Tome of Troubled Times-Chapter 784 (1): The Final Battle of Tngri

Tngri aside, even Ye Jiuyou had never believed that Zhao Changhe would be able to find the entrance to a secret realm that had been sealed away for an entire era so effortlessly, let alone break into it with such ease.

Yet, before their own divine axe, the very barriers of space seemed to vanish. The hidden secret realm below was forcibly torn open, laid bare for anyone to enter.

As the group leaped down into the depths, Tngri stood frozen in the middle of a vast plain, utterly stunned.

He was stunned that they had broken through so quickly.

He was stunned that they had found the entrance at all.

He was stunned that they had even dared to come!

Could they not see? Did they truly not realize how this place empowered him while simultaneously restricting them?

But Zhao Changhe had noticed. This realm was indeed peculiar.

Misty clouds coiled through the air, obscuring the ground. It seemed to be an extension of the Grasslands, though with the thick fog covering the surface, not a single blade of grass could be seen. It was as if they had stepped into an old Journey to the West scene, walking upon clouds with Sun Wukong. Distant mountains loomed in the background, yet their forms were blurred, flickering between presence and absence.

The earth below might have carried an ethereal serenity, but the skies above were a different story. Thunder boomed, lightning cracked, and countless bolts of lightning wove a relentless web across the sky, striking down upon their heads without pause. Simply fending off this environment alone demanded their full concentration, forcing them to burn through their energy at an alarming rate just to maintain their defenses.

It was eerily similar to the path of lightning Zhao Changhe had traversed back when retrieving the page of the Heavenly Tome in Kunlun. In fact, even the intensity of the lightning here was nearly identical to back then. The difference was that, back then, the only way he could make it through had been through clever maneuvering. Now, at least, he could endure the barrage head-on.

Meanwhile, Tngri stood at the heart of it all, within an elaborate setup around him... Surrounding him was an arrangement of mountains of treasures, gemstones, and sacred artifacts. It was structured like a massive Spirit-Gathering Array, visibly drawing energy toward him.

The lightning that rained down upon him did not harm him; instead, it energized him. Every bit of power he had expended outside the Divine Temple was now replenishing at an astonishing rate, restoring him visibly to his peak form. And there, embedded within the array, was the missing bead of the Blood God Array. It was an integral part of the Spirit-Gathering Array, channeling its energy into replenishing qi and blood while sharpening his killing intent.

Zhao Changhe quickly pieced it all together. The misty clouds in this realm were not just mist. They were the accumulated faith of the people of the Grasslands toward Tngri, crystallized into pure, boundless energy. This energy was one with the realm itself, one with Tngri but utterly inaccessible to outsiders. Not only could they not harness it, but its presence actively disrupted their ability to draw upon natural forces, suppressing their connection to the natural forces of heaven and earth.

It was as though the world itself had turned against them. Every breath they took, every hint of mist, every speck of dust sought to erode them. They were under a suffocating, omnipresent pressure, one that did not just act on their bodies but also on their very spirits. Meanwhile, Tngri stood amidst it all, wielding the power of heaven and earth with every movement, his every gesture infused with the will of the world itself. Here, in his domain, he was as close to a third-layer Profound Control Realm expert as one could be without actually crossing that threshold.

He truly did have the home-field advantage here. Within this secret realm, Tngri was nothing short of an undisputed sovereign.

In truth, the subterranean sky beneath Xia Longyuan’s Imperial Ancestral Temple had once possessed a similar nature. It was an independent, self-contained realm. Had the qi veins of the mountains and rivers not been severed from him, Xia Longyuan could have easily turned that space into a death trap from which none of his enemies would have escaped alive.

This was the very place Tngri had boasted about, where even Xia Longyuan had supposedly not dared to tread. Outside, they could hold him at bay. But here? Here, even a casual punch from him might be something none of them could withstand.

“Creating one’s own little world, merging one’s body with the world itself...” Zhao Changhe lifted his gaze toward the firmament of this secret realm, his voice low. “Is this the inevitable path to the third layer of the Profound Control Realm? Are all of you attempting to experience what it means to be the master of the Heavenly Dao, to complete the final ring of dominion? Or is it merely your ambition to replace the Heavenly Dao itself, using this method as an experiment?”

