Divine Stele

Divine Stele...

While Qin Wentian remained oblivious to the events that had triggered the fracturing of the Ancient Kingdom, he had heard whispers of an era when Grand Xia was an undivided realm, devoid of the myriad continents and transcendent powers that now dotted its landscape.

Once upon a time, the Ancient Kingdom of Grand Xia had reigned supreme, its dominion extending far and wide, replete with an abundance of formidable experts. Against its might, no opposing force stood a chance.

Yet fate's capricious hand had intervened, cleaving Grand Xia into nine separate entities, ushering in the rise of transcendent powers and the division of the once-unified empire.

The current incarnation of the Ancient Kingdom bore little resemblance to its former glory. Rumors whispered that only a solitary bloodline had endured the trials of time. Whether truth or conjecture, this remained a mystery shrouded in uncertainty.

As Qin Wentian's gaze lingered upon the unfolding tableau, an unsettling tremor gripped his heart. What enigmatic treasure was this Heavenly Stele? Why did it chronicle the demise of the Ancient Kingdom of Grand Xia? Could the stele itself be a vestige from that bygone era? Puzzlement clouded his thoughts, entangling him in a web of speculation and doubt.

The Heavenly Stele Platform's existence on the Azure Continent was a puzzle he yearned to decipher. But for now, he cast aside these ruminations, fixing his attention firmly on the dramatic scene before him.

A formidable, awe-inspiring aura radiated from the woman. Its intensity seemed to challenge the very heavens, while her longsword danced with a grace that rivaled a true dragon's coiling embrace.

"Princess Tianyu, do you wish to see the bloodline of Grand Xia extinguished entirely?" The words echoed with chilling conviction, casting a pall of despair over Princess Tianyu's features. The man before her strode forward, a sinister smile of desire stretching across his visage. "Princess, have you any inkling how long I've harbored feelings for you?"

Princess Tianyu's countenance turned ashen as she clamped her lips shut, her gaze icy and resolute.

"If you yield to our desires, our offspring shall inherit our positions. These progeny, who will carry your bloodline, shall be the torchbearers of Grand Xia's future." The middle-aged man smiled lasciviously at Princess Tianyu, whose pallor grew even more pronounced as her trembling hand gripped her sword.

Did she want her lineage to persist? These men coveted her, harboring intentions dark and perverse.

"Should you acquiesce, relinquish the sword you hold," the man pressed on, his tone as cool as ice. Princess Tianyu quaked, torn by unfathomable agony. She felt as though her heart were subjected to the tortures of the underworld, its suffering a relentless torment.

But she couldn't surrender. She couldn't let the traitors prevail. She couldn't let them escape their deserved fate.

A muted clang rang out as her sword dropped to the ground.

A twisted smile of gratification adorned the middle-aged man's face as he advanced, his hands greedily caressing Princess Tianyu's skin. The object of his desire was finally within reach—a world-renowned beauty for which Grand Xia had harbored adoration.

With a flick of his wrist, his followers withdrew, leaving only the nine of them, a sinister assembly driven by their own dark desires.

The middle-aged man's sinister intent manifested as he ruthlessly tore through Princess Tianyu's garments, unveiling her immaculate, alabaster form before the sinister assembly of nine.

"Xia Tianyu, you are the embodiment of my deepest desires," he purred, his eyes ablaze with a lustful fire that consumed his restraint. His advances were relentless, driven by a longing that could no longer be contained. His hands roved across her skin, alternating between tender caresses and aggressive demands. Through it all, Princess Tianyu's silent tears bore witness to the horrors she endured. But amidst her suffering, her resolve only grew stronger.

With unwavering determination, she swore an oath that transcended time itself—be it a thousand or ten thousand years, her thirst for vengeance would remain unquenched.

"Shatter the Divine Stele into nine fragments. Each of us shall claim a shard," the man commanded in a husky voice, his insidious inspection of her body momentarily satisfied. The eight men behind him turned their gaze toward the Divine Stele beyond the palace of Ancient Grand Xia.

Henceforth, the mastery of Grand Xia's nine supreme arts would be divided among their nine bloodlines. While the Divine Stele was impervious to total destruction, it could be fractured into fragments. Thus, they intended to sever it into nine pieces, each to be entrusted to one of their ranks. Their mission would be to prevent the Divine Stele's reassembly.

