Chapter 725: Reaching the Holy Painting Mountain Again

"You flatter me, Emperor," Meng Chuan said calmly.

The Myriad Star Emperor looked at Meng Chuan and shook his head. "Dongning, don't refuse so readily. Time has a strange magic. The decision you make today might seem very different to you in ten thousand or thirty thousand years."

Meng Chuan paused slightly. Indeed, time changes, and cultivators change with it.

"If you ever have a need in the future—for instance, if you require my help on your cultivation path—don't hesitate to ask," the Myriad Star Emperor continued warmly. "Each Seventh-Tribulation expert is on their own cultivation journey, not living for other mighty figures. Even if the White Bird Pavilion Master has shown you kindness, there's a limit to such favors. You shouldn't delay your own cultivation for the sake of a minor obligation."

"Consider my words carefully," the Myriad Star Emperor said with a faint smile. "My immortal abode is always open to you, Dongning."

"Thank you, Emperor," Meng Chuan replied courteously. Since the other party was extending an offer of goodwill, he felt it proper to show respect.

The Myriad Star Emperor nodded slightly, and his avatar vanished.

Meng Chuan stood thoughtfully, sensing the Myriad Star Emperor's clear intention to befriend him and his obvious goodwill.

"To offer such a valuable gift, his intentions must be significant," Meng Chuan murmured, his expression serious.

As mortals say: "Unsolicited flattery hides sinister motives." Was the Myriad Star Emperor simply offering a gift to "make friends"? The Myriad Star Emperor could see the future, observing the myriad future timelines of Seventh-Tribulation mighty figures. A gift worth 'tens of millions of units' surely implied an ambition far exceeding that value.

The White Bird Pavilion Master, as the leader of Meng Chuan's faction, had made it clear when presenting a lavish gift that it would never put Meng Chuan in a difficult position. Only with this assurance did Meng Chuan accept. At that time, Meng Chuan was merely a Sixth-Tribulation expert, and the treasures gifted by the White Bird Pavilion Master were immensely valuable artifacts for soul cultivation, worth considerably more than what the Myriad Star Emperor had offered.

The Myriad Star Emperor's words were vague, his demands unclear. How could Meng Chuan dare accept such a gift?

Debts of favor are the hardest to repay.

"The White Bird Pavilion Master acts with integrity, but the Myriad Star Emperor, though seemingly enthusiastic, actually seeks to bind me with karmic ties." Meng Chuan disliked the Myriad Star Emperor simply for this reason. "No matter. There's no need to overthink it. The stronger I become, the better I can withstand any storms. It's time to cultivate at Mount Painted Saint."

Mount Painted Saint, in the Shanwu Secret Realm.

"Greetings, City Lord Dongning." The gaunt old man in black robes bowed respectfully. He was Master Du Mu, a Sixth-Tribulation Soul expert responsible for guarding the Shanwu Secret Realm.

"Master Du Mu," Meng Chuan acknowledged, observing the old man.

"You may simply call me Du Mu, City Lord," the gaunt old man humbly replied. "The last time you visited the Shanwu Secret Realm, you were a Sixth-Tribulation expert. In the blink of an eye, you've become a Seventh-Tribulation mighty figure. Du Mu is truly impressed."

Master Du Mu had long mastered three Sixth-Tribulation rules, trapped at his final bottleneck. Yet, City Lord Dongning, despite his short cultivation journey, had first comprehended spatial rules and then controlled the rules of chaos, already becoming a Seventh-Tribulation mighty figure. This filled Master Du Mu with considerable envy. He had suffered relentless retaliation from the Black Demon Hall, and even though his many soul avatars could disperse and regroup at will, a foreign energy still permeated every single one of them. Unless his own soul could transform to the Seventh-Tribulation level, becoming powerful enough to actively repel the foreign energy, no one but the Black Demon Hall could save him.

Meng Chuan's strength had greatly increased, and as he stood, his fundamental domain naturally expanded. Instantly, he detected the peculiar energy entangling the soul avatar of the gaunt old man in black robes.

"Your injuries?" Meng Chuan asked, looking at him.

"The Nightmare Hall Master acted personally," the gaunt old man explained. "He used the strange power contained within the legendary 'Nightmare Hall.' Even the Hundred Flowers Palace Master sought help from Ancestor Jie for me... but they couldn't expel this peculiar Nightmare Hall energy."

"Oh? May I take a look?" Meng Chuan asked. He knew the Nightmare Hall was a legacy treasure of extraordinary power.

"Thank you, City Lord," the gaunt old man replied, a hint of expectation in his voice. Ancestor Jie was a Seventh-Tribulation Soul expert, and City Lord Dongning was now one too. Perhaps there was a way to save him? If the foreign energy could be expelled, and he fully recovered, he could still have tens of thousands of years of life left.

Meng Chuan allowed a wisp of his soul energy to penetrate the gaunt old man's soul avatar.

