Chapter 88: The Nether Prison (1)

This was the first time in his life that Jiang Feng truly felt the warmth of home. For several days in a row, a steady stream of people came to visit his residence. Compared to the usually deserted threshold, the difference was like night and day.

At last, after seeing off the fifty-second visitor of the day, he could no longer maintain the mask of polite, insincere smiles. Escaping from the house, he sought out his grandfather Jiang Yuehai for a quiet training chamber and quickly slipped inside.

“Whew, this is truly terrifying. It's just as they say: fame is a burden. I only won the championship at the Nine Rocks Tournament, and already it’s as if I’m on fire. If I achieve even greater things in the future, will I not drown in the flood of their words every day?” Jiang Feng muttered with some lingering fear. Among the crowd who had just come to congratulate him, two-thirds were faces he had never seen before, yet each pretended to be an old friend. That feeling was more unbearable than death.

Jue, lurking in his sea of consciousness, gloated, “Heh, are you missing your little wife? She insisted on staying at the Wang family for a while, and now you have to wait for another auspicious day for the wedding. Is it really so complicated?”

“It’s probably just an old custom passed down,” Jiang Feng replied with a casual smile. He wasn’t particularly anxious about the marriage now; his main focus was to further his cultivation. Ever since the Nine Rocks Tournament, he sensed his situation had become even more precarious—his name had spread beyond the town’s borders.

The training chamber was filled with abundant, vigorous nether energy, perfect for quiet meditation. Jiang Feng settled onto a mat and began to recall the breathtaking battles he had fought during the tournament.

Whenever he thought of how Fang Ping had used underhanded means—relying on the surging medicinal power of the Dragon Sky Pill to explosively boost his energy—his own nether force had swelled to an unbelievable degree, giving him the illusion of facing two Fang Pings at once.

If not for his possession of the Heaven-Devouring and Myriad Phantasms arts, he might have already fallen to Fang Ping’s sword.

Moreover, after employing the Starshift art, his body had endured an unprecedented, crushing pressure. His nether energy nearly ceased to flow, his spinal bones creaked audibly, and even his breathing almost stopped.

“Such means are indeed unworthy of victory, relying on borrowed power. But I cannot blame him—he exchanged his own cultivation for that strength. It’s a matter of willing parties,” Jiang Feng sighed inwardly. At the same time, he expelled the nether energy he had seized from Fang Ping, sending it surging out like a tidal wave. The walls of the chamber, though built to withstand much, began to crack and explode. Fortunately, the neighboring chamber was unoccupied, or there would have been collateral damage.

“This nether energy, too, was taken by unfair means. In the end, none of our methods are truly aboveboard,” Jiang Feng smiled bitterly, then shook his head fiercely. “But things like the Dragon Sky Pill or the Starshift art are only used when there’s no other choice. My main goal now is to steadily advance my cultivation. Only then can I get closer to my ultimate aim.”

Jue remained silent in the sea of consciousness, but his eyes shone with approval.

With that, Jiang Feng took out a cloth bag from his chest. Though he disliked this patchwork bag, it was the only thing that could contain the Azure Emperor’s Glazed Cauldron. Without it, the cauldron would be as large as a house—far too inconvenient to carry.

Boom!

In an instant, the massive royal cauldron appeared before him. Jiang Feng finally had the chance to study it closely: it was covered in a dim blue glow, ancient and imposing, with all manner of strange runes carved into its surface.

He focused a strand of consciousness into the cauldron, immediately feeling dizzy, as though the Azure Emperor’s Glazed Cauldron were a black hole greedily devouring his spirit. Only after more than half an hour did the cauldron’s hunger relent. Jiang Feng collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.

“This cauldron is truly terrifying, requiring so much of my spirit. If I hadn’t already reached the Void Nether stage, it would have drained me entirely, leaving me an empty shell—soulless and mindless. That’s a terrifying thought!” he murmured, still shaken. Of all things, a person’s spirit is the hardest to cultivate. Even with great increases in nether energy, spiritual growth is minimal. That’s why, when Jiang Feng unleashed the Myriad Phantasms—capable of splitting the enemy’s spirit—Fang Ping was left helpless.

Jue teased, “You should consider the level of this nether artifact. With only a sliver of spirit, do you think you’re worthy of something so mighty?”

Jiang Feng could only smile wryly and rest to recover his spirit. It was dusk before he could rouse himself and stand again.

