Chapter 189: Dark Nether
Sizzle… sizzle…
The liquified flame-attributed core let out sharp sizzling sounds, flickering brightly as Su Tianhao willed it toward the unified Nightiron ore and Voidtemper Obsidian—now formed into a small, slowly rotating crimson-golden orb.
Master Shen Bao stood to the side, tense and unblinking, the Ashenthread Silk held firmly in his thick, calloused hands.
"Watch carefully," Su Tianhao said, his gaze locked on the orb and the fiery red liquid drifting toward it. His mind was fully concentrated on the Molten Sovereign Art.
'Nothing is allowed to go wrong.'
The thought sharpened his focus like a blade. He allowed the fiery liquid to make contact.
The moment the two elements met, they collided violently—raging against each other as if fighting for dominance.
But under the relentless pressure of the Molten Sovereign Art, the struggle gradually subsided. The two merged into a single liquified structure, glowing with a brilliant fiery-golden hue.
Master Shen Bao's eyes lit up. "You did it, young master!"
"No," Su Tianhao replied. "This level of fusion is still too shallow. It lacks a solid foundation—it would crumble long before I finish infusing the remaining elements."
Before Master Shen Bao could respond, he felt Su Tianhao drawing more energy through him.
Su Tianhao pushed the Molten Sovereign Art to its limit.
The fiery-golden orb twisted, folded, condensed, and spun rapidly. Each circulation deepened the fusion until the orb returned to its stable crimson-gold—yet the intense fiery heat remained, a clear testament to the integration it had undergone.
'Strike while the iron is hot!'
Without pause, Su Tianhao guided the next core—the liquified ice-attributed core—toward the orb.
Master Shen Bao's jaw tightened. In the cultivation world, fire and ice were natural enemies. Everyone knew the old saying:
"Fire scorches ice, ice extinguishes fire. To fuse them is to challenge the natural order itself."
But Su Tianhao was going to defy that order.
His mind turned inward, reflecting on the Molten Sovereign Art. Only one word rose to the surface—
Will.
The technique thrived on the power of will, and Su Tianhao's will had never been weak. Someone with lesser conviction might have failed here. But Su Tianhao's will had been tempered through hardship, through the sword dao, through everything the world had thrown at him.
"Fuse!"
His voice reverberated through the forge like a heavenly decree. His dragon eyes glowed brighter—more commanding, more absolute.
The Heavenly Devouring Dragon held the power to devour the heavens itself. What was a little elemental order that it could not bend?
The crimson-golden orb forcefully absorbed the icy-blue liquid. Within minutes, the fusion was complete. The orb held both heat and cold simultaneously, the two forces revolving around each other like Yin and Yang—perfectly opposed, perfectly balanced.
"Unbelievable..." Master Shen Bao murmured, eyes shining with childlike delight.
Wind came next. It was naturally free and easy-going—it offered no resistance and merged smoothly into the orb without incident.
Then came earth.
Dense. Stubborn. Unyielding. The moment it touched the orb, everything trembled. Cracks split across the surface, leaking chaotic light—golden, fiery red, icy blue, pale green—all of it bleeding outward at once.
"Stabilize it—Ashenthread Silk, now!"
Master Shen Bao was already moving. He retrieved his jade brush, ran it across the silk bundle, and several fine silvery-grey threads attached themselves to it, drawn by the brush's magnetic pull. They shimmered faintly and hummed as he brought them close to the chaotic orb.
He ran the brush across the orb's fractured surface with focused precision. The chaos calmed. The cracks stitched themselves back together.
Su Tianhao took immediate control, refining the orb back to its crimson-gold sheen. The earth core had been infused.
Master Shen Bao let out a low whistle. Su Tianhao exhaled in quiet relief—but there was no time to rest. He instructed Master Shen Bao to apply the Ashenthread Silk after every infusion going forward. The old craftsman nodded without a word.
Poison came next. It didn't resist—it sought to corrupt. Su Tianhao activated the True Origin Eyes, identified the poison's spread through the orb, and used the Molten Sovereign Art to direct the existing elements against it, suppressing it completely before it could take root. The Ashenthread Silk followed immediately after.