"Hmm?" The moment it permeated, Meng Chuan clearly detected it.

A peculiar rule had already pervaded Master Du Mu's soul, affecting every part of it. This strange power was a materialized rule, incredibly profound, and it likely affected all of Master Du Mu's other true body avatars as well.

"So this is Nightmare power?" Meng Chuan knew far more than Master Du Mu did; the White Bird Pavilion's intelligence had long documented the terror of Nightmare power. Fortunately, the Nightmare Hall Master's realm wasn't exceptionally high, so wielding the legacy treasure, he could only unleash a fraction of its power. If the Nightmare Hall Master had reached the peak of the Seventh-Tribulation realm and used the legacy treasure, Master Du Mu's injuries would likely have been far more severe, perhaps even fatal.

The two legacy treasures of the Black Demon Hall provided assistance to Seventh-Tribulation experts no less significant than that of an Eternal Secret Treasure.

"Although it's just a trace, the Nightmare power is too profound," Meng Chuan mused. "I fear only by mastering the rules of time and space and reaching the Half-Step Eighth-Tribulation realm could I even attempt to unravel it." Detecting the strange and terrifying nature of Nightmare power, Meng Chuan further understood the immense power of Eighth-Tribulation beings.

"City Lord, is there a way?" the gaunt old man couldn't help but ask.

"No," Meng Chuan replied, shaking his head after a moment's thought. "If a method for breaking it emerges in the future, I will come find you."

"City Lord..." The gaunt old man felt a surge of gratitude.

Meng Chuan genuinely admired Master Du Mu, who harbored a deep hatred for evil and had incurred the Black Demon Hall's intense animosity. Unfortunately, he couldn't help him at present.

"You don't need to concern yourself with me. I'll only be cultivating before Mount Painted Saint here in the Shanwu Secret Realm," Meng Chuan said, and with a single step, he arrived at the mountain's base.

With a wave of his hand, a dwelling covering several miles descended.

This soul avatar of Meng Chuan secluded himself in the dwelling, looking up at the ninety-thousand-li-tall cliff face of Mount Painted Saint, gazing at the astonishing masterpieces displayed there.

All thirty-three paintings were extraordinary.

"Time to paint."

Seated in his study, Meng Chuan placed a blank scroll before him.

This blank scroll, personally crafted by Meng Chuan using materials worth eight hundred units, was a million li in both length and width. Its unique qualities lay in its immense size and extraordinary material, making it capable of holding powerful artworks.

Meng Chuan first began to paint works related to the 'Chaos Lineage'. Starting with the rules of chaos would allow him to better grasp the essence of these paintings.

Time flowed on, and thirty years passed in the blink of an eye.

Over these thirty years, the River of Spacetime had seen its share of turbulence. Conflicts among various top factions persisted, with Half-Step Seventh-Tribulation experts engaging in several battles. The White Bird Pavilion also participated in many of these disputes, but Meng Chuan was never called upon to act! This was because many of these struggles were skirmishes among Sixth-Tribulation subordinates, and it was rare for Half-Step Seventh-Tribulation experts to intervene. Seventh-Tribulation beings, too, had their own cultivation and enlightenment to pursue, and would not appear in battle unless absolutely necessary. However, once they did appear, they would undoubtedly draw the attention of all major powers across the River of Spacetime.

For these thirty years, Meng Chuan had been constantly painting.

When he was a Sixth-Tribulation expert, his understanding was limited. However, after becoming a Seventh-Tribulation expert and mastering the rules of space and the fundamental rule of 'chaos', he could deeply comprehend these paintings, and his insights were naturally different.

"Thirty years, thirty-two paintings." Inside his study, Meng Chuan felt that these thirty years had yielded immense gains.

He had painted each of the thirty-two works with great dedication. For those that offered significant insights, he even painted them a second or third time.

In these thirty years, Meng Chuan gained a deeper understanding of time, space, and the ten fundamental rules. How did the ten fundamental rules interact? How did time and space give rise to countless other rules? He now had at least a vague comprehension.

"There's still the thirty-third painting," Meng Chuan said, looking up. His gaze passed through his study window, over the dwelling's courtyard wall, and settled on the ninety-thousand-li-tall cliff of Mount Painted Saint, specifically on the only one among the thirty-three artworks that appeared to be a simple drawing.

The other thirty-two paintings were exceedingly complex, each containing at least one fundamental rule.

Only the central painting consisted of just six strokes!

These six strokes appeared utterly spontaneous, yet each was unique, each seemingly tearing apart chaos and creating a universe. As the six strokes intertwined, they gave rise to countless profound mysteries.

Meng Chuan instinctively felt that this painting was far more profound and much harder to comprehend, which was why he had saved it for last.

"Let's try to understand this six-stroke painting," Meng Chuan murmured, gazing up at the majestic cliff and meticulously studying 'each stroke' of the painting.