There is neither sun nor moon within the cave; this is the greatest joy of the mortal world.

Pang Yue stepped out from the secret chamber where Gao Yan had been. Truly worthy of being called the greatest beauty of the orthodox sects. The daughter of a mighty Golden Core cultivator—indeed, she was extraordinary, beyond compare, a wonder to experience. She nourished and enhanced his cultivation, providing the benefit of a decade’s worth of arduous training in a single night.

Now, Pang Yue had taken the final step in consolidating his Dao Foundation, achieving its perfect completion. The Seven Slaughter Sword’s nine seals were at last fully formed; just half a step more, and it would transform into a first-grade magical treasure. That day would mark his own ascension to the Golden Core realm.

“Junior sister, I must enter seclusion to break through. I leave everything outside in your hands,” Pang Yue instructed Xiong Ying, then chose a secluded chamber and began his genuine, earnest cultivation.

...

Above the Netherworld River, ghostly blue light flickered upwards, cold and wavering. A flash of lightning tore across the sky, darting through a horde of gigantic, ferocious demons, vanishing in the blink of an eye.

Not long after, the lightning flashed again and High Chancellor Gao Chong, crowned and robed in wide sleeves, came to a halt. With one hand forming incantations, he swiftly calculated, his expression growing darker and grimmer by the moment. Suddenly, something in his divination changed; fury surged across his handsome face, and his formidable spiritual pressure erupted uncontrollably, spreading in all directions.

“Pang Yue, you deserve death! There can be no reconciliation between us!” he roared.

A Golden Core cultivator’s wrath was terrifying indeed. A thick pillar of lightning struck down upon the Netherworld River, thunder erupting, clouds churning wildly. Every wandering soul and demon within a hundred miles was annihilated, not a trace remaining.

...

Within the cave, time passed unmarked by sun or moon—a paradise of mortal pleasure. Three years slipped by in the blink of an eye.

On this day, a sword cry, sharp as killing intent, rang through the water palace. In its wake, a surge of perfect Dao resonance rose, radiant as the morning sun. Omens burst forth—suddenly, the vast water palace shimmered with iridescent clouds, cascading in multicolored streams.

Within the glowing mist, countless mysterious runes danced, brimming with Daoist charm. On the jade-paved floor, clear light spread as clusters of white lotus buds quietly emerged, blossoming all at once in an instant.

Lotus leaves swayed gently, rich spiritual energy surged like waves, filling the entire palace with vibrant life. Yet all these marvels remained confined within its walls.

In the main hall, Xiong Ying and Gao Yan, locked in a game of Go, stared in astonishment at the unfolding spectacle. They felt their own spiritual power growing more active than ever before, a potent vitality welling up from their very blood.

In mere moments, they had each gained immeasurable benefit. Xiong Ying reached out, catching a fragment of cloudlight in her palm, marveling at the tiny, intricate runes that shimmered before her eyes, almost dizzying in their beauty. As the radiant mist touched her skin, it melted instantly, sending a jolt of energy through her, her spiritual power surging in response.

“What is this...?” she murmured, bewildered.

“It’s the formation of a Golden Core,” Gao Yan replied softly, her gaze complicated as she looked toward the chamber where Pang Yue was secluded.

...

“Senior brother has reached the Golden Core stage?” Xiong Ying gasped, her face alight with joy as she leapt up, unable to contain her excitement.

Gao Yan maintained her graceful composure and replied gently, “These are the legendary blessings of heaven and earth—the omens of Golden Core formation.”

Golden Core. The very words sent Xiong Ying’s heart racing. Across the entire Void Abyss continent, there were fewer than thirty Golden Core cultivators among the nine great sects, both orthodox and demonic. Advancing to this realm meant Pang Yue had stepped into the ranks of the world’s most elite cultivators. A single Golden Core master could support the rise of a major power across the land.

Even the formidable Bone Demon Sect boasted only three such practitioners.

Gao Yan sighed inwardly, knowing all hope of returning to Azure Cloud Mountain was lost. Pang Yue now stood on equal footing with her father, Gao Chong—his swordsmanship even more formidable than his peers. What was more, Pang Yue held a high-grade demonic treasure; even during his Dao Foundation stage, he had managed to trap her father. Now, upon breaking through to Golden Core, the artifact’s power would only grow, perhaps rivaling even Azure Cloud Mountain’s ancestral treasures.

For three years, she had endured Pang Yue’s coercion, forced to feign compliance and dual cultivate with him, quietly bearing his relentless advances. The jade bed, stone chairs, painted walls, flower beds, medicinal gardens—nearly every corner of the water palace held memories she could never forget.

From initial resistance and rejection, to reluctant acceptance, to a conflicted willingness—thinking of Pang Yue, Gao Yan found herself, to her shame and self-reproach, harboring a silent tenderness for him. Everywhere she looked in the water palace now felt inexplicably warm and dear.

