After overcoming a series of obstacles, those who had finally arrived at the entrance of the grand tomb all appeared simultaneously.
Their faces were etched with solemn expressions, not daring to show the slightest carelessness.
Previously, they had already lost nearly ten companions, and they did not know how many more dangers awaited them.
If it weren't for this, Yang Daomu wouldn't have gathered so many people; after all, for every additional person, a portion of the treasures would be divided.
Previously, there were fifty-nine people, and now there were fifty-one. If various treasures were piled up like mountains, it would be one thing.
But if the harvest was meager, they would likely fall into discord immediately, and mutual slaughter would be inevitable.
...
It was precisely because of the risks ahead, and for countless other reasons, that the cultivators of dozens of the Hundred Clans, comparable to those in the Core Formation stage, had acknowledged Yang Daomu as their leader.
Yang Daomu, who had lived for thousands of years, was naturally not a fool. He was well aware of the hidden thoughts of others.
However, he was willing to be the leader because leadership had its own advantages.
As the one with the deepest cultivation among them all, he could clearly sense the dense, interwoven spatial energies of the restrictions within the entrance.
This incredibly dangerous aura emanated from the entrance, and in Yang Daomu's perception, if no solution was found, taking another step forward would mean risking his life.
He looked around. The area before them, though not vast, was completely dark and bottomless, as if another world lay within.
Countless layers of spatial ripples were folded together, forming a barrier of space.
Seeing this, his vast and experienced mind suddenly considered a possibility: could this supreme Blood King have buried his tomb within a small world?
Upon this thought, Yang Daomu's face immediately paled a few shades, and a hint of regret surfaced in his heart.
Although he hadn't entered yet, a possibility, one he desperately wished to avoid, began to form in his mind. Yet, that possibility was indeed real.
With this realization, Yang Daomu's feet felt rooted to the spot, and cold sweat streamed down his face.
However, things had reached this point, and he was no longer in control. If he dared to utter a single word of refusal, he would be torn to shreds and his soul obliterated by the dozens of people behind him.
The more he thought, the more grim Yang Daomu's expression became.
At this moment, Luo Yazhi, standing beside him, seemed to sense Yang Daomu's predicament. Her narrowed eyes suddenly widened, sparkling with sharp light.
She coughed lightly and asked sweetly, "What's wrong, Old Yang? We've come this far, and you seem hesitant. Is there something you're hiding from us..."
Luo Yazhi's words were both a prompt and a noose, leaving Yang Daomu no room to ponder further.
His carefully laid plans, encountering an unforeseen variable, had finally thrown him into a panic.
...
"Everyone, please don't rush. We cannot enter this entrance yet. There are too many of these wrinkled spatial waves. Does anyone have any other ideas?"
Taking a deep breath and finally calming himself, Yang Daomu looked at the others around him, decisively passing the ball to them.
After exchanging glances, the surrounding individuals said nothing more, instead pondering solutions.
This was, in fact, one of the benefits of being a leader. If you didn't want to fall out with your superior, you could only obey them.
A monumental opportunity lay before them. Even the descendants of the Hundred Clan kings, faced with the tomb of a supreme Blood King, could not help but feel anxious.
And this anxiety could often lead to disaster.
A treasure mountain lay before them, yet they could not enter. This feeling was truly vexing and could easily lead to a loss of reason.
...
Seeing Yang Daomu adopting a hands-off approach, Cui Yongyuan of the Flying Eagle Clan snorted and produced an ancient artifact of their clan, the "Sky-Peering Mirror."
As spiritual energy was continuously infused, the mirror's surface began to display a series of mysterious scenes.
These scenes changed and jumped every moment, with no discernible order or pattern.
Compared to what others saw, Cui Yongyuan, as the owner of the Sky-Peering Mirror, gained more information from these scenes than anyone else.
It was precisely because of this that the look of horror on his face surpassed that of everyone else.
"This... could it be...?"
"A small world... using a small world as a tomb..."
"This supreme Blood King has truly spared no expense..."
As Cui Yongyuan spoke these words, Yang Daomu's expression grew even more unsightly. He suddenly felt an urge to abandon everything and flee.
The other Hundred Clan members also heard Cui Yongyuan's words. Contrary to Yang Daomu, their faces were filled with surprise, even ecstasy.
