Wait, How Did My Digital Girlfriend Become a Sword Immortal?

Chapter 856.28: The Oil Is Hot; Please Step into the Cauldron

…Upper Realm.

Lingxiao Palace—here there is no day or night, only eternal cold and isolation.

White jade paved the floor, golden dragons coiled around the pillars.

The three thousand fate-lamps hung from the hall’s ceiling usually lit the main chamber as bright as midday.

But today.

One corner of the main hall was abruptly darkened.

Two fate-lamps that ranked among the true gods of the immortals had gone out.

One belonged to Bi Yue Wu.

One belonged to Tu Fu Xing.

First they flickered, then dimmed, and finally—

Pff.

Both were extinguished.

In the deathly quiet hall, that extinguishing sound was not loud, but it chilled people to the bone.

Behind the beaded curtain.

The figure seated atop the Nine Heavens did not even lift an eyelid, only tapping a finger lightly on the armrest.

“Thud.”

A single, soft sound.

All the Immortal Officials kneeling before the throne bowed their heads even lower, not daring to breathe.

“Thousand-Mile Eye.”

“Wind-Following Ear.”

The voice could not be read for anger or joy, as if it were a cold wind blowing from an ancient glacier.

“Here… your servant is here!”

Two tall, thin Immortal Officials hurriedly stepped forward, crawling to the steps, their bodies trembling like sieved grain.

“How fares the Lower Realm?”

Thousand-Mile Eye swallowed, activated his divine ability, and shot two beams of golden light from his eyes, piercing the heavy clouds to look at the mortal realm they had once considered their rear garden.

One glance.

He let out a terrified low cry, blood tears streaming from his eyes.

“Em… Emperorsire!”

Thousand-Mile Eye clapped his hands over his burning eyes, voice wailing: “The Lower Realm… turbid qi is backflowing! The Nine Heavens Refining Profound Array… has been broken!”

“What?!”

The figure behind the beaded curtain stirred for the first time.

Wind-Following Ear’s face had also gone pale, his large ears now dripping black blood, obviously injured by the clamoring human voices and the turbid qi pouring up from below.

“Your Majesty… your servant heard…”

“Heard what?”

“Cheers.”

Wind-Following Ear’s voice trembled. “Mortals are cheering. The turbid qi rising from that coffin is sweet rain to them; all things revive, life flourishes… but… for us immortals…”

He raised his head, eyes full of terror. “It has become an oil cauldron down there!”

“Turbid qi covers the Nine Provinces. Once an immortal descends to the Lower Realm, their protective golden light corrodes, cultivation is suppressed, and the divine soul suffers burning pain… it is as if being dismembered slowly!”

A commotion rose inside the hall.

The immortals faced one another, each filled with dread.

The Lower Realm had been their pasture for harvesting incense and gathering essence.

Now the pasture had become a mountain of knives and seas of fire—how were they to cope?

“Silence.”

Behind the beaded curtain, the voice of the Haotian Emperor sounded again.

Not loud, not soft.

But it stopped all uproar at once.

“If the formation is broken, go repair it.”

“If the people fled, go capture them.”

The Haotian Emperor’s voice remained indifferent, as if the two true gods who had just died were merely broken stalks of grass.

“If it’s an oil cauldron, then endure it.”

“The Celestial Court nourished you for ten thousand years, preserved your memories through countless cycles, not to pamper you in leisure.”

He casually tossed out a golden command token, which clinked crisply as it landed at the foot of the steps.

“Twelve Yuanchen, hear the order.”

“Summon all heavenly troops, descend to the Lower Realm at once.”

“No matter how many die, no matter how hot that oil cauldron is.”

“Bring that formation-breaker…”

The Haotian Emperor’s fingers tightened slightly, and a chilling tone slipped into his voice:

“Back to me, alive.”

At the foot of the steps.

Twelve Yuanchen true gods clad in golden armor stared at the token, their faces ashen.

This command was a hot potato.

Do it well, and abundant reward awaits.

Do it poorly, and it’s a death sentence.

In the turbid Lower Realm, their strength would fall by at least thirty percent, and they would constantly endure the corrosive pain to their immortal souls.

Though unknown what Bi Yue Wu and Tu Fu Xing had encountered, their demise was a cautionary example.

Yet they dared not refuse.

Defying celestial decree meant having one’s bones picked and flesh carved, being demoted into the Nether Abyss.

“Your servant… receives the mandate.”

The twelve trembling figures picked up the token, rose, and turned.

Their silhouettes were bleak, as if marching to the execution ground.

…

A day in the Upper Realm is a year below.

To the immortals above, only a breath had passed; below, three days had gone by.

During these three days, Chen Huaian had not moved.

He sat cross-legged on the edge of a broken cliff, a long sword laid across his knees, like a weathered stone statue.

The sky above had already changed its appearance.

Where the broken formation had once cleared the heavens, a heavy, leaden layer of tribulation clouds had sealed the sky.

The cloud layer pressed low, as though within reach.

There was no thunder; only countless purple-black lightning serpents glided silently and intertwined deep within the cloud sea,

as if weaving a massive net capable of erasing all living beings.

The heavenly tribulation had not yet struck.

It was waiting.

Waiting for the one who called the tribulation to draw his sword.

It was also accumulating a terrifying pressure capable of annihilating a True Immortal.

The mountain wind grew harsher, mixed with the vigorous life force that accompanies the world’s revival, whipping Chen Huaian’s robes.

Suddenly.

The wind stopped.

The tribulation clouds that had been building for three days and nights seemed to sense something, churning violently and parting a narrow strip of sky.

Chen Huaian slowly opened his eyes.

“He’s come.”

At the horizon’s end, the originally chaotic void seemed to be torn by invisible hands, ripping open a gap tens of thousands of miles long.

Boom—!!!

A majestic immortal chant thundered through heaven and earth, attempting to proclaim the Upper Realm’s dignity.

Yet the instant this immortal sound entered the world below, it turned hoarse and off-key, like a rooster’s crow strangled mid-neck.

Then.

Twelve dazzling beams of golden light screamed down from that rift.

They were twelve golden-armored deities.

They rode immortal chariots and celestial beasts, wrapped in rolling auspicious clouds, attempting to descend in imposing glory.

Their grandeur rivaled falling stars.

Alas.

This was the mortal world, the altered Lower Realm—not the immortals’ private garden any longer.

The instant they passed the boundary wall and touched the thick turbid qi of this place—

Ssssss—!

A tooth-grinding corrosion hiss echoed through the sky.

Their once-holy, dazzling protective golden lights, like hot oil poured on snow, immediately dimmed and dissolved.

The auspicious clouds they rode were stained a sullen gray by the turbid qi.

Those twelve comet-like golden lights trembled violently midair; what had been an elegant descent instantly turned into a humiliating fall.

It was the pain of being rejected by the world spirit’s qi.

It was the struggle of lofty deities sinking into mortal mire.

Chen Huaian stood on the peak of the floating mountain, hands clasped behind his back, coldly watching the twelve figures trailing black smoke crash toward the earth like shot meteorites.

A smile curved the corner of his mouth.

The smile did not reach his eyes; it carried an icy sting.

“The oil is hot now.”

Chen Huaian slowly rose.

The Black Scales Sword in his hand seemed to sense his murderous intent, letting out a low, bloodthirsty moan.

Clang—!

“Please… step into the cauldron.”

…