Sanctuary Trial Chapter Sixteen The Arcane Tome of the Wild

Luo Chen’s heart trembled as he turned to look at the old man who had appeared behind him without his notice. For a moment, he was at a loss for what to do.

“Senior, you…?”

“There are some things you are better off not knowing. Even if you must, wait until you are strong enough—then you can come and seek me out.”

Watching the elder turn his back on him, Luo Chen nodded gently. Wait until he was strong enough? Did that mean…? Luo Chen stared blankly at the old man’s departing figure.

“Senior, so… you really can help me…?”

The old man let out a hearty laugh. “Of course. Otherwise, why do you think I brought you back here?”

At those words, Luo Chen immediately dropped to his knees. He could hardly believe what he had just heard—but he had heard it, and perhaps this was the hope he had been waiting for. When the old man turned around to look at him, Luo Chen felt both excited and grateful, not knowing what to say for a while.

“That’s enough, boy. There’s no need for such unnecessary formalities here. My name is Jian Zhongli.”

After Jian Zhongli spoke, Luo Chen stood up and gave a simple bow.

“Senior Zhongli, I am Luo Chen.”

A faint smile returned to Luo Chen’s face as Jian Zhongli produced the scroll from before, letting it hover before Luo Chen.

“Luo Chen, do you truly not know what this ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods’ is?”

“I truly do not, Senior Zhongli. I hope you will enlighten me.”

Jian Zhongli sighed softly, his expression grave as he looked at Luo Chen. There was a glint of contemplation in his eyes.

“The ancient gods fought on the Sacred Mountain; beneath the Ethereal Ruler’s measure, demons emerged. All living things sang their parting song to the heavens, and even the laws of the Way were shattered. Thus ended the Epoch of the Ancient Gods.

“For nearly a million years thereafter, the surviving gods lingered in the endless wilds, barely clinging to life, until slaughter arose once more. It was then that the ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods’ was created by the ancient gods. The original text was called the ‘Holy Codex of the Wilds,’ divided into two volumes. In the chaos of ten thousand years of war, the upper volume was lost, and what you see before you is a remnant of the lower volume.”

Luo Chen drew a deep breath. It seemed Ten Spirits was right—this was indeed a dangerous thing. Anything created by ancient gods and surviving to this day would surely bring upheaval to all the realms and suffering to countless beings if it appeared in the world. Even as a fragment, it was enough to wreak havoc.

“Senior Zhongli, may I ask, why was it divided into two volumes?”

At Luo Chen’s question, Jian Zhongli stroked his chin and smiled.

“It’s simple. The upper volume breeds demons; the lower creates gods.”

What? To breed demons and create gods! Luo Chen was thunderstruck, his mind reeling as he staggered back two steps, face ashen, eyes fixed on the floating ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods.’ To create gods—how was this possible?

“Luo Chen, don’t be so naive. It is said that in those days, to suppress the demon race, thousands of great beings nearly at the level of ancient gods used the ‘Holy Codex of the Wilds.’ In the end, only nineteen became true gods. The rest perished, their souls scattered. Now you understand the terror of this thing—if even those nearly equal to the ancient gods could not endure it, what hope is there for a mere mortal like you?”

Luo Chen gazed at the ‘Chronicle of the Wilds.’ Jian Zhongli had a point. Those who could rival the ancient gods, whether in body or soul, feared nothing in this world but the ancient gods themselves. For such mighty individuals to fall, how could his frail mortal body hope to survive this heaven-defying art created by the ancient gods?

A sense of despair settled on Luo Chen’s face. Hope was so close, yet so unattainable. Still, he was half a cripple already—why not gamble on this chance? The look of defeat in his eyes vanished, replaced by a determined gaze locked onto the ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods.’

“For the grand path through all ages, why should I fear death? If body and soul are destroyed, I have no regrets! Senior Zhongli, I am willing to try.”

Jian Zhongli frowned slightly at Luo Chen’s resolve.

“Are you truly willing? Even if it means the destruction of your body and soul, you will not regret it?”

“I am. I, Luo Chen, am already a cripple. Even if I perish, I will not resent you in the slightest.”

Jian Zhongli’s initial skeptical tone faded as Luo Chen spoke with unwavering seriousness, and the old man straightened, his stern expression dissolving. With a wave of his hand, the ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods’ opened slowly.

A small arc of lightning shot from Jian Zhongli’s fingertip, striking Luo Chen’s chest. As the blade of lightning pierced his heart, a wave of agony swept through Luo Chen’s body. An instant later, the pain subsided, the lightning disappeared, and a drop of blood flew from his chest, falling onto the center of the ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods.’

Pale but resolute, Luo Chen steadied himself and watched as his blood merged into the ‘Chronicle.’ Lines of golden script began to appear, though Luo Chen understood none of them. Jian Zhongli raised his right hand, traces of luminescence swirling at his fingertips as he wrote in the air. His sonorous voice echoed through the cavern:

“Sever the spirit veins, break the meridians, cleanse the blood, shatter the bones, burn the body in earth fire, temper the soul in heavenly thunder, carve the meridians anew with the divine sword, inscribe the soul with the heart’s blood, unite body and soul as one.”

