Chapter Ninety-Two: Divine Thunder of the Void

Chapter Ninety-Two: The Divine Thunder of the Void

Wu Hongfei ascended a mountain peak, placing the two women safely atop it before swiftly flying toward a more distant place.

“Brother, I believe you’ll be alright! We’ll wait for you here!” Wu Songran called out loudly, her voice urgent.

But in the blink of an eye, Wu Hong’s figure had already shrunk to a mere black speck in the distance.

“Damn it, what is this thing! Why is it locked onto me? There’s no way out—I’ll just have to fight!” he cursed.

Wu Hong feared nothing except that this ghostly banner would attract a primordial heavenly tribulation, ending in a needless battle—not because he lacked the strength to fight, but because the entire ordeal felt senseless. A man, forced to battle a mere artifact; what was the point?

He lured the demonic banner deep into the forested mountains of West Lake. Drawing his hammer, he let it swell in the wind and brought it crashing down upon the banner.

The trees around him thrashed wildly in the gale; the more slender ones were uprooted entirely. This swing was not merely fueled by true energy—it was a fusion of substance and aura, magnified many times over. With a resounding clang, the banner was driven straight into the earth.

With a rustle, the demonic banner flew out from the ground, enveloped in endless black miasma, soaring once more into the sky. It did not attack Wu Hong; instead, it gathered the grievances of countless spirits, developing a hint of sentience. It recognized that its greatest enemy now was the heavenly tribulation brewing above, yet still instinctively pursued Wu Hong with relentless determination.

Thunder rumbled ominously overhead.

Suddenly, Kun Kun, who had long been concealed in Wu Hong’s sleeve, darted out, rubbing its tiny bird eyes. Upon seeing the swirling black miasma, it chirped with delight.

Wu Hong could only smile bitterly—this little fellow, who seemed to sleep endlessly, had chosen this very moment to awaken, only to add to his troubles.

With a swift swoop, Kun Kun left Wu Hong’s side, chasing after the clouds of black energy.

“Kun Kun, don’t—!” Wu Hong’s warning barely left his lips before it was too late. Kun Kun swallowed a wisp of black miasma with a satisfied burp.

Wu Hong was utterly astonished. He never imagined that Kun Kun could devour the evil thoughts and resentments of the dead—and even seem thoroughly content.

Kun Kun’s tiny body was no larger than a human palm, but it zipped through the air, swallowing miasma after miasma. Each time its beak inhaled, another thread of black energy vanished into its mouth.

Yet the sky was awash with too much black miasma to ever be consumed completely. Kun Kun was exhilarated; since leaving the world of the Heavenly Book with Wu Hong, it had never truly eaten its fill. Today, it awoke to an unexpected feast.

What Wu Hong did not know was that Kun Kun was a Kunpeng—a union of the shadowy Kun and the radiant Peng, the embodiment of both yin and yang. Human souls, grievances, and negative energies were the very best sustenance for Kun Kun.

“Wow—Master, so much to eat! Kun Kun is so happy!” Kun Kun’s voice echoed in Wu Hong’s mind. He could only shake his head and smile bitterly. Such miasma and resentment—any sane person would avoid it, for it was the essence of evil. Yet Kun Kun subdued it effortlessly.

The long banner seemed to sense that Kun Kun was not to be trifled with. Its power receded, and countless wisps of black miasma withdrew into its core.

“You scoundrel! My snacks! Give me back my snacks!” Kun Kun cried, seeing the black miasma streaming into the banner’s body. Mistaking the banner for a rival in its feast, Kun Kun grew frantic, and with a sharp chirp, rammed straight into the banner’s core, pecking at it with its beak.

Metallic clangs rang out as Kun Kun’s beak clashed with the banner’s shaft.

Wu Hong clicked his tongue in amazement. Even his own body struggled to approach the banner, yet Kun Kun collided with it without impediment.

A thought sparked in Wu Hong’s mind. “Kun Kun, try to see if you can pull it over here.”

The distance between Wu Hong and the banner had always been around a thousand meters; it was only with his strongest weapon, the Ox-Slaying Hammer, that he managed to drive it into the earth.

Kun Kun understood human nature well—even without direct communication, it grasped Wu Hong’s intent. Frustrated that its beak could not damage the banner, Kun Kun found it strange—anything else would have been pecked to pieces by now.

Its tiny claws gripped the shaft tightly, beating its wings with all its might, struggling to pull the banner closer to Wu Hong.

Another low thunderclap sounded. Wu Hong’s expression darkened—the clouds above were beginning to swirl, forming a bottomless black vortex. The heavenly tribulation was poised to descend. If he didn’t hurry, he might perish here.

At last, the banner was only fifty meters away.

“Heh, let’s see where you run now!” Wu Hong chuckled, suddenly producing a great net from his hand. With a casual toss, he enveloped the banner within it.

This was the Celestial Net, which Wu Hong had obtained after enduring much hardship. Now it proved its worth.

The demonic banner struggled desperately within the net, but the Celestial Net was woven like ten thousand spider silks—tough, resilient, and sticky, a true treasure.

In Wu Hong’s hands, as his strength grew and he mastered the mystical teachings of the Great Sun Tathagata, the net became even more mysterious. As it covered the banner, it began to shrink—a feature it never had before.

The swirling black miasma was also caught up in the net. Ordinarily, the Celestial Net could ensnare only tangible things, not formless elements like water or fire. Yet this miraculous net trapped even the endless miasma released by the banner.

Wu Hong was overjoyed. He darted to the net, grabbed the banner with his right hand, and with a thought, both the banner and net vanished—sealed within his universe ring.

Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, a violent gust nearly suffocated him.

Wu Hong looked up at the sky, his face contorted. “Seriously? I’ve sealed it in the universe ring—how is there still a heavenly tribulation?”

He drew out his weapons—the Ox-Slaying Hammer, the Celestial Net, and his dagger—preparing to abandon the universe ring if necessary. Survival was paramount, and the pressure of heaven was growing ever more oppressive.

This tribulation was fiercer than the one faced by the Elder of Ten Thousand Poisons. The vortex in the sky grew deeper, and Wu Hong dared not linger, gathering his weapons and Kun Kun before fleeing at full speed.

Wu Hong had captured the banner for fear that it might survive the primordial thunder tribulation and then strike him down, a fate that spelled certain death. By sealing it in his universe ring, he hoped to avoid the tribulation.

But he never expected the tribulation not only to persist but also to evolve. The clouds, once gray, now turned pitch black. Countless fragments slowly rotated, and the central vortex, once a dark abyss, became chaotic and colorless, its nature impossible to discern.