Chapter Sixty-Six: The Point of Equilibrium

Flames, energy, and the act of adding points—these three elements formed a wondrous balance, granting Zhou Yi a chance at survival in what was originally an unimaginably perilous situation.

The black wind was fierce, the black dragon exuded dominance, and the flames surged ever higher, the temperature rising to such extremes that even Lady Huang Yue, veiled in gauze, and the white-haired elder Mo Hu were forced to retreat again and again. Yet, it was all in vain.

The pain Zhou Yi could now endure had reached an utter extreme, a height beyond which there was no further ascent—or rather, he had become numb. But this numbness was not of the ordinary sort. Ordinary numbness is the result of habit; with habit, one can indeed disregard pain of a similar intensity, but should the pain change, that habit would be broken, and pain would be felt anew.

Zhou Yi’s numbness was of a different order. He was completely insensate—even as the temperature of the flames shifted ever higher with the addition of the black wind, the pain increased, but he could no longer feel it in any significant way.

Thus, no matter how the addition of the black wind raised the temperature of the flames or amplified their destructive force, as long as this balance Zhou Yi had found remained unbroken, it would provoke no reaction from him.

This was why, when the flames changed, Zhou Yi had shown no reaction—he only deduced the answer through the transformation of the energy displayed on his attribute panel.

It was not that he felt the pain; rather, he had always been in pain. The flames scorched his body, every inch of flesh and bone burned to the verge of collapse at every moment. Such agony, without question, was unbearable to almost anyone.

But Zhou Yi endured it. Since he had already withstood it, what did it matter if the pain increased? How much more could possibly be added?

...

“He doesn’t seem to be reacting at all! What should we do?” Outside, watching Zhou Yi’s utterly unchanged figure, Lady Huang Yue’s expression shifted from earlier confidence to uncertainty. She turned to the white-haired elder Mo Hu for counsel.

“How can this be!” Mo Hu stared fixedly at Zhou Yi’s indistinct silhouette, his face no longer resolute. His brows knitted, his expression grave, his eyes full of startled disbelief.

The power of the flames had already surpassed his expectations. The dominance of the black wind and the might of the black dragon were beyond what he’d imagined. Either one alone would be enough to crush him to dust—yet even together, they could do nothing to the one he had initially deemed a mere novice at the Innate Realm.

“Innate Realm!” Mo Hu suddenly froze, the words slipping from his mouth as if he’d been struck by a revelation.

He suddenly remembered—the one before him, indomitable, intractable, impossible to kill, was supposedly nothing more than a weakling who’d just broken into the Innate Realm. Not even at the level of a Transcendent!

Just a newly advanced, feeble novice of the Innate Realm!

But when had a weakling at the Innate Realm ever been capable of such feats?

A weakling at the Innate Realm had forced the three of them, all standing at the pinnacle of the Transcendent, to such a state—even with their own strength insufficient, even after resorting to the use of immortal relics, practically bullying the few with the many, yet still to no avail!

Was this truly the Innate Realm?

At this thought, Mo Hu could not help but sigh inwardly, a profound sense of powerlessness welling up inside him, sapping even the strength to roar in frustration.

His knuckles whitened around the wooden sword in his hand—his final trump card, the last hope for the three of them.

Clutching the sword, staring at Zhou Yi’s blurred form amid the crimson and black flames, Mo Hu’s face flickered with uncertainty. His fingers twitched on the sword, but he dared not strike.

He had lost all confidence. To kill Zhou Yi? No—at this point, he no longer believed he could even injure him, even with an immortal relic in hand, even as a peak Transcendent, even though his opponent was, supposedly, only an Innate Realm novice.

“At this rate, I’d even believe it if you told me he was a False Core cultivator,” he thought bitterly, watching Zhou Yi, the sense of helplessness consuming him.

“Mo Elder!” Huang Yue, seeing Mo Hu’s complexion alternating between green and red, also looked troubled. After a long silence, she gritted her teeth and called out loudly.

“Ah!” Like an ordinary old man, Mo Hu was startled by her cry. He turned, confusion in his eyes.

“What is it?”

Huang Yue said nothing, only looking at him with a complex expression.

“Oh! Oh, I see!” She didn’t need to speak—Mo Hu quickly understood, murmuring to himself, glancing at Zhou Yi, then back down at the wooden sword in his hand.

“Do it!” Huang Yue urged.

“Will it work?” Mo Hu asked, half to Huang Yue, half to himself, without turning his head.

“I don’t know!” Huang Yue replied bluntly. Had she been asked before uncorking the gourd, she would have replied with certainty: Yes! After all, who could withstand an immortal relic before forming a False Core? Especially in the hands of a peak Transcendent!

Even if one could resist a single immortal relic, how could they possibly endure two?

But now, reality had supplied its answer: someone could.

What had once been impossible was now unfolding before their very eyes.

Now, they were down to their last immortal relic—their final chance.

The power of an immortal relic wasn’t a matter of simple addition, but of multiplication; each extra relic raised their might to a new level, especially when the relics complemented each other. The resulting power was unimaginable.

And yet, even so, Zhou Yi remained unscathed.

Now, with one relic left, if they unleashed this final trump card, the three relics combined would surely multiply their power many times over.

But at this moment, both Huang Yue and Mo Hu hesitated. They dared not play this final card.

If, after playing their last hand, they still could do nothing to Zhou Yi, then there would be no outcome at all.

Their previous bravado had led only to this deadlock. Both of their hearts were now wracked with turmoil.

They had been terrified by Zhou Yi, their confidence utterly shattered by his performance.

Had they known this would happen, why would they have waded into such muddy waters?

But regret comes too late.

"Do it." After a long silence, Huang Yue’s voice was hoarse. "We have no way back."

“Mm.” Mo Hu nodded in silence. He understood, had understood even earlier—at his age, he understood more than Huang Yue: things had come to this, and retreat was no longer an option.

But he was still conflicted. Once this move was made, life and death would be decided in an instant. If they could finally bring Zhou Yi down, then glory, the Isle Supreme, False Core—all would be within reach.

But if they still could not overcome Zhou Yi, then everything would become nothing but a mirage, and they would be doomed.

All their dreams, all their hopes—everything—would vanish like mist.

Regardless of what they had once hoped for or now possessed, all of it would dissipate in an instant.