Chapter Eighty One

Several hundred people from Qīngxū Sect rode their swords in a sweeping procession, heading toward the entrance of the Dragon Vein Ancient Land.

Chú Róng stood gracefully on the Spirit Canal high in the sky and glanced back at the man standing beside him: "Let's go."

Ning Yuan extended a large palm and took hold of his cool fingertips, then propelled the Spirit Canal forward.

The massive spirit ship cut through the wind. On either side, violent gusts were thrown up by the ship's passage. The disciples ahead heard the sound and looked curiously up toward the Spirit Canal, but there was already not a single figure to be seen outside the ship.

The large group pressed on without pause. After nearly ten days of continuous travel day and night, the people of Qīngxū Sect finally arrived at the outer perimeter of the ancient land's entrance.

Chú Róng walked out of the main hall and looked ahead. The outer perimeter was a vast, wild forest stretching without visible end. The trees were tall, each one straight and full of foliage, rising up to pierce the clouds. Mist and smoke drifted through the forest, a sea of white haze, making it impossible to see inside.

"Restriction seals cover the area around the ancient land and suppress spiritual energy so it cannot be used — one must enter on foot from the outer perimeter. The miasma is toxic. Be careful." Chú Róng said to the man who had followed him out of the hall.

Ning Yuan understood. He lowered his sharp eyes and glanced down toward the Second Elder, who was leading the group.

The Second Elder understood without needing it explained, and immediately issued an order: "All disciples — take your antidote pills now, then proceed on foot into the forest!"

"Understood!" Before setting out, the disciples had not left behind a single artifact, elixir, or talisman they were supposed to carry. At the order, each of them retrieved their antidote pills, swallowed them, and filed in an orderly manner into the miasma.

Chú Róng's shark-silk robe was impervious to all poisons, and he had no need of an antidote. Once all the disciples had entered the forest, he leapt down from the Spirit Canal and entered the forest together with the disciples, bringing up the rear.

Ning Yuan remained at his side without a single step's distance, his gaze locked on Chú Róng's figure, not allowing him to leave his line of sight for even a moment.

The forest was vast. The mist within obscured everything, and as far as the eye could see was a blank expanse of white. With no spiritual energy available, the large group moved slowly. It took three full days before they emerged on the other side of the forest.

Beyond the forest was a sprawling expanse of mountain ranges stretching beyond sight, their peaks rising and falling like the spine of a great dragon — towering, majestic, and grand. Before the mountains stood a vast, transparent barrier encircling everything.

Within the barrier, dense, tangible white spiritual energy overflowed in abundance. Before anyone had even entered the mountains, they felt as though a cool, refreshing breath swept over them, invigorating and pleasant, clearing away every trace of exhaustion accumulated over days of travel.

The Dragon Vein Ancient Land truly lived up to its name.

The Second Elder had cultivated for several hundred years, yet had never seen spiritual energy of such purity. He could not stop a stir from rising within him — but he did not forget that the ancient land within was fraught with danger, and he could not afford to let down his guard.

The Second Elder drew a deep breath and led the disciples around the traps scattered throughout the surrounding area, then continued through the barrier and into the ancient land.

The moment their feet touched the ground within the mountain range, a dazzling white light blazed up beneath the disciples. In the space of a few breaths, the entire group of the Second Elder and the others had vanished from where they stood.

A teleportation array.

Secret realms almost always had teleportation arrays at their entrances, and the Dragon Vein Ancient Land was no exception. In the original novel, the ancient land's teleportation array activated randomly — no one could know where it would send them.

But within the ancient land, opportunities were everywhere. No matter where the teleportation sent you, there was something to be gained. The magnitude of the opportunity, however, depended on one's own fortune.

Chú Róng's goal was the dragon breath — but though the original novel had described how Cen Yan had obtained the dragon breath, being transported to the place where it was hidden had been pure accident.

Chú Róng could only try his luck. His glistening eyes swept around once, and he stepped forward into the ancient land. He had barely taken two steps before a large, clearly-jointed hand caught his wrist and pulled him against a broad chest.

"Róng'er." Ning Yuan held the supple body in his arms tightly, breathing in the orchid fragrance all around him, his deep voice carrying a slight roughness: "After the teleportation, stay where you land and don't move. Wait for me to find you."

