On an exceedingly ancient tome, Mo Tianjun discovered a chapter titled Treatise on Divine Theft! The method was simple: use a divine artifact as the focal point, then employ secret rites to siphon off the residual divine power within for one’s own use. Such an idea was utterly insane! After all, how could true divine artifacts even exist in the Heavenly Realm? Yet Mo Tianjun just happened to possess one. He was convinced that the immortal who penned the Treatise on Divine Theft would never do so without purpose, so he put it to the test—and to his astonishment, it worked!
In the past few days, Mo Tianjun had managed to draw upon divine power to cast divine arts. This was precisely the ace he dared to play against ➤ NоvеⅠight ➤ (Read more on our source) Ye Yu! You, Ye Yu, are indeed mighty—but how could you hope to stand against real divine arts? And then there was the great formation he deployed: the Myriad Blood Shielding Array (the clan’s ultimate defensive grid). It didn’t merely stop you escaping—it even blocked celestial insights!
At this revelation, even the Corpse God Dongfang Po betrayed a flicker of awe. “What a Treatise on Divine Theft! Never would I have imagined that in the Heavenly Realm there existed such a means to marshal divine power. It truly broadens one’s horizons. But the process must be extremely complex, right? Otherwise you wouldn’t have needed me to hold this brat off for the duration of one incense stick!”
“Corpse God, your wisdom is unparalleled. Stealing divine power does indeed demand time!” Mo Tianjun’s lips curved into the triumphant grin of a victor. To him, matters had already unfolded toward an inevitable end—how could anything go wrong now?
“Heh. Compared to watching you perform those divine arts, I’m far more interested in those five thousand immortal souls you mentioned. So, boy, your luck just ran out!” Dongfang Po’s voice boomed as his colossal form loomed before Ye Yu. A putrid miasma was about to surge outward, and within a ten-meter radius around Ye Yu, every object drained of color into stark black and white—including the Corpse God himself.
“Wait... that’s also divine...?” Before Dongfang Po could finish, Ye Yu’s single fist shattered the projection into splinters. The Corpse God vanished, puzzled to his last breath. Why had true immortals in the Heavenly Realm begun to wield divine arts? Strictly speaking, Mo Tianjun’s feat wasn’t entirely unprecedented—he’d drawn on artifact-borne power via the Treatise on Divine Theft, a convoluted ritual that only produced a fragment of real divine art. But Ye Yu? Divine arts at the mere raise of a hand? Ridiculous!
And the one most stunned wasn’t Dongfang Po, but Mo Tianjun. His face had gone deathly pale. “Brother, are you pulling my leg? That was a divine-clan projection—and you shattered it with one punch? Isn’t that... overkill?” Who would now buy him the time of one incense stick? Who?! Internally, Mo Tianjun was tearing his hair out, unable to believe reality.
Yet Ye Yu flickered into view before him. Mo Tianjun drew a ragged breath.
“You... you have until one incense stick’s time,” he stammered, cheeks burning with shame. Here he was, clearly outmatched—and demanding a delay? If the tables were turned, he’d never spare an opponent a second. But Mo Tianjun was no Ye Yu.
“Take your time. I’ll enjoy the show.” Ye Yu’s calm invitation left Mo Tianjun utterly stupefied. Who actually waited for a beating?
In truth, Ye Yu was genuinely intrigued by the Treatise on Divine Theft. Siphoning divine power from an artifact to cast divine arts in the Heavenly Realm? tsk tsk, a novel approach indeed—he’d never heard of it before! And what divine arts lay inscribed on that tattered cloak? His curiosity burned.
Mo Tianjun’s six arms flitted in frantic motion, and the runes on the cloak grew ever brighter. Soon one incense stick’s time had passed. With a violent wrench, he drew a faint sliver of divine power from the cloak. Ye Yu frowned. Such impure, meager energy—how could it fuel any true divine art? Was the Treatise on Divine Theft flawed? Or was the cloak nearly spent of power?
Just then Mo Tianjun’s face flickered with manic triumph. Having divine power at last, his confidence returned. “Ye Yu, the gravest mistake of your life was letting me extract that power! Now behold the terror of divine arts!” He unleashed his six arms in a flurry of hand seals.
“No!” Ye Yu suddenly clamped Mo Tianjun’s right hand, interrupting the process in an instant. The expression on Mo Tianjun’s face was priceless. “Why break protocol now?!”
“You were casting the Wind of Resentment, right? Your hand seals are wrong—you’ve reversed the index fingers. The right index should be above the left.” With this simple correction—naming the art and pointing out his error—Mo Tianjun’s spirit shattered. It was as if one had shown him that the treasured heirloom box he’d so carefully stored couldn’t even be opened properly. A surge of defeat and humiliation crashed over him.
Ye Yu sighed with disappointment. He’d expected some grand spectacle, only to see the Wind of Resentment—an art he’d mastered in the dream realm—once again.
“Honestly, the Wind of Resentment has hardly any real lethality. Since you so desperately wanted to see divine arts, I’ll show you the real thing.” With a thought, he unleashed the Hell of Terror!
Mo Tianjun’s eyes rolled back. He let out a blood-curdling scream, then collapsed to his knees, life snuffed out on the spot. To either side, Mo Tidi Jun and Mo Shen Jun withered like frostbitten flowers. Thus fell the one hailed as the foremost Evil Immortal of the Heavenly Realm: Mo Tianjun.
Ye Yu shook his head in quiet disbelief and casually raised his hand—snatching the tattered cloak into his grasp. Probing it with his divine sense, his expression darkened.
(I quickly tallied the votes. By majority decree, it’s time to launch the Divine Realm arc—fill the plot hole and move forward, rather than return to the dream realm. Otherwise, we’ll just keep dragging the pace!)