...

At that moment, Pang Yue, too, emerged from the joy of his breakthrough and began to examine himself. With a mere thought, every notion within his sea of consciousness sparkled like flawless diamonds, pure and clear. His soul responded to the slightest impulse; every idea was easily grasped, a thousand thoughts rising and vanishing in the blink of an eye.

His spiritual sense, body, and magical power had all undergone earth-shattering transformation! Especially his spiritual power—having condensed it into the Golden Core, it had undergone a qualitative change. Where once it had flowed like a gentle stream, now it coursed like molten steel, scalding and unstoppable.

A bone-white sword hovered before him, its entire form lustrous and flawless, like pure white jade, encircled with flowing light and razor-sharp. Thirteen seals rotated naturally along the blade, emanating an aura of condensed, lethal intent.

The Seven Slaughter Sword had at last advanced to a first-grade magical treasure.

With a flick of his hand, Pang Yue summoned the Book of Heartbreak into his palm. The once radiant magical tome now appeared subdued, as a profound mystical power flooded his mind.

The Radiance of Heartbreak.

Only by mastering this technique could the Book of Heartbreak’s full potential be unleashed. Whether righteous or demonic, holding this artifact rendered such distinctions irrelevant—the world was his to roam.

Indeed, Pang Yue owed much of his advancement to this treasured tome. Without its aid in refining his body and strengthening his power, even a decade of dual cultivation with Xiong Ying and Gao Yan would hardly have guaranteed his breakthrough. Out of countless cultivators across the world, only thirty had attained the Golden Core—how could it be so easily achieved?

Even Gao Yan, blessed with the world’s spiritual energy and aided by her Golden Core parents, had achieved Dao Foundation perfection early on, but she still lingered at the threshold, unable to take the final step.

Putting away both treasures, Pang Yue swept his sleeve and the secret chamber’s door swung open. Xiong Ying and Gao Yan entered side by side. Pang Yue extended both arms, drawing the two women to him, one on each side, embodying the very image of a mighty demonic cultivator.

...

Since the orthodox sects would not accept him, he would simply become a great master of the demonic path!

Both women were among the most beautiful in the cultivation world—one passionate as fire, brimming with affection; the other shy and gentle, her feelings deep and restrained.

“My dear junior sisters, this is a day of great joy—let us celebrate together,” Pang Yue declared.

The two women blushed, clearly guessing what sort of “celebration” he meant. Pang Yue lifted Gao Yan’s delicate chin with a finger, gazing at her stunningly fair and lovely face. Smiling, he asked, “Sister Gao, what do you say?”

Gao Yan’s eyes dropped, a rosy flush spreading across her cheeks. She looked up at Pang Yue, her beautiful eyes lingering on him, and softly said, “For the rest of my life, I ask only for your kindness.”

...

Upon the Netherworld River, Gao Chong, weary and haggard, brought his flight to a halt. Staring at the surging waters, he cast his calculations, dozens of possibilities all pointing to this very place.

In three years, even as a Golden Core master, he had nearly perished within the Netherworld River. Time and again, he had escaped death by relying on his mastery of divination to find the sole thread of survival.

Sun Yiyan, meanwhile, had decisively left the rift during the first year.

Now, at last, Gao Chong had divined the hiding place of Pang Yue and his daughter.

Cloaked in spiritual light, Gao Chong plunged into the river. Before the stone walls at the riverbed, his face twisted in anger as he jabbed a finger forward. The water palace’s bronze doors shattered with a crash, and the dark waters surged inside.

With a sweep of his sleeve, Gao Chong prepared to step into the palace—when suddenly, an impossibly sharp sword-light shot straight at him! A tide of killing intent flooded his sea of consciousness. Gao Chong snorted coldly, lightning bursting about him as he flicked his fingers at the sword-light, summoning a bolt of lightning to strike it down.

The sword-light quivered, deftly evading the lightning, then split into ninety-nine streams that enveloped Gao Chong completely.

Sword-light division! A Golden Core sword cultivator!

Realization flickered in Gao Chong’s eyes and his face grew grim. He hastily summoned a bronze bell, encasing himself within its protection. The fierce, relentless sword-light battered the bell, sending forth a deafening, endless cacophony.

The power of the sword-light was immense—even Gao Chong, mighty as he was, felt his heart tremble. The bronze bell shuddered and flickered with unstable light.

Struggling to withstand the onslaught within his mind while directing the bell against the sword-light, Gao Chong found himself on the defensive, unable to strike back.

After the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, the sword-light abruptly vanished.

Gao Chong swept his spiritual sense through the water palace—inside, it was empty, not a soul remaining! He had no inkling of when they had departed.

Unwilling to accept defeat, Gao Chong flashed into the palace in a burst of lightning, searched every corner, and, finding it deserted, let out a furious roar: “Pang Yue, I...!”