Chapter 132
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Chapter 132: Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain
“I look forward to our next meeting.”
Yóu Lìng’s lips curved lightly as she tossed the black dagger in her left hand upward, letting it fall slowly under Ming He’s half-dazed, half-composed gaze.
A sharp “clang” echoed through the silent dark room, sending a tremor through Ming He’s heart.
“Go!”
Yóu Lìng spoke softly, her tone indifferent. She turned, leaving Ming He with a straight-backed silhouette that vanished into the darkness in an instant.
Along with her disappearance, the group of black-clothed men also faded into the shadows.
The Stone Door slammed shut with a heavy “boom,” plunging the room back into darkness. The faint sound of flowing water filled the air, and the chamber returned to its deep, eerie silence.
Ming He’s eyes fluttered open, her consciousness hazy.
Threads of pain coiled around her, enveloping her in an instant. Her usually upright body trembled uncontrollably.
She glanced down and saw her blue and white mystical outfit soaked with blood. Crimson droplets seeped from her collar, falling with a clear, rhythmic drip that echoed against the turbulent Blood River outside.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly until the distant clashing of blades and anguished cries broke the silence, signaling a fierce battle raging beyond the walls.
The Blood River churned ceaselessly, and in the midst of the profound stillness, a series of light, swift footsteps approached. They moved like the wind, their purpose unclear, as if searching for something—or someone.
These footsteps did not belong to the black-clothed men!
Ming He’s eyes sharpened as she bit her blood-stained lip, forcing herself to stay conscious. Slowly, she lifted her gaze just as the Stone Door was violently forced open from the outside with a deafening “bang.” A ray of light spilled in, illuminating the mottled stone walls and the pools of blood staining the floor.
A figure clad in white stepped forward, her eyes filled with concern as she took in Ming He’s battered state. “Ming He, are you all right?”
The voice was clear, laced with unmistakable care—a voice Ming He knew well.
Ming He managed a faint smile. “Senior Sister Zhan, I’m fine.” As long as she was alive, she counted it as being fine.
“That’s a relief.” Zhan Qing Yi exhaled softly, her gaze steady. With a subtle motion of her right hand, she summoned a glimmer of spiritual energy, using it to sever the bloodline that bound Ming He’s freedom.
“Senior Sister Zhan, why are you here?” Ming He frowned, her mind suddenly recalling Yóu Lìng’s mocking smile. A chill ran through her. “This is bad—you’ve walked into their trap! You need to leave, now.”
She struggled to sit up, her expression fraught with worry.
She remembered the black-clothed man’s words to Yóu Lìng: “The fish is on the hook.”
This had to be Yóu Lìng’s scheme—using young human talents as bait to lure powerful human cultivators into a rescue, only to ambush them and weaken the human race’s combat strength.
As the realization dawned, Ming He’s anxiety deepened. Her body shook as she tried to urge Zhan Qing Yi to leave, blood trailing down with her movements, soaking into the ground.
“We’re not in a trap,” Senior Sister Zhan said firmly, pressing a hand on Ming He’s shoulder to keep her still. With her left hand, she placed a pill in Ming He’s mouth, while her right hand continued to work on the bloodline. “We’re not in a trap.”
“Junior Sister Ming He, there’s no need to worry. The Nine Heavens Pavilion and the strongest human cultivators have mobilized for this operation. No matter how many black-clothed men from the Blood River Hall or members of the Alien Race Hunting Hall are out there, they won’t stand a chance against us.
By now, the outside must truly live up to the name of this grand hall—a river of blood.”
And that blood, Ming He knew, would belong solely to the alien races.
Zhan Qing Yi kept her head down, her movements swift and precise, though a glint of fierce determination shone in her eyes.
The Black Wind Alliance and the Alien Race Hunting Hall had dared to hunt down young human talents, thinking the human race was defenseless.
They were courting their own destruction!
“Envoy Zhan.” A figure clad in white, its face veiled with a white cloth, descended gracefully over the Blood River, landing beside the Stone Door of the dark chamber. With a slight bow, it reported, “The forces of the Black Wind Alliance and the Alien Race Hunting Hall within the Blood River Hall have been completely eradicated. Only the wounded envoy of the Black Wind Alliance managed to escape; there are no others left.”
“Understood,” Zhan Qing Yi replied, her voice icy. “You and the others proceed to the other chambers. I will remain here.”
“Yes,” the white-clad figure responded respectfully, hesitating briefly before casting a glance at Ming He. Upon noticing the large bloodstain on her collar, his eyes darkened with concern. He quickly averted his gaze, bowed his head, and departed.
Had Ming He looked up at that moment, she would have recognized the gaze of the white-clad figure as strikingly similar to that of the one who had protected her through the Northern Wilderness—equally clear and bright. They were, indeed, the same person. But Ming He did not look up.
She blinked, listening to the exchange between Zhan Qing Yi and the white-clad figure, a flicker of confusion crossing her mind. Could this truly be the case? Yet, how could she doubt what she had heard with her own ears?
Then there was Yóu Lìng. Even through the mask, his arrogant confidence was palpable—a ruthless demeanor that toyed with human lives. So many human prodigies had been captured here; surely, the human race would not remain passive. Yóu Lìng must have understood this, yet he had acted as he did. Moreover, when the human race prepared to strike, he seemed entirely unprepared—not as if caught off guard, but rather as if allowing events to unfold naturally. Could this truly not be a conspiracy?
