As long as I can kill the Celestial Master, what does it matter if I fall into the demonic path?

Deep within the Sea God Hall.

Tang San knelt at the very center of the altar for the ninth trial.

Fragments of golden armor lay scattered across the floor.

The Sea God divine raiment was covered in fine cracks, with golden light leaking out from the fissures.

As the light escaped, it dissipated into specks, only to be ruthlessly crushed by the incredibly viscous blue energy surrounding him.

Pain.

From his flesh and bone, down to the deepest reaches of his soul.

The backlash of fate, suppressed by the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron, continued unabated.

What should have been a logical inheritance had now turned into a one-sided slow execution.

The flow of blue energy was not an infusion, but a scouring.

It washed away the original soul power in his meridians bit by bit, replacing it with the divine power of the Sea God.

Yet, Tang San's meridians had suffered grievous injuries.

The layered suppression of the Eighteen Betrothal Gifts and the secret coercion of the Asura God had forced his cultivation speed beyond the limits his meridians could withstand.

Blood vessels ruptured.

Beads of blood seeped from his skin, only to be evaporated by the Sea God's power before they could even coalesce into drops.

His entire body was shrouded in a faint mist of blood.

It was a test of strength.

And even more so, a test of character and the Dao heart.

The space above the altar twisted.

Blue specks of light converged from all directions, coalescing ten paces directly in front of Tang San.

A phantom image.

Three zhang tall.

Holding a Trident, clad in the Sea God divine raiment.

The pressure it radiated forced Tang San down by another three inches.

His kneecaps slammed against the stone surface of the altar, producing a sickening, muffled thud.

The final will left behind by the Sea God.

The phantom lowered its head, its gaze fixed upon Tang San.

This gaze was immensely heavy.

It was not looking at a person; it was piercing through flesh and blood to weigh the very substance of his soul.

"Tang San."

The grand voice exploded within the core area of the Sea God Hall.

There was no echo.

All sound waves were sealed within the narrow space above the altar.

The voice carried an irresistible interrogation that struck deep into his soul.

"Why do you seek to inherit the position of the Sea God?"

Tang San's back was arched.

Sweat mixed with blood dripped down his jaw.

He raised his head.

He met that gaze belonging to a god.

For what reason?

Many images flashed through his mind.

The pitch-black darkness of the Capital of Slaughter.

The cracks in the blue bricks there were filled with dried blood, and the air was thick with the stench of rot.

The desperate flight through the Star Dou Great Forest.

The pursuers from the Martial Soul Hall were biting at his heels, every breath burning his lungs.

The tension before the battle at Jialing Pass.

And—

The golden light that flashed time and again over Martial Soul City.

The night the Severing Thought Sword descended.

A cold light flashed by.

There was no sound.

His father's right arm had been severed clean at the shoulder.

The wound was blindingly smooth.

Blood gushed out, staining the entire courtyard crimson.

His father knelt on the ground, both sleeves hanging empty, his body trembling violently.

And then there was that Tribulation-Avoiding Garment.

The entire world was kowtowing, marveling at the handiwork of that Celestial Master.

Why?

That Celestial Master, Shen Yichen, sat in a Stone Chamber on Tiandang Mountain, not even deigning to show his face.

Could he really push that woman from Martial Soul Hall to such heights just by tossing out a few trinkets?

Could he really suppress his father's fortune so thoroughly?

Could he really turn his father into a cripple?

Tang San gritted his teeth.

A faint cracking sound emanated from his molars.

"To become stronger."

The four words were squeezed from his throat, heavy with the stench of blood.

"To protect the people who matter to me."

He paused for a breath.

His chest heaved violently.

His hands gripped the edge of the altar so tightly that his fingernails carved deep white gouges into the stone.

"And even more so, for revenge!"

The volume of the final four words spiked sharply.

Every syllable dripped with blood.

They radiated an undisguised, violent rage.

The phantom of the Sea God did not move.

The heavy pressure did not diminish in the slightest.

Blue light swirled around the phantom, exuding a sense of detachment that intertwined compassion with cold indifference.

Silence.

A silence that lasted for ten breaths.

"Your heart is filled with hatred."

The Sea God phantom spoke.

The voice remained grand, yet it carried a hint of emotional fluctuation.

"This will become the greatest shackle on your path to godhood."

"The heart of the Sea God is the vast ocean, embracing all things and nourishing all life."

"To wield the power of the Sea God while harboring such hatred—"

The Trident in the phantom's hand paused.

The blue energy surrounding the altar instantly surged out of control.

