Nine Venoms Sect Founder - Chapter 157: The First Omniarch

In a series of gunshot sounds, the chains burst into pieces, giving Harun free access to the amber coffin. But instead of pushing the lid open to find his potential protector, Harun paused and reconsidered his options. The “correct answer” spoke volumes about the entity buried in that coffin. And while the System would likely not leave him defenseless before the prisoners, Harun couldn’t help but feel skeptical, and had the nagging suspicion that he didn’t win the lottery.

Older didn’t mean better. The first omniarch was likely the strongest cultivator of a forgotten era. But in his time, how far did the cultivation world go? What was the highest realm? Emperor-level? Below? Beyond? Harun couldn’t tell, yet that information determined the prisoner’s worth. “What can you tell me about that person?” He asked the System, but soon realized that he shouldn’t have bothered. “Depending on who you ask, he’s very strong. If you want background information on the prisoners, you’ll have to hunt down the lore. There’s reliable info about many of them scattered in the Heavenly Dream Land. What I can tell you, however, is that they cannot harm you in any way, shape or form. Moreover, you decide if and when they leave the coffin, and can send them back whenever.”

Comforted in the knowledge that he wouldn’t get gutted by some vindictive psychopath, Harun pushed open the coffin’s lid. An orange vortex lay underneath, and without further ado, the plaguebringer dived in—instantly landing on an ordinary-looking wheat farm. Lying amidst the swaying stems and leaves was a young man with sky-blue hair and a blindfold covering his eyes. Misty-white arrows stabbed through his brain and heart, while thick black nails kept his hands and feet glued to the ground. Blood tears trickled down his cheeks, but though the man writhed and spasmed in agony, his stitched up lips silenced all his screams—robbing him from even that bit of relief.

Instantly, Harun was confused. As far as punishment was concerned, this didn’t even rank in his top 100—to say nothing of the Devil’s. How was this benign situation one of the “worst torments since the beginning of mankind?” But as if reading his thoughts, the System cleared his doubts:

“Physical pain has no use on this one. On the contrary, it gives him an odd sense of relief. The right memories, though, can tear him to shreds without fail. Realizing this, the Ancestral One handpicked his worst nightmares, and trapped him in an infinite loop of grief, despair and failures for…about 73 trillion years. Each time the sun rises, he relives his worst nightmares as if it was the first day.”

“73…trillion? Fucking trillions of years? How can a man possibly be this vindictive?” Speechless, Harun shook his head, thinking that the Devil didn’t let his name down. If this was only one of many torture settings, he couldn’t imagine what kind of damages the Devil caused to that man’s soul.

“He’s the ancestral founder of diabolism. What the hell did you expect?” Believing that the ins and outs of this matter had nothing to do with him, Harun didn’t probe the past, instead studying the aura of this writhing youth—he couldn’t sense anything. However, the longer he stared at the trapped youth, the more unsettled he felt. It was almost as if his soul recognized the threat and warned him to stay far away. The Serpent Totem soon supported this theory.

“Master, I advise you to not mess with that person. His cultivation base is immeasurably deep, and though I cannot tell for sure, I remember a legend that most likely refers to him. In the Ancestral Land, one common story is that the right to rule the omniverse has always belonged to one house: the Void Ancestor’s. But while he dominated the omniverse at various points of time, he could never claim the title of Omniarch. Only two people did, his strongest two sons. You know the second one well-enough, but the first might very well be standing before you.” The Totem warned through a mental message, making Harun’s eyes stretch in amazement. For inexplicable reasons, Harun couldn’t conceive that the Devil too had a father and older sibling. It almost seemed too…normal?

But if anything, this only emboldened him. Harun knew nothing about the Void Ancestor, but the “Ancestor” part was more than enough to understand the depth of his powers. As someone who could achieve what an Ancestor couldn’t, this blue-haired youth would likely be one of the most formidable, if not the most formidable Dao Protector the Fourth Door had to offer.

“However, the stories contradict one another. Some claim that he, and not his father, became the first Ancestor, but self-destructed upon reaching the peak of cultivation. Others argue that he never reached that step and died trying to. Others still claim that he never existed. I sure as hell didn’t expect that he still breathed. If not for the tablet, I would never venture such a guess,” the Totem added. Fortunately, this devious subordinate of his still had a use, otherwise Harun would truly rue the day he stepped on the Six Incarnations Bridge.

