Free Web NovelChapter 230: Chapter 202: The Unquenchable Fire of My Spirit
He was certain now.
Wu Dao was a complete and utter lunatic.
He treated hardships and tribulations as rewards.
He used the great terror of life and death to pursue the brave warrior’s gift that followed suffering.
He could feel it.
As the number of death penalties in the Mud Prison Abyss increased,
Wu Dao’s soul...
...was also constantly growing stronger.
Although it wasn’t truly killing him, and couldn’t compare to true Soul Refining Power,
the true purpose of this Mud Prison Abyss...
...was to negate the very meaning of life!
After overcoming the calamity of the Mud Prison Abyss—a trial more perilous than death itself, one that negated the meaning of life from every conceivable angle—
the resulting increase in willpower and mental fortitude...
...was still strengthening Wu Dao’s soul, albeit at an imperceptibly, excruciatingly slow pace, like grains of sand accumulating into a sea.
Though the progress was slow and minimal,
the fundamental truth was that he was still growing stronger.
If that wasn’t a reward, what was?
’Hmph. After the tenth level, the death penalties will be nonstop. Let’s see if you’re still so tough then.’
Before he knew it,
Wu Dao had unbelievably endured nine levels of the Mud Prison Abyss and had fallen into the tenth.
Within the mysterious old monster’s heart,
a sliver of confidence resurfaced.
He was rather displeased at the moment.
Wu Dao’s excited roars were like a slap across His face.
He couldn’t wait to shut Wu Dao up.
He longed to hear those melodious, miserable wails and pleas for mercy.
VMMMM—BOOM!
The instant he fell into the tenth level of the Mud Prison Abyss,
an invisible, vibrating force descended upon him.
Wu Dao was instantly shaken into countless fine particles.
The pain surpassed the sum of all the countless deaths and tortures from the previous nine levels of Purgatory.
Instantly,
his consciousness went blank for a moment.
But this was only the beginning.
VMMMM—BOOM!
His body and soul had just re-formed.
Within the pure white space,
the vibrating force struck again, giving him not a single moment of respite before shaking Wu Dao to ’death’ on the spot, reducing him to innumerable particles once more.
The tenth level of the Mud Prison Abyss—
the Vibrating White World!
Just as the mysterious existence had said,
after the tenth level,
the death penalties would be incessant.
Once the required number of punishments was met,
he would fall into an even more hopeless level below.
VMMMM—BOOM!
VMMMM—BOOM!
He recovered again and again.
He died again and again.
Amidst the ceaseless torture,
Wu Dao no longer had the chance to be excited, nor the time to roar.
The endless pain...
...plunged him into silence for the first time.
The cycle of death, without even a moment’s pause,
left his Spiritual Consciousness a complete blank.
There was nothing but pain.
No other thoughts remained.
He could only use his Divine Ghost Heaven to keep the fire of survival burning.
In his silence,
he was like a lonely traveler in a sun-scorched desert, gazing at a mirage of an oasis he could never reach.
Though he knew it was unattainable,
he still relied on his incredibly strong, unyielding will,
propping up his tattered and broken body, taking one staggering but unfalling step after another.
One step, one step...
...advancing toward that illusory oasis.
As long as there is life, the struggle for survival never ends!
’Unless you truly kill me.’
’Unless I willingly give up on life.’
’Otherwise—’
’A thousand strikes and ten thousand blows only make one stronger; the Eighteen Netherworlds refine true gold!’
The tenth level...
The eleventh level...
The twelfth level...
...
In silence,
Wu Dao descended through increasingly hopeless levels of the Mud Prison Abyss, trapped in an endless cycle of death.
The fire of his life burned with unyielding intent.
His soul’s will accumulated like sand into a sea.
Before falling into the eighteenth level,
on his attribute panel,
his Soul Refining cultivation...
...had already advanced from the general stage of the Fifth Transformation to the Peak of Five Transformations.
But even so,
he still couldn’t escape this Mud Prison Abyss.
The mysterious existence’s current strength...
...was definitely not at the Ninth Transformation.
But He possessed a supreme essence that Wu Dao currently found incomprehensible, something he couldn’t even fathom.
Because of this supreme essence,
although He couldn’t kill Wu Dao, He could trap him.
There was no other way to escape.
He could only win this "brave man’s game."
’My strength is not yet great enough, so it is my lot to suffer...’
The vigorous flame of his life will flickered.
Wu Dao guarded his original heart, his True Self remaining unmoved.
He felt no desire for release, no resentment, no pessimism, and certainly no thought of giving in to despair...
Those were all emotions of the incompetent and the weak.
He didn’t need them, and more importantly, he couldn’t afford to have them!
’If I want to live!’
’I can only pull the chestnuts from the fire and win this game!’
