C9 Hei Batian

Time seems to stand still in the mountains, and before you know it, ten days have slipped by.

Nangong Fan sat cross-legged on an altar made from a black dragon crystal, which now had only a few strands of black mist slowly moving at its base. The once-clear crystal was riddled with a web of dense cracks.

A conspicuous dot protruded from his forehead, spinning wildly like a sphere out of control.

Then, with a resounding crack, the black dragon crystal shattered, scattering across the ground and dissipating into dust.

The energy within the black dragon crystal had been fully absorbed by Nangong Fan. It was a mystery how such a slender frame could hold such an immense amount of energy.

A soft sigh broke the silence, tinged with a mix of reluctance, solitude, and yet, a hint of elation. The emotions were contradictory, yet palpably real.

The reluctance stemmed from the dot on his forehead, which ceased its frenetic motion as the black dragon crystal was depleted, eventually fading away. His efforts had fallen just short of success.

The joy, however, came in two forms. Firstly, the delicate thread of energy in his dantian had finally stabilized and was now slowly growing, nourished by the spiritual essence of heaven and earth. Secondly, his seemingly fragile body harbored a strength that belied his realm, coursing through his veins with untapped potential.

Nangong Fan collected his thoughts and rose from the ground. His frame remained slight, yet it paradoxically exuded a sense of latent power.

"Is this what it means to be a Martial Ancestor?" Nangong Fan mused aloud, his voice laced with delight. The body that once could not cultivate had at last overcome its limitations. The so-called Body of Hundred Bends was merely the result of a child's inability to endure the overwhelming energy of the black dragon crystal.

It was as if his body had been overloaded with nutrients, unable to cope, and was on the brink of collapse.

That Hei Ze's small body hadn't burst from the strain was perhaps the best possible outcome.

Could it be that some spirit within this space had shielded the young Hei Ze who had stumbled in by accident?

Those events were now distant memories, beyond any hope of confirmation.

With the successful assimilation of the black dragon crystal's energy, the once-damaged body had naturally mended itself to perfection.

As for how he could now successfully absorb such a domineering and potent force, Nangong Fan didn't ponder too deeply. He wasn't even aware that it was the black dragon crystal he had absorbed. It was as if he couldn't recall his own quiet murmurs, simply assuming that his body, now matured, could naturally withstand what once overwhelmed him in his youth.

My body is brimming with strength, seemingly a hundredfold greater than before," Nangong Fan said, his fists tight as he felt the overwhelming power coursing through him. With such raw strength alone, he wondered what would happen if he tapped into the spiritual energy within him.

Ten days had passed, yet Nangong Fan experienced no hunger, only a boundless vitality. Subconsciously, he had absorbed all of the Black Dragon Crystals in mere moments.

He strode forward to a small wooden table and gazed at a portrait that stirred a sense of familiarity within him. In the lower right corner, three bold characters exuded arrogance and dominance — Black Tyrant Sky.

"Hei Batian..." Nangong Fan whispered, his voice lingering in the sealed chamber. He was contemplative, memories churning as he began to recall the significance of the name. The man in the statue within the ancestral hall was someone he had bowed to several times a year. He was the progenitor of the Hei family.

After smoothing out his robe, Nangong Fan knelt before the portrait with reverence, his forehead touching the ground thrice in a kowtow.

The last echo of his kowtows faded as the sealed space quivered slightly. Three jade boxes shone brilliantly, compelling Nangong Fan to narrow his eyes. The boxes vanished in the radiance, revealing their contents.

Arranged from left to right were three ancient scrolls, a jade bottle, and a dragon scale.

The scrolls comprised a biography, a collection of calligraphy and paintings, and a scroll of Taoist charms. Nangong Fan straightened his clothes and rose to his feet, casually picking up the first scroll to read the life story inscribed within.

"I am a lone swordsman named Wang An, born in the small town of Anshan. After a decade of diligent study, I earned the title of scholar. I traveled to the capital for the imperial examinations and emerged with top honors.

"Because I refused to cheat in the exams for a wealthy scion, my parents were slain at home, and my elder brother's family of three met the same fate. My sister-in-law was dishonored and died bearing the marks of her torment, her body scarred by whips. It was a tragedy, especially for my two-year-old nephew.

"In vengeance, I killed the scion and thereafter concealed my identity, living as a fugitive. Thus, I earned the moniker 'Sword of Solitude' in the world of martial arts."

For ten years, I was nothing more than a mere Martial Emperor, lacking the power to eliminate that spoiled brat. I resigned myself to a life of confusion, expecting to drift aimlessly until death.

At twenty-eight, fortune smiled upon me as the once-in-a-millennium secret realm of Dragonstone opened. My time in the martial world had honed my legwork, and seizing the moment, I ventured inside. It was, without a doubt, the wisest decision of my life.

The expanse of the secret realm was vast, yet I could only explore a fraction of it. In that small corner, I stumbled upon the ruins of an ancient sect and realized just how vast the heavens were.

All this talk of Martial Emperors and legendary tales was nothing but the Yellow Realm of the mortal way.

We, the people of our realm, were like frogs at the bottom of a well, mere playthings in the eyes of the mighty.

The ancient sect was known as 'Ten Thousand Beasts'. Beasts served as the foundation for human martial arts, with movements from various animals inspiring the earliest form of martial arts—Body Cultivation.

The martial scriptures of the Ten Thousand Beast Sect, with their eons of history, were undoubtedly formidable. I learned their core teachings and took on a master who appeared to be a youth, swearing a seemingly impossible oath, yet I have no regrets.

In the ancient scrolls that followed the Martial Scriptures, it was written that if you can bow and activate the seal, then you are likely my successor. Remember, do not display the ultimate techniques before the common folk. Innocence is no defense...