Tngri snapped out of his initial shock, his eyes now carrying a sinister edge. “The third layer of the Profound Control Realm is far beyond your reach. There’s no point in making wild conjectures... Just like there was no point in you foolishly barging in here. Do you think that you can even still leave at this point?”

The group quickly realized that leaving was, indeed, no simple feat. The entrance that had been wide open moments before was now sealed behind a relentless storm of lightning. If they tried to force their way out, they would be severely restricted, and if Tngri landed a follow-up attack while they were attempting to escape, the consequences would be dire.

There was no retreat, only battle. But how were they supposed to fight?

If the battle played out as things currently stood, they had no chance. Unless someone among them broke through to the second layer of the Profound Control Realm, this fight was unwinnable.

Tngri finally hefted his axe. “Since you’re here... you may as well die!”

BOOM!

Lightning, far more violent than before, descended upon them in an instant.

Clang!

Dragon Bird was unleashed in a flash.

But, strangely enough, Zhao Changhe did not use it to block the lightning. He left that to Huangfu Qing, Yue Hongling, and the others, who had formed a defensive array, as well as Li Shentong and the Taiji Diagram. Instead, Zhao Changhe’s saber cut horizontally—not at Tngri, but at the empty space above him.

Ten thousand li away, Ye Jiuyou’s heart suddenly skipped a beat. Her delicate fingers instinctively clenched.

This slash looked incredibly slow, so slow that it seemed as if it was struggling against an immense weight, like an ocean pressing down upon it. Every cun forward felt like it was wrung from the depths of exhaustion. The saber’s blade seemed to stretch infinitely, carrying countless flickering phantoms within it.

The past unfolded before them. The people of Mobei rose in the frozen wastelands, herding their cattle and sheep through the boundless sea of clouds.

They revered the vast sky above, the merciless thunder and lightning, the biting snowstorms, the devouring sandstorms. They knelt in the desert, offering cattle, sheep... even their wives and daughters, praying for the Eternal Blue Sky’s[1] protection.

In the secret realm, the slumbering ancient being opened his eyes, stirring from what seemed to be a long dormancy.

Had he awakened to protect them? Or if it was the very faith of the people of the Grasslands that had created him?

If he was their protector, what was he to protect? These people had survived on their own for thousands of years, rising and enduring upon this land. It was the gods who descended, who whipped the deserts into submission, who enslaved the tribes, and who built their grand temple. The cattle and sheep offered in worship, the treasures plundered and hoarded, it was an endless tribute.

And everyone, every single one of them had worked tirelessly toward his full revival. How many had perished to the harsh storms, the unrelenting winters?

With each sacrifice, he had grown stronger. The scimitars of the Grasslands had shattered the Western Regions and reached the gates of Kunlun.

But it was still not enough.

Decades ago, the mightiest tribes of the Grasslands shattered the gates of the frontier, surging southward in an unstoppable tide. But then, they encountered the rising force that was Xia Longyuan, who drove them back beyond the northern frontier, locking them in a bloody stalemate that had lasted ever since.

What had Tngri given to the people of the Grasslands? There was only war and pillaging, from beginning to end.

Moments ago, the relentless “Divine Punishment” had shattered the will of even the most devout warriors protecting the Divine Temple. In their final moments, they had prayed for the tngri’s protection, yet no answer had come. The eastern front collapsed. Bo’e fled in disgrace. Huangfu Shaozong and Xue Canghai led their forces in a massacre spanning a thousand li, reaching the foot of the Sacred Mountain.

On the western front, Ying Five had pierced through Timur’s rear ranks, forcing Vulture Beak’s tribe into retreat. Timur’s entire army wavered. Tens of thousands once more resorted to silent prayers for Tngri’s favor, and once more, they received nothing.

The Divine Temple’s brightest prodigy, Fox Spirit Chi Li, the most promising heir to the Great Shaman Bo’e’s legacy, found himself trapped within the enemy ranks. He slit his own throat, waiting for Tngri’s response, yet there was none.

Corpses covered the land. A sea of blood drowned the desert. Wu Weiyang stormed toward the royal court while Batu’s forces slaughtered without restraint. Still, Tngri remained silent.

The “qi veins” of a land had always been a matter of trajectory—what went up eventually came down. Just as the Great Xia’s fate had crumbled with a single imperial decree from a false emperor, its downfall sealed before its alleged ruler understood what was going on, so too was the Grasslands’ destiny shifting in the same way.