With that, Jian Zhongli stopped, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked at Luo Chen.

“Luo Chen, do you understand these seven lines?”

Looking at the words written in midair, Luo Chen felt his heart tremble, though he did not fully grasp their meaning. He looked at Jian Zhongli, nodding, then shaking his head.

“Luo Chen, the more heaven-defying the art, the simpler its words. These seven lines are the true essence of the lower volume of the ‘Holy Codex of the Wilds.’

“Destroy your spirit veins, sever every meridian, cleanse your blood, shatter your bones. Then, refine your body in earth fire, temper your soul in heavenly thunder, and with a divine sword, carve new meridians within you. Imbue your soul with the essence of your heart’s blood, uniting body and soul as one, so that the body becomes the soul and the soul the body—no longer separate. That is the entire process of god-making in the ‘Holy Codex of the Wilds.’”

A chill ran down Luo Chen’s spine. My god! This was no god-making—this was pure torture. No wonder of those thousands, only nineteen ascended. He truly admired those nineteen now.

Raising his hands, Luo Chen could not fathom how his mortal body could survive the earth fire. He would be reduced to ashes the instant he entered, let alone endure refinement.

“By the way, I forgot to tell you—refining the body in earth fire is not just about burning flesh. Various medicines and spiritual treasures will be used. The ultimate goal is to forge an immortal body. I have the materials, but if you wish to truly achieve immortality, you must seek out primordial spirit fires born of heaven and earth in the future. If you are resolved, know this: such heaven-defying transformation cannot be completed in an instant. Absorbing the abundant spiritual energy here will take at least half a year. If you survive, your cultivation will soar.”

Having said this, Jian Zhongli turned to leave, not expecting an immediate answer. As his figure faded, a stick of incense appeared before Luo Chen, and Jian Zhongli’s voice drifted from the depths of the cave.

“When this incense burns out, a day will have passed. If you do not agree by then, I will do you a kindness and send you out of this Land of Thunder Blades.”

His words echoed in the cave as Luo Chen sat by the stone wall, leaning back. The chill from the stone seeped through his clothes into his marrow, making his heart unusually calm. For a while, he did not know how to choose. To leave? And do what? Live as a cripple for a few dozen years and disappear into dust? Not to mention he still sought the truth of his origins. If he did not gamble now, he would never learn the secrets he longed for.

But if he accepted, what then? Survive countless tribulations, become a being almost equal to ancient gods, able to shake the earth with a thought, destroy the heavens with a hand—yet still perish under the ‘Chronicle of the Wild Gods.’ Staring at the floating chronicle, Luo Chen gave a chilly laugh and shook his head.

“Chronicle of the Wild Gods, you have given me a cruel choice. To leave is certain death at life’s end; to stay is to risk a hundred deaths for one chance at life.”

Within the academy, above the Hall of Heavenly Thunder.

Baili Qingtian and Qing Xingyue stood side by side, gazing somberly at the ruined hall below. The breeze ruffled their hair, but they paid it no mind. After a long silence, Qing Xingyue glanced toward the courtyard entrance, where Qing Xuanyu stood guard, her face full of helplessness.

“Old fellow, it’s been three days. Have you thought of how to explain this to that lord?”

Baili Qingtian ignored him, simply sighing and shooting him a glare before turning to leave.

“Get lost! Stop bothering me. I was only gone a few days and you all made such a mess. Explain? If I knew how, would I be waiting here? Go cool off somewhere else and stop pestering me.”

With a huff, Baili Qingtian vanished, giving Qing Xingyue no chance to retort. Qing Xingyue stared blankly after him.

“I haven’t even said you’re a bother, and you blame me first. As if I wanted any of this. It’s not as if I’ve been idle these days,” he muttered, glancing at the ruined hall before heading toward Qing Xuanyu at the entrance.

Qing Xuanyu watched him approach and took a few steps forward herself.

“Granduncle…”

Qing Xingyue motioned her to stop, then turned to look again at the Hall of Heavenly Thunder, recalling his recent trips from the capital to seek ways to repair the spirit veins. Just when progress was made, he had been urgently summoned back by Baili Luohua and the others, only to be told of this disaster. He was still burning with anger.

“Yu’er, I know everything that happened. Don’t blame yourself. Sigh! Luo Chen, you rascal, couldn’t you wait for this old man to return? I just hope you come back safely.”

Qing Xuanyu said nothing more, only standing behind her granduncle, her expression downcast, eyes full of guilt as she gazed at the ruined hall.

Time passed and the sky darkened, but neither had any intention of leaving.

Back in the Land of Thunder Blades, inside the cave.

Luo Chen still leaned against the stone wall, watching the ashes break and fall from the incense. He held the purple handkerchief, and as the final ember died, he looked to the cave entrance.