Licking his lips in anticipation, the man once again cast his eyes over Princess Tianyu's exquisite form, as if savoring the taste that lay ahead. He then exited the palace, his compatriots following suit. As they departed, their most potent attacks converged upon the Divine Stele, each strike aimed at splintering the ancient artifact.

Qin Wentian's realization struck him with the force of revelation. The puzzle pieces were finally fitting into place.

The scene he bore witness to was the final vestige etched by the Divine Stele—an excerpt of history now unraveled before him. The triangular stele stood as a remnant of a once-complete whole, one of the nine fragments that comprised the Divine Stele.

The birth of Grand Xia's nine continents traced its origins to this fateful event.

Princess Tianyu's wretched plight, a tableau of degradation and humiliation, left an indelible mark upon his heart. What befell her thereafter remained a mystery lost to time.

As dictated by the middle-aged man's decree, the Divine Stele, repository of Grand Xia's nine ultimate arts, was sundered into nine pieces, each entrusted to the guardianship of those present. Their collective mission: to ensure the fragments remained forever severed, thwarting the Divine Stele's restoration.

"Hu…" Drawing back his will from the Heavenly Stele, Qin Wentian inhaled deeply. A sudden inspiration struck him, prompting him to release the Yellow Springs Monument from his interspatial ring. The monument hovered in the air, exuding a fearsome aura of blood might.

"Can your mortal form, composed of flesh and blood, endure this force?" The Ancient Will's words echoed in Qin Wentian's mind. The first phase of the trial, encompassing the initial nine steps, had focused on withstanding power-based assaults. Subsequently, the second phase delved into testing one's willpower.

Regarding the Yellow Springs Monument, its bloodthirsty potency lay in its essence. Under his command, its unleashed power remained somewhat restrained.

"Did the Azure Emperor also possess one of the nine remnants—the Yellow Springs Monument? Did he later entrust it to Fairy Qingmei, who incorporated it into the Celestial Lake's Refinement Grounds to evaluate talent and resolve? Is this yet another trial for both aptitude and determination?" A tremor coursed through Qin Wentian as his insights aligned. The Azure Emperor must have acquired one fragment of the Divine Stele, a crucial piece in a greater puzzle.

However, the whole truth remained obscured, cloaked in uncertainty and suspicion. Did those nine ancient bloodlines persist to this day? And regarding the Heavenly Stele, how did it manifest here without contention? Who was the true possessor of this triangular enigma?

Furthermore, once the Divine Stele had fractured into nine fragments, cultivators could manipulate them, just as he was doing with the Yellow Springs Monument. Did the Ancient Will truly originate from the Stele itself, or was a hidden puppeteer orchestrating these events?

Lastly, and most perplexing of all—how did any of this relate to him? He, a youth of barely twenty, couldn't possibly trace his lineage back several millennia. His father's fate, presumably met long before his birth, couldn't have been the key to this enigma.

But destiny had guided him here, either by the whims of fortune or the threads of fate. Coincidence seemed an inadequate explanation.

All of it defied reason.

Especially the uncanny resemblance between the woman his father had spirited away and Yun Mengyi.

Resigning himself to the limitations of his understanding, Qin Wentian decided to focus on his cultivation instead. The waning Ancient Wills no longer had an overwhelming influence, confirming his suspicions. The three-sided Stele was undoubtedly controlled by someone or something. Otherwise, its surge of power couldn't be accounted for.

Setting aside his bewildering musings, Qin Wentian immersed himself in his cultivation. Ridding his mind of impurities, he honed his will and heart. This reprieve provided the perfect opportunity for him to advance to the next level. Situ Po, too, must be undergoing a similar breakthrough under the ameliorated conditions.

"The Ancient Will's influence is fading," murmured Fan Le and the others below, baffled by the situation.

"Yes, but what's the reason behind it?" Ouyang Kuangsheng furrowed his brow, confounded.

Situ Po was equally perplexed but chose to table the matter for now, prioritizing his recovery.

In that moment, Yun Mengyi's eyes gleamed with a knowing light. A wistful sigh escaped her lips as she gazed upon the figure standing before the Heavenly Stele.

"You have been defeated," a voice suddenly resonated within her thoughts. No ear but hers caught those words, whispered solely for her ears.

A slight nod conveyed Yun Mengyi's acknowledgment of her loss. Her intent had mirrored Situ Po's—to challenge Qin Wentian. But she had fallen short, unable to ascend to the final step and lay claim to the Heavenly Stele that should have been hers.

