"A semi-finished product, huh!"
Hades quietly observed Rippleblade while I nodded.
"It looks like a semi-finished product, but it seems to be complete already."
Hades crouched at the edge of the platform, quietly observing Rippleblade. I felt puzzled—when the sword was facing Hades, it showed no reaction at all. But as I approached, the blade began to tremble. The moment my hand touched it, cracks spidered across its surface.
After I demonstrated for Hades, he looked shocked and turned to Eugene Smithson.
"It seems that when you forged the eleventh sword for the Underworld Court, you broke through something."
Eugene Smithson smiled silently and shook his head.
"It's not that I broke through anything. Rather, the sword made me understand something."
The more Eugene Smithson spoke, the less I understood. I waved my hand, and Black Moon moved to the front of the platform, pressing a hand to the ground. A rumbling echoed as cracks split the floor. Slowly, a block of black stone rose—a perfectly square piece. I walked over and patted its surface.
"We can begin."
Huang Quan grasped Rippleblade and approached the square black stone. Without hesitation, he drove the sword straight into the stone, then sat cross-legged on the ground and closed his eyes. Instantly, crimson marks crawled across my body, encircling me. I began to implant my will, transmitting it through Hell's engravings, sending a message to the souls within Hell: Whoever can pull out this sword may escape Hell.
Soon after, I returned to the Challenge Platform and watched as the souls I had released slowly moved toward the platform. Many regained consciousness, scrambling and shivering as they tried to climb up and pull the sword. The outcome was predictable.
With a series of muffled booms, those souls unable to draw the sword exploded into dust and returned to Hell. Others kept trying, but none could pull Rippleblade free.
"No one can pull it out, can they?"
I muttered. My premonition seemed correct. Days passed, and no soul could draw the sword. Those who had tried never revived. I watched as more souls emerged from the ground, each going to attempt the draw, but the result was always the same.
Gradually, I lost interest. Now, I wanted to know what Jade Zeng and Xiangtian were doing in the Underworld. Yet it seemed they had accomplished nothing. The war had been over for months, and the Ghost Lords had failed to defend even half of Shuzhou's plain, relying on the mountains of Hell as a natural barrier against the old Hell's frenzied assault.
The plan was sound, but it couldn't last. There were only eight channels for Yin energy to flow from the mortal realm into the Underworld, far too few. Now, the three families of old Hell in the mortal realm had yet to launch an attack. They seemed to be waiting for something, with power still in their hands.
If old Hell made a move in the mortal realm at the right moment, Yin Cao would be beset from all sides. Eight channels for transmitting Yin energy were clearly insufficient. Yin energy should have already accumulated in the mortal realm, and over time, the only way to purify it was through the techniques of the practitioners. But this exhausted them. Maybe old Hell's plan was to wear down the practitioners in the mortal realm, then seize the chance to attack through the eight channels leading to Yin Cao.
Judging by Yin Cao's current situation, they had no means of resistance. It was like waiting for death.
"Someone pulled it out."