Water was calm, fluid, and above all—adaptable. It folded into the orb without complaint, the sixth element absorbed with barely any effort.
Then lightning.
Violent. Suppressive. Absolute.
Su Tianhao didn't fight it. He didn't try to suppress it with the other elements or force it into submission. He simply let go—and the lightning fell upon everything beneath it like a sovereign claiming its throne. It fused naturally, becoming the ruling force over all the other elements.
Light followed. It was difficult—but not a battle. With lightning already present and compatible, it was like a general welcoming a trusted brother-in-arms into his ranks. The two harmonized without conflict.
Eight elements and the Voidtemper Obsidian infused. The orb had grown three times its original size, dense with layered power, each element folded into the next.
Now only one remained.
The darkness-attributed core from the Dark Nether Beast.
The pitch-black liquid drifted slowly toward the crimson-golden orb, gleaming with a sinister, devouring aura. The moment it drew near, the temperature in the forge plummeted. The air grew heavy and oppressive. The flames themselves seemed to shrink back—as though even fire recognized the threat.
Master Shen Bao's face turned pale.
This was no ordinary darkness. It carried the corrosive, consuming essence of the nether—the same destructive force that had nearly shattered Shadowfang during Su Tianhao's training. If it went out of control, it could devour every element, corrupt the Nightiron ore, and bring everything crashing down.
Su Tianhao's expression turned grave.
The dark liquid touched the orb.
BOOM!
A violent tremor shook the forge. The orb shuddered as the darkness surged in like a black tide, trying to swallow everything at once. Cracks tore across the surface, leaking chaotic multi-colored light. The previously harmonious elements began to riot—clashing wildly against the invading nether qi.
The orb destabilized at an alarming rate.
"Master Shen Bao—Ashenthread Silk, now!"
Master Shen Bao moved without hesitation, guiding the shimmering threads toward the orb with both hands. The silk hummed with power—but the darkness fought back, corroding the threads on contact.
Su Tianhao poured everything into the Molten Sovereign Art, forcing the darkness to submit while the True Origin Eyes scanned the orb for the weakest points of conflict.
Black tendrils of nether qi leaked outward, eating into the surrounding space.
For the first time since they began, genuine pressure showed on Su Tianhao's face.
This was the true test.
The Dark Nether core wasn't just another element—it was the defining power he had built the entire sword around. If it failed here, everything was lost.
"Submit!"
The roar tore from his throat, carrying the primal authority of the Heavenly Devouring Dragon bloodline—ancient, absolute, brooking no defiance.
His golden eyes burned with silver-blue light as the True Origin Eyes pushed to their limit and the Molten Sovereign Art exerted its full dominion.
Slowly… painfully… the darkness began to yield.
The black tendrils retracted. The cracks closed. The chaotic clash between elements gradually quieted as the nether qi was forced into harmony rather than domination.
The orb stabilized.
It was no longer purely crimson-gold. A deep, mysterious black vein now ran through its center, pulsing with restrained destructive power—perfectly balanced with everything around it.
Su Tianhao exhaled slowly, sweat dripping from his temples.
Master Shen Bao stared at it in silence, voice barely a whisper.
"…You actually did it. You fused the Dark Nether essence without letting it devour everything…"
Su Tianhao's lips curved into a faint, exhausted smile.
"It's not over yet. This is only the foundation."
---
He turned to the Blood Savage Serpent's soul crystal essence. The ethereal liquid pulsed with open defiance as he guided it toward the dark-veined orb. It resisted—volatile by nature, carrying its own spiritual will: to consume.
But Su Tianhao didn't fight it directly. He used the Molten Sovereign Art to direct the dark nether element within the orb to consume the soul crystal's essence on his behalf—turning the darkness against it.
The orb's black veins surged, devouring the soul crystal's will entirely. What followed was a visible shift—the pitch-black deepened, violet stripes emerging through the veins like something waking from within.
The orb lurched into imbalance. The air around it trembled.
Master Shen Bao stepped forward before Su Tianhao could speak—face carved from stone, jade brush already in hand, dipping into the Nightfall Quenching Oil.