VMMMM~
After a brief fall,
the endless Purgatory enveloped Wu Dao once more.
The eighteenth level of the Mud Plow Abyss—
Eternal Hell!
RUMBLE—
WHOOSH—
A world-grinding millstone, a Heart-Burning Fire Sea, corrosive poisons... wind and lightning... vibrations...
In this final level of Purgatory,
the punishment was a superposition of all the previous seventeen levels.
In a single instant,
the victim would suffer the combined punishment of seventeen different Purgatory torments.
With every death,
he would feel the simultaneous torture of seventeen types of pain, each one beyond the limits of imagination.
The number of punishments on this level...
...was even more...
...a number that would make even a Divine Spirit sigh.
Amidst the endless torment of death and suffering,
an unknown amount of time passed.
Due to the near-frozen passage of time inside,
two months had already gone by in the outside world.
This was evident because, on his attribute panel,
the Horizontal Refining Undying Transformation had already entered the Ninth Daoist Sect.
But inside the Eternal Hell,
exactly how much time had passed?
Wu Dao didn’t know.
He only knew that,
his Soul Dao attainment, which had only reached the Peak of Five Transformations after an unimaginable number of deaths and an immense amount of time in the seventeen levels of Purgatory,
had, in the eighteenth level of Eternal Purgatory alone,
allowed him to break through the Fifth Transformation.
And enter the realm of the Sixth Transformation!
At the same time...
the seemingly endless punishment of the eighteenth level of the Eternal Abyss had finally come to an end.
Was it over?
No!
It had just begun!
Because this was only the second trial!
There was still one final trial to go!
K-K-KRAK—
The World shattered once again.
It fell apart.
This time, the mysterious existence did not speak.
It remained uncharacteristically silent.
SPLASH~
An endless ocean churned.
Waves blossomed one after another.
Each spray of foam seemed to contain the entire life of a living being—birth, old age, sickness, death, and all the vicissitudes of existence.
"The Sea of Suffering is boundless, and every drop is a world of hardship. If you can cross this Sea of Suffering... no, just cross half of it, and this Emperor will concede defeat."
A blood-red star hung high above the Sea of Suffering.
The mysterious existence’s voice rang out, filled with a sigh of admiration.
"Half? Hah."
Wu Dao’s voice was hoarse and ancient, yet even after enduring the Eighteen Netherworlds, it was frighteningly calm:
"I don’t need your charity. If I’m going to cross it, I’ll cross all of it. If I’m going to win, I’ll win so convincingly you’ll have no choice but to accept it!"
"Hahaha, good!!"
The crimson starlight trembled.
His laughter was mixed with a measure of submission and respect. "If you cross the Sea of Suffering, when we meet again, this Emperor will bow to you!"
In His entire life,
which had been so vast and magnificent,
He had never been truly convinced by another person’s worth.
If Wu Dao truly crossed the Sea of Suffering,
what was the harm in bowing to him?
SPLASH~
The waves of the Sea of Suffering churned.
After their brief exchange,
Wu Dao fell into a single, insignificant drop of water in the boundless Sea of Suffering.
’Hah. If I had possessed this child’s mental fortitude back then, what great undertaking could I not have accomplished?’
Gazing at Wu Dao as he fell into the drop of water from the Sea of Suffering, the mysterious existence let out a complex sigh.
Once he passed through the eighteen levels of the Mud Plow Abyss,
He knew in His heart,
that after being tempered by such an ordeal,
no calamity in the world could ever again make Wu Dao frown or shrink back.
If he also crossed the Sea of Suffering...
He couldn’t even imagine...
...what kind of monster would be forged.
"Tsk, if he manages to escape the Ten Tribulations in the future, then things are going to get interesting..."
As a thought occurred to him,
the mysterious existence found himself looking forward to the future with a little more anticipation.
After admitting his own inferiority,
He had already given up on the idea of stealing the cuckoo’s nest.
Instead, He began to look forward to seeing how big of a storm this monster Wu Dao would stir up in the future, and how many times he would slap the faces of those bastards!
But again,
the precondition was that Wu Dao had to win this game!
...
The suffering of the mortal world is endless.
The Sea of Suffering is boundless, uncrossable by any boat.
The Sea of Suffering, the Sea of Suffering.
It is an ocean formed from the convergence of countless sorrowful and desperate lives.
Once one falls in,
it is like undergoing Reincarnation.
One loses all memories,
left with only the soul’s instincts.
One must start life anew, experiencing countless miserable lives with no hope and no light.
One lifetime is but a single drop of water.
One can only imagine,
to cross the Sea of Suffering,
how truly hopeless a task it is.
...
The first life.
WHOOSH~
The winter wind swept through, freezing the land.
"Get lost, you smelly beggar!"
"So disgusting."