"All right." Chú Róng did not refuse, and stayed obediently in the man's embrace.

Although he knew the most about the ancient land out of everyone present, he was not arrogant enough to think everything was entirely within his control. The ancient land was full of unknown dangers, and Ning Yuan was powerful. Having the man along was all benefit and no harm — what reason did he have to refuse?

Ning Yuan lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the pale brow of the person in his arms, then led Chú Róng into the ancient land.

White light blazed up within the ancient land, quickly swallowing both figures. As the radiance scattered before his eyes, Ning Yuan's palm was suddenly empty. The jade-pale fingertips he had been holding vanished without a trace.

The depths of Ning Yuan's eyes sank abruptly.

Inside the secret realm, there were no restriction seals, and spiritual energy flowed without suppression. He released his divine sense and swept through the surrounding hundred li — but found no slender figure anywhere. He half-closed his eyes and reached out to sense the Soul-Capturing Bell's location.

The Soul-Capturing Bell was his spiritual treasure, and there was a connection between it and his sea of consciousness. Yet even after Ning Yuan probed his sea of consciousness thoroughly, he felt no vibrations coming from the Soul-Capturing Bell at all.

The connection between him and the Soul-Capturing Bell had been severed!

—

At that same moment, Qīngxū Sect's reply arrived at Tiānjī Sect.

A yellow-robed disciple respectfully presented the letter. Hè Tíng glanced at Qīngxū Sect's mark on it, and snatched it up urgently, unfolding it.

Making out the contents, Hè Tíng's expression darkened. He clenched the letter in a white-knuckled grip, the effort making his knuckles tremble slightly: "Very well. Very well indeed!"

There was not a single sect among the Hundred Immortal Sects that would scorn the resources of a secret realm — unless it was Ning Yuan applying pressure again, forcing Jìn Tuò to abandon the deal with him.

"Sect Master." The disciple presented another intelligence report: "Disciples stationed outside have located the approximate position of the secret realm, and news of the secret realm has begun to circulate among the immortal sects."

Tiānjī Sect's livelihood was selling intelligence. At the moment, Tiānjī Sect still held the advantage in this matter — but the longer it waited, the worse the situation would become. When the time came, never mind making a large profit — they might even become a laughingstock among the Hundred Immortal Sects.

Hè Tíng understood the stakes perfectly well. With one palm he shattered the letter. An intense, burning resentment seethed in his chest, almost strong enough to incinerate his reason.

"Release the information." Hè Tíng ground out through his teeth: "All transactions proceed as usual!"

The disciple accepted the order and withdrew. Very quickly, the news of the secret realm exploded across the cultivation world like a bolt from a clear sky.

Resources?

Opportunities?

The breath of an ancient true dragon?

Were all of this real?

It had been many years since a secret realm had appeared in the cultivation world. A secret realm of this magnitude had never been heard of before.

With spiritual energy depleted throughout the cultivation world, countless cultivators were stuck at a particular stage, unable to break through for long stretches of time. In an instant, the Hundred Immortal Sects' minds began working. The moment they received word, they gathered their most precious valuables and sent people rushing to Tiānjī Sect to buy intelligence.

Chest after chest of rare and precious items poured into Tiānjī Sect as though they cost nothing. Those who acquired the information did not dare to waste a moment, transmitting it back to their sects immediately.

Fearing that sound-transmission stones might be intercepted by those with ill intent, they even used specially prepared talismans to encode and deliver the information.

For a time, the Hundred Immortal Sects were in a frenzy of activity. Even the mortal world caught wind of some of it.

Through the clamor of a busy market, a monk in Buddhist robes passed through the crowd. The top of his shaved head was covered by a woven bamboo hat, its brim casting a shadow that concealed most of his otherworldly face.

Hearing the discussions of the people around him, his tall frame paused for a brief moment.

A secret realm?

With the Hundred Immortal Sects all mobilizing, surely Qīngxū Sect would also…?

The monk lowered his eyes. He gripped the smooth, round prayer beads in his hand, turned, and walked off in the opposite direction.

—

Qingyang Heavenly Sect.

Inside the main hall.

Sect Leader Lian Ci sat at the head of the hall, looking down at Hè Míng and Péi Zhàn below. His expression was grave, and his tone was stern: "Do you know why I've summoned you here?"

