Chapter 101: Golden Core Realm

Deep within the Obsidian Realm lay a massive, tranquil lake, its crystal-clear waters undisturbed save for the occasional ripples caused by falling leaves. In the heart of the lake stood three young cultivators from Verdant Sky City, their auras shimmering with intensity. They were encircling a luminous white pearl, an ancient relic radiating waves of vast spiritual energy—energy so potent that it felt as though it had been accumulating for hundreds of thousands of years.

The three cultivators were immersed in absorbing the energy, their concentration unwavering. At the forefront was Ren Xiangfeng, the undisputed leader of their generation, channeling the lion's share of the pearl's spiritual essence. Behind him, Lian Qingmu and Zhuo Lihua, ranked second and third respectively, were also drawing in as much of the energy as their bodies could handle. Their eyes remained tightly shut, their focus absolute.

Nearby lay the lifeless bodies of a Silver Sword City cultivator and a member of the Fan Clan from Northern Moon, their deaths serving as silent testimony to the brutal competition for the pearl. Scattered around were the bloodied remains of snake-like demonic beasts that had fiercely guarded the relic. Despite the carnage, the lake's waters remained eerily pure, as though untouched by the violence.

Ren Xiangfeng's thoughts surged with determination. "Almost there!" he thought, feeling the monumental transformation taking place within him. His Essence Lake, once an impressive 10,500 meters in size, was undergoing a profound compression. It rumbled with immense power, forcing itself into a more refined state. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets, his body trembling violently, and his blood boiled as if on the verge of combustion.

After three grueling hours, his Essence Lake compressed into a radiant, crystal-clear white core. It floated above his head, spinning slowly, mirroring the pearl that had bestowed its energy upon him. The moment was monumental.

"I made it! Golden Core Realm!" Ren Xiangfeng's voice erupted like a thunderclap across the still waters. He leaped into the air, his body propelled by the overwhelming surge of energy coursing through him.

High above the lake, his Spirit Projection materialized—a massive tree with gnarled, ancient limbs that twisted and coiled protectively around him. The tree's branches were dense, radiating vitality and a profound sense of age, as though it had stood since the dawn of time. The projection was a testament to his bloodline's unique power and the cultivation method that had elevated him to the Golden Core Realm. It was an achievement few could hope to replicate, and fewer still could surpass.

Ren Xiangfeng hovered in the air using a battle skill, his projection casting a vast shadow over the lake. The sight was awe-inspiring, a declaration of his ascension and a warning to anyone who dared challenge his place at the pinnacle of his generation. His gaze swept over the pristine waters, the dead bodies, and his companions still struggling to absorb the remaining energy. For a fleeting moment, a smirk crossed his face.

"This is only the beginning," he whispered to himself, his voice filled with ambition. The Golden Core Realm was a milestone, but for Ren Xiangfeng, it was merely a stepping stone to even greater heights.

-

In a far-reaching corner of the Obsidian Waterfall Realm, where the skies shimmered with an otherworldly hue and the waters stretched endlessly like a liquid mirror, there lay a barren piece of land adrift in what seemed to be an endless sea. The landmass was not vast, but it was striking in its starkness, a solitary island of jagged rock and sparse vegetation. At its center loomed a mountain, its peak piercing the clouds as if daring to challenge the heavens themselves. The mountain was no ordinary formation—it was a monument to the sword, a testament to the relentless pursuit of mastery over the blade.

The base of the mountain was alive with sword Qi, a palpable energy that crackled through the air like lightning. Blue streaks of light crisscrossed the area, their movements sharp and erratic, giving the space a cutting, almost hostile atmosphere. It was as though the very air itself had been honed into a blade, ready to slice through anything that dared to intrude. The ground was littered with fragments of broken swords, their edges dulled by time but still radiating a faint, lingering power. This was a place where only the most determined cultivators would dare to tread, a place where the weak would be cut down—both physically and spiritually.

At the summit of the mountain, a lone figure stood amidst the howling winds. He was a young man, his body bearing the marks of countless battles. Hundreds of cuts marred his skin—some shallow, others deep enough to reveal the resilience of his flesh and spirit. His robes, once pristine, were now tattered and stained with blood and dirt. Yet, despite his battered appearance, there was an undeniable aura of strength and determination about him. His back leaned against a massive, broken sword that jutted out from the ground like a monument to a forgotten era. The sword was ancient, its surface rusted and pitted, as if it had endured the ravages of time and nature for centuries. Yet, even in its decay, it exuded a sense of indomitable will, as though it had once been a weapon of unparalleled power.

The young man's name was Cheng Yutian, and he was no ordinary cultivator. He was the number one ranker of the younger generation in Silver Sword City, a prodigy whose name was whispered with reverence and envy across the city. His connection to the broken sword was not merely physical—it was spiritual. The sword was his Spirit Projection, a manifestation of his innermost self and his unwavering dedication to the path of the sword. It was a bond forged through countless hours of meditation, battle, and sacrifice.

