051 The Turmoil of the Barrier (4)

Time ticked by, second after second, as Nüluo calmly observed the changes unfolding around her. Ever since the Blade of Ice and Snow had vanished, this desolate land was undergoing a transformation.

Within the massive barrier, visions appeared that only those from the mortal world could see—these were lives conjured by Nüluo herself. Countless forms of life burst forth from the earth like bamboo shoots after the rain, each displaying boundless vitality.

At this moment, the person Nüluo most wished to thank was Lige, who had waited patiently outside the barrier. If not for everything she had experienced in his illusion, if not for the realization she had grasped at the critical moment on how to unravel the illusion, she might never have known she could so effortlessly wield the power of conjured life to stand against the forces of death from the Underworld.

Perhaps Lige, waiting outside, had not realized that his illusion had once again aided Nüluo. Just as in the Hall of Dreams, every carefully laid plan began to veer in the opposite direction upon encountering her.

Nüluo walked lightly upon the land, leaving behind her unique footprints, a lingering aura belonging to the lineage of the Earth God.

She strolled with unhurried steps, as if she were wandering through the mortal realm, admiring its scenic beauty. The barrier itself was changing because of her presence.

The Guardian watched the transformation within the barrier in astonishment; the shifting expressions on his face shattered the composure he had maintained for millennia. He had lost his poise.

He observed Nüluo from the shadows, expecting to witness her defeat, yet instead he bore witness to her growth.

Her power was growing stronger and stronger, the energy she radiated already beginning to alter the very fabric of the barrier.

How could he not have known the power of the Earth God’s lineage had reached such heights? How had she achieved this?

Nüluo could not see the Guardian’s expression, nor could she guess at his thoughts. Now, she was driven by a single conviction: if her power could break through Lige’s illusion, then she could surely shatter the restraints imposed by the Guardian as well. Somewhere beneath her feet, there must be an exit—sealed, yet close at hand. She was determined to find it.

With unwavering resolve, Nüluo continued forward, her leisurely pace belying the keen awareness with which she sensed the barrier’s every change. She was searching for the exit, and she had to find that miraculous little spark—whether or not it was truly the Netherflame, it was certainly entwined with it in countless, subtle ways.

The Guardian watched her demeanor, her calm forming a stark contrast to his own agitation. When had the barrier changed hands? Yet, if she wished to touch the Netherflame, she must pay a price—and what she had given thus far was far from enough. This thought offered him a measure of comfort; if she could obtain it so easily, wouldn’t every deity be tempted to challenge this test in the future?

The Guardian’s thoughts shifted repeatedly, but even greater changes were occurring in the tiny spark on his shoulder—the one Nüluo had stepped on. It bounced restlessly, regarding her with vivid curiosity, as if it had witnessed something amusing. Its ever-flickering, undying glow radiated a singular intelligence—it was indeed sentient.

The Guardian glanced at the little spark, shaking his head in resignation. Some events had already outstripped his expectations. He hadn’t anticipated such a confluence of coincidence; what seemed like chance meetings now appeared more like fate’s design. Of all the places, why had she stepped on this particular spark? Could this, too, be destiny?

He longed to swat the vexing little flame to the ground. If not for its signaling, how would he have awakened? Had he remained asleep, how could she have so easily broken through the Blade of Ice and Snow?

While he slumbered, all within the barrier was suspended in stasis; she would have been trapped there forever. But all this was mere conjecture, nothing more.

Sensing the Guardian’s shifting mood, the little spark shrieked and leapt to his other shoulder.

Completely unaware of the shock her actions had caused throughout the Underworld, Nüluo continued onward, her mind occupied by a single question—one she had pondered ever since encountering the Guardian.

How could such a powerful being exist, one whose strength far surpassed even that of the Lord of the Underworld, yet whose existence was unknown? Had she not entered the barrier, she might never have realized the insignificance of her own power. Without the help she’d received, she might have been lost forever.

Nüluo sensed that there were countless hidden powers in the world—forces that eclipsed even the known gods. Lige was one such being. The Guardian was another.

Meeting Lige had already left her stunned—his strength nearly matched the Lord of the Underworld. But this Guardian—she could scarcely find words to express her awe. If not for the familiar presence supporting her in his own way, she would have long been devoured by the soul-eating wraiths.

