The aftermath of the Divine Thunderstrike was more than a military victory; it was a cosmic rebranding. Lord Pig had, with a single, purple-lightning-fueled swing of the Zhuxian Sword, established a new hierarchy in the spiritual world. The Demon Cult was annihilated, and Lord Pig's divine, invincible power was the only subject of conversation among every practitioner of the Tao.
The business regarding Zhang Xiaofan's fate—a matter that once threatened to ignite a war between Qingyun and Tianyin Temple—was instantly forgotten.
Master Puhong and the remaining monks of Tianyin Temple swiftly departed, their haste suggesting they realized they had witnessed something far more terrifying than a mere sectarian conflict.
As Qingyun Sect cautiously began the painstaking process of rebuilding its shattered main hall and burying the dead, the golden pig's reputation solidified into legend.
In the fiery, sun-drenched halls of Fenxiang Valley, one of the three great righteous sects, the news arrived not as information, but as a spiritual aneurysm.
Shangguan Ce, the most powerful elder who currently held the reins of the valley in the absence of the Valley Master Yun Yilan, had been stewing in fury for weeks. He was still smarting from the humiliation of not retrieving the Xuanhuojian from the pig at Qingyun.
He had just finished drafting a highly-worded, aggressive decree intended to rally the valley's disciples to march back up Tongtian Peak and demand the artifact.
"This monstrous beast must be taught respect! He is an insolent creature!" Shangguan Ce raged, slamming his fist onto a massive stone table.
It was precisely at that moment that a breathless disciple, pale as ash, stumbled into the council chambers carrying the full, unexpurgated report of the battle. Shangguan Ce snatched the scroll, eager to confirm his prejudices about Qingyun's weakness.
As he read the account—the description of Cangsong's betrayal, the gathering of the four most formidable Demon Cult leaders, the Lord Pig's theatrical feigned poisoning, and finally, the singular, ten-meter-thick, purple thunder dragon that vaporized the Poison God—Shangguan Ce's face went from angry red to a startling, chalky white. His hands began to tremble so violently that the scroll shredded under the strain.
"H-he… He defeated the combined might of the Ghost King Sect, Changshengtang, the Joyous Alliance, and the Ten Thousand Poison Sect… with one swipe? And the thunder was purple?" he whispered, the conceited fire in his eyes extinguished by pure, raw terror.
Elder Lu Shun, ever the pragmatist, stepped forward, his own heart pounding like a war drum. "Brother Shangguan, this matter has grown… excessive. The Demon Cult fielded multiple master cultivators of the eighth and ninth spiritual levels. Their total destructive force was exponentially greater than ours. To challenge Qingyun now, solely for an artifact, is not mere impropriety; it is self-immolation."
Another elder, Li Xun, quickly chimed in, eager to avoid a lethal expedition. "Indeed! We and Qingyun are allies of the righteous path! It is entirely inappropriate to escalate hostilities! We must wait until the Valley Master Yun Yilan returns and then formulate a… a very long-term plan of extreme caution!"
The entire council of elders nodded so vigorously their topknots threatened to unravel. They were all highly skilled and confident—but they had no illusions. They were not stronger than the four great Demon Cult leaders combined.
If the pig could kill all four (and a dozen elites) with a casual flourish, what would he do to a contingent from Fenxiang Valley? The elders imagined themselves being vaporized into dust, their ashes scattered across Tongtian Peak, and shivered collectively.
Shangguan Ce, seeing the overwhelming desire for self-preservation in the room, and recalling the terrifying, bored gaze of the golden pig he had personally met, finally relented. His pride was a small price to pay for not becoming a pile of Pig God fertilizer.
"Very well," he conceded, his voice barely a squeak. "We shall… await the return of the Valley Master. And perhaps, when he returns, we can send a very small, extremely polite letter to Qingyun asking about the artifact's health."
Time, for a spiritual entity approaching the pinnacle of existence, loses all meaning. To a mortal, ten years is a vast sweep of life; to Lord Pig, it was a particularly long, luxurious nap.
Lord Pig lifted his head from Lu Xueqi's lap—a favorite sleeping spot—and blinked his large, golden eyes, stretching his limbs with a yawn that echoed slightly with celestial static.
