Chapter 1222: The Strongest Team

Chapter 1222: The Strongest Squad

Ping Sheng Divine Prison.

Nestled within the Wu Tian Belt, between the Aurora Outer Heaven and the Lingguang Outer Heaven, it stood—a colossal spider statue to the eye.

Within its hollowed form lay the prison itself, while upon its exterior rose hall after hall, each built like a jagged nail driven into the void, their strange architecture humming with sealing power.

The statue itself was pitch-black, vast as a star, concealed within a swirling vortex of cosmic dust. Through its eight hairy legs—each bristling with countless fine hairs—it ceaselessly siphoned stray Source Essence from the barren expanse of the Wu Tian Belt.

This divine prison had endured for millennia.

Originally erected through the combined efforts of seventeen cosmic royal clans from the Lingguang Outer Heaven, it functioned in truth as their private dungeon. Most of the imprisoned deities within had been either plundered or purchased by these clans through various means, then gathered here.

Indeed, many among them had once languished in the Aurora Outer Heaven, only to be bartered away like mere goods—stolen through cunning schemes by the families of Lingguang.

The choice to build it within the Wu Tian Belt was deliberate: this prison held a peculiar trait. The deities confined within required a measure of vitality—they could not be allowed to sink into deep slumber.

Thus, it could not reside within any Outer Heaven suffused with immortal qi; such an environment would plunge the captives into irreversible dormancy.

Officially, the purpose was declared as research into the immortality of deities.

Reports were duly filed with both the Lingguang and Jiuan Outer Heavens, and records registered accordingly. Only under the joint jurisdiction of these two realms was its construction permitted.

Precisely because of this dual oversight—and the prison’s unique research focus—it lay outside the purview of the Chouwu Bureau.

For years, not a single Chouwu Envoy had received orders to requisition anything from this region.

Time passed, and in its own quiet way, the place settled into a kind of uneasy peace.

As for the jailers, aside from the two Wardens, all several thousand were cultivators drawn from the seventeen clans.

At this very moment, within the highest central hall atop the great spider statue, music drifted through the air.

Alien slaves danced and sang.

God-slaves—those bearing diluted divine blood in their veins—played ancient instruments.

Chained servants offered goblets brimming with Source Essence-infused wine.

Seated around the chamber were dozens of cultivators. Save for the two human figures at the center, all others were powerful beings of alien races, their eyes alight with pleasure, lost in indulgence.

The two humans—one elderly, one middle-aged—were the Wardens of this prison.

The elder hailed from the Lingguang Outer Heaven; the younger, from Jiuan.

“Day after day, year after year, Brother Dao,” said the elder with a sigh, “our time here has been rather pleasant.”

“Inexhaustible Source Essence, service from slave races, far from war—it’s a paradise apart.”

“Hah! To dwell quietly in one corner is also a life well-lived.”

They raised their cups, laughing.

They had served their three-hundred-year rotation without incident, amassing considerable gains—their cultivation now firmly mid-stage Quasi-Immortal, nearing late stage.

“Still,” mused the younger Warden, “all things must end. In another jiazi cycle, our terms conclude. Who knows when—or if—we’ll meet again?”

“The future is uncertain. Best to savor the present.”

They laughed heartily once more, lifting their cups again. Around them, the alien jailers beamed, raising their own goblets in flattery and cheer.

Just as they were about to drink—

A sudden gust swept into the hall from outside, chilling the festive air.

Within that cool wind appeared a faint, ethereal figure—an alien cultivator—who coalesced midair into a graceful female cultivator. She bowed swiftly and spoke in haste:

“My lords, nearly a hundred human auras have been detected approaching our location. Outer patrols have already issued warnings and activated defensive wards—but…”

Her words cut off abruptly as a thunderous boom erupted from beyond the walls—a sound like heaven and earth splitting apart.

The defenses shattered!

In the next instant, outside energy flooded in.

Inside the hall, every cultivator’s expression shifted. The two human Quasi-Immortals frowned, their forms blurring—

—and in a flash, they stood outside the hall, gazing upward. Recognizing the newcomers’ attire, both men’s faces darkened.

