Reincarnated with a lucky draw system-Chapter 504: TOMB OF HEAVENLY AND DEMONS

"You should have saved us the stress and remained crippled," the leader sneered, stepping forward with deliberate menace.

Chen Mo pressed his back harder against the sealed Tomb entrance, the cold obsidian biting into his skin through his torn robes.

Blood trickled warm from the gash across his chest, soaking the fabric and pooling at his feet.

"Even if I die," Chen Mo growled, "I’ll take all of you with me."

The leader laughed, a harsh, echoing bark that reverberated off the cliff walls.

"Take some of us with you? Please don’t be stupid. You’re dying alone. Unlike that trash elder, we won’t hold back."

He gestured sharply.

"Kill him!"

The nine assassins behind him surged like living shadows, silent, coordinated, blades glinting faintly in the dim moonlight.

Chen Mo’s heart pounded.

He channeled what qi remained, forcing it through his damaged meridians.

"Heaven’s Ascension!"

The technique exploded outward, a radiant burst of celestial energy, like a miniature sun erupting from his core.

The air hummed with power, shoving the assassins back in a wave of force.

Rocks cracked underfoot; dust billowed in choking clouds.

But one slipped through.

The others had feinted, drawing his focus, blindsiding him to the lone infiltrator.

The assassin struck true, blade carving a deep furrow across Chen Mo’s chest.

Flesh parted; blood sprayed hot and sticky.

"Urgh!"

Chen Mo staggered, vision blurring from the agony.

The wound was mortal, deep enough to graze bone, ribs screaming with every breath.

Yet he refused to crumple.

He jammed his sword point-first into the earth, leaning on it like a crutch, forcing his body upright through sheer will.

"And now you die!" the leader roared, seizing the opening.

He lunged, sword aimed unerringly at Chen Mo’s exposed neck, a decapitating strike, victory etched in his cold eyes.

Chen Mo stared at the incoming blade, helpless. Time slowed. No strength left to parry. No qi to summon.

Then, miracle.

The sealed entrance behind him shuddered.

Ancient runes flared to life, glowing with ethereal blue light.

A rift tore open with a deafening crack, like the heavens splitting apart.

Chen Mo, already leaning against it, was yanked backward, sucked into the swirling vortex of demonic qi and heavenly essence.

The leader, mid-motion and too close to stop, followed unwillingly.

His triumphant snarl twisted into shock as the portal swallowed him whole.

The remaining assassins froze, staring at the gaping maw.

Confusion rippled through their ranks, blades half-raised, faces hidden but postures tense.

One broke the stasis. Greed and fear warred in his mind: returning without proof of Chen Mo’s death meant execution by Xu Canghai.

But the Tomb... legends whispered of treasures that could forge emperors.

He leaped in.

The others hesitated only a heartbeat, watching their comrade vanish, then followed, diving one by one into the rift like moths to flame.

The portal snapped shut behind the last, sealing with a thunderous boom that echoed through the valley.

Silence returned, broken only by the wind whistling over the cliff.

---

Across the cultivation realms, the signs erupted without warning.

Heaven’s Cry, a mournful wail that thrummed through the skies, like the gods themselves weeping.

Blood rain fell in crimson sheets, staining rivers and rooftops red, carrying the faint, iron scent of ancient battles.

Thunder rolled without clouds; spirit beasts howled in unison.

The Tomb of Heavenly and Demons had awakened early.

In her private chambers within the Nether Abyss Sect, a lavish space draped in black silks, lit by flickering poison-green lanterns, Ye Youlan reclined on a jade throne.

The air hung heavy with incense, veiling the subtle undercurrent of venom that permeated everything in her domain.

She smiled, lips curving in quiet satisfaction.

She had been right all along.

"Hmm. I wonder if he managed to survive," she mused, a playful glint in her storm-cloud eyes.

But unlike Ye Youlan, who had foreseen the shift through her divine artifact’s resonance, the other sect masters and clan leaders were thrown into disarray.

