At the bottom of the Left Right Valley, the ground appeared perfectly level.
Yet Ye Yu’s profound understanding of formation techniques told him something was off.
A faint ripple of divine power pulsed just beneath his feet.
Whoever had laid this formation was hardly a master—it was crude and easily unraveled.
Breaking it would be simple.
After careful thought, Ye Yu cast a spell that let him slip inside without shattering the formation.
If he destroyed it outright, the caster would be alerted.
Better to proceed quietly and securely.
Once within the formation, Ye Yu discovered a hidden world below—a subterranean palace.
Though dimly lit, the halls were exceedingly spacious.
“Old bastard, you jerk, if you’ve got the guts, let me out so we can fight to the death!”
“Hey, say something, you thief!”
Those two furious cries rang out—all too familiar.
Veiling himself in shadow, Ye Yu crept forward and quickly located a sealed chamber.
There, after so long, sat Hong Zhencheng.
He was bound by five black-dragon chains that rendered him utterly immobile.
Even so, he hadn’t stopped cursing his captor.
Under the circumstances, his rage sounded more like powerless fury.
Ye Yu scanned the tomb palace with his divine sense. Confirming that it held only himself and Hong Zhencheng, he revealed himself to the prisoner.
“Alright, alright, stop hollering!” Ye Yu said.
Hong Zhencheng froze for a moment, then broke into tears.
“Divine Lord, I truly am not a traitor to the Boundless Hall! I knew nothing of Lord Dongfang’s schemes! I don’t even know why he spared me! Believe me, every word I’m saying is true!”
His speech grew increasingly frantic.
To him, death was not the worst fate.
Back in the Boundless Hall, actual death would at least have brought peace.
What infuriated him most was that he was innocent of any rebellion—yet Bai Shuang had deliberately ordered that Qi Bihuai not touch him, instantly making him the center of suspicion.
In moments, every fellow disciple wanted to tear him apart.
He could never forget those vindictive glares.
He was blameless, yet utterly unable to defend himself.
It was too unjust.
From that moment on, Hong Zhencheng had resolved to die—perhaps then he would find rest among his comrades.
But Bai Shuang and Dongfang Yelai denied him even that—they cast him into this dungeon, abandoning him entirely.
Here he was utterly alone; beyond endless curses, he could do nothing.
Maybe only in that way could he rid himself of guilt.
Otherwise, in the silence, memories would flood back—those eyes filled with hatred.
Hong Zhencheng wept and pleaded with Ye Yu.
Ye Yu’s expression softened.
He really did look pitiable.
Yet why had Dongfang Yelai treated him so unusually?
It wasn’t pity—that was impossible.
Dongfang had no qualms about exploiting his own senior disciples, let alone a mere junior.
Moreover, Bai Shuang himself had insisted he not be killed.
The whole affair was baffling.
What did Hong Zhencheng possess?
Before Ye Yu could ponder further, the formation above began to stir.
He vanished into darkness at once.
Using mind-transmission, he warned Hong Zhencheng, “Someone’s coming. Act as if nothing’s happened and wait for the right moment.”
Then, uncertain, he added, “Be smart—don’t do anything stupid.”
Experience taught him caution.
Hong Zhencheng, never one to follow rules, merely spat another curse.
“Old bastard, screw you!” he shouted, voice booming—hardly the sound of a man in chains.
Soon, a figure stumbled in: none other than Dongfang Yelai, absent for many days.
A gruesome wound ran across his chest, blood gushing free.
His face was deathly pale and his steps faltered—he was gravely injured.
Hong Zhencheng gaped in shock.
He almost spoke to express concern, but bit back his words.
He hated this master of his—the traitor of the Divine Pact!
Without Dongfang Yelai, the Boundless Hall might still stand.
Dongfang strode forward and dispelled the black-dragon chains with divine power.
Then he collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.
Freed, Hong Zhencheng frowned and softly asked, “What are you doing?”
Hidden in shadow, Ye Yu was puzzled too.
Dongfang Yelai managed a bitter smile.
“I don’t know what I’m doing either—perhaps it’s my last conscience awakening. Disciple, don’t hate me. I am a god, but I also have attachments. The greatest irony is that this attachment has haunted me my entire life.”
He spat a mouthful of blood.
His aura flickered like a dying ember, his divine power barely perceptible.
This was no act.
Hong Zhencheng moved forward—but Dongfang Yelai raised a hand to stop him.
Then he began to recount recent events.
After the Boundless Hall fell and Xie Buyu died,
Dongfang believed his long-cherished wish would finally be fulfilled: to claim the Heaven-Shattering Axe (玄霸噬天斧).
But when he asked Bai Shuang for it, he was refused.
He was told Gou Langtu had made no arrangement for it and that it should be delivered to the High Lord for judgment.
Although displeased, {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} Dongfang remained silent before Qi Bihuai.
The trio then traveled to Mount Baimien to find the old dog Gou Langtu.
Dongfang immediately demanded the Heaven-Shattering Axe.
Gou Langtu did not refuse—instead, he ordered Bai Shuang to hand it over, a faint smile playing on his lips.