Following their gaze, streaks of brilliant light—like falling stars—plunged toward the prison, each trailing formidable aura, stirring tempestuous waves of power.

Barriers crumbled before them like dry twigs.

In the blink of an eye, seven or eight of these meteors slammed down onto the statue’s surface just ahead of the Wardens.

The statue trembled.

A storm of dust and force exploded outward, roaring across the land. More meteors descended amid the gale, shaking the ground with relentless impact.

All around, the alien cultivators tensed—as if facing imminent doom.

For the intruders were not only numerous but terrifyingly powerful.

Even more unsettling was the demeanor of these human cultivators: rising calmly from their landings, each wore an air of utter indifference, laced with arrogance.

One among them radiated palpable malevolence—truly fearsome.

They dispersed casually—yet a closer look revealed they arranged themselves like soldiers awaiting orders.

The sinister figure did the same.

Then came more meteors, howling down from the sky, falling into formation.

Until at last, nearly all had landed—and high above, the final meteor blazed with blinding radiance, unleashing an aura rivaling that of a True Immortal.

As it drew near, every alien cultivator froze in terror—even the two Wardens paled, their expressions twisting in unprecedented shock.

Their bodies instinctively recoiled before that overwhelming pressure, hearts pounding with dread.

“A True Immortal?”

“No… not quite—but this aura…”

Before they could finish, the terrifying meteor struck the earth with cataclysmic force.

He transformed into a young man.

Clad in black, with long raven hair and an aura so overwhelming it shook the very soul.

The entire prison trembled violently.

As the guards and the two wardens stood stricken with dread, from among the crowd stepped forward the first of the sinister cultivators who had arrived earlier. He walked slowly, casting a sidelong glance at the assembled cultivators, his voice rasping like dry leaves scraping stone.

“I am Xie Lingzi.”

“My lord received a secret missive stating that a deity here seeks to break free—thus we have come to suppress this rebellion.”

At these words, the faces of the prison guards darkened visibly. The two wardens, meanwhile, cast wary glances toward the last-arriving youth in black robes, now surrounded by those arrogant cultivators, their hearts filled with hesitation.

One of them finally spoke, his voice low and tense:

“Esteemed Envoys of the Provisional Bureau, this prison falls under the joint jurisdiction of Jiuan Heaven and Lingguang Heaven—and there is no insurrection here.”

No sooner had he spoken than Zhou Zhengli, standing beside Xu Qing in the crowd, offered a gentle smile.

“Ah, you’re a warden? No need to worry. We’re merely conducting an inspection. If indeed there’s no rebellion, we shall depart promptly.”

Hearing this, the two wardens nearly erupted in fury—but their eyes fell upon Xu Qing, and their anger faltered into uncertainty.

At that moment, Xing Huanzi from within the crowd unleashed a surge of killing intent and strode forth.

His icy voice echoed across the expanse:

“We act under duty—no more idle talk! Follow me inside for a thorough inspection!”

Without acknowledging the guards, he marched straight toward the interior of the statue. Behind him, dozens of cultivators, upon receiving Xu Qing’s subtle nod, immediately surged after him at full speed.

The prison guards bristled, their auras flaring outward one by one. The two wardens clenched their teeth, ready to intervene—

But just then, Zhou Zhengli gave a soft cough.

In the next instant, as prearranged before their arrival, each member of the group either emitted a unique resonance, produced a rare token, or declared aloud their affiliations:

“My master is Lan Xiao—the Lower Immortal!”

“My teacher is Head of the Provisional Bureau—some call him the Poison Sovereign.”

“My bloodline traces back to Elder Fu Sheng.”

“I hold a covenant with the Chen Clan as their outer-line Dao Seed!”

“The Renxian Sect has granted me discipleship.”

“Qishan Heaven shares a Dao-vow with me!”

...

One proclamation after another rang out; beams of light from countless tokens blazed across the heavens, shaking the very stars—leaving the two wardens utterly pale-faced.