"With defeat comes a choice. Pledge your loyalty to him. For the impending expedition to the Ancient Kingdom of Grand Xia, accompany him. Your familiarity with the realm exceeds his by far." The voice reverberated once more. Yun Mengyi's gaze shifted to Qin Wentian. Perhaps, destiny was beckoning her down this path.

...

Qin Wentian's cultivation advanced with remarkable ease, his progress swift. Merely a month lapsed before he transcended the constraints of the sixth level, ascending into the seventh realm of Yuanfu.

His wasn't the sole journey of growth. All those who'd faced the trial of the Heavenly Stele Steps experienced notable enhancements. Notably, those who'd climbed to the eighteenth step found their Mandates flourishing, wills solidifying, and spirits strengthening—a clear evolution in their prowess.

Chu Mang had already breached the eighth level, while Fan Le and Ouyang Kuangsheng surged into the seventh tier. Ouyang Kuangsheng poised on the brink of his ascension to the eighth. Their Mandates resonated with their newfound might.

Yun Mengyi, too, made formidable strides. Her Mandates had achieved perfection prior to the trial. Now, she'd broken through to the ninth stage of Yuanfu.

Foremost among the victors were Situ Po and Qin Wentian.

Situ Po, a ninth-level master of Yuanfu, with three Perfection Boundary Mandates.

In the realm of Yuanfu, Qin Wentian had reached the seventh stage, his three Mandates achieving the Perfection Boundary. His will had strengthened, his heart unwavering.

News of the clash between the three paramount prodigies atop the 26th step circulated among those who had left the area earlier. A heavy sense of regret gnawed at them for missing the spectacle. They hadn't witnessed the ultimate showdown between Qin Wentian and Situ Po, culminating in Qin Wentian's triumph over the Heavenly Stele Steps.

Yet, in the midst of their lament, it was lamentable that Qin Wentian's cultivation base remained modest. Time was running thin; it seemed implausible for him to vie for a prominent position on the Heavenly Fate Rankings before year's end.

However, such thoughts never crossed Qin Wentian's mind. He'd temporarily halted his cultivation, his self-assured smile belying his self-satisfaction. He recognized the growth he'd achieved during this period—the eccentrics of the Unmatched Realm, along with the rivalry with Situ Po, had presented a golden opportunity for substantial advancement.

"Thank you, Senior," Qin Wentian expressed with a respectful bow towards the elderly figure overseeing the platform, fully aware of the instrumental role the elder had played.

"Don't thank me for your own accomplishments," the old man nonchalantly retorted.

Qin Wentian's grin persisted. He perceived that this venerable figure was extraordinary in more ways than one.

"Farewell, Senior," Qin Wentian bid, preparing to take his leave.

"The Heavenly Stele is yours. Take it," the old man commanded, a declaration that ignited a glint in Qin Wentian's eyes.

This Heavenly Stele was a fragment of the Divine Stele, a fact that piqued Qin Wentian's intrigue. Was the elder bestowing this artifact upon him?

"The Heavenly Stele belongs to the conqueror of its 27th step, and you are that conqueror. Take it with you," the old man asserted impatiently.

Qin Wentian ceased formalities, promptly securing the Heavenly Stele within his interspatial ring alongside his Yellow Springs Monument. An enigmatic aura enshrouded his heart, spurring him to uncover the truths he yearned to unveil, though the dearth of information hindered his pursuit.

As he descended the steps, the old man resumed his sweeping, directing his gaze towards the horizon. A wistful warmth emanated from his eyes—a nostalgic reverie enveloping him.

...

In a bygone era, the Venerate Heavens Sect had lorded over swaths of Ancient Grand Xia, interpreting the cosmos' dance to anticipate what lay ahead. An elder, enveloped in the stars' celestial secrets, gazed heavenward. A radiance sparked within his eyes, penetrating through the void and into the Nine Heavenly Layers. The Constellation representing Grand Xia glimmered in the distance.

"An intensifying Demonic Constellation obscures the radiance of Grand Xia's own. A tempest of blood and chaos looms, ushering in winds of change. Each star shines for a power, but one among them will reign supreme, uniting the rest." The elder's heart surged, for such a prophecy was a rarity, a grand omen manifesting once in millennia.