Mirror Dream Tree V.4.162. Leaving the Furnace Hell

Lou Yuan and Shen Yi separate and hover in silence, blood dripping into the clouds as both halt at the sa ti.

With urgency, Lou Yuan opens his pores and draws in the origin energy saturating the battlefield, starlight and heaven essence pouring into him to nd torn ridians and stabilise his Saint Essence.

Across from him, Shen Yi does the sa, sacred runes on his body pulsing as divine origin gathers and seals his cracked core.

No one dares to speak.

The crowd around the cloud city watches in bated breath, knowing the next exchange will decide everything.

Lou Yuan closes his eyes for a single instant.

He knows he cannot outlast Shen Yi.

Nor can he overpower him directly.

He needs a decisive strike.

Within his Dao sea, the Qinglong coils tighter as his thoughts slow and sharpen.

The Law of Star provides energy without end.

The Law of Strength gives structure and execution.

The Law of Gravity dictates control and inevitability.

Separately, they are powerful.

Together, they can beco absolute.

An idea forms.

Not a technique yet—

but a direction.

He envisions stars collapsing, gravity locking escape, and strength condensing everything into a single, unavoidable point.

A Saint Art begins to take shape.

Not expensive.

Not destructive at range.

But inescapable.

Lou Yuan opens his eyes.

The mont his gaze locks onto Shen Yi, the pressure in the sky changes.

Shen Yi moves first.

He cannot allow whatever is forming to complete.

Sacred runes ignite across his body as he steps forward, each step cracking the clouds beneath his feet.

“God Fist.”

The punch arrives faster than before, sacred light condensed to its extre, tearing straight toward Lou Yuan’s chest.

Lou Yuan raises his arms to block.

The impact is brutal.

Bones shatter.

His body is hurled backwards, spinning violently as blood sprays into the air.

Before he can stabilise, sacred thunder descends.

“Sacred Thunder.”

Lightning strikes him head-on, blasting through his defences and ripping through his shoulder.

Lou Yuan crashes into the clouds below, coughing blood, his Saint Essence fluctuating wildly.

The crowd gasps.

Shen Yi does not relent.

A Sacred Sword forms again, longer and sharper than before, cleaving downward with killing intent.

Lou Yuan barely rolls aside.

The blade slices through his side, tearing flesh and leaving a scorched wound that refuses to close.

Pain floods his senses.

His vision blurs.

He is losing.

Inside his mind, however, sothing sharpens.

He stops trying to fight back.

Instead, he endures.

Star-energy continues to condense within him, tighter and tighter, guided by his will.

The Law of Star fuels it.

Law of Strength compresses it.

The law of Gravity binds it.

Shen Yi senses the shift and frowns.

He raises his hand.

“Sacred Fire Burst.”

Golden flas explode outward, engulfing Lou Yuan.

For a mont, it seems over.

Then—

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The flas bend.

They curve inward.

Shen Yi’s eyes widen.

The space around Lou Yuan twists unnaturally, light stretching, sound warping.

Lou Yuan rises slowly from the fire, his body covered in wounds, his breath uneven.

Yet his eyes are terrifyingly calm.

He extends one trembling hand.

“Black Hole Burst.”

The world collapses.

A sphere of absolute darkness forms before his palm—no light, no sound, no escape.

Gravity screams.

The clouds below spiral inward, torn apart like dust.

Shen Yi’s Sacred Shield manifests instantly, layers upon layers of divine light stacking to block the attack.

The black sphere expands.

The shield shatters.

Shen Yi roars as his body is dragged forward against his will, divine armour cracking, bones grinding under impossible pressure.

He unleashes everything at once—fire, thunder, sword, fist—

All of it is swallowed.

The Black Hole Burst detonates.

Not outward—

But inward.

Space implodes.

When the light returns, Shen Yi is flung backwards, crashing violently through layers of cloud before barely stabilising himself.

His chest is caved in.

Golden blood pours freely.

Sacred runes flicker and dim.

Lou Yuan drops to one knee, gasping, his body pushed beyond its limit.

Both hover in silence again.

Both are grievously injured.

The crowd is frozen.

No one dares breathe.

“Lou Yuan!” Shui Yinlan shouts, her voice trembling, yet she does not step forward.

The duel is not over, and interference would only taint it.

Lou Yuan straightens slowly.

A smile appears on his bloodstained face.

He knows.

He has won.

Across from him, Shen Yi falters, his body swaying as he struggles to remain standing.

Lou Yuan watches him carefully, feeling sothing deeper than triumph.

This victory ans more than any he has achieved before.

He has defeated soone of the sa calibre—

the sa talent—

the sa height.

Then Shen Yi roars.

“I cannot be defeated!”

Through sheer will, Shen Yi forces himself upright, golden blood dripping as hatred twists his face.

Lou Yuan ets his gaze calmly.

“But you are defeated.”

He turns to leave.

Not in retreat—but in prudence.

He needs a place to recover, far from prying eyes and hungry minds.

Then the Demon voice cuts in.

“He has a Quasi-Supre Weapon.”

Lou Yuan’s heart skips.

A wave of palpitation surges through him.

Before he can even turn—

The sky vanishes.

His feet touch sothing solid.

Gold spreads beneath him.

A vast golden field unfolds, lanterns large and small floating in the air, each radiating sacred light.

His Saint Essence freezes.

His strength locks.

His Dao falls silent.