"Ten years," he murmured, his voice now deep and resonant, though still carrying a certain charming petulance. "Just like a fleeting dream. Did I miss any major celestial events? Did anyone dare try to attack the mountain again? No? Excellent."
The last decade had been one of unprecedented peace and unparalleled personal luxury. Qingyun was stable, the sects of the world bowed to his shadow, and the only remaining challenge was alleviating his chronic boredom.
He often went down the mountain for recreation. These trips were not journeys, but casual strolls of a deity slumming it among mortals.
"Xueqi, I'm off for a bit of exercise," he announced, pulling himself up.
He recalled his regular excursions with a detached fondness. He often visited Fox Mountain, not to fight, but to critique the local snacks, occasionally dispensing a bit of terrifying wisdom to the perpetually worried Wanrenwang and his daughter Bi Yao, who were still trying to rebuild the Ghost King Sect from the ashes.
He also enjoyed the delightful, wicked company of Jin Ping'er in Yudu City, frequently visiting her famed Jinxiufang—mostly to sample her excellent pastries and critique her martial arts forms (always in a polite, pig-like fashion, of course).
The visits were mere distractions, however. His true focus remained the completion of the Celestial Tome. He had a total of four volumes now, and only the final one remained.
As he stretched, his spiritual senses, which spanned the entire mortal realm, suddenly focused like a laser beam.
A feeling.
It wasn't a sound or a scent; it was a profound, powerful pull on the fabric of fate itself. A massive, ancient spiritual lock was being unsealed somewhere in the world.
"Ah! It seems my nap was well-timed," Lord Pig stated, his sleepy eyes sharpening into points of light. He gazed southwest, piercing through distance and spiritual barriers. "Ten years. The cosmic timing is impeccable. The Heavenly Emperor's Treasure House is finally ready to reveal itself."
He recognized the feeling: the presence of the final, fifth volume of the Celestial Tome was now tangible.
"Xueqi, Lord Pig requires a field trip," he declared with a decisive huff.
Lu Xueqi, having been his companion for the last decade, simply nodded, her expression as serene as ever. "Be careful, Lord Pig."
With a casual nod, Lord Pig transformed into a streak of brilliant golden light and vanished, rocketing towards the dreaded Southwest Death Swamp.
The journey was instantaneous. In less than an hour, the golden light resolved, and Lord Pig was standing deep within the legendary Death Swamp.
This place was famous, or rather, infamous. It was perpetually rainy, choked with dense, lung-searing miasma, and teeming with every kind of poisonous insect, grotesque plant, and ferocious spiritual beast imaginable. Mortals and cultivators below the Seventh Spiritual Level generally shuddered and died upon contact with the air itself.
For Lord Pig, it was akin to walking through his own personal, slightly damp backyard.
The miasma and poisonous fog parted instinctively around his divine form. The venomous snakes and insects recoiled, sensing the inherent Omni-Poison Immunity and the colossal spiritual aura that casually suppressed their entire species.
"The air quality is truly atrocious," Lord Pig complained mildly, shaking his head. "I swear, if this fog stains my fur, I will have words with the Heavenly Emperor himself."
BUZZ!
As if answering his complaint, a column of dazzling golden light suddenly shot from the misty horizon, straight up into the clear blue expanse above the clouds. It was brilliant, profound, and undeniable—a beacon advertising the emergence of a legendary secret.
"Lord Pig's predictions are never wrong, of course! The Heavenly Emperor's Treasure House has arrived!" Lord Pig laughed, a sound of pure glee, and immediately flew toward the golden pillar.
As he flew deeper, the swamp gave way to a sight that defied all logic and scale: a Giant Tree of unimaginable size.
Its trunk was so immense that it vanished into the surrounding mist, resembling not wood, but the sheer, rough face of a titanic hill. Lord Pig had to fly sideways, circling it just to appreciate the scale.
"Hmm. Rather large," he conceded, his voice tinged with genuine awe—a rare sentiment for the divine swine. "This must be one of the legendary primeval trees, tens of millions of years old. A true wonder of nature, though one must question its aesthetic choices."
He began to ascend along the colossal trunk, flying for what felt like ages. The trunk remained a massive pillar, seemingly endless, until finally, enormous branches began to peel off.