Some even burst into uproarious laughter on the spot, appearing as if they had gone mad.
As members of the Hundred Clans, they naturally knew about small worlds, and they also understood what small worlds signified.
Among the top one hundred strong clans in the underground world, each clan possessed one, two, or even three small worlds.
However, even so, don't assume these small worlds were worthless. On the contrary, they were extremely precious, the very lifeblood of each race.
Races that possessed their own small worlds could be considered strong clans, capable of independent existence and free from the manipulation and control of other races.
Take the Human Race, for example. The headquarters of their dominant power, the Human Emperor Hall, was located within a small world, where eight cultivators of the Purple Mansion stage were stationed year-round.
...
Most of the Hundred Clan members who had settled in the Ten Thousand Mines Mountain Range were there out of necessity. They were either fugitives or sinners expelled from their clans, in short, individuals who had committed grave offenses against their own races.
However, regardless of their dispositions, the feelings these individuals held for the races that bore them were incredibly complex.
If there were any possibility, over ninety-nine percent of the Hundred Clan members in the Ten Thousand Mines Mountain Range would wish to return to their own clans.
Even in death, they wished to die on their ancestral lands.
Yet, having committed heinous crimes, how could they possibly be accepted back by their own races?
Unless they rendered an immense service, they would never be able to return to their original clans.
Huang Dabiao moved swiftly, transforming into a swarm of sand and instantly appearing behind Cui Yongyuan.
A voice that sent a chill down Cui Yongyuan's spine echoed in his ears.
"Brother Cui, how did you know this was a small world..."
The moment Huang Dabiao approached, Cui Yongyuan's face changed. He was about to retaliate when he was subtly suppressed by the combined auras of the others.
Like Yang Daomu before him, Cui Yongyuan cursed inwardly, but he had no choice but to feign indifference and explain, "Brothers, you should know what the innate divine ability of our Flying Eagle Clan is."
"With the help of our clan's innate divine ability and the Sky-Peering Mirror, I was able to see what lay beyond these spatial waves."
"However, my abilities are limited to this. I have no way to break through these spatial waves. Don't look at me like that..."
"Even if you kill me, I can do nothing..."
...
Seeing his wronged expression, Yang Daomu interjected to ease the situation, "Every small world is protected by a spatial barrier. That is a natural restriction imbued with spatial laws, containing countless spatial energies..."
"The space is layered and constantly shifting, a fusion of illusion and reality. Without understanding its intricacies, anyone below the King realm who enters will surely perish. Even a Nascent Soul stage cultivator would meet the same fate if they forced their way in."
As Yang Daomu finished speaking, apart from Luo Yazhi, the expressions of the other dozens of people turned grim in unison. Their hearts felt increasingly heavy. They had stumbled upon a monumental opportunity, only to be blocked by the inherent spatial barrier surrounding the small world. Knowing that a treasure mountain lay before them, yet being unable to access it, was truly disheartening.
"Hmph, and you call yourselves men. You can't even come up with a solution. Get out of the way, watch me..."
Luo Yazhi glanced at the dejected crowd, cursed loudly, and declared.
Hearing that there was still a way, everyone's eyes, except for Yang Daomu's, lit up. Hope rekindled in their hearts, and they were filled with excitement. Even being scolded, they didn't care.
Luo Yazhi patted her storage pouch, and in the next instant, a bottle-shaped magical artifact appeared in her hand.
Seeing everyone staring at the bottle-shaped artifact in her hand, Luo Yazhi chuckled proudly and then introduced it to them.
"This bottle is called the Myriad Poisons Bottle. It contains ten thousand types of potent poisons, including one known as Void Poison, which is specifically designed to break spatial barriers."
Afterward, Luo Yazhi formed a series of hand seals, and the Myriad Poisons Bottle transformed into a five-colored spiritual light, instantly entering the spatial barrier formed by the spatial waves.
As the Myriad Poisons Bottle reached the spatial barrier, Luo Yazhi immediately controlled the wisp of divine consciousness she had attached, saying with a smile, "Void Poison, emerge!"
As the words fell, the mouth of the Myriad Poisons Bottle silently opened, and a formless, transparent gas suddenly emerged. Although it was difficult for ordinary people to see with the naked eye, among those who sought treasures and plundered tombs, who were the ordinary ones?