Chapter Fifty-Nine: Peak of the Mortal Realm

Thunder rumbled as the earth split apart and the void trembled. Two terrifying auras spread, leaving devastation in their wake. Blood stained the corner of Lin Fan’s mouth; the power of the Lord of Withered Bones far surpassed both the Devouring Heaven Beast and the Flame Demon clan’s mighty warrior. Even when Lin Fan pushed the Divine Creation Fist to its peak, he could not defeat his adversary.

Yet his momentum grew ever more formidable, his eyes shining with brilliance, an overwhelming battle intent surging forth—he fought without care for his life or death.

The dark crimson long spear quivered in his grip. It was a superior treasure, nearly reaching the level of a magical artifact. Yet somehow, Prison Sky had employed some unknown method, secretly devouring the spear’s power. The spirit within the treasure roared furiously, unleashing its might, but it was futile; instead, Prison Sky’s aura grew stronger, reaping considerable benefits.

The Lord of Withered Bones attacked with increasing ferocity, his blood energy surging, countless runes falling from the sky, engulfing all directions and wrapping Lin Fan completely within them.

A dragon swept through the chaos, a stone tablet stamped its dominance, Lin Fan roared in rage, opening up a space, his Divine Creation Fist unleashed, one hand covering the heavens.

A battle of unimaginable intensity erupted. Both combatants had reached their peak, even burning their blood energy, launching fierce assaults that shattered the world.

“I truly am old now; I am no longer in my invincible years.”

After hundreds of exchanges, the Lord of Withered Bones coughed up blood for the first time. It was as though a valve had opened—his momentum plummeted, unable to remain at the summit.

Heaven and earth quaked, chaos veiled the land, and from the sea of runes strode a figure—robust and tall, with terrifying beams of light in his eyes.

Lin Fan finally broke free from the Lord of Withered Bones’ runic prison, his punch like a dragon, annihilating all ten directions.

Another few dozen exchanges passed. A column of blood shot skyward, the Lord of Withered Bones suffered a grievous wound. Then Lin Fan’s fist descended, shattering the four extremes and eight wilds.

“My time has come to an end, yet my great vengeance remains unfulfilled.”

The Lord of Withered Bones cast a lingering gaze toward the distance—his last place alive—with a deep sense of reluctance in his eyes.

Blood splattered as his skull was smashed open. His life extinguished, his Dao dissipated.

Simultaneously, a voice thundered across heaven and earth; the dark crimson long spear shattered, gray divine light surged forth, devouring the spear entirely.

“Haha! Creation, creation! My strength has returned to one thousandth of its former glory!”

Prison Sky’s figure grew ever more solid as he burst forth, suspended in midair.

“A superior treasure possessed such a rich divine spirit—it’s truly inconceivable. From this day forward, I wield the power of the Fifth Heaven of the Pulse Condensation Realm.”

Prison Sky did not hide his ecstasy, his aura vast and mighty, like a boundless sea.

“Congratulations,” Lin Fan replied, his face pale, his aura waning. After battling three powerful foes of such high realms, Lin Fan felt utterly exhausted, as though his oil was spent and his lamp extinguished.

“Haha, the feeling of regaining my strength is indeed marvelous. I shall now refine a Dao Pill for you. Yet as your realm deepens, the pill’s effects will not merely enhance your strength; it will also fortify your potential. But as you are only at the tenth stage of the physical body, you cannot fully absorb the pill’s medicinal power yet.”

Perhaps in his delight, Prison Sky took the initiative to refine a Dao Pill for Lin Fan. Beams of divine light shot forth, engulfing the entire battlefield.

An hour later, three enormous pills appeared before Lin Fan, already refined. With Prison Sky steadily recovering, his speed in alchemy had greatly increased.

“Very well, I’ll take the pills now.”

By this time, Lin Fan’s wounds had healed. Without hesitation, he took the Dao Pills and swallowed them directly.

A tremendous power exploded within him. Lin Fan felt as if he were about to ascend to immortality. The energy within the Dao Pills differed from Blood Pills, containing various Dao laws, which benefited him greatly.

He sat for another day and night. When Lin Fan opened his eyes, it was already the next day. Yet in the Black Demon Heaven, there was no distinction between day and night—only a black demon moon hung at the horizon.

“Who are you?!”

Lin Fan suddenly noticed a figure standing before him—handsome beyond compare, like a banished celestial descending to the mortal world. His figure was tall and slender, as if about to ride the wind away.

“What’s wrong, don’t recognize me?”

The familiar voice drifted over; the figure spoke with a smile at the corner of his lips.

“Are you Prison Sky?”

Lin Fan asked in confusion, a suspicion already forming in his mind.

“That’s right. I never expected the Lord of Withered Bones’ long spear to be so extraordinary—devouring it was as good as consuming a magical artifact. Coupled with my profound cultivation, I am now able to condense a physical body.”

Prison Sky stretched nonchalantly, the sound of bones colliding echoing.

The reason artifact spirits are named so is because they can condense physical form. In ancient times, there was even a clan of artifact spirits possessing their own great world. Yet after the outbreak of the ancient wars, their entire race chose to avoid conflict, disappearing from the sight of all.

“So that’s how it is.”

Lin Fan nodded, recalling records about artifact spirits, and found it acceptable.

“My host body has already fused with you, and cannot be separated. Thus I can only exist outside for a short time. When you become strong enough, you’ll be able to split me off and let me become a true living being.”

Prison Sky spoke out his wish—to become a genuine member of the artifact spirit clan, realizing a separation of form.

“No problem. If I have the power, I’ll certainly help you achieve it.”

Lin Fan nodded without hesitation. Prison Sky’s presence within him had always felt odd; Lin Fan would much prefer for Prison Sky to become a true living being.

“It’s still too early to talk about this. Your strength has reached the peak of the tenth stage of the physical body. Even in ancient times, you’d be among the strongest, aside from those with special bloodlines.”

Prison Sky’s gaze was sharp, seeing through Lin Fan’s strength at once. He had reached the power of a single man lifting a cauldron. Yet in the tenth stage of the physical body, this was the limit—no further progress could be made.

“Your next task is to step into the Pulse Condensation Realm. But to reach that stage, you will need a long period of accumulation. One reason I brought you to Black Demon Heaven was for this.”

Prison Sky glanced at Lin Fan as he spoke.

“I know about the Pulse Condensation Realm. Even now, though my strength rivals the fourth stage of that realm, I cannot ascend in a short time. Do you have a method?”

Lin Fan nodded, deeply agreeing. Only after reaching this level did he realize how difficult it was to take that step—no wonder both Chen Daolin and Sword One had not broken through yet.

“Of course. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have brought you to Black Demon Heaven. But my method is dangerous; whether you succeed depends on your courage to try.”

Prison Sky spoke thoughtfully, his eyes flickering.