The thought of those repulsive spirits made her shudder. Thank heavens her divine core remained unbroken!

Naturally, this brought to mind another matter: what exactly had happened to her mother during the last ignition of the Sacred Flame of the Earth’s Heart? Why had her mother kept those events so tightly guarded, never revealing even the slightest detail?

Did her mother not foresee that, should the Sacred Flame die again, she would be forced to embark on the same perilous journey? Did her mother truly have such faith in her, believing she could overcome everything? Now that her mother had vanished, these questions would never be answered.

Moreover, her mother had possessed such formidable power—how had she still fallen in the end? This, too, was a mystery, and the infuriating thing was that Nüluo remembered nothing of that crucial moment. Who had sealed her memories?

And what about the divine core—bearing the same aura as her own—that was devoured by the soul-eating wraiths? What was its true connection to her? Had it truly vanished without a trace? If only a single fragment remained, she would find a way to restore the events of that time—to finally obtain the answers she had always sought.

Nüluo sensed that every thread seemed somehow tied to the Netherflame—but how, exactly?

The weight of these questions made her head ache. She pressed her brow, hoping to clear her mind and temporarily banish the thoughts that plagued her.

This gesture did not escape the Guardian’s watchful eyes; once again, his expression shifted. “What has she realized?”

His gaze grew dark and fathomless—danger once again loomed over Nüluo.

The changes within the barrier began to ripple outward, affecting the space beyond. The burgeoning tide of life force surged beyond its confines, forming an invisible net that spread across every domain it could reach.

Outside the barrier, the Lord of the Underworld and Lige waited for the outcome. The Netherflame’s barrier blocked their sight; all they could do was imagine what might be happening within.

There were places, even for one as mighty as the Lord of the Underworld, that could not be entered at will—just as this barrier could not be breached. As for Lige, though he was the barrier’s guardian, unless summoned, he too could not enter freely.

When the aura of life appeared, Lige was struck by a familiar sensation—he suddenly recalled where he had sensed it before. In that powerful illusion he once commanded, it was this very force that had undone his magic, rendering it useless. Even now, his illusion had not fully recovered.

Lige gave a bitter smile. In his mind, the Guardian of the Netherflame’s barrier was the most formidable being in the Underworld. Since the day the Guardian had taken up his post, never had such a thing occurred.

Even the last time a member of the Earth God’s line had come, there had been no sign of life within the barrier. This was one of the places where the Underworld’s power was strongest—how could such a realm, saturated with death, tolerate even a hint of vitality? What on earth was happening within?

Lige longed to enter and see for himself, but restrained himself; without the Guardian’s summons, he could not go in. Besides, remembering the layers of danger within, he halted his steps.

In this, he could not help but admire Nüluo—what kind of strength had given her the courage to enter, what force had carried her this far?

His gaze lingered on the barrier, watching as the goddess, brimming with hope and power, penned her own chapter.

The Lord of the Underworld also caught the scent of life and was likewise astonished—her power had grown once more. Only she could have generated such energy.

“Her strength has increased again!”

Lige glanced at the Lord of the Underworld, realizing they shared the same perception. It seemed that with each crisis, Nüluo not only overcame it, but emerged even stronger. Though this was a point of agreement between them, Lige deeply disliked having anything in common with the Lord of the Underworld.

He disliked seeing him; every glimpse of that all-too-familiar face brought back memories of a long-buried past, the brutal scenes replaying in his mind. Yet now, because of Nüluo’s presence, he was forced to confront the unknown alongside this ancient adversary. Even though the Lord of the Underworld stood beside him, Lige tried his best to ignore him, maintaining a strange and uneasy peace.

The Lord of the Underworld noticed Lige’s cold gaze and pretended not to see it. Who would have thought that the exalted ruler of the Underworld, within his own palace, would be so unwelcome? In this subterranean world, he was nothing more than a passing guest.

“Lige, consider what we’re facing now. We cannot afford to quarrel,” the Lord attempted to ease the tension.

Lige fixed him with another icy stare. “If not for her, do you think I’d let you stand here? Your Majesty, this place does not welcome you.”

The Lord of the Underworld ignored Lige’s biting sarcasm.