More peculiar was the sight of a strange, gigantic vine that had entwined itself completely around the tree. It was a bizarre, crisscrossing pattern of colossal, lush leaves, now adorned with an astonishing spectacle of flowering: red, yellow, orange, and purple blooms burst forth everywhere, emitting a faint, intoxicating fragrance that, for once, Lord Pig did not find immediately offensive.
He continued to climb, faster now. His speed sliced through the miasma, causing the mist to ripple and fall away like a retreating tide.
Suddenly, he burst out of the swamp fog entirely.
The sky above was impossibly blue, clear, and vast. Below him lay a dazzling, undulating sea of white mist, with the stupendous tree trunk punching straight through it. Even at this height, the trunk was still hundreds of feet in diameter. He realized that this was not a tree; it was a mountain that was somehow made of wood, stretching toward the heavens.
The higher he flew, the stronger the winds became, buffeting him like spiritual knives. He pushed his speed further, realizing the legendary accounts of this tree, this Ladder to Heaven, were no exaggeration. The branches tapered slightly, but the massive, flowering vines grew thicker and more profuse, until they completely enveloped the final section of the trunk.
He paused. In front of him, the entire trunk was masked by a solid, dizzying wall of flowers and vines, a living tapestry of vibrant color. Embedded in the center of this riot of growth was a single, ancient stone gate, five meters high and three meters wide. On the thick boulder, four immense characters were etched in ancient seal script.
"The Emperor's Treasure House!"
A deep, resonating sound, like a colossal bell striking, echoed through the boundless blue sky, shaking the air and vibrating in Lord Pig's spiritual core.
CHIRP!
The sound was a long, terrifying screech that pierced the heavens, shattering the tranquility. A vast, terrifying shadow instantly enveloped Lord Pig.
A colossal bird, a mythical creature of immense power and size, swooped down upon him from the clouds—the legendary Yellow Bird, the guardian of the Heavenly Emperor's Treasure House. Its talons were like bronze spears, its beak sharp as an artifact, and its eyes burned with cold, primordial fury.
"Well, hello there, feathery pest," Lord Pig observed calmly, looking thoroughly unimpressed. "If you do not wish to be humiliated, I suggest you stay precisely where you are. But since you failed to heed Lord Pig's instruction…"
The Yellow Bird, flying at an incredible, predatory speed, was too large and too committed to its dive to alter its trajectory.
Before it could close the gap, Lord Pig executed a flawless, instantaneous spiritual technique.
He opened his mouth—not to breathe, but to unleash pure, highly refined spiritual energy. A single, colossal, boundless net woven entirely of shimmering golden light shot out and expanded instantly, covering the Yellow Bird's massive head like an absurdly large hairnet.
The creature didn't stand a chance. It was enveloped completely in the Golden Dragnet before its talons even registered a change in the air pressure.
CHIRP!
The Yellow Bird shrieked in outrage and struggled violently, its powerful wings churning the air. But the more it fought, the tighter the golden spiritual threads cinched, binding its massive wings and powerful neck into a single, impotent bundle. It was the most humiliating capture ever experienced by a mythical beast.
BAM!
The netted bird—a creature capable of destroying mountains—tumbled unceremoniously onto a thick tree branch, where it lay squawking, its majestic form trussed up like a giant, angry, golden chicken. It glared at Lord Pig with eyes full of incandescent rage and helplessness.
"Energy +2000, Experience +2000"
Lord Pig chuckled, pleased with the neatness of the catch. "See? Quite simple. Now, sit and reflect on the consequences of attacking Lord Pig."
As if on cue, the massive, floral-wreathed stone door in the wall of vines began to groan, a deep, grinding sound of granite on granite. The crack down its middle widened, and the two halves slowly retracted into the trunk.
BUZZ!
Dazzling, blinding golden light erupted from the newly formed doorway, gushing forth like the essence of a thousand rising suns. The air filled with the scent of ancient treasure and overwhelming spiritual energy.
Without the slightest pause, and ignoring the trussed, squawking guardian bird, Lord Pig simply flew into the breathtaking golden radiance, eager to see what wonders awaited him inside the Heavenly Emperor's Treasure House.