“Young one, have you made your choice?”

Hearing the gentle voice echo from the entrance, Luo Chen smiled, then pulled himself up with the help of the wall. Seeing Jian Zhongli drift in, Luo Chen stepped forward and bowed.

“Senior Zhongli, I choose to stay. But if my body and soul are destroyed, please deliver this to a girl at the academy named Luo Xiaoya.”

He handed over the purple handkerchief. Jian Zhongli looked at the character “Ya” embroidered in the corner, smiled at Luo Chen, and put it away.

“Very well, I promise. But since you choose to stay, what about that little girl in your Heavenly Spirit Vein Formation?”

Jian Zhongli’s question made Luo Chen realize—if he died, Ten Spirits would perish with him, for she had said their souls were linked. Frowning, Luo Chen looked at Jian Zhongli.

“Senior, Ten Spirits’ soul is bound to mine. I ask that you use your power to separate her soul from mine.”

With that, Luo Chen pressed two fingers to his brow, drawing out a stream of light. Ten Spirits’ body appeared in his hands. Luo Chen gently smoothed her hair and handed her to Jian Zhongli, who, upon seeing the sleeping girl, suddenly grew solemn.

“Luo Chen, what did you say her name was?”

“Ten Spirits.”

Luo Chen answered casually, but the flash of terror and doubt in Jian Zhongli’s eyes left him puzzled. He nodded, and Jian Zhongli, understanding, raised his right hand, tendrils of lightning flickering from his fingers.

Luo Chen closed his eyes as Jian Zhongli’s hand pressed to his chest, passing through flesh to touch the soul. As his hand entered, Luo Chen’s fists clenched, eyes snapping open with a grimace. Blood seeped from between his teeth, his face pale, veins bulging in his arms.

He felt his soul as if sliced into countless threads, some tightly entwined with another force, while countless hands slowly peeled away the excess. Luo Chen’s eyes filled with blood, and blood dripped from his lips. After a few breaths, Jian Zhongli swiftly withdrew his hand.

With a cry, Luo Chen collapsed to his knees, wracked by soul-rending pain. He forced his heavy eyelids open just in time to see a golden orb fly from Jian Zhongli’s hand into Ten Spirits’ brow. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief.

Though he had endured the agony of soul-severing, at least Ten Spirits’ soul was freed. Smiling in satisfaction, he gritted his teeth and, despite the pain, used his hands to prop himself up.

He wanted to reach out and touch Ten Spirits, but his arms might as well have been weighed down by a thousand stones—he couldn’t move them at all. He could only look at Jian Zhongli.

“Senior, please… continue…”

With great effort, Luo Chen forced the words out. Jian Zhongli, seeing Luo Chen’s exhaustion, could tell the boy was at his limit. Jian Zhongli knew well the torment of soul-severing, and for a moment, he hesitated, wishing this youth could live a simple life, free from such agony. Yet seeing Luo Chen’s unyielding gaze, he chose to go on.

He sent a thin stream of spiritual energy into Ten Spirits’ brow, enveloping her in a glowing halo that suspended her in midair. Jian Zhongli then raised his right hand beside Luo Chen; from the center of the cave, his true body spat out a crystal-clear bead, which floated before Luo Chen.

“Luo Chen, this is a Spirit Essence Pearl—formed from all the life force of my true body after my soul departed. Swallow it. When I sever your body and soul, a wisp of your remaining soul will be sealed within, ensuring that after half a year, your true soul can perfectly merge with your body.”

Luo Chen hesitated at the bead before him. To be honest, the thought of swallowing something from another’s mouth was repulsive, but knowing Jian Zhongli did this to help him in the fusion to come, he forced his mouth open. The Spirit Essence Pearl flew in of its own accord.

After swallowing it, Luo Chen saw Jian Zhongli holding a dozen slender silver needles.

“Next, I must use these twelve needles to seal your six senses, five perceptions, and heart meridian. For cultivators this is useless, but for a mortal like you, it can briefly isolate you from the pain of soul separation, and spare your soul from feeling the agony of earth fire refinement. But the torment brought by heavenly thunder, I cannot shield you from.”

Expressionless, Luo Chen nodded. He knew there was no turning back now. He had already endured soul-severing pain once—what was one more time?

Jian Zhongli floated before him, picked up a silver needle, and, before Luo Chen could react, plunged it into the crown of his head. A deep, marrow-piercing pain gripped him—he opened his mouth in a silent scream, fists clenching. Then, suddenly, the pain vanished, as did all previous pain.

Next, Jian Zhongli picked up two more needles, which floated in the air before Luo Chen’s eyes. In an instant, icy coldness descended and all fell into darkness.

A moment later, he heard the faint sound of two more needles whistling through the air. Then, all was silence and blackness.

After a few breaths, Luo Chen could no longer feel his body. His mind seemed trapped in a dead, timeless space of darkness. Vaguely, he saw blades of light slicing through the void.