After confirming the direction, Locke's figure dissolved into countless particles of water, dispersing at the foot of Mount Nether and vanishing without a trace.
A Sovereign could cross the entirety of the Infernal Realm in half a day. Locke was naturally slower, but even so, half a year was more than enough for him to travel from Mount Nether to Shadowmoon Prefecture.
When his soul power spread out upon arrival, Locke's brows furrowed slightly.
"Oakes and Yagonia… aren't here?"
"Where did they go?"
"Could it be… he's already begun traveling between planes to gather divine beast essence blood?"
Within Shadowmoon Prefecture, Locke sat in a tavern, calmly tasting the local delicacies of the Netherworld while his soul perception sifted through the conversations around him.
It didn't take long for him to piece things together.
Over a thousand years ago, Prefect Oakes' wife, Yagonia, had given birth to a child. Then, several decades ago, Oakes had left the prefecture with his family, saying he intended to take the child back to his holand to celebrate its thousandth birthday.
Since neither Oakes nor Yagonia were natives of the Netherworld, most people speculated that they had risen from so material plane. This journey, then, was likely a return to their place of origin.
"So, Oakes has a child now…"
A faint smile appeared on Locke's face.
In the Coiling Dragon universe, the stronger a being beca, the harder it was to produce offspring. For gods, every child was a gift.
And when both parents were Highgods, their child's innate talent would rival that of divine beasts—born at the Saint level, destined to reach its peak upon maturity, perhaps even stepping into godhood if its comprehension proved exceptional.
With Oakes' whereabouts understood, Locke no longer felt any urgency.
Others might not know where Oakes' holand lay—but he did.
Blackstone Tribe. The Infernal Realm.
Without delay, Locke left Shadowmoon Prefecture and headed straight for the Plane Transfer Array at the Undead Sacred Mountain.
—
When he departed the Netherworld, the Chief Sovereign of Death faintly sensed sothing amiss. Her divine sense swept across Mount Nether, only to find Locke still sitting halfway up the mountain, quietly fishing.
Satisfied, she closed her eyes once more.
—
"This is… Youfu Mountain?"
Stepping out of the transfer array, Locke spread his divine sense and quickly confird his location.
Unlike the Netherworld, which had only two transfer arrays, the Infernal Realm had one on each of its major continents, save for the Chaotic Sea.
He had erged within the Youfu Mountain Range on the Jadefloat Continent.
"Still have to travel…"
With a quiet sigh, his body dissolved once more into water, vanishing before the eyes of onlookers.
The structure of the Infernal Realm resembled a cracked egg. Five great continents ford a vast ring, encircling the Starmist Sea at the center. Beyond them lay the Chaotic Sea.
His destination—Blackstone City—lay far away.
There were three possible routes.
He could circle clockwise, passing through Jadefloat, Bloodpeak, and then the Athyst Continent. Or go counterclockwise through Muya and then Athyst. Or—
Take the shortest path.
Straight across the Starmist Sea.
For most, that was the worst option.
The Starmist Sea was infamous—a haven for bandits, shrouded in perpetual storms and mist. There, lawlessness reigned. Anything that moved could be plundered.
But for Locke…
Such dangers were aningless.
Without hesitation, he transford fully into water, slipping through the elental currents and racing toward the sea.
Along the way, any bandits that entered his perception were silently erased.
A single Eye of Hell was enough.
Those caught in his illusion had no resistance. Their souls collapsed amidst endless agony—yet, in their final monts, their expressions carried a strange sense of relief.
In ti, the path he carved through the Starmist Sea beca known as a forbidden route. No bandit dared approach it.
It remained eerily safe for tens of thousands of years.
—
Four months later, Locke had crossed nearly the entire Infernal Realm.
Among gods, such speed was unparalleled.
Even Paragons of wind, lightning, or light could not match it—unless they too had mastered elental transformation.
Soon, his divine sense caught a familiar presence.
"…Found you."
—
At the sa ti, in the Water Divine Plane, within a mist-shrouded castle, Locke's original body suddenly opened its eyes.
A blazing light flickered within them.
"Haha… I've got it."
After centuries of effort, he had finally succeeded.
Drawing from the soul-extracting properties of the Five-Step Soul Devouring Python and his own mastery of the soul, he had created a thod to elevate the very essence of his soul.
Strictly speaking, it was not a "technique" in the traditional sense.
It was a fusion.
The irreversible refinent of soul essence—combined with controlled extraction—both weakened thousands of tis and carefully balanced.
Ordinary soul refinent was absolute. Once begun, it could not be halted. Any interruption ant total collapse.
The refined essence that remained was ownerless—free for any being to absorb.
But the python's thod was different. Its extracted soul energy remained under control, weaponized through the corrosive nature of the Edicts of Death.
Now, Locke had rged these two concepts.
He could refine his own soul into its purest form—while retaining full awareness and control.
A thod to transcend the limits of the soul itself.
There was, however, a price.
Once begun, it could not be stopped.
Any interruption would cause irreversible damage.
And more importantly—he would need vast amounts of soul-restoring treasures to sustain the process, lest his soul collapse from depletion.
"Athyst…"
He exhaled softly.
"I'll need an imnse amount of athyst."
"And a safe place."
At that thought, a certain location surfaced in his mind.
Mount Nether.
With the Chief Sovereign of Death and the Netherworld's core at its peak, it was perhaps the safest place in the entire universe—if one ignored the risk of provoking her.
Alternatively… a material plane.
With his current strength, he could easily carve out a forbidden zone and cultivate in isolation.
"Which one…"
His gaze grew distant.
—
anwhile, back in the Infernal Realm—
The forr Blackstone Tribe had long since grown into Blackstone City.
Its ruler, Amane, now a Five-Star Fiend, stood with lowered head before three figures, his posture humble.
More than two million years ago, he had taken Oakes' place, guarding this land.
Now, he knew clearly—
His limits had been reached.
And compared to those before him…
He was no longer qualified to stand at the sa level.
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