Chapter 575: The True History of the Spike

Gabriel stood in the heavy silence of the memory. His eyes were fixed on the huge Core Suppressing Spike.

He was only an observer in this piece of history, but the artifact’s pressure felt very real. His veins pulsed. A deep hum came from the cold metal. It pulled at his mana, threatening to turn it into dry dust.

"So this is the limit of a mage," Gabriel thought as he looked at the heavy chains wrapped around the spike.

Against a normal opponent, a high level mage was a walking disaster. But here, under this massive nail, they were stripped of their power. They became ordinary mortals who could barely lift their weapons. It was a terrifying and efficient defense.

But the memory did not end.

Instead, the darkness at the base of the spike began to move. The cold air in the chamber grew heavier. It was no longer the dry, dead cold of the tomb. It carried a thick, metallic smell of fresh blood and decayed spiritual energy.

Flicker.

The scene distorted, and the bloody footprints of the retreating Tianlan cultivators disappeared. In their place, dark shadows appeared from the corridors. They moved with an unnatural, gliding grace. They avoided the paths where the Guardian Knight usually patrolled.

Gabriel narrowed his eyes behind his mask as he watched them.

They wore tattered black robes with sharp crimson runes on the borders. Their faces were hidden behind masks carved from pale bone. The energy coming from their bodies was violent, dark, and chaotic, a stark contrast to the clean qi of the Martial Palace.

Gabriel had heard about this ancient, forbidden faction from the alchemist before. Seeing them here, in a memory from long before the current era, proved they had reached deep into this central chamber where the Core Suppressing Spike and the dead god were.

At the front stood an old woman. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

The woman wearing black robes stepped forward slowly. Several black nails floated quietly behind her back, and the moment Gabriel saw them, his expression changed slightly beneath the mask.

Even though the woman looked calm, Gabriel could immediately sense the danger around her. The pressure leaking from her body alone felt colder than anyone he had encountered so far inside the tomb.

"Big Sister Mo," one of the younger disciples whispered, his voice trembling as he looked up at the towering spike. "The spiritual pressure here... it is indeed as the records described. My dantian is already freezing. If we stay here too long, our cultivation will be permanently damaged."

Mo Shiyun let out a dry, raspy chuckle. It sounded like dry leaves scraping against stone.

"A natural reaction," she said, her dark eyes staring up at the giant nail. "The fools of the Martial Palace guard this place like a sacred ancestral ground, believing it to be a treasure meant to bless the Tianlan Continent. They do not know the true nature of what they protect."

She stepped closer to the edge of the pit. One of her nails struck the stone floor with a dull thud.

"This spike is a siphon," Sister Mo continued, her voice dropping into a dark, reverent tone. "It was not built to protect the tomb. It was built to pin it down. Deep beneath these mountain roots lies the core of the dead god, a primordial entity whose vitality is infinite. To keep it in a perpetual state of slumber, this spike siphons all external energy, every drop of mana, every thread of qi from those who enter, and converts it into the purification chains wrapped around the core."

The younger disciple gasped. "So the anti mage field..."

"Is a continuous feeding mechanism," she sneered. "The more cultivators and mages enter this place to seek treasures, the more energy the spike siphons to strengthen the seal. The Martial Palace’s ancestral exploration of the tomb is nothing but a clever trick to lure powerful fools here to feed the spike."

Gabriel stood invisible beside who he suspected to be the leader of the Demonic Sect and felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn’t just a resting place for an ancient god. It was a cosmic prison, and the act of entering alone strengthened the spike.

But then again, this made him even more confused. The Martial Palace had claimed that they needed to get rid of the spike to keep the god dead.

And now he was hearing that merely stepping into this place was strengthening the spike.

Could it be this joint force was called because they wanted to strengthen the spike? Perhaps that was why they had targeted the most powerful humans in the world, because their energy reserves were higher.

The more Gabriel thought, the more his thoughts became chaotic. Each question seemed to raise another.

If the Martial Palace truly knew about this, why send their own?

It could only be one of two possibilities. Either they were confident that everyone would be wiped out before they reached the final chamber, or they simply didn’t care who discovered the truth.

"But our Demonic Sect has no interest in keeping this beast asleep," Mo Shiyun whispered, a mad, fanatic grin spreading beneath her mask. "If we can corrupt the spike with the Blood of the Vermilion Sprout, we can force the siphon to run in reverse. Instead of suppressing the core, the spike will begin to rot, and we can siphon the divine ichor of the sleeping god for our own ascension."

The younger disciples stepped forward at once and drew large black bone daggers.

"Prepare the array," Mo Shiyun commanded. "Let’s get the process started."

The demonic cultivators cut their own palms and poured thick, dark purple blood into a massive circular array around the base of the spike.

As the corrupt energy seeped into the black chains, the golden runes on the Core Suppressing Spike began to flicker violently. The silent hum turned into a low, angry vibration that shook the ceiling, sending dust and small pebbles falling down.

"It’s working!" the younger disciple yelled over the roaring hum. "The runes are turning dark!"

But Gabriel, standing inches from the metallic surface, saw something else

...

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