Cultivating for a hundred lifetimes to ascension Chapter 1493 - 808: Ninth Life Begins, Three Extremes Zhao Family

Unknown durations had passed in obscurity, yet Zhao Sheng stirred back to awareness from the void. Scarcely had he begun pondering when excruciating torment raced across his frame, yanking him from bewilderment as a torrent of recollection fragments inexplicably flooded his consciousness.

He recalled it all!

This incarnation named him Zhao Ergou, originating from a remote countryside hamlet where his kin scraped by in abject destitution. By age ten, discovery of his Spirit Root prompted the Main Family to seize him for auction... Enduring a trek spanning thousands of li, he was ultimately traded to a cultivation lineage: the Three Extremes Zhao Family.

Right from his initial entry, Zhao Ergou savored meat to his fill for the very first occasion, endured a thrashing that nearly claimed his life for the first time, and witnessed a cultivator soaring via Sword Control for the initial time.

With these thoughts swirling, Zhao Sheng propped himself upright, scanned his surroundings, and noted the chamber spanned eight or nine zhang, featuring verdant brick walls, cypress rafters, and sparse decor. Twenty bunks lined up in dual rows, neatly organized.

His spot nestled near the deepest corner, perpetually starved of daylight, perpetually chill and moist, betraying his lowly rank amid the room's inhabitants.

Huh?

As his eyes roamed, Zhao Sheng's vision sharpened abruptly, detecting an oddity since his sight "unwittingly" pierced the barrier and revealed the vista beyond—a chamber nearly mirroring this one, housing twenty bunks inside.

Divine Sense?!

In this existence, true cultivation had yet to commence for him, but Divine Sense had already manifested.

Zhao Sheng's pulse quickened with elation, though he soon composed himself. Having cycled through reincarnations repeatedly, his Divine Soul had subtly ballooned manifold, rendering innate Divine Sense hardly astonishing.

A creaking sound echoed as the entrance swung ajar, admitting seven or eight youths in succession.

The forefront youth bulked out stout and robust, sporting a panther-like head and bulging eyes, exuding a formidable aura.

Spotting Zhao Sheng alert, the intimidating youth marched forward boldly, bellowing with disdain, "Little Dog, you yielding yet?"

Little Dog?

Addressing me?

Zhao Sheng froze momentarily, and visions raced through his thoughts; he pieced it together—in his prior life, this very figure orchestrated the assault that knocked him out cold.

The cause behind the pummeling proved straightforward: a bid to assert dominance, with his frail physique marking him as the ideal mark.

A notion sparked, and Zhao Sheng gestured the intimidating youth nearer with a wave, uttering, "Approach, come closer!"

At this display, the intimidating youth seethed with rage, hiked up his sleeves, lunged toward the bunk, and swung a fist toward Zhao Sheng's visage.

Ah!

In the instant that followed, the intimidating youth unleashed a piercing wail of agony, his form went limp, and he dropped to his knees beside the bed, his torso slumping against its rim.

Zhao Sheng extended a hand to tap the youth's cheek, grinning at him while inquiring, "What's your name?"

Terror gripped the intimidating youth, sensations of prickling numbness coursed through him, his limbs spasmed without control. Panic-stricken, he blurted out swiftly, "I'm Chen Polu."

Words barely escaped when he queried in dread, "What sort of wicked technique did you employ? Why am I paralyzed?"

Zhao Sheng offered no reply, instead lifting his eyes to the remaining youths, his stare profound and detached.

The youths recoiled in fright, each retreating a pace, averting their sights, unwilling to lock eyes with him.

"What are your names?"

"Zhou Wuluan"

"Zheng Lie"

"Zhao Gaiguan"

...

The youths, hearts pounding with alarm, recited their identities in turn.

Zhao Sheng, face etched with chill resolve, gave a faint nod and declared, "Henceforth, I rule this place. Any in favor? Any against?"

Silence blanketed the chamber, the youths traded uneasy looks, then collectively fixed their attention on the intimidating youth, Chen Polu.

Noticing this, Zhao Sheng's regard settled upon Chen Polu.

The intimidating youth's gaze clashed with his and quaked instantly in fear, nodding vigorously while proclaiming, "No qualms here. Brother Zhao takes charge of Geng Ninth Room from this moment."

Upon voicing this, he pressed the rest insistently, "Hail him as boss without delay!"

Witnessing the scene, the youths hurriedly chorused their boss salutes in a noisy rush.

Zhao Sheng dipped his head approvingly, stretched forth his right arm, and jabbed the Tan Zhong acupoint on the intimidating youth's torso, thereby freeing the sealed point.

The intimidating youth, Chen Polu, sensed relief wash over his body as the prickling and numbness faded, control returning to his limbs, filling him with awe and glee.

He sprang to his feet promptly, bowed his head, and beamed obsequiously at the boss, all while prodding the others to surrender their concealed items as tribute to the new leader.

Before long, the remaining youths trickled back into the room, and Zhao Sheng quashed any resistance with a mere showcase of prowess.

...

As dawn broke with the Great Sun ascending, purple qi streamed from the orient.

Within the expansive compound of green bricks lay a White Stone Plaza, spanning close to ten mu, vast enough for ten thousand souls.

When the dawn's rays crested the barriers to bathe the plaza, squads of youths marched in, orienting toward the rising orb and forming ranks by their assigned spots.

Soon enough, the plaza brimmed with figures, tallying over a thousand in rough estimate.

At that juncture, a colossal green toad, bovine in scale, vaulted over the enclosure, alighting before the assembly, bearing a rotund elder perched cross-legged atop it, shirtless and pot-bellied.

The rotund elder's countenance gleamed slick with grease, his gut protruded prominently, resembling a dame in her tenth lunar cycle of gestation.

Yet this obese elder, the instant he materialized, quelled the plaza into utter hush, instilling dread that paled many faces to ghostly white.

The rotund elder's clouded gaze raked across the throng, prompting all to incline their heads in grave deference, fostering a heavy, oppressive air.

"Today we recite the scriptures once more, hold your ground. The opening verse of the Jieye Moke Scripture: All beings across the ten directions, with profound devotion and bliss, aspire for rebirth in my realm, even through Ten Thoughts; should they fail to be reborn, I vow not to achieve Zheng Jue..."

Initially, the recitation rang with grandeur and solemnity, slowly shifting to a shrill, ambiguous timbre, akin to vermin tunneling into ears, ultimately burrowing into craniums to gnaw at spirits.

Those youths of frail resolve faltered earliest, successively hemorrhaging from orifices, crumpling to the ground, then seizing and lapsing into oblivion.