Chapter 2178: I Need to Stay for a While

Chapter 2178: I Still Need to Sit

Upon hearing Ming Di’s words, Di Huang abruptly turned his head and stared fixedly at Ming Di.

Clearly, the Tian Ting Ming Di referred to was not the one from Da Chu.

Tian Ting was an ancient entity, and even as a Da Cheng Sheng Ti, Di Huang had only heard legends about it. No one truly knew its origins or who had created it—it remained an unsolved mystery throughout the ages.

“No need to look at me like that. Secrets about Tian Ting are only known to those in the Da Di Jing,” Ming Di said indifferently, aware of Di Huang’s confusion but unable to elaborate.

Di Huang withdrew his gaze and took a deep breath.

For some reason, whenever he had unanswered questions, he felt like picking a fight with Ming Di. You jerk—if you can’t say anything, don’t stir up my curiosity! You’ve left me with a head full of question marks, and now you’re clamming up. No wonder you can’t get a wife.

Ming Di maintained a serious expression, but inwardly, he was thoroughly amused. I’m not telling you—let it drive you crazy. Stop trying to intimidate me all the time. I have my own hidden treasures, the kind I enjoy every day.

Ye Chen was equally delighted.

After climbing ninety-nine layers of stone stairs and nearly losing his life, he finally sat on that dragon chair. The feeling was absolutely exhilarating.

It was as if he were an emperor at that moment, just waiting for the court session to begin and for his ministers to kneel in homage.

In a past life, he had been an emperor himself, and the sensation of being bowed to by his subjects still lingered. It was the peak of existence, radiating an air of supreme dignity.

“Not bad.” Ye Chen sat up straight, embodying the very image of an emperor.

The dragon chair was even more extraordinary than he had imagined. A cool energy flowed from his backside throughout his entire body, seeping into his limbs, organs, and meridians. It even stirred his origin, divine treasury, and Dao principles, weaving together the sounds of the Great Dao that echoed in his sea of consciousness. For a few moments, he nearly achieved enlightenment.

Ye Chen was quite astonished—this dragon chair was no ordinary object, more profound than Tian Xu’s enlightenment stone, and it aided in comprehending the Dao.

Vaguely, he could detect a faint feminine fragrance, one that didn’t belong to this era. It had been preserved through the ages, ancient and weathered.

Ye Chen raised an eyebrow and looked around, sensing that in some distant era, the one sitting on this dragon chair hadn’t been a man, but a woman. Yes, definitely a woman—the subtle feminine scent was the best proof.

As he was observing, the vast Ling Xiao Bao Dian suddenly trembled with a hum.

Ye Chen felt a blur before his eyes, and the scene transformed instantly. The dark and solemn Ling Xiao Bao Dian regained its ancient glory: immortal mists swirled, clouds billowed in a hazy veil, and the magnificent hall radiated divine light. Every brick and tile gleamed with luster, while visions materialized—divine dragons coiled, phoenixes cried out, white tigers roared, and black tortoises paved the way. It was truly an immortal palace on earth, the majestic Ling Xiao Bao Que.

In the haze, Ye Chen seemed to see shadows of figures bowing to him—or more precisely, to the dragon chair, and even more accurately, to the person seated upon it. But that person wasn’t him.

Instinctively, Ye Chen glanced to his side, as if a peerless woman truly sat there, accepting the kneeling worship of all beings. She was the true sovereign, supreme and unparalleled.

However, it was all an illusion. With a momentary daze, Ye Chen returned to reality. The splendid Ling Xiao Bao Dian faded back into darkness, retaining only a trace of antiquity from the river of time.

Then, the bewildered Ye Chen was flung out, knocked off the dragon chair and sent tumbling down the layers of steps in a most embarrassing manner.

When he finally got up, Ye Chen wobbled a few times before steadying himself. He gazed up at the dragon chair, his mouth twitching. I nearly risked my life to climb up there, and I can’t even sit for a second?

The white jade dragon chair offered no response to his silent complaints. Its silence seemed to say: Is this something you can sit on? You’re just a minor Da Sheng—don’t you have any self-awareness?

“No way, I still need to sit on it.” Ye Chen wiped the blood from his nose and stubbornly climbed back up.

It had to be said, the Tenth Sovereign of Da Chu was incredibly idle. Instead of searching for reincarnated souls, he was fixated on this dragon chair. Since it wouldn’t let him sit, he was determined to do so anyway.

With his previous experience climbing the stone stairs, Ye Chen was now quite familiar with the process.

