Chapter 5498

Perplexed and intrigued, Morgana took a step towards the inner stone chamber.

Originally, Morvel Bazin’s chamber was solitary, just an outer one.

At that juncture, Morvel had embarked on his second five hundred years of cultivation, having attained
the state of Bigu. His days were devoted to meditation, free from the need for sleep, sustenance, or even
restrooms.

Upon ushering Morgana and Lucius back into the cavern, Morvel wielded his blade to carve two sleeping
chambers, a kitchen, and a lavatory for their use.

In consideration of his undisturbed practice, Morvel had fashioned an isolated stone chamber for himself,
thereby expanding the count of stone rooms to five.

Morgana scrutinized the initial four stone chambers. But upon reaching the fifth, the very existence of
that chamber remained an enigma. The gateway to the fifth chamber had transformed into a seamless,
impenetrable stone wall.

Fingertips tracing the smooth surface, Morgana spoke softly, “Master, as your time approached, you
summoned me and senior brother to entrust the rites of your passing. I uttered a few heartfelt words in
haste, and you bade me leave. Lucius and I hastily departed, and ever since, your stone chamber
vanished. My cultivation was feeble back then, making it impossible for me to distinguish whether it was
an illusion or a mystical enchantment…”

From her waist, Morgana produced a ribbon and with a deft flick, it stiffened and straightened,
resembling a silken sword. This silken sword was Morgana’s magical instrument. Now, the blade’s edge
resonated with an eerie hum.

Morgana pointed it at the stone wall, gritting her teeth. “Today, I will pierce through your sanctuary to
uncover your secrets!”



With resolve, Morgana channeled her reiki into the blade’s edge, transforming it into a ferocious assault,
slashing towards the smooth stone wall.

Today’s Morgana differed greatly from the one cast out by Morvel on that fateful day. She had since
unlocked the Soul Palace, her power exceeding a hundredfold of what it once was.

Morvel of yore carved stone chambers into mountainsides with his blade. Now, Morgana wielded the
same confidence and could surely dismantle those stone walls entirely.

With conviction, Morgana unleashed her blow. She anticipated the wall to yield effortlessly, yet as her
blade’s tip grazed the surface, an unforeseen force enveloped the stone, causing her sword to recoil
instantly.

The violent rebound surpassed the reiki expended on the initial strike, sending Morgana’s sword flying
and her arm throbbing with pain, immobilized. Morgana was struck with horror.

She hadn’t fathomed that a seemingly ordinary stone wall concealed such formidable might.

Her astonishment was overtaken by self-doubt.

Was this the master’s doing, a concealed enchantment?

She voiced, respectful, “Master! Your disciple, Morgana, has returned to visit!”

Having uttered her plea, Morgana scanned her surroundings warily for any signs of change.
Disappointingly, everything remained as it had been, no peculiar alterations in sight.

Suspicion crept in, “Perhaps the old man succumbed to his thousand-year lifespan, and this is a
safeguard left to shield his chamber from prying eyes as he neared his end…”

Determination ignited within her.



She brandished the sword once more, firm in her resolve. “A formation it may be, but it will wane
eventually. Today, I shall shatter this wall and unearth your secrets!”

Her left hand grasped the hilt, infused with formidable true energy, and with all her might, she struck at
the stone wall. A resounding crack followed, and then a deafening boom.

Before Morgana could react, her left hand numbed, and her sword was sent flying once again. The wall’s
second recoil matched the initial one, leaving Morgana alarmed.

She comprehended that the formation was potent, but its relentless resilience confounded her.

Why did the force not diminish after the first recoil, despite clearly expending a considerable amount of
energy?

Morgana seethed with anger and humiliation, feeling duped and demeaned by Morvel’s devised
formation.

Through gritted teeth, she fumed, “Did you craft this formidable formation solely to ward me off? I am
your apprentice! Three centuries ago, you anticipated your own end, yet why entrench such a defense?
Waiting for the Divine Dragon? Moreover, you’ve never even encountered him! Why squander your life
on him? What about me?”

Her shouts were an outlet for her pent-up frustration.

But as she completed her tirade, a commanding voice reverberated in the cavern. “Vile creature, I
warned you never to set foot in the Eternal Mountains again. Why do you return?”

Morgana’s blood ran cold. She recognized the voice well, for it belonged to her master, Morvel Bazin.

Her thoughts whirred, and after a moment’s pause, she dropped to her knees with a thud, trembling.
“Master, your disciple… I did not intend to defy your wishes. It has been years since I last paid my



respects. I came today solely for that purpose, not to affront you…”

This statement, seemingly respectful, was also a test.

By mentioning her intention to worship today, she sought to elicit a response to determine if the voice
originated from the formation or reality. Even though she was now certain that it was her master’s voice,
she still longed for clarity.

Was it a clever riddle created in anticipation of her return, or was her master still alive?

As Morgana cautiously waited, the voice responded sternly, “In consideration of our master-disciple
bond, I shall not confront you today. Remember, never return to the Eternal Mountains in this lifetime!”

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