That very night, alarms rang through grand halls and secluded mountains.

Every major and minor power mobilized, sect elders barking orders, prodigies roused from meditation, flying swords and spirit mounts summoned in haste.

They converged on the valley: the powerful hoping to monopolize the Tomb’s riches once more, the lesser sects and clans praying for scraps, a chance to slip in before the gates were sealed by the elite.

Ye Youlan, ever cunning, joined the exodus.

Suspicion would fall on her if the Nether Abyss Sect remained idle; better to blend in, mask her knowledge behind a facade of surprise.

The realms, quiet since Chen Mo’s marketplace rampage faded from fresh gossip, buzzed anew.

The valley teemed with arrivals.

Flying pavilions hovered overhead; cultivators in ornate robes descended on glowing artifacts.

The air crackled with qi, tensions high, alliances fragile.

The major sects wasted no time, barricading the path to the Tomb with shimmering barriers and armed disciples.

"We need to allocate slots as usual," Xu Canghai declared first, his voice booming across the assembly.

Eagerness burned in his eyes; his loyal prodigies stood ready, primed to reap the rewards.

"I say we follow the same system we always do."

Gu Changfeng, sect master of the Ninefold Sword Pavilion, stepped forward, his sharp features set in a frown, sword at his hip humming faintly.

"That won’t work. We haven’t hosted the usual tournament."

Xu Canghai waved a dismissive hand.

"Then use the previous results. There’s no time to hold another."

"The same results where your sect is at the top? How very convenient for you," Gu Changfeng quickly rebutted, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Xu Canghai’s eyes narrowed, lips curling in disdain.

"I didn’t tell your sect to perform poorly," he shot back.

Gu Changfeng leaned forward, face flushing with barely contained fury.

"Why doesn’t your sect dare challenge mine now? Stop riding on the coattails of the previous sect master. Your sect has been declining ever since you assumed office!"

"You bastard!" Xu Canghai roared.

His qi pressure erupted like a storm, flooding the valley in a heavy, suffocating wave.

The air thickened, pressing down on lungs and meridians.

Weaker cultivators, minor sect disciples and rogue wanderers, gasped and clutched their throats, knees buckling under the invisible weight.

"Enough, you two!" Shen Tianjin, the leader of the Orthodox Alliance and matriarch of the Shen clan, commanded sharply.

Her voice cut through the tension like a blade, laced with authority honed from decades of mediating fools.

Begrudgingly, both men reined in their auras. Xu Canghai’s qi receded like a retreating tide, leaving the air lighter but still charged with resentment.

Gu Changfeng straightened his robes, glaring daggers.

"Foolish old men," Ye Youlan interjected from the sidelines, her tone mocking and light.

"You haven’t even confirmed if the Tomb is truly open or if this was just a false alarm. But of course, what’s the Orthodox Alliance if not a gathering of fools?"

The insult landed like a slap in the rain-soaked silence.

"Did you just insult me?!" Gu Changfeng demanded, his eyes turning cold with barely veiled anger. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

Shen Tianjin raised a hand, holding back her own rising irritation.

"Stop. She’s right. The door is sealed."

She swallowed her pride, knowing Ye Youlan’s words weren’t far from the truth.

The matriarch was weary of these endless squabbles, especially Xu Canghai’s childish outbursts that picked fights at every turn.

She missed the old sect master of Heaven’s Ascension, a calm, composed figure who had commanded respect without theatrics.

Xu Canghai, in contrast, was a tyrant whose tantrums had caused countless headaches for the alliance, eroding their face in front of rivals time and again.

"Locked? What do you mean?" Xu Canghai asked, a deep frown creasing his brow.

Disappointment flickered in his eyes. He had seen the Tomb’s early awakening as a golden opportunity, a chance for his sect to reclaim lost glory and rise above the others.

Now it felt like a cruel jest, all spectacle with no substance.