Nodding at the words, Harun strode toward the blue-haired youth and crouched at his feet. Instantly, the youth’s spasms stopped, and pushing the against the arrows stabbing his brains, he glanced in Harun’s direction.

Though separated by the blindfold, their eyes met, and a fleeting sense of familiarity flickered in their gazes. A pause followed, but as Harun’s eyes squinted at the prisoner, the latter’s stitched up lips trembled—an obvious attempt to speak words it couldn’t. Snapping his fingers, Harun destroyed the sutures tying the youth’s lips together, giving him back his freedom of speech.

“Strange…the soul feels familiar, yet the essence is entirely different. An enlightened reincarnation? A disguise? Not that it matters. What do you want, child?” The youth asked. Unless they mastered Karma or Reincarnation, none could see through a cultivator’s past lives. But as their souls carried thick stains of the past karma, enlightened reincarnations were different. Not disturbed by the youth’s words, Harun flashed him a bright smile and replied:

“You.” A pause followed, and while the System wondered if Harun had finally gone off the proper path, the plaguebringer pursued. “I will keep it short and simple. I’m your jailor and can, with a single command, free you from this place and the torment you endure daily. You will never be free from me, but through a mutual arrangement, we can coexist. I need a sword and shield against my enemies, you probably want a way out. Why not help one another?” Harun probed, and instantly, the youth realized what was going on.

“Am I in a system? How ironic. Regardless, you’re mistaken. I do not want to be free. What would I do outside of here? Fight? Rage? Kill? Live? Die? It’s all senseless. There is nothing I want that you can give me, and this pain makes me feel balanced. This…is what I deserve.” The youth straightforwardly said, and no longer paid Harun any attention.

“Ah shit, another nutcase,” Harun inwardly sighed, but knowing that he couldn’t waste this opportunity, he approached the problem from another angle.

“There are healthier ways to cling on memories than an eternity of torturous nightmares. Think hard and fast. Is there any item, any token, something you left behind but now wish to recover? As long as the request isn’t unreasonable, I don’t mind fetching it for you. Likewise, I don’t expect you to move mountains for trinkets.” Aware that he dealt with an entity of incalculable powers, Harun prioritized diplomacy, and kept the bar low.

Little did he expect that his words would make the blindfolded youth fall into a short trance. His bleeding lips curled into a smile, and following a mild chuckle, he said: “Actually, there is one thing I miss. If you can bring me a leaf from an Immortal Phoenix Tree, I will make one move for you. For each leaf you bring me, you get one move. How does that sound?”

Taken aback by the youth’s offer, Harun arched one eyebrow. According to ancient legends, when phoenixes died, their ashes formed and Immortal Phoenix Root that, after thousands of years, grew into a tree whose leaves could grant quasi-immortality. Of course, no such phenomenon occurred with the Heavenly Dream Land’s Phoenixes; otherwise they’d have long been driven to extinction. But according to this ancient immortal, Immortal Phoenix Trees did exist.

“Which means that it’s likely a rare bloodline phenomenon. Either this only applies to a certain branch of the phoenix race, or only the most illustrious bloodlines possess the ability. Regardless, I need more info,” Harun reasoned.

“Before we can make this a deal, you have to…” Harun started, but before he could finish his words, the ancient immortal’s face reddened, his eyelids trembled, and his bleeding lips twisted into a horrible grimace.

“DRAGON WARDEN! I WILL KILL YOU! KILL YOU! KILL YOU! ARRRRRRRGH! DIE DIE DIE!!! STAY DEAD! Don’t move. I warn you. You’ll make me angry. You don’t wanna do this. DIDN’T WARN YOU?! WHY WON’T YOU STAY DEAD?! AAAAAAAARGH!” The ancient immortal broke into an all-out frenzy, thrashing against the nails holding him down as he body spasmed and his tongue lolled out in an unprecedented display of insanity.

Alarmed, Harun leaped back, somersaulting to put maximum distance between the ancient prisoner and himself.

“Sweet mother of God, he’s stark raving mad!”