Lou Yuan looks up.

Shen Yi stands at the centre, gripping a lantern blazing with sacred radiance.

“I cannot be defeated,” Shen Yi snarls.

“Especially not by a human dog.”

Lou Yuan clenches his teeth, reaching inward, preparing to force his Supre artefact—

Then—

The golden field trembles.

It is pushed back.

The lanterns flicker.

The gold recedes like a tide.

Lou Yuan finds himself standing on water.

Rain begins to fall.

A clear, gentle rain.

“Lou Yuan, are you okay?”

Shui Yinlan’s voice reaches him.

He turns.

She stands nearby, holding a white pearl in her hand, its aura vast and deep—the aura of a Quasi-Supre Weapon.

Lou Yuan exhales.

He looks back at Shen Yi.

“Do you want to continue?”

Shen Yi snorts coldly.

He withdraws the lantern field, gripping his Quasi-Supre weapon tightly, then turns and walks toward Cloud City without another word.

Shui Yinlan retracts her field as well.

Together, she and Lou Yuan head back toward the city.

Lou Yuan is no longer worried.

He can recover within Cloud City—or return directly to human territory.

For now, they choose the city.

—

From afar, Ji ng watches the battle end.

A clan mber steps beside him and says,

“Brother Ji, those humans are the ones who published the task to find the human demon, rin.”

Ji ng’s eyes narrow slightly.

He has been entrusted with a task—

to et rin, deliver a letter from the human race, and convey information from the Spirit Dragon Race.

Fate is already drawing the threads together.

Ji ng is not rely an observer.

He is the Young Lord of the Karma Clan, entrusted directly by the Clan Council with a hidden mission—to determine rin’s true strength and, if possible, win him over.

On the surface, the Karma Clan appears stable.

But beneath that calm lies fear.

The Immortal Gate is approaching.

The last ti it opened, catastrophe followed.

Three Karma Supres were grievously injured, their origins damaged, their souls forced into deep slumber.

The clan nearly went extinct.

Though the Karma Clan has recovered over the years, those wounds never healed.

If the Immortal Gate opens again under the sa conditions, the clan may not survive a second calamity.

That is why rin matters.

After exchanging a few words with his clansn, Ji ng turns and flies downward toward the ground layer of Furnace Hell.

—

In the seventh layer of Furnace Hell, rin grits his teeth.

Seven-colored Dao fire roars around him, each fla carrying a different supre law, pressing down on his body like judgnt itself.

His field spreads outward, suppressing the Dao fire just enough to keep it from burning him alive.

Still, the strain is unbearable.

His Saint Essence drains at an alarming rate.

He stops.

Without hesitation, he rises and retreats upward.

If he continues, his essence will be fully consud, and his Dao will no longer protect him.

He returns to the sixth layer.

The flas here are still terrifying, but with his Dao Weapon protecting him, he remains unscathed.

As he sits and recovers, Saint Essence flows slowly back into his body, and subtle changes begin.

His flesh aligns more closely with his Dao.

His bones grow denser.

His aura becos sharper, colder, less human.

Each transformation erases a fragnt of his original race.

This is why branch clans exist across the heavens.

This is how new races are born—when Dao transformation deepens beyond return.

After fully healing, rin ascends once more to the seventh layer.

This ti, he focuses on two weapons.

The Five-Elent Fire Gauntlet.

The Black Fire Sword.

Both are Quasi-Supre weapons.

They refuse to lt.

He repeats the process again and again, each session consuming imnse essence and will.

Seventeen sessions later—

They finally dissolve.

With the molten tal, rin begins reforging his Dao Weapon, layering supre material into its core, strengthening its logic, sharpening its will.

Once finished, he returns to the sixth layer to recover.

Soone is waiting.

A young man stands calmly amid the flas.

“I am Ji ng,” the man says, bowing slightly.

“This letter is from Lou Yuan.”

rin accepts it.

Ji ng continues, “And I bring information from the Spirit Dragon Race.”

“Silan and her daughter will be executed.”

“In ten months.”

The words strike deeper than any blade.

Everything else vanishes from rin’s mind.

Refinent.

Weapons.

Dao.

Gone.

His aura surges violently as he turns and soars upward, intent on leaving Furnace Hell imdiately.

Ji ng steps into his path.

rin stops, eyes cold.

“Do you have anything else to deliver?” he asks impatiently.

“No.”

“Then why are you blocking my way?”

“I want to duel you.”

rin’s expression hardens.

“I don’t have ti.”

“Later.”

He moves to pass.

Ji ng blocks him again—and attacks.

Annoyance flashes through rin’s eyes.

He does not waste words.

“Chess Field—open.”

The world folds.

Ji ng is instantly suppressed, space locking beneath his feet.

But Ji ng activates the Quasi-Supre weapon bestowed by the Karma Clan.

A second field erupts, golden and heavy, clashing violently against rin’s Chess Field.

The two domains collide.

Yet the difference is absolute.

rin’s field is born of comprehension.

Ji ng’s is borrowed.

The weapon drains Ji ng’s essence rapidly, while rin—despite having nearly exhausted reserves from the seventh layer—maintains perfect control.

The golden field fractures.

Shatters.

Ji ng is thrown back violently, blood spraying as his domain collapses.

rin does not look back.

He breaks through the layers of Furnace Hell and vanishes upward—

Leaving Ji ng alone amid the dying flas.