Contained within the jade bottle is a drop of black dragon blood, and what startled you is the black dragon crystal. By using the prescribed method to consume the black dragon's essence and employing the black dragon crystals, you should be able to begin mastering the 'Beast Transformation Technique'.

Assisted by the lingering spiritual will of that old man, I consumed an entire bottle of black dragon blood in a single day and expended two hundred dragon crystals to attain the esteemed level of Martial Saint.

I returned to my hometown to exact vengeance on my enemies, after which I adopted the name 'Black Tyrant Sky'.

I then returned to Dragonstone to marry and have children, founding the Black Family and caring for my wife and offspring for over thirty years.

Following my wife's passing from a grave illness and with my sons possessing the strength of Martial Emperors, I was unburdened and free to ascend to the Upper World.

I am deeply grateful to the sect that has given me a new lease on life, and I have made a solemn oath. I am not one to break my promises. Moreover, a Martial Dao oath is not something that someone as insignificant as myself can easily defy. I am determined to venture into the Upper World, carve out a vast dominion, and restore the glory of the Wildhearth Clan. Even if the path ahead is shrouded in mist and fraught with peril, I will have no regrets, even if it costs me my life a hundred times over.

The sword and robe are the spiritual artifacts I have inherited, and I leave them to you. There is also a tome detailing the basics of array formations. If it piques your interest, take your time to delve into it.

I will await you in the Upper World. Imagine us, laughing triumphantly, establishing a legacy, and founding a lineage. Wouldn't that be a life of unparalleled joy? Additionally, this scroll contains some of my insights, such as the intricacies of the Fallen Dragon Region within the secret realm of Dragonstone. I hope it proves useful to you.

One more thing—do not provoke the Qing Family. Their roots run deep and are far from simple. Even after decades, I haven't fully grasped their scope. My suspicion is that Dragonstone may owe its name to the Qing Family. As for the other families, if they cross you, show them no mercy.

Now, I ascend. We shall meet again in the grand tapestry of the world.

—Black Tyrant Sky.

Nangong Fan's lips twitched, unable to muster a response to his domineering yet uncouth ancestor. "It's all interconnected, but did you, you old rascal, ever consider what might happen to a four or five-year-old child who stumbled upon the Black Dragon Crystal?"

Yet, Nangong Fan didn't ponder why he could so effortlessly absorb the Black Dragon Crystal, which supposedly required the blood of a black dragon. It was as if an invisible hand was gently guiding him, smoothing away any doubts, making everything seem perfectly reasonable in his mind.

The name "Wildhearth Clan" struck a chord of familiarity with Nangong Fan, but after much thought, he couldn't pinpoint where he had heard of such a sect. Shaking his head, he cast aside these baffling musings. Perhaps it was a sect of some renown on Earth that bore a resemblance to the Wildhearth Clan.

When it comes to sheer power, the combined might of the thousands of sects on Earth, along with the Evexeomor Kingdom, pales in comparison to the Wildhearth Clan.

The black dragon's blood and crystals could be easily procured. Had the black dragon descended to the lower realm, it would have spelled catastrophe, not to mention the feat of slaying it and harvesting its blood.

Nangong Fan had lost interest in the enigmatic Wildhearth Clan. His current strength placed him in an entirely different league. Instead, he found himself deeply intrigued by the exploits of the Black Tyrant Sky.

The Mortal Way, Yellow? Such a concept was revolutionary. It's worth noting that even a Martial Saint is revered as a land-bound immortal, capable of soaring through the heavens. Their clashes could topple modest mountains and sever delicate rivers, making them the primary force in the ongoing turmoil of the martial world.

Nangong Fan found this quite fascinating. With such capabilities, could one still merely be classified within the Mortal Way, Yellow? If there was a Yellow, perhaps there was also a Blue. And if one belonged to the Mortal Way, wouldn't a master of another path be able to effortlessly rend planets in the lower realm?

Previously, as a man riddled with flaws, he had no interest in the realm of spiritual cultivation. But now, as a Martial Ancestor, possessing a talent even his exceptionally gifted father praised, he refused to remain complacent.

Wouldn't it be a waste not to explore the vistas that lay ahead, given his talents?

Nangong Fan, with his reclaimed gifts, was brimming with confidence. He relished the thought of those who once underestimated him witnessing his rise to Martial Ancestor—their astonishment, their disbelief—it was a thought that brought him great satisfaction.

Regarding the Qing Family, Nangong Fan was only familiar with Qing Lian'er, the sole representative of the Dragonstone Qing walking the earth.

Yet Qing Lian'er was no ordinary figure. The heirs of several other prominent families, himself included, had long harbored deep affection for her. Qing Lian'er's allure went beyond her stunning appearance; she hailed from one of Dragonstone's five great families, a lineage prestigious enough to be renowned even on Earth. Her natural poise and grace were beyond the reach of the average person.

It wouldn't be far-fetched to liken her to a celestial nymph descended from the heavens, especially given her exceptional talent that eclipsed all of Dragonstone. Even Hei Ze, her father, who once reigned supreme over his peers, seemed to pale in comparison to her.

Hei Ze's friendship with Qing Lian'er was notably warmer than that of the other three profligate heirs. However, burdened with a frail constitution, he never quite fit in with Dragonstone's elite second generation. In a world where martial prowess is held in the highest esteem, he was deemed a cripple. This sense of inadequacy, compounded by the interference of others, had prevented Hei Ze from having a face-to-face conversation with Qing Lian'er for many years.

Yet, Qing Lian'er remained an everlasting dream etched in his heart—how could he possibly forget her with the mere utterance of a word?