“Hmph, now that you’re mine, I’ll refine you properly. Let’s see if my cultivation can soar!” he laughed, leaping lightly into the air and directly into the Azure Emperor’s Glazed Cauldron. At the same moment, the ancient runes covering the cauldron began to glow, no longer as lifeless as before.

The instant he entered, Jiang Feng felt his blood surge and his bones twist painfully. Even the River-Mountain Bottle within him seemed to freeze, and the impure nether energy inside stopped flowing, all stunned into stillness by the cauldron’s immense force. The cauldron contained boundless power and remnants of energy from Xuan Xingzi’s past cultivation. If Jiang Feng hadn’t poured in his spirit beforehand, a single shock would have left him limp and helpless.

“Jiang Feng, now is the perfect time. With the cauldron’s power fully unleashed, you can reveal your body constructed by the River-Mountain Bottle and refine it here. Even if your cultivation doesn’t grow, your body will become far tougher!” Jue’s voice echoed in his consciousness, filling Jiang Feng with fervor.

Under the cauldron’s surging force, Jiang Feng erupted—his once-stagnant nether energy compressed into a single Nether Core, which rose from his chest, about the size of a human head. It swirled with complex energies, including strands from the Myriad Phantasms he had not yet fully integrated, each carrying a trace of that art’s power: immortals, demon gods, flames, waves, thunder, dragons and tigers, blazing suns, full moons, blood shadows, wild winds, vicious beasts, nether artifacts... All these were remnants of Fang Yichen’s Myriad Phantasms, too subtle for Jiang Feng’s current level to comprehend, now forced out in this moment. There was also a massive Ninefold Chain Blade, streaked with blood—a legacy of Liu Mengbai’s nether arts. Of course, not all the energy was alien; Jiang Feng had compressed his own Xuantian Secret Arts into the core as well, suppressing the arts he could not yet master. For a moment, this Nether Core generated a strange, immense force, which began to control the cauldron’s power in turn.

Crackling thunder flashed everywhere, the sound of war horns blared, as if drums beat in unison on a battlefield.

The cauldron’s oppressive force scattered, and, more strangely, some of that power actively poured into Jiang Feng’s newly forged Nether Core. In no time, cracks began to appear on its surface.

“Yes! Refine it like this!” Jue cheered excitedly. Though this core was merely a condensed mass of nether energy—not yet comparable to the pseudo-core of the True Nether stage, let alone the true Nether Core of a Nether King—if Jiang Feng could compress all incomprehensible arts within, forming even a half-step Nether Core, it would be a great accomplishment. At the very least, in future calamities, he would not again suffer the disastrous rupture of his body from uncontrolled energies.

Jiang Feng understood this well. He continuously employed transformations from the Xuantian Secret Arts, summoning more misunderstood nether energies to press into the core.

With his efforts, the walls of the cauldron’s interior split open in all directions, unleashing torrents of light that crashed down like mountain ranges onto the Nether Core, threatening to crush it back to its original state. Should that happen, Jiang Feng’s efforts would be in vain.

A nether mountain range roared down, emitting deafening rumbles. If Jiang Feng hadn’t diverted a trace of energy to block his ears, his eardrums would have been pierced and his hearing lost.

The sheer power was overwhelming, boundless.

Refining himself within the Azure Emperor’s Glazed Cauldron was like forging a pill: one could choose a gentle heat for a delicate product or a fierce blaze for something bold and potent. The gentle method yields a subtle, pleasing elixir, but if one aims for true mastery, only the harshest tempering will suffice. Otherwise, even if one becomes a Nether King, their core will be fragile—showy but useless.

Jiang Feng chose the path of force, relentlessly tempering himself with domineering strength.

Yield and be broken; resist and grow strong.

Both he and the cauldron laid bare their power, clashing strength with strength, seeing whose force, breath, and will would last longer.

As the nether mountains collapsed overhead, a cruel smile appeared on Jiang Feng’s face. Everything seemed within his grasp, as though he was invoking some secret art. He opened his mouth, releasing a surge of pure nether energy—the most refined essence he had comprehended.

“Jiang Feng, do you intend to use this strand of nether energy to forge a half-step Nether Core?” Jue said gravely. He sensed Jiang Feng was being hasty. While the idea was sound, the core was filled with too many incompatible arts. To merge them perfectly would require an extraordinary amount of nether energy—far more than Jiang Feng currently possessed.