By the time he reached the ninety-ninth layer again, he collapsed entirely, like a heap of bloody mud, nearly losing his life once more.

Although the deities of Ling Xiao Bao Dian were gone, its oppressive aura remained. Any ordinary Da Sheng would have been crushed to dust. Without the protection of the damaged Di Bing, even Ye Chen’s Huang Gu Sheng Ti might have been obliterated.

Ming Di understood this all too well.

Not to boast, but if Ling Xiao Bao Dian were still in its prime, Ye Chen with his current cultivation wouldn’t even make it through the doors, let alone climb ninety-nine stone stairs or sit on the white jade dragon chair. A thousand lives wouldn’t be enough for him.

Beneath the white jade dragon chair in Ling Xiao Bao Dian,

Ye Chen, now a mangled mess, reformed his Sheng Ti and used the damaged Di Bing for protection before approaching the chair again.

This time, he didn’t sit down—he didn’t want to be thrown off again. Instead, he stroked his chin and circled the dragon chair, examining it properly for the first time.

Though called a dragon chair, it was more like a lounge bed where one could lie down and rest. It was carved with strange patterns, resembling immortal markings that carried a profound aura, seamlessly integrated as if crafted by some divine hand.

What puzzled Ye Chen the most was the material—it was a type of jade, but he couldn’t identify which kind. It was incredibly smooth, cool to the touch, and occasionally flickered with faint immortal light, creating a dreamy haze that made his mind wander.

Unbidden, Ye Chen glanced at the Hun Dun Ding.

His natal weapon was more well-behaved than expected, hovering quietly above his head. This wasn’t its usual style—in normal circumstances, it would be itching to devour something, even a damaged Di Bing. Today, it was oddly restrained.

In response to Ye Chen’s look, the Hun Dun Ding seemed to convey: I’m full, not hungry.

Ye Chen shot back a look: You’re just too scared, aren’t you?

Scared it was. The Hun Dun Ding’s timid demeanor spoke volumes about the dragon chair’s extraordinariness.

What it truly feared wasn’t the chair itself, but the person who had once sat on it.

In its eyes, that lingering faint feminine fragrance was more terrifying than any ultimate Di Qi.

Since even the Hun Dun Ding wouldn’t dare make a move, Ye Chen became even more intrigued by the dragon chair.

Suddenly, he activated his Lun Hui Yan to scrutinize it.

After three to five breaths, he lowered his head, covering his eyes with both hands. Blood seeped through his fingers—he had suffered a severe backlash, leaving him temporarily blind.

Undeterred, the stubborn Ye Chen decided to push further. He performed Zhou Tian Yan Hua on the dragon chair, attempting to divine its owner.

Again, after three to five breaths, he could barely stand.

This time, the bleeding wasn’t limited to his eyes—it poured from all seven orifices. His meridians fractured, bones shattered, sea of consciousness thundered, and Yuan Shen trembled violently. Even his radiant Sheng Ti nearly disintegrated under the overwhelming backlash, almost consuming him entirely.

Finally, the unruly Tenth Sovereign of Da Chu settled down. Leaning on the dragon chair, he coughed up mouthfuls of blood. It wasn’t a joke—his mind was in chaos, blurring reality and illusion. He felt like he was floating in mid-air, and one wrong move could send him drifting straight to hell.

After two backlashes, Ye Chen finally blacked out.

In his delirium, he seemed to glimpse a graceful figure, like Chang E on the moon—pure and flawless, untouched by mortal concerns, as distant as a dream, attainable only in thought.

Ye Chen was out cold, but the Hun Dun Ding grew restless, buzzing as it circled the dragon chair. The damaged Di Bing joined in, the two hovering around it curiously.

One was a cauldron and the other a sword, quite the pair as they orbited the chair.

Their intentions differed: the Hun Dun Ding was pondering whether to negotiate a fusion with the dragon chair, while the damaged Di Jian was enveloped in confusion, lacking any memories of Ling Xiao Bao Dian and thus unaware of the chair’s origins. It desperately tried to recall, only to sink deeper into bewilderment.

In the end, the unsuccessful Hun Dun Ding was flung far away.

The damaged Di Jian quickly darted back into Ye Chen’s body, followed by the Hun Dun Ding retreating into his sea of consciousness, apparently not planning to emerge anytime soon.

The dark Ling Xiao Bao Dian fell into silence, majestic and solemn.

“He surviving this is nothing short of a miracle,” Ming Di murmured, observing the scene in the hall.

As for Di Huang, he stood quietly, ignoring Ming Di’s words entirely. If you won’t answer questions, go entertain yourself.