"Sword... So this is the Golden Core Realm?," Cheng Yutian murmured, his voice barely audible over the wind. His words were not spoken to anyone in particular, but to the sword itself, as though it were a living, breathing entity. The moment the words left his lips, the broken sword rippled with energy. Waves of spiritual power, infused with razor-sharp sword Qi, radiated outward, slicing through the air and causing the very ground to tremble. The rusted surface of the blade seemed to shimmer, as if awakening from a long slumber. Cheng Yutian closed his eyes, feeling the energy surge through him, merging with his own spiritual essence. He had reached a new pinnacle of power, but he knew this was only the beginning.

-

Far from the mountain, a young man from the mist-shrouded peaks of Mist Ridge City, also gain immense luck, thus another scene unfolded. Zhan Huito, a cultivator known for his unyielding ambition and cunning, stood in the ruins of an ancient pavilion. The structure was crumbling, its once-grand architecture now reduced to rubble and dust. Yet, amidst the decay, Zhan Huito had discovered something extraordinary—a scroll, its parchment yellowed with age but still intact. As he unrolled it, his eyes gleamed with a mixture of triumph and greed. The scroll contained a battle skill, one that had been lost to time and forgotten by all but the most diligent seekers of power.

"Hahaha!" Zhan Huito's laughter echoed through the ruins, thunderous and unrestrained. The skill he had uncovered was no ordinary technique—it was a treasure that would elevate his strength to new heights. His mind raced with possibilities, already envisioning the battles he would win and the enemies he would crush. For Zhan Huito, this was not just a discovery; it was a stepping stone on his path to dominance.

"All shall bend to my will in time!"

Across the Obsidian Waterfall Realm, similar scenes played out in countless locations. In hidden caves, atop forgotten peaks, and within ancient ruins, cultivators pushed themselves to their limits, each striving to carve out their own destiny. Some, like Cheng Yutian, achieved breakthroughs, ascending to the Golden Core Realm and unlocking new levels of power. Others, like Zhan Huito, unearthed treasures—battle skills, cultivation techniques, and artifacts—that would shape their futures. And then there were those who faltered, their bodies and spirits broken by the relentless demands of the path they had chosen.

The realm was alive with ambition, conflict, and the unyielding pursuit of power. It was a place where the strong thrived and the weak perished, where every step forward was earned through blood, sweat, and sheer will. And as the winds of change swept across the land, one thing was certain: the Obsidian Waterfall Realm would never be the same and thr cities outside would sweep when it was all over.

-

Jiang Feng and Ji Moran stowed their Ember Armors into their spatial rings, the faint glow of the artifacts fading as they disappeared into the void. Time was slipping through their fingers like grains of sand—four and a half months had already passed. Though Jiang Feng had reaped bountiful rewards— his Skyforge Flame had involved, he had gotten the Titan Ascendance Art, Colossus Marrow, and Primordial Flesh Pills —he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling that something was still missing.

His body, a vessel that demanded vast amounts of spiritual energy, was both a blessing and a curse. Each step forward on the path of cultivation required exponentially more resources, and the thought of his impending third tribulation loomed over him like a storm cloud.

"If I'm not strong enough when the third tribulation arrives," Jiang Feng muttered, his voice low and heavy with concern, "there's a high chance I might not survive it."

Ji Moran glanced at him, his expression calm but his eyes sharp. "You've come this far, Jiang Feng. Doubting yourself now won't help. The hidden location I mentioned—it might hold what you need. But we have to move quickly."

Though she had no clue what he was talking about and only assumed he was talking about the trails he would face against the others inside the realm, she still gave her honesty well wishes.

Jiang Feng nodded, though his mind still churned with unease. "You're right. Sitting here worrying won't change anything. Let's go."

The two set off, their footsteps echoing in the stillness of the ancient forest. As they moved, Jiang Feng couldn't help but voice his thoughts. "Do you think it's possible? To find something that can sustain my cultivation without constantly hunting for resources?"

Ji Moran smirked faintly. "In the Obsidian Waterfall Realm, nothing is impossible. With your strength it's only a matter of time before you become someone great"

Jiang Feng's lips curled into a determined smile. "Then I'll fight. I've come too far to stop now, during this time, once you run into anything you can't handle fall back to my side, I'll handle it for you got it!."

Ji Moran nodded softly, her heart beating faster with each words spoken. Death could claim their lives at any moment, even her family would abandon her when faced with deaths doors but Jiang Feng advised her to fall back to his side and he'll take care of the rest if such a time were to befall her. It would be an understatement to say she wasn't touched.

The forest seemed to hum in response, as if the realm itself acknowledged his resolve. Ahead lay uncertainty, but also the promise of power—if they dared to seize it.