Zhen Xie Bell stood atop Wuzhong Mountain. It was said to be a supreme divine artifact—its true powers known only to Taishi Xiaxin. Normally, the Bell functioned as Wuzhong Mountain’s emblem: hung at the center of the Main Hall to symbolize the Shénméng covenant and suppress evil gods. Now that it had sounded, a momentous event must be unfolding.
One by one, the gods of Wuzhong Mountain streamed toward the Main Hall, and Ye Yu followed them. Before long, over fifty gods had gathered inside. Taishi ◆ Nоvеlіgһt ◆ (Only on Nоvеlіgһt) Xiaxin’s expression was grave as he announced, “We have just detected an overwhelming aura—it appears to be Shenkang Ren, the Fifteenth-ranked Flesh Evil God on the Evil Pantheon.”
He paused, letting the weight of that name sink in. “This god is monstrously cruel; he slew nine of our disciples. Now that he has reappeared, I, as leader of the Shénméng covenant, decree that we mobilize our top forces to exterminate him. All cultivators at the Golden God Realm and above, step forward!”
Six gods advanced in unison. Tàishǐ Xiáxīn said, “You six will accompany me to slay this evil. Everyone else, continue your cultivation—strive to reach the next level of strength!”
They saluted in turn, and the assembly dispersed. Ye Yu frowned. Only gods of Golden God Realm or higher were deemed fit to fight—what realm did Shenkang Ren himself occupy? Peak Golden God? Or even Ancient God? To rank fifteenth among evil gods and strike so much fear into Wuzhong Mountain... he could only imagine what havoc the First-ranked Evil God would wreak.
Ye Yu exhaled. The Divine Realm was indeed a place teeming with true powerhouses—but such matters lay far beyond him for now. He resolved to focus instead on strengthening himself.
Just as he turned to leave, he noticed the remaining gods hadn’t moved at all; they stood ramrod straight, watching. Curious, he paused—and then Tàishǐ Xiáxīn raised his fists and shouted, “Evil gods must die!”
A cascade of echoing voices joined in: “Evil gods must die!” The roar was colossal—so theatrical that Ye Yu felt his cheeks burn.
Moments later, Taishi Xiaxin and the six champions departed Wuzhong Mountain, even taking the Zhen Xie Bell with them. Clearly, he regarded this battle as critical. Ye Yu, meanwhile, headed in the opposite direction. He was far too weak to join such a clash—better to live and train than to die in a spectacle.
Staring up at the vast sky, he thought, The road ahead is long; don’t get cocky. Immediately, he winced. Had his fortnight on Wuzhong Mountain turned him into a drama queen too?
Half a month later, Ye Yu wandered the heights of Wuwang Mountain, eyes scanning the undergrowth. He wasn’t hunting evil gods now—he was hunting sheep. Divine sheep, to be precise: the Greed Spirit Sheep, which could turn invisible and feast on a god’s soul.
He’d only recently learned of their existence and immediately grown fascinated. If he could fuse one with Little White, the result would be perfect: an unending cycle of soul consumption plus stealth. So he set out to catch one.
But the Greed Spirit Sheep were no pushovers. Their cultivation was roughly equivalent to an early Great God Realm god, and their invisibility made them devilishly hard to track—if they stood still, they were nearly undetectable.
This is tough, Ye Yu thought, pressing Little White. “Come on, White—search every corner. Don’t miss a thing. It’s for your own good!”
Little White offered no reply—he was simply exhausted. Wuwang Mountain’s expanse was immense, its divine trees thick. After several fruitless sweeps, the little beast panted with its tongue lolling out; if not for its horns, it would look like a stray puppy.
Ye Yu sighed. Why is this so hard? Just then, the grass behind him rustled violently. He spun around as the shaking grew more intense—what was there?
In the next instant, five giant-faced sheep burst from the undergrowth, charging at him. So many at once! Ye Yu summoned a black void in a hundred-meter radius, instantly slowing their approach. Then, with precise flicks of his fingers, he tapped each enormous muzzle—just enough to stun, not kill.
When the void collapsed, all five sheep lay unconscious on the ground, frothing at the mouth. Ye Yu murmured, “Maybe I was a bit heavy-handed, but as long as they live, it’s fine.”
He wondered why they’d suddenly fled their hiding places—had something terrifying driven them here? As he pondered, a savage shockwave rippled through the air, sending him skidding backward several meters. Quick-thinking Little White grabbed his robe just in time, but the five sheep were less fortunate and were blown off somewhere into the distance.
Ye Yu clenched his fists in frustration. I almost had them! Who did this?
Before he could react further, a beam of light crashed into the ground nearby. He stepped forward and saw a grievously wounded god sprawled at his feet. The black lotus insignia on the man’s collar marked him as a member of the Wuzhong Mountain covenant.
Ye Yu’s heart skipped—wasn’t this one of the Golden God Realm warriors who had left alongside Tàishǐ Xiáxīn?
