The Sacred Tower Blueprint was not merely a simple schematic for forging the sacred tower.
In truth, the blueprint itself was an immensely precious sacred artifact.
Only after Wen Shuangbai received it did she sense the profound essence of a master artificer contained within.
Back then, to craft the Sacred Tower, Ye Qingrong poured her heart and soul into the endeavor. She studied the history of artifact forging and runic arrays on the Xuantian Continent, distilling all her insights and life’s work into this very blueprint.
The materials required for the Sacred Tower were anything but ordinary. To fuse rare treasures like the Star-Moon Divine Tree and Moonstone together, Ye Qingrong searched for a suitable flame for a long time—to no avail.
Then one day, as she gazed at the blazing sun, enlightenment struck.
"Yaoling"—the essence of the sun.
Thus, in the final step of forging the Sacred Tower, Ye Qingrong ignited the Yaoling Heart Technique, sacrificing her sacred body as the flame to shape the tower.
With this, the Sacred Tower emerged into the world, sealing away malevolent spirits and sheltering the realm for five centuries.
Now, Wen Shuangbai finally understood why, despite there being Seven Saints five hundred years ago, Ye Qingrong’s name was absent among them.
Because Ye Qingrong was the Sacred Tower.
And now, this blueprint born from Ye Qingrong’s sacrifice floated silently within Wen Shuangbai’s spiritual sea.
Though she had temporarily assimilated its knowledge, the intricate arrays inscribed within were far too profound for her to master instantly.
Most would require years of contemplation—a lifelong boon.
This was the legacy and blessing left by the Sacred Tower and the countless predecessors who came before her.
After successfully inheriting this knowledge, the Hall of Inheritance vanished, and Wen Shuangbai was transported by the tower’s power to the core space.
Standing at the base, she looked up.
Before her stretched a spiraling white jade tower—the innermost, most pivotal heart of the Sacred Tower.
The Sacred Tower had three layers:
The outer layer imprisoned the demonic city within countless pocket realms.
The middle layer housed the legacy star halls of great masters.
And the innermost layer was this white jade tower.
The tower was warded with an anti-flight array, spanning eighty-one floors, with a grand hall at its peak.
The hall was crafted from a translucent crystal, glass-like in clarity.
Thanks to her keen vision, Wen Shuangbai could see a vibrant crimson banner fluttering at its center—the final destination of the Xuantian Grand Competition.
"!!!"
Finally—here!
Without hesitation, Wen Shuangbai scooped up the bouncing, cheering Four Hundred (who was hopping at her feet) and dashed up the stairs.
The blueprint’s power had been overwhelming; she’d risked her spiritual sea rupturing to absorb it.
The process had taken time, and she wasn’t sure how far the other sect disciples had climbed.
But the banner still stood—no one had claimed victory yet. She had to hurry!
Her feet moved swiftly, but her eyes were just as busy, scanning her surroundings.
Each floor’s steps were lined with Heart Demon Stones, a safeguard for the tower’s arrays.
Those burdened by inner demons or tainted by darkness would never ascend.
Meanwhile, the jade walls were carved with intricate, arcane formations—the very arrays that sustained the outer realms and the star halls.
Having already overcome her heart demon in the Divine Mirage Valley, Wen Shuangbai cleared each floor with ease… until the seventh.
The lazy man-eating flower coiled around her wrist suddenly sprang to life, petals flaring wide as it launched into the air.
Caught off guard, Wen Shuangbai shouted, "Ninety Million, stop!"
After Xie Ziyin gifted her the flower, the old physician Ye had secretly tried to buy it from her, raising his offer from thirty million all the way to ninety million spirit stones.
According to Old Man Ye, he’d even emptied his coffin funds—he desperately wanted it.
Wen Shuangbai refused, but afterward, she gleefully renamed the flower to match Four Hundred’s naming style.
This was a flower worth ninety million spirit stones, after all!
Yet now, Ninety Million ignored her completely, speeding up at her call and darting into a side corridor.
"Dammit!"
She couldn’t help the curse, gritting her teeth as she gave chase.
She ran like her life depended on it; Ninety Million fled like its life depended on it. Meanwhile, Four Hundred waved its tiny arms excitedly from her shoulder.
Four Hundred: Faster, faster! Catch that disobedient, ink-gobbling flower and chop it into eighty-one pieces to stew!
As it turned out, Ninety Million lived up to its name—even under pursuit by a Mahayana-stage cultivator, it didn’t falter.
The massive flower shook its head, weaving through the maze-like array corridors with shocking speed. And for some reason, it was thrilled, as if it had sensed something irresistible.
Wen Shuangbai couldn’t hear it.
But Four Hundred could—the flower’s drooling thoughts were deafening.
Ninety Million: [So fragrant! So delicious! I need to eat it!]
Ninety Million: ["Dumbass, I heard you cursing me... damn it, Wen Shuangbai is catching up... oh no, her man is almost here too!"]