"I don't." Péi Zhàn replied, golden light flowing through his eyes.

Hè Míng shook his head, stroking his salt-and-pepper beard, unmistakable exhaustion written across his face: "I don't either."

The Hundred Immortal Sects had broken their word and abandoned Qingyang Heavenly Sect to its fate. Morale throughout the sect was shaken and unsettled. For nearly two months, he had personally kept watch over the malevolent aura in the inner gates every single day without the slightest relaxation — how would he know what was happening outside?

Lian Ci did not keep them in suspense. He swept his black sleeve, and a specially made talisman floated in front of the two of them: "Use your sect's inner-gate cultivation method to listen to the contents."

Péi Zhàn's sword-like brows furrowed slightly, his expression uncomprehending.

Hè Míng was puzzled too, but followed Lian Ci's instruction regardless.

After listening to the message within the talisman, he raised his head abruptly. For all his decades of bearing as an elder, he could barely maintain it: "This… Sect Leader, is this true?"

Dragon Vein Ancient Land?

A secret realm with resources this abundant still existed in the cultivation world?

Even Péi Zhàn's habitually impassive face showed a trace of astonishment.

Every cultivator yearned to grow stronger — Péi Zhàn was no exception. Below Nascent Soul, all were as insects in the mud. Especially given what had happened recently, his desire to become stronger had grown even more urgent. And the opportunities within the Dragon Vein Ancient Land were a heaven-sent chance.

Once he broke through to Nascent Soul, he would take Chú Róng back, seal him within the Dragon Scale Jade Pendant for safekeeping. Aside from himself, no one else could touch him, no one else could even look at him.

At that point, using elixirs to forcibly nurture a Golden Core was one option — any method would do. He would find a way to extend Chú Róng's lifespan, and keep Chú Róng by his side for a long, long time.

"Every word of it is true." Lian Ci nodded, his expression heavy with worry: "But with the sect beset by troubles within and without, I'm uncertain whether to send people to the secret realm."

Two months ago, Ning Yuan had stood up for Chú Róng and stripped everyone in the sect down by one cultivation stage. Xú Zǐyáng had died a wretched death. And ever since Cen Yan returned to the sect the last time, he had shut himself in Wusong Lodge and refused to see anyone.

The entire Qingyang Heavenly Sect was blanketed in shadow, the atmosphere so oppressive it was difficult to breathe.

As for sending people — Lian Ci himself needed to remain and hold the sect together. Hè Míng was needed to watch over the malevolent aura. The other disciples were too weak in cultivation to be of any use even if they went. When he counted through everyone, the only one who could feasibly be sent was Péi Zhàn alone.

But a secret land holding limitless opportunities and resources, like the Dragon Vein Ancient Land, appeared perhaps once in a thousand years. There was not a cultivator alive who would willingly pass it by.

Sects had always competed fiercely over resources, and to seize the ancient land's opportunities and resources, many people would resort to any means necessary.

What could Péi Zhàn alone do against the full force of the Hundred Immortal Sects?

But not sending anyone — with an opportunity this extraordinary, once in a lifetime and never guaranteed to come again — if they missed it, who knew whether another secret realm would appear within the next several hundred years. Telling Qingyang Heavenly Sect to give it up was genuinely too painful.

Hè Míng understood Lian Ci's dilemma, and found himself caught in the same bind.

Péi Zhàn, however, saw it differently. What did it matter if he was going alone? Even into a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, he would charge right through!

Péi Zhàn stepped forward and bowed, just about to speak, when a dry, hoarse voice came from outside the hall: "I'll go."

Péi Zhàn turned to look. A tall, upright young man walked into the hall step by step. His usually immaculate robes were slightly wrinkled. Heavy shadows ringed his eyes. Dark stubble had grown halfway in along his jaw. His entire bearing carried an air of dejection and gloom.

At first glance, Péi Zhàn nearly did not recognize him: "Cen Yan?"

Cen Yan did not look at Péi Zhàn. He stood in the center of the hall, his head raised, looking at Lian Ci. His gaze was empty, not a single ripple visible. He repeated, word by word: "Sect Leader — I am willing to go to the secret realm."

作者有話說：

Sorry for the long wait~