This was the same collapse that had once befallen Xia Longyuan... The mountains and rivers were lost, the people’s faith was lost, and he thus ceased to be the ruler of Xia. Now, the entire Grasslands was falling into chaos, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Faith in Tngri had plummeted to an all-time low.

If Xia Longyuan could be stripped of his dominion over the subterranean sky, the firmament in the secret realm beneath the Imperial Ancestral Temple, then what of Tngri?

Zhao Changhe, having studied the Heavenly Tome’s page of destiny ever since his first attempt at the Qi Observation Technique, had honed his understanding of it to perfection. And now, he delivered this world’s first genuine slash of profound void[2], severing qi veins[3].

He grasped the tremors in Tngri’s dominion... and severed his connection completely.

Tngri’s face twisted in horror. He did not even know how to stop this strike.

It was a blade of nothingness, one without a target, one that did not strike flesh or bone. How could one defend against an attack that cut only the intangible?

The slash tore through the void. It carried no outward force, no explosion of destructive power, but everyone could see it. The moment it landed, Tngri’s connection to his small world would be gone.

The thunder ceased and the mist dispersed; they were no longer under his control. They were now to be shared by all. The realm no longer rejected them. In fact, they could now draw from it. And with it, Tngri’s terrifying strength that was on the brink of the third layer collapsed in an instant. His power regressed visibly, first to where it had been outside the temple, then even lower. It continued to plummet, crashing down to the early second layer, where it barely held together, trembling on the brink of further descent.

This was no longer Tngri’s domain, no longer a divine realm built on the faith of the land. It was now just another fragment of the world, no different from every other secret realm across the world.

BOOM!

The last remnants of Tngri’s storm struck down, crashing upon Huangfu Qing, Yue Hongling, and Li Shentong. Blood sprayed from their lips as they were hurled backward, retreating for several li before they could regain their footing. They knew that they could not take a second strike like this.

But there would be no second strike.

Tngri stood there in silence. He knew.

He could no longer summon that kind of power again.

Blood trickled from the corner of Zhao Changhe’s mouth once more. That single slash had severely exhausted his body, qi, and spirit. Worse, it had aggravated the wounds he had yet to recover from. Buying time, he spoke, his voice hoarse but steady, “Does this scene feel familiar to you, Tngri? You once mocked Xia Longyuan for this very fate. And yet, now, you stand in his place.”

Tngri had no interest in debating the differences between himself and Xia Longyuan. Instead, he asked with a sharp glint in his eyes, “A mere martial artist, not even two and a half years into his cultivation, mastering something as profound as the power of profound void? Was it the Heavenly Tome?”

Zhao Changhe focused inward, circulating his Rejuvenation Art, regulating his breath, before replying slowly, “It was the Heavenly Tome.”

“But I didn’t sense you drawing upon its power. This was your own ability.”

“I learned it from the Heavenly Tome.”

That brief exchange was enough. Both of them understood exactly what was at stake.

Tngri had a page of the Heavenly Tome himself, the page of illusion and reality. He had used it before, only for Zhao Changhe’s Back Eye to render it completely useless. But the key difference was this: Tngri had relied on the Heavenly Tome’s power, wielding it like a tool. Whether because the technique was too abstruse to master or because he had grown reliant on an external artifact, he had never truly learned it.

Zhao Changhe, however, had taken a different path. He had never used the Heavenly Tome’s power directly. He could not do so, and even if he could, he might not have wanted to. But in complete contrast with Tngri, he had learned from it. The slash with which he severed qi veins was entirely his own.

A power borrowed directly from the Heavenly Tome could always be countered by another power borrowed from the same source. But what if the power came from oneself instead?

Tngri nodded slightly, letting out a slow sigh. “You truly are a terrifying talent.”

He did not dwell on the matter. Taking a deep breath, he cast a glance at Huangfu Qing and the others, who had yet to recover from the shock of his last attack. With a casual swing of his axe, he simply said, “Then let’s fight.”

1. As mentioned in the previous chapter, the Eternal Blue Sky/Heaven or Blue Sky/Heaven simply refers to Tngri. The differences in instances of translation is due to the differences in the wording that the author uses. ☜

2. Here, the author is referring more to voiding profundities or one’s grasp of the governing principles of the world. ☜

3. It seems that Yuxu’s act of severing qi veins previously might not have been as in-depth as this one? ☜