Chapter 84: Supercore Imbalance

A black sword force tore through the void like a jet-black bolt of lightning, sharp and tyrannical, spanning nine hundred light-years, forcibly cleaving this stretch of the cosmic starry sky in two. Such power could collapse the heavens, shatter the universe, annihilate enemies of the cosmos—enough to make any supreme cultivator shudder with dread.

“Young master! Young master! The sacred cosmic power the Lord left within the sword can only be used three times, and yet you’ve already spent one so casually!” Old Yuan cried out, both heartbroken and exasperated, anxiously circling like an ant on a hot pan. Once he had calmed himself, he gingerly produced a silvery-white scabbard, carefully cradled the black sword spike, and sheathed it with the utmost caution.

“Why worry? I’ll just ask Danya to replenish it later,” replied the little bald-headed youth with a nonchalant air, feeling not the slightest regret—for after all, he had a formidable wife.

Hearing this, Old Yuan nearly spat blood in frustration. Such an opportunity was unimaginably precious; any top god-lord in the vast domain of cultivators would be left in terror, with a nine-in-ten chance of perishing if struck. His old, yellowed face was etched with vexation, his lips twitching before he sighed helplessly. If the Lord were to learn that the young master had so carelessly squandered such a chance, and in such a lighthearted tone, he would surely be punished again.

“Young master, listen well. Unless you encounter a supreme cultivator, keep the sword in its scabbard. If you come across an enemy of that caliber, then unsheathe the blade—but remember, don’t use excessive force. A gentle thrust is sufficient,” Old Yuan cautioned, sealing the silver-white scabbard before returning it to the boy.

“Alright, let’s get going with our training,” the little bald-headed youth said, brandishing the white scabbard with enthusiasm. “This time, I’m going to make a cultivation plan—when to sever the path of defiance, when to seek the realm of light, when to achieve mastery. It’s all set. And lastly, I’ll marry Danya—hee hee!”

“Yes, yes, you’re absolutely right, young master,” Old Yuan replied with an ingratiating smile, though his thoughts ran otherwise. The young master was still naïve. Severing the path of defiance, attaining the light realm, and becoming a true master—these were bottlenecks that countless star cultivators failed to cross in a lifetime; each required endless time and accumulation. The Lord Danya had set such terms precisely because she never intended for you to marry her anytime soon.

...

“No more fighting today.”

“Ugly toad, we’ll meet again another day!”

Within the Taiyin-Solar star system, Feng Xiang burst into hearty laughter, his figure ablaze with radiant light, his voice tinged with delight and satisfaction. With a single punch, he blasted away the sullen-faced Daoist Yellow Toad, then abruptly vanished to the edge of the star system.

“Let’s go.” With a sweep of his five fingers, Feng Xiang conjured a sphere of energy out of nothing, enveloping the golden Dao-ship and its four passengers. A swath of dazzling white brilliance flared, and they disappeared from this patch of the cosmic sky.

“Hmph!”

Daoist Yellow Toad made no move to stop them. His visage was shadowed and cold, like an ancient black pool whose chill would not thaw for eternity. In his deep eyes, dark light flickered, ominous and terrifying, his thoughts unreadable.

After a long while, Daoist Yellow Toad glanced around the ruined starry expanse—devastation everywhere, unspeakable destruction, dust swirling thick in the void; residual laws of power rent space asunder, leaving wounds that would not heal for countless years. Most shocking of all, a portion of the Solar Divine Star had collapsed, as though something had taken a bite from it. The crimson breach was over six billion zhang wide, streaming with flaming tails of light, thousands upon thousands, utterly discordant with its former splendor.

“Quaa! Quaaa!” The great golden toad, carrying Crane Xuan, reappeared in space, its eyes agleam with golden light, curiously surveying the transformed surroundings.

“To think it has come to this—the aftermath of a battle between cultivators is truly terrifying.” Crane Xuan looked all around, fear gripping his heart. Not far off, a rift in the void stretched for hundreds of millions of zhang, crackling as it bridged into the dark universe, surrounded by countless stellar remnants.

The battle, indeed, had shaken heaven and earth.

“My lord… what of that boy?” he asked timidly, glancing at Daoist Yellow Toad, who stood with his blue bamboo staff slung upon his back, his eyes dark and inscrutable, silent as he gazed into the stars. Crane Xuan ventured a nervous inquiry.

“He’s gone,” said Daoist Yellow Toad, his robe fluttering, cuffs billowing, a faint green glow swaying from the divine bamboo. If not for his hideous appearance, he might even possess a certain immortal grace.

“Gone… My lord, what of my Guangxi?” Crane Xuan’s face was troubled. His Guangxi was his lifeblood; with it lost, and only its core remaining, his strength was reduced by seventy percent. A light master without Guangxi was like an angel with broken wings—the hardship of such a fate was obvious.

“So, you’ve lost Guangxi, and now you want me to retrieve it for you? Useless thing!” Daoist Yellow Toad snapped coldly.

“That’s not what I meant…” Crane Xuan shrank back, trembling with fear, head lowered. Suddenly, his eyes darted as if grasping at a final straw. “My lord, there are still two supreme cores of the third realm in this star system!”

At this, Daoist Yellow Toad’s countenance eased a little. He said nothing, simply stamped a foot and, in an instant, brought the great golden toad and Crane Xuan to the space between the Taiyin and Solar divine stars.

Here, boundless heat and extreme cold mingled, filling this segment of the cosmos. On one side, the scorching solar power could melt divine crystals; on the other, the biting cold could freeze even the soul of a mighty cultivator.

A world of fire and ice.

Daoist Yellow Toad’s pupils flashed with spiraling light, piercing layers of frost and flame to the heart of the two divine stars. There, two crystalline, dazzling god-cores spun slowly, exuding a powerful energy and weaving an exquisite interplay of fire and frost.

Crane Xuan’s eyes brimmed with excitement. These two supreme cores were the treasures he had long yearned to one day fuse and claim. Should he succeed in their transformation, they would become peak third-realm cores—enough that, no matter how displeased Daoist Yellow Toad was, he would surely be satisfied upon acquiring them.

“What a pity,” Daoist Yellow Toad murmured, shaking his head.

“A pity, my lord? Why?” Crane Xuan was puzzled.

“You must have noticed that, in the recent battle, the Solar Divine Star sustained heavy damage. That means the two supreme cores can never achieve their final transformation.” The battle between Feng Xiang and Daoist Yellow Toad had inflicted catastrophic harm upon the star system, even draining the Solar Star.

Daoist Yellow Toad saw at a glance that the evolution of these cores required a highly stable environment; once balance was lost, their transformation became impossible.

It might not yet be apparent, but in a month’s time, with the Solar Star unable to supply enough power, the balance would tip, and the two cores would destabilize and explode.

“What!” Crane Xuan was aghast. The supreme cores were his last bargaining chip. Though Daoist Yellow Toad had suffered a setback, if he obtained the cores, he might pay a great price to help Crane Xuan restore his Guangxi. Now, however, disaster had struck.

“No need to wait; we take them now,” Daoist Yellow Toad said calmly. It was a loss, for if things had gone as planned, these two would have become peak dual-elemental fire and frost third-realm cores. But with the Solar Star depleted, such evolution was now impossible.

Better to pluck the fruit now than wait for it to wither and burst.