"You stink! And you’re a damn cripple. Go die somewhere else."
In a corner of the town,
a filthy, skeletal beggar, draped in a tattered, dirt-caked felt blanket, had just held out his broken bowl to a passerby when he was kicked to the ground, tumbling into a dirty ditch.
The beggar didn’t make a sound.
His murky eyes glanced at the departing pedestrian, but he didn’t sigh, curse, or harbor any resentment. He simply climbed silently out of the foul-smelling ditch.
"Cough, cough, cough~"
This simple action,
was no less than strenuous physical labor for the beggar.
After limping out of the ditch,
he coughed violently a few times. Spreading open a hand as grimy and thin as a chicken’s claw, he could see flecks of blood.
’The sickness has worsened again...’
Leaning against the squalid hovel made of a few wooden planks in the street corner, the beggar looked up at the dark, heavy sky, as if seeing the bleak, lightless first half of his life.
The beggar had no father or mother.
He had been raised by an old beggar since childhood.
But a voice in his heart constantly reminded him that he couldn’t be a beggar, that he couldn’t lose hope, and most importantly, that he couldn’t give up the struggle against fate.
Spurred on by this voice,
even though he had grown up at the very bottom of society, accompanied daily by filth and hardship,
the beggar had developed an optimistic outlook.
He had never given up on the future.
Nor had he ever despaired and wished for death.
Even when...
...at eight, the old beggar passed away.
...at nine, he was sold into a hard labor kiln.
...at thirteen, he escaped.
...only to be conscripted onto the battlefield.
...at eighteen, he was discharged from the army.
He didn’t receive a single cent of pension.
He drifted from place to place, leading a vagrant life.
At twenty,
he had acquired a few acres of poor land, a thatched hut to call home, and a dog, Dahuang, to keep him company.
He thought his life was about to get better.
But then the country fell...
An age of chaos arrived.
Bandits and soldiers ran rampant, and local tyrants grew brazen.
The poor fields were gone.
The thatched hut was burned down.
Dahuang was eaten.
And he himself had his leg crippled.
The sliver of light he had grasped in his hand...
...was once again devoured by endless darkness.
But the beggar still didn’t give up on life.
Taking the broken bowl from his home,
he limped off and began his long career of begging.
He had a small wish.
To save up a little money,
learn a trade,
and no longer have to live a transient life.
But as the saying goes:
"A rope breaks at its thinnest point, misfortune seeks out the ill-fated, and night fodder doesn’t fatten a weary horse."
At thirty,
he no longer had to be a beggar.
A kind tailor took him in.
He presented a pitifully small apprenticeship fee.
One year later,
bandits plundered the city.
His master died, and in the process of protecting him, his right hand was also broken.
With a crippled leg and a crippled hand, he was all alone in the world.
His life had completely lost its last glimmer of hope.
"At least I’m still alive. As long as I’m alive, there’s hope..."
But he still didn’t give up the fight.
Muttering words of comfort to himself,
he came full circle, once again becoming what people called a piece of dog shit, a rotten beggar.
And so it went until he was thirty-five.
"Cough, cough, cough..."
After a few violent coughs,
the illness-ridden beggar leaned inside his hovel. Pain, hunger, and cold blurred his consciousness as he stared blankly at the filthy snow in the street corner.
’What is the meaning of life?’
Throughout his thirty-five years of suffering,
the beggar had pondered this question countless times, but had never found an answer.
Actually, there was one.
But he didn’t want to admit it. He didn’t want to accept the old beggar’s saying that life was nothing but suffering from the moment one was born.
He had fought against this notion his entire life.
But it seemed to have been of little use.
In his bleak life,
there was almost no light.
And even when there was,
he could never hold onto it.
’So what was the point of it all?’
WHOOSH~
A gust of cold wind blew by,
carrying with it a fresh scent that might have been an illusion.
The beggar twitched his nose.
He found the source of the fragrance.
It was a blade of green grass, stubbornly breaking through the earth and swaying in the bitter cold mud of the street corner.
’The harsh winter is almost over.’
The beggar smiled.
With the last of his strength,
he reached out and touched the tender, green, and tenacious little blade of grass, so full of vigorous life.
With a smile on his face,
he slowly closed his eyes.
The answer had always been there.
His whole life,
no matter how bitter or difficult,
even at the very last moment,
he refused to yield to fate, never gave up his pursuit of the light, and was never crushed and buried by the wind and snow.
That was enough.
VMMMM~
The waves of the Sea of Suffering churned.
Wu Dao’s consciousness returned. Without the slightest attachment or even a moment’s pause, he resolutely plunged into the next drop of bitter water.
If one does not fear death, why should one fear life?
The greatest glory in life
is not in never falling,
but in rising from adversity,
stubborn and unyielding, with a life that never ceases.