The water currents transformed into countless sharp ice blades, hovering around Tang San.

The blades pointed directly at his vitals.

"It may even cause you to fall into the demonic path."

The demonic path.

The two words circled in Tang San's mind.

Ridiculous.

What is a god? What is a demon?

That Celestial Master tosses out a random item and it becomes a heavenly omen, filling the city with golden light and drawing the worship of the world.

That is the way of the gods.

He, Tang San, had been driven to the point where his meridians were shattered and his soul was riddled with cracks.

He had fought tooth and nail just to catch a breath, and that is considered falling into the demonic path?

If becoming a god requires letting go of hatred—

Then this godhood is not worth having.

Tang San braced his hands against the stone surface of the altar.

Three of his fingernails snapped, blood staining the array patterns on the stone slab.

Inch by inch, he straightened his spine.

Hardening himself against the pressure of the Sea God, he forced his bent knees to rise, millimeter by millimeter.

His bones emitted a cacophony of cracks, groaning under the unbearable strain.

He stood straight.

He faced the three-zhang-tall phantom head-on.

"I don't care."

His voice was freezing.

Devoid of even a sliver of warmth.

"As long as I can obtain sufficient power, no matter the price, I am willing to pay it."

"Whether it be shackles or the demonic path, it matters not."

Tang San tilted his head back.

His face was deathly pale, the dried streak of blood along his cheek glaringly vivid.

His eyes were bloodshot, radiating a frantic, obsessive madness.

"That Celestial Master stole my fortune and harmed my father. This debt, I must collect with my own hands."

"Without power, what right do I have to speak of embracing all things?"

The Sea God phantom watched him.

It watched this successor, covered in blood, his soul on the verge of collapse, yet still radiating a frantic, obsessive fixation.

That level of resolve had already transcended the limits of humanity.

The blue energy blade hovered in the air, hesitating to descend.

A sigh echoed through the void.

It was very soft.

Yet, it drowned out the sound of the surging waves outside the Sea God Hall.

This sigh carried a note of compromise.

The will of the Sea God left in this world could, in the end, not withstand the passage of time.

The inheritance could not be severed.

Not even for a successor so steeped in malice and deep-seated inner demons.

The phantom lowered its head slightly.

The Trident in its hand transformed into a streak of light, piercing straight toward the center of Tang San's brow.

It was not an attack.

It was an acknowledgment.

That vast, boundless power of the Sea God completely lifted its restrictions at this moment.

It was no longer a scouring, no longer a trial.

It was a pure infusion.

Endless and continuous.

Tang San's body shuddered violently.

Blue light erupted from his seven orifices.

The Sea God divine armor, previously covered in cracks, began to heal rapidly under the nourishment of this power.

The shattered armor plates fused back together.

The dim patterns lit up one by one.

A powerful vitality forcibly repaired his damaged soul.

His aura surged.

He crossed the threshold of the ninety-ninth-level Limit Douluo in a single bound.

Level one hundred.

The barrier of the god-level was forcibly shattered.

The surrounding space began to crack inch by inch, black void fissures flickering around his body.

This was a sign that the lower plane could no longer withstand the weight of god-level power.

He was only one final step away from becoming the true Sea God—triggering the Divine Tribulation.

Only after enduring the baptism of heavenly lightning can a godhead be truly stabilized.

Tang San kept his eyes closed, feeling the earth-shattering power surging within his body.

The suppression of the Fate-Suppressing Cauldron remained.

But he no longer cared.

With divine power in his grasp, what could a mere artifact of the lower realm possibly do to him?

The stone doors at the core of the Sea God Hall slowly creaked open.

The heavy sound of friction echoed through the empty corridor.

Yu Xiaogang stood at the far end of the gallery.

Having endured seven days and seven nights, he looked gaunt and haggard.

His eye sockets were deeply sunken, and his chin was covered in dark stubble.

Hearing the commotion, he jerked his head up.

A figure stepped out from the darkness.

Golden divine armor shimmered with iridescent light.

With every step he took, the bluestone slabs on the floor silently crumbled into powder.

A terrifying pressure, thick as substance, forced Yu Xiaogang to retreat until his back was pressed hard against the wall.

Breathing became difficult.

The air was squeezed clean out of his lungs by that overwhelming force.

Tang San stopped three paces away from Yu Xiaogang.

His entire body radiated a brilliant divine light.

Yet, the aura he exuded was so cold that Yu Xiaogang couldn't help but shiver.

There was no holiness or majesty of a newly ascended god.

There was only pure, undisguised killing intent.

Cold and bone-piercing.