"You court death!" Liu Xingye roared, his foot slamming the ground as he charged like a blood-mad tiger. The fifth-layer Qi Refining aura erupted from his body, whipping up a sandstorm that sent pebbles skittering across the ground.
In a blink, he closed the distance, palm thrusting toward Lu Tianming's chest with tidal force. The air itself seemed to churn with roaring waves—his signature technique, Raging Tide Palm.
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Even sixth-layer cultivators struggled against this strike. Lu Tianming's frail body would be reduced to pulp...
Yet the former Holy Son stood unmoving, black hair whipping in the gale. When the palm struck, golden light shimmered across his skin like divine armor. Not a single step backward.
Silence.
"Impossible..." Zhao Jinghuai's fox-like smile cracked.
Elders stared slack-jawed. Lu Tianming's aura now radiated an indescribable majesty—an emperor surveying ants. Several lower-ranked disciples instinctively dropped to their knees.
"Imperial... physique?" someone croaked.
The words detonated like celestial thunder. Emperor's Body—a legend even the sect's founders had only glimpsed in ancient texts. The last practitioner died ten millennia ago.
As if answering, a pillar of golden light erupted from Lu Tianming's crown, piercing the heavens. Primordial energy cascaded across the sacred peaks, shaking pagodas to their foundations.
Boom!
Across the Wilderness Domain, ancient beings stirred in their millennium-long slumber. Eyes larger than mountains snapped open, fixated on Kunlun Sect.
"An Emperor's Body awakens?!"
"Has that Qingcheng girl achieved the impossible?!"
Within the sect, elders materialized mid-air on glowing swords, their excitement turning to shock. "Lu Tianming?! But he was crippled..."
A figure descended through swirling clouds—a middle-aged man whose mere presence bent reality. Sect disciples prostrated as one. "Sect Master!"
Venerable Yaori's gaze held collapsing stars. "Rising from ashes... Well done, Tianming." His voice resonated with paternal pride. "Regain your strength, and the Holy Son title remains yours."
Laughter like silver bells cut through the reverence.
A golden chariot drawn by nine phoenixes descended, its passenger radiating godly splendor. Dongfang Qingcheng's beauty could topple nations, yet her smile held arctic venom. "A pity this is the Great Desolate Emperor Body—cursed by eight heavenly shackles."
The crowd's elation curdled. Legends spoke of this physique's might... and inevitable doom. Every Great Desolate bearer throughout history died screaming as their own power devoured them.
Lu Tianming wiped blood from his lips—Qingcheng's aura alone had ruptured his capillaries. Yet he stood unbowed. "When I ascend anew, you'll be the one trembling."
Qingcheng's phoenixes shrieked laughter. "Tenfold your strength wouldn't reach my shadow." The chariot vanished in sunfire, leaving scorched arrogance in its wake.
As disciples scattered like frightened mice, Zhong Xianxi approached anxiously. "Big Brother Lu, let me transfer you to the Beast Taming Peak. My elder brother can—"
"No need." Lu Tianming hefted Liu Xingye's plundered storage pouch—500 Body Tempering Pills clinked inside. His gaze swept the horizon where Yaori's gift hovered: thousands of pills and spirit stones wrapped in celestial silk.
The bronze coffin hummed in his dantian. Eight shackles? The white-robed empress's icy voice dripped contempt. This vessel shall crack heaven's chains.