He knew. This wasn't a job for the Ashenthread Silk.
A faint, cool fragrance filled the forge as he applied the oil across the orb's surface. It acted exactly as it was designed to—cooling, locking, stabilizing the internal structure before fractures could form.
Everything clicked into place.
The orb that remained was dark crimson-gold, laced with sinister veins of pitch-black and violet, swirling slowly in the air with quiet, contained power.
Master Shen Bao took an involuntary step back.
Su Tianhao stood his ground, wiping the sweat from his face. His eyes had returned to their normal golden hue. What remained in them was something simple and earned.
Satisfaction.
'Time to infuse my blood.'
---
He retrieved the serpent-shaped jade bottle.
The moment Master Shen Bao's eyes landed on it, they lit up with undisguised curiosity.
Su Tianhao ignored him. He walked steadily toward the orb and tilted the bottle.
The crimson liquid poured out in a single deliberate stream.
The moment it touched the orb—the Dark Nether qi surged. The lingering will of the Blood Savage Serpent lunged forward like a beast that had been waiting. Every element inside the orb converged on the blood with consuming hunger.
But this was the blood of the Heavenly Devouring Dragon.
It did not allow itself to be consumed.
A blinding golden light detonated through the forge—sudden and absolute. Both Su Tianhao and Master Shen Bao recoiled, shielding their eyes.
When the light faded—
The dark orb was gone.
In its place floated something else entirely. A massive golden orb, radiant and tyrannical, pulsing with light that seemed to breathe. Every trace of darkness, every sinister vein, every conflicting element—gone. Yet Su Tianhao could feel them all. The fire and ice. The earth and lightning. The nether. The serpent's consumed will. Every attribute, every property—not erased, but devoured and refined into something purer than any of them had ever been individually.
He activated the True Origin Eyes.
He found no separate elements.
Only perfection.
The dragon blood had done what no technique could—consumed everything and refined it into the absolute peak of itself. The Heavenly Devouring Dragon Physique's fundamental principle, made manifest in liquid form.
Master Shen Bao stared at the orb. His face had gone completely still. Somewhere in his chest, an inexplicable pressure built—the urge to bow his head before something that simply should not exist at this level of the world.
Su Tianhao's hand landed gently on his shoulder.
The old craftsman blinked. The pressure receded.
Su Tianhao turned back to the orb without a word and activated the Molten Sovereign Art.
The orb responded immediately—no resistance, no hesitation. It moved as though it recognized him. As though it had always been waiting for this moment. Su Tianhao felt the resonance himself—a quiet pull in his chest, like a string plucked between his bloodline and the material before him.
He shaped it.
The golden mass stretched, thinned, and folded under his will. Edges formed—wicked, precise, terrifyingly sharp. The spine thickened with dense, layered structure. The taper curved exactly as he envisioned.
Within minutes, a glowing golden blade hung in the air before them—still molten, still incomplete, but unmistakably a sword.
"Time to hammer the weapon."
He turned to Master Shen Bao.
The old craftsman pointed at himself, voice dropping to something close to reverent. "Me? I'm afraid I'm not worthy to hammer this divine weapon."
Su Tianhao smiled inwardly. 'Divine weapon? Hardly.'
The blade had the distant, unrealized potential—the kind that might one day grow into something worthy of that title. But true divine weapons existed in the Immortal Realm, separated from what floated before them by a gap as wide as heaven and earth. This was still the beginning of its journey.
He turned inward to the Heavenly Creation Art one final time.
A technique surfaced.
Heavenly Hammer Sovereign Art—The seventh and final supreme technique within the Heavenly Creation Art, revered as the Hammer of Creation. Upon activation, the user manifests an invisible conceptual hammer forged from pure will, soul power, and the laws of creation. Every strike does not merely shape the material—it hammers the weapon's essence, spirit, karmic fate and destiny itself.
Su Tianhao's smile returned—quieter this time. His mastery of this technique was almost nonexistent. The laws of creation, concept hammering, karmic fate—these were words that belonged to a level of existence he hadn't even glimpsed yet.
But he could still use it. And for now, that was enough.