Ninety Million: ["We're done for, done for! Run faster, faster, FASTER!"]
Ninety Million: ["Ahhhh—almost there, hold on, just a little more—OW!"]
With a flying pounce, Big Red Flower bared its bloody maw and lunged at the figure lying in a pool of blood on the ground.
In the corridor, a flaming feathered whip shot out, swiftly wrapping around Ninety Million and binding it tightly into a dumpling-like bundle.
Ninety Million lay there, utterly defeated: ["No feast for me today. The meal right at my lips has slipped away."]
Wen Shuangbai hurried over, her eyes first catching on the scattered prayer beads strewn across the ground, stained with blood.
A terrible premonition seized her. She hastily pushed aside the obstructing "dumpling flower" and looked down—her heart lurched. "Buddha Son?" she murmured, voice thick with pity.
This was a remote, nearly inaccessible corner, far from any human presence.
The plump monk lay motionless, his limbs severed, eyes gouged out, tongue ripped away, and his cultivation utterly destroyed.
Once the most illustrious Buddha Son of the Divine Evolution Temple, he now lay like a broken doll in his own blood, unconscious and barely breathing.
Realizing the gravity of the situation, Wen Shuangbai immediately channeled spiritual energy into him.
But she was no healer—her energy lacked restorative properties.
Frantically, she poured her power into sustaining his fading vitality while rummaging for any elixirs on her person that might help.
Behind her, the bound Ninety Million remained restless, stretching its long tendrils to lap greedily at the blood on the ground.
The Buddha Son’s blood carried the essence of Buddhist enlightenment—a rare delicacy for a flesh-eating, blood-drinking spirit plant like itself.
Four Hundred Bucks kept poking its pretty flower face, but its petals were thick as armor—ha! No damage done.
Then, the hem of a white robe fluttered into view. Xie Ziyin had arrived.
His gaze swept the scene, pausing briefly on the horrifically injured Buddha Son, surprise flickering in his eyes.
Xie Ziyin first yanked up the unruly man-eating flower, forcing it back into its bracelet form, then strode to Wen Shuangbai’s side. "Let me," he said.
"Xie Ziyin?" Wen Shuangbai looked up sharply, confirming his identity before swiftly passing the critically wounded Buddha Son to him. "Why are you here?"
Tossing the flower bracelet to her, Xie Ziyin took over, examining the injuries as he replied without turning, "I sensed Ninety Million’s presence."
Having raised the man-eating plant himself—and fed it his own blood more times than he could count—he could detect it within a certain range.
"Thank goodness," Wen Shuangbai exhaled in relief. She was far better at killing than healing.
With no time for pleasantries, both focused on the Buddha Son.
Wen Shuangbai slipped the bracelet on. "How is he?"
Xie Ziyin’s expression darkened. "Not good."
Whoever had done this harbored deep hatred—they’d severed his hope of survival without granting him a quick death.
This was torture, designed for maximum suffering.
Wen Shuangbai frowned. "What now?"
"I obtained the Star’s Essence," Xie Ziyin said. "It contains life force—it might save him. Guard me."
"Done," she agreed without hesitation.
Time crawled.
Perhaps under the protection of the sacred pagoda’s ancestors, fate intervened—Huaiming Buddha Son’s consciousness gradually returned, revived by the Star’s Essence.
Before Wen Shuangbai could rejoice, the moment he regained awareness, the Buddha Son began thrashing violently.
Every movement tore his wounds anew, his energy spiraling into chaos again.
Seeing Xie Ziyin’s forehead bead with sweat, Wen Shuangbai feared their efforts would be wasted. "Buddha Son, calm down!" she urged.
At her voice, his body stiffened momentarily.
Yet the next instant, despite his blindness, muteness, and severed limbs, Huaiming writhed even more desperately.
Guttural, broken sounds tore from his throat as his mangled form inched toward her, straining to communicate something—anything.
Wen Shuangbai’s chest tightened. "Your injuries are severe. Don’t agitate yourself," she soothed.
But the Buddha Son couldn’t wait.
He couldn’t afford to be healed first.
It had to be now.
NOW.
Blood gushed from his mouth as he spat out the remnants of his severed tongue.
"Ah—ah! Ah—!"
Huaiming was drowning in agony—but his desperation outweighed the pain.
There was no time.
If he didn’t speak now, he’d never get another chance.
He had to say it.
HAD to.
NOW.
With a surge of pure energy capable of cleansing the world's impurities, Huaiming Buddha Son spoke from the depths of his heart, "Quick... go and stop him..."
Lu Jiayao's journey had gone smoothly from start to finish.
He effortlessly obtained the legacy and even received a spiritual sound flute gifted by a senior.
Clutching the flute, Lu Jiayao huffed and puffed as he climbed eighty-one floors, becoming the first to step into the sacred hall.
Gazing at the holy banner fluttering proudly in the center of the hall, Lu Jiayao's face lit up with excitement. Without hesitation, he reached out and pulled!
