Chapter Three: The Body of the Ninth Tier

Chu Jie forced himself onward, his bones crackling within his body. The pain seeped into his very marrow, and cold sweat instantly beaded on his brow.

He had endured agony like this several times each month—a torment intrinsically tied to his constitution.

In this vast world, there were countless unique constitutions. Some could advance with astonishing speed, achieving in half a day what others would in a month. Some were born attuned to spiritual energy, absorbing it at twice the usual rate.

But in all things, balance remained. For every unmatched Sacred Body, there existed a constitution so useless it was considered the ultimate waste.

Chu Jie possessed one of the rarest of these: the Body of Nine Tribulations. To cultivate, he required endless treasures of heaven and earth, and at any moment, he could be struck down by a minor tribulation like the one just now, the pain biting into his bones. Worse still, this body was fated to weather nine great tribulations in his lifetime—ordeals so dire that, compared to them, the minor ones were like dust to mountains. The great tribulations came with heavenly fire and thunder, leaving survival a matter of chance.

Thus, even if the Body of Nine Tribulations, once advanced, could rival any Sacred Body, no one would waste their resources on someone who might die at any moment and cost them untold treasures.

Within the Yang estate, Chu Jie was already the lowest of servants. Now, with the title of the ultimate good-for-nothing, he was denied access to martial manuals and spiritual treasures.

It was no wonder Yang Yun kept him close, not out of kindness but to disgust him, never imagining that Chu Jie would dare to act so boldly.

“Hurry! The killer is just ahead! Everyone, after him!” Among the guards were experts, their bodies shimmering with a faint glow—the mark of the eighth level of the Body Tempering Realm.

Ahead of Chu Jie stood an artificial mountain, beneath which lay a small man-made lake. He leapt down without hesitation. Practicing his fists nightly beneath these waters for half a year, Chu Jie knew the lakebed intimately.

Like a fish, he slipped to the bottom and found a chain by touch. With a strong yank, swirling vortices appeared in the lake’s depths. Chu Jie chose a direction and dove into one.

The guards, their vision limited underwater, searched frantically but found no trace of him.

The vortices slowly sealed. Chu Jie coughed, spitting out mouthfuls of water. Though he had escaped the guards’ pursuit, he knew he was not yet safe.

If the Yang estate sent someone at the Spirit Gathering Realm to investigate with spiritual sense, they would still find him.

But that was why Chu Jie had prepared a second contingency.

Before him lay a series of crisscrossing tunnels, their entrances pitch-black and chilling. The passages twisted and turned, impossible to see inside.

Familiar with the path, Chu Jie entered with practiced ease. The secret tunnels wound left and right, forming a labyrinth. Even after two years exploring them, it took him half an hour to reach the end.

His luck could not be denied. Since his father’s tragic death, Chu Jie had schemed for revenge, knowing he first had to secure a way out. He’d stumbled upon this nearly-completed underground maze beneath the lake and, over six months, finished it himself. Best of all, at the end, he’d found an exit leading outside.

There, Chu Jie had discovered the remains of the maze’s original creator and a simple cultivation manual—tools that ultimately allowed him to avenge his father.

Now, before him, was a wall as black as ink. Chu Jie glanced back, pursed his lips, and threw himself against it.

Bang!

The wall spun, and Chu Jie vanished, leaving behind only empty stone.

Dazed, he shook his head. The world was dim, barely any light to see by, but this was his third time here. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting them adjust to the gloom, then moved forward with caution.

Though he had escaped the Yang estate, Chu Jie dared not relax his guard.

The space was vast and shadowy. After several hundred steps, a faint light appeared ahead.

There, chains as thick as watermelons crisscrossed the air, piercing the void. An emaciated old man hung suspended, limbs splayed and shackled. His hair was white and tangled, his face deeply lined, eyes cloudy, body hunched—an image of one on death’s door, ready to expire at any moment.

Yet Chu Jie tensed. Anyone bound by chains of stellar steel, even in such a state, could crush him with a finger.

And after six months of contact, Chu Jie knew all too well the terror this old man could inspire.

Seeing Chu Jie approach, a spark of life returned to the old man’s gaze. “You’ve come?”

His voice was rasping, like two dry leaves scraping together.

Chu Jie clenched his fists. “I’m here.”

The old man’s voice was like a spell. “Are you certain?”

Remembering their agreement, Chu Jie frowned. “If you can truly help me escape this dungeon, what harm is there in agreeing?”

The chains trembled, stirring the very air. Chu Jie felt as if the old man’s presence dominated the entire dungeon.

A proud, wild grin twisted the old man's wizened features. “Do you think I cannot take you out?”

“I’ve decided.”

“No regrets? If you agree, it’s a path of near-certain death.” The old man’s eyes flashed with light, piercing Chu Jie.

Chu Jie’s fists tightened. Given his current straits, hiding here would only delay the inevitable—discovery by the Yangs and, likely, a fate worse than death. Since death was the likely outcome either way, why not gamble for a chance at life?

His voice was unwavering. “I’m sure.”

“Good!” The old man laughed crazily. “Boy, you have courage! Today I shall grant you a great fortune.”

Suddenly, beams of light gathered in the old man’s eyes, slicing through the darkness.

His aura erupted, overwhelming the space—peerless, indomitable, the air bristling with power.

Chu Jie met the old man’s gaze. In an instant, countless runes swirled through the void, a shoal of crimson-gold symbols pouring into Chu Jie’s body.

Agony.

His body convulsed with pain, far worse than his usual minor tribulations—yet it passed in a flash, leaving him gasping with relief.

Fifth Level of the Body Tempering Realm!

Moreover, the flow of spiritual energy within him had changed, surging faster than ever. Chu Jie looked at the old man in shock, his voice trembling. “How…how is this possible?”

A faint smile curled the old man’s lips. “You’ve seen but the tip of the iceberg. So what if you bear the Body of Nine Tribulations? So what if the heavens shackle you?”

“A true cultivator defies fate itself! Swordsmen, warriors—all walk the rebellious path. If others can, why not you?”

The old man leaned forward, heavy chains clanking. “With a universe in your heart, you can defy the heavens. With sun and moon within, you can attain the great Dao!”

His words struck Chu Jie like thunder. Yes—so what if Yang Yun held power over him? Hadn’t he already cut him down? So what if he had the Body of Nine Tribulations? Who said he couldn’t forge his own path?

Years of pent-up hatred roared through Chu Jie’s heart, flooding out at last.

“Yang Yun! Yang family! All those who humiliated and scorned me—I’ll make you pay, one by one!”

The old man nodded in satisfaction. “Good. Tomorrow, I’ll see you placed in the prison wagon and sent to Blood Slaughter City. Remember: if you fail to kill a descendant of the Wang family in Blood Slaughter City within six months, you’ll dissolve into a pool of blood. As for the one with the butterfly birthmark, just keep an eye out—if you find them, give them this, and you’ll receive a great fortune.”

A ball of light rose above the old man’s head, and a pitch-black jade pendant landed in Chu Jie’s palm. Chu Jie bit his lip and nodded heavily.

“That’s enough. Close your eyes. When you wake, you’ll find everything changed,” the old man said.

“Wait—these stellar steel chains can’t truly bind you. Why not escape and take your own revenge?”

“Hmph!” The old man’s expression darkened. With a cold snort, Chu Jie felt his soul shudder and lost consciousness.

Alone in the vast, endless darkness, the old man gazed at the chains in his hands and muttered to himself.

“All because of a promise.”