"Don't worry," he said to Master Shen Bao. "I'll be assisting you."
The Marionette Sovereign Art activated.
And the hammering began.
---
By evening, the sound of hammer strikes had become the heartbeat of the Ironveil Forge.
Master Shen Bao's hammer rose and fell in a rhythm that was no longer entirely his own. Su Tianhao guided each strike through the Marionette Sovereign Art with surgical precision—adjusting force, angle, and timing in ways the old craftsman's hands alone could never have achieved. The Heavenly Hammer Sovereign Art moved through both of them like a current, each blow landing not just on metal but on something deeper. The blade rang with a sound unlike anything the forge had ever produced—clear, resonant, and faintly alive.
Master Shen Bao felt it in his palms with every strike. A warmth that had nothing to do with the forge heat. A vibration that traveled up his arms and settled somewhere in his chest.
Hours passed without either of them speaking.
The blade took shape—hammered, turned, hammered again. The golden molten color deepened and darkened as the temperature was carefully controlled through the Purgatory Sovereign Flame Art, cooling in measured stages. Edges were refined to terrifying sharpness. The spine was tempered to a density that defied the material's weight. Every imperfection was found and erased before it could settle.
Midnight approached.
Su Tianhao released the Marionette Sovereign Art and stepped back. Master Shen Bao lowered his hammer slowly, broad shoulders heaving, breathing hard.
The blade rested on the anvil—cooled, dark, and still.
The two of them worked on the hilt next. Three hours of careful, precise work. It was carved from dense blackwood reinforced with iron and wrapped in Ashenthread Silk. At the pommel, they shaped a majestic dragon head—jaws slightly parted as if roaring silently, two tiny crimson gemstones set as eyes that seemed to glow with inner life. The dragon's mane flowed down the grip and merged seamlessly with the silk wrapping, giving the hilt both beauty and a primal, domineering presence.
The moment the blade and hilt were joined—
Something shifted.
A faint pressure radiated outward from the completed sword—subtle but unmistakable. The air in the forge stilled. The flames burned quieter. Even the residual heat felt different, as though it recognized the work was done.
The full moon hung directly above the forge's smoke vents.
Master Shen Bao stepped forward.
He lifted the completed sword with both hands—those iron-bending hands that had spent fifty years shaping metal—and held it out.
His expression carried something Su Tianhao had not seen on him before. Not pride exactly. Something older. The look of a craftsman who had spent a lifetime waiting to be part of something that mattered, and had finally arrived.
Su Tianhao reached out and took the sword.
The moment his fingers closed around the hilt—
He felt it.
Not spiritual energy. Not elemental force. Something quieter and deeper than either. A resonance that began in his palm, traveled up his arm, and settled somewhere behind his sternum—like a chord struck in an instrument he hadn't known he was carrying.
He stood completely still, the sword held loosely at his side, moonlight catching its surface through the smoke vents above.
The blade was dark—deep, absorbing black with a crimson-gold edge that only revealed itself at certain angles, as though the sword chose when to show its true nature. Faint violet striations ran through the fuller like veins of nether energy held just below the surface—restrained, but alive.
It looked exactly like what it was.
Something born from destruction, refined through will, and completed under a full moon.
Su Tianhao exhaled slowly.
Only one name came to mind.
"Dark Nether."
The name settled into the forge like the final note of a long composition—quiet, absolute, and entirely right.
Su Tianhao exhaled. The sound was too loud in the sudden quiet.
Then the Ethereal Mind Crystal winked out. The purple light died. And so did his legs.
He didn't stagger. Didn't fall to a knee. His soul power—the thing holding his body upright for the last hour—simply stopped.
He hit the forge floor like cut strings. The sword still in his hand.
Master Shen Bao lunged, too late. "Young master!"
Blood ran from Su Tianhao's nose. Not a trickle. A line. It hit the stone and sizzled.
His golden eyes were half-lidded. Unseeing. The spark from them—gone.
The last thing he felt was Shen Bao's hands prying Dark Nether from his grip, and the old craftsman's voice, rough with something like fear:
"...I've got it. I've got you."