopened. The entire realm had become a sealed slaughterhouse.
Catching turtles in a jar. That was all it was now.
Splat!
A flash of silver. A spray of blood.
A ten-meter-tall Golden-Horned Giant was still fleeing when a polished white treasure—an elephant tusk blade—sliced clean through its neck from behind. Its massive head hit the ground and rolled.
Its dead eyes stared blankly, still confused.
Why? It had run so far. Why had it died? Was fleeing the wrong move from the start?
"Ahh—!"
Not far off, another silver streak split the sky.
Inside it: a divine weapon formed from a Solar Crow's wings. Flames burst from its form—like dozens of miniature suns roaring into existence. The Human cultivators who had turned away from Shi Yi, who had refused to believe in him, were incinerated on the spot. Charred husks turned to ash.
Only their weapons remained.
But even those unclaimed treasures—once their owners fell—were swept into the divine tide, absorbed into the ever-growing current. One stream after another, all merging into that cataclysmic flood of silver.
The Supreme Tide of divine relics had become a god-slaying weapon.
Boom!A drumbeat shook the heavens.
A war drum—made from the flayed skin of a Chi Dragon.
The sound alone shattered bones and ruptured organs. Thousands of beings coughed blood, kneeling where they stood.
Among their clans, they were unmatched prodigies.
But here?
They were blades of grass before a wildfire. Meaningless. Crushed beneath the weight of a world that didn't care.
Boom. Boom. Boom!
Each drumbeat echoed like thunder.
Ribs cracked. Spirits shattered.
More than two thousand died from the resonance alone—mainly fleeing Fierce Beasts, though a few Human cultivators were swept away too.
And still, the divine tide surged against the Starry Sky Array. Like a flood crashing into a stone mountain—it couldn't move the foundation.
At the heart of that mountain stood Shi Yi and Shi Hao. Like twin peaks above the clouds, they anchored the Human forces into a formation that stretched across ten thousand miles. Their presence turned chaos into order.
"Brother, how long will this tide last?" Shi Hao asked.
He looked relaxed. Casual, even. The divine tide wasn't putting pressure on him at all.
Because the Starry Sky Array distributed the force evenly across its network. Like sunlight through leaves, each cultivator bore only a whisper of its true weight.
"That wave won't last beyond two hours," Shi Yi answered calmly.
"And if it does?" Shi Hao challenged.
"Then aside from us, everyone else inside this realm will die. That includes even mighty existences—like Bi Fang and the Demon Tree of Pú."
Shi Yi's dual-pupiled eyes flashed open.
He saw everything.
He saw the moment-to-moment slaughter beyond the array. Countless cultivators and beasts cut down. Their treasures, both ancient and newly refined, swept away to join the divine tide.
This wasn't a random calamity. It was designed.
A scheme, old as the realm itself.
A trap that lured outsiders in with promises of fortune, only to gut them and harvest their relics.
It reminded Shi Yi of something from his past life: the financial markets. A system that fed off the naïve. Retail traders drawn in and bled dry. Over and over.
The Hundred Shatter Peaks were no different.
Every few centuries, a new crop of "leeks" would pour in. And the realm would feast.
"What happens if they all die?" Shi Hao asked.
"Then no more leeks next time," Shi Yi said flatly.
"…Leeks?" Shi Hao looked baffled.
"You idiot," growled the Nine-Headed Golden Lion, curling its lip. "If everyone dies, who'll dare send their prodigies here next time?"
"You just called me an idiot?" Shi Hao glared.
"Stupid and proud of it," the Lion shot back.
"Say that again and I'll pound you!" Shi Hao raised his fists.
"Both of you shut up," Shi Yi snapped. "One more word and I'll throw you into the divine tide myself."
Silence.
But glares were exchanged like drawn swords.
Upper Realm. Nine Heavens and Ten Earths. Three Thousand Dao Provinces.
Heaven-Mending Sect. A place where Laws flowed like oceans and immortal essence blanketed the land.
Deep within its Sea of Profound Laws, five indistinct figures sat in meditation, half-visible through a shroud of divine light.
Time passed. Who knows how long.
A God—one who had ignited his Divine Flame—approached, kneeling in reverence.
One figure stirred. Eyes opened.
"How fares the Holy Child?"
"He is well."
"Where is he now?"
"He ventured into the Hundred Shatter Peaks—searching for fortune. He brought both Human cultivators and Fierce Beasts."
"Hundred Shatter Peaks? That lower realm in the Eight Domains… Whose spiritual field is that?"
"It belongs to someone. But…"
"It doesn't matter," said the first voice. "Our Holy Child gracing that place with his presence is honor enough. If anyone gives him trouble, erase them."
"Yes, Exalted One."
When the Divine Flame cultivator departed, the other four slowly opened their eyes.
Each of these five had already walked their Great Dao to its peak. In the future, each would rise as an Emperor of a Great Province.
In later ages, the heavens would grow more constrained. Even Great Emperors would live no more than ten thousand years. But now, with immortal essence still abundant, lifespans could stretch into the millions.
These five—now seated in silence on their high thrones—looked down on the Sea of Laws like gods of old.
"Does the Holy Child lack cultivation resources?" asked the third.
"Impossible," said the fourth, who had spoken first. "Everything has already been prepared."
"Then why seek treasure in some backwater field?" asked the fifth.
"Perhaps… for his mother," the second murmured.
"Filial devotion. Loyalty. Honor. Righteousness. Integrity. A sense of shame. Outstanding," said the first, nodding.
"Filial piety is the root of virtue. It's just a pity that the Holy Child's mother lacks the talent to ignite her own Divine Flame," said the third with a sigh.
"She's been lifted by her son's greatness. She has a worthy child," the fifth said softly, his voice warm with approval.