Ming He frowned, her eyes darkening with worry as her consciousness began to blur. Yóu Lìng’s sword had missed her heart by a mere inch; while she was not in immediate danger, she was far from unharmed. She felt herself slipping.
Ming He shook her head and clutched Zhan Qing Yi’s sleeve tightly. “Senior Sister Zhan, this must be Yóu Lìng’s scheme. He…” Her voice trailed off, becoming almost inaudible.
But Zhan Qing Yi, standing close, heard every word. Ming He murmured, “He is dangerous. You must be careful.”
Zhan Qing Yi’s fingers finally severed the bloodline. Without raising her head, she leaned closer to Ming He, her voice a faint whisper, “What if this is a ploy to capture by letting go?”
She paused, her emotions surging, and after a long silence, she finally looked at Ming He. The woman’s posture remained upright, the Jing Ying Sword swaying gently at her waist, the Blue Sea Sword resting silently on her back. Her brow and eyes still radiated the sharp brilliance of a human prodigy, her demeanor relaxed yet commanding.
But her eyes were closed, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth. She had already lost consciousness and did not hear the words.
Zhan Qing Yi’s gaze flickered as she watched Ming He, silent and still. After a long moment, she sighed softly, lifted her, and crossed the Blood River, disappearing swiftly into the ruins.
Behind them, the dark eyes of the white-clad figures followed.
The Blood River surged within the Blood River Hall, its crimson waters stretching endlessly, yet no trace of life remained. The ruins lay in darkness, a hellish landscape that persisted in the vast expanse of the world.
The human cultivators and the Nine Heavens Pavilion had chosen not to destroy this ruined hall.
Ming He opened her eyes to the sight of a bright lamp floating above, swaying gently in the breeze. Its soft glow, like twinkling stars, illuminated the space—a beautiful, serene light.
She sat up, a faint pain lingering around her heart, though the bleeding had ceased, and she was no longer in any life danger.
Ming He raised her eyes and surveyed her surroundings. The towering screen depicting mountains and rivers blocked the view outside, revealing only fragments of the room’s interior.
The wooden furniture stood in quiet stillness—a table, chairs, a glowing lamp, a meditation mat, and a soft couch—forming a simple yet serene arrangement.
In the distance, she could faintly hear the roar of waves, vast and overwhelming, as if they could swallow rivers whole.
This place seemed to be an island, suspended above the endless sea.
The Jing Ying Sword and Blue Sea Sword rested silently on the weapon rack beside the soft couch, their faint glimmer subdued.
Ming He’s eyes flickered as she rose, wincing in pain. She slung the Blue Sea Sword over her back, her right hand trembling slightly as she tightened her grip on the Jing Ying Sword. With determination etched across her brow, she strode toward the door.
But then she collided with a soft figure. The woman carried a delicate, refreshing scent, reminiscent of the sandalwood fragrance her Senior Sister often wore.
Ming He looked up and met the woman’s naturally cool gaze, which was filled with disapproval and skepticism.
“Senior Sister Zhan,” Ming He murmured, touching her nose and lowering her eyes awkwardly.
“Junior Sister Ming He, you’re still severely injured. Where are you rushing off to?” Zhan Qing Yi frowned, her eyes clouded with concern as she noticed the blood staining Ming He’s clothes.
“I need to go to the Northern Wilderness,” Ming He replied, her head still bowed, though her voice carried an unshakable resolve.
“I haven’t obtained the Four Seasons Flower yet,” she added, lifting her head with a serious expression. “I promised I wouldn’t keep Senior Sister waiting too long.”
Every second counted; she couldn’t afford to pause, not even for a breath.
“Are you strong enough to defeat the Sword Demon now?” Zhan Qing Yi countered.
Ming He’s heart skipped a beat. “How does Senior Sister know about my deal with the Sword Demon?” she asked, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.
Zhan Qing Yi’s heart raced, but her expression remained calm. “Since it concerns the Young Master’s life, of course I had to look into it.”
“But Ming He, there’s something more important you need to focus on now,” she interjected lightly, steering the conversation away with a solemn tone. “The Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain is about to open.”
“Do you know what the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain is?” Zhan Qing Yi asked, her gaze intent.
Ming He’s breath caught, her voice heavy. “I do.”
Her understanding of those words came from the original story.
It was a Spirit Mountain.
Within it lay a self-contained world, complete with sun, moon, and stars, gentle winds and drifting clouds, towering mountains and flowing streams. It was governed by the laws of heaven and earth, offering natural realms for cultivation and trials, as well as heavenly materials and earthly treasures. It was a place where everything one could desire might be found.
The Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain had existed since ancient times, yet its purpose remained a mystery.
It was a sanctuary reserved solely for the prodigies of the human race.
The entrance to the Spirit Mountain was sealed by the laws of heaven and earth, opening only during the decisive battles of the Dragon and Tiger Rankings. Only those who held the dragon energy disciple token could enter.
According to the records of the World of Martial Arts, the opening of the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain was unpredictable. It did not open for every tournament of prodigies, nor was it guaranteed to open before the grand competition began.
This meant that if a prodigy competing for the Dragon and Tiger Rankings lost, their dragon energy disciple token would be taken, and with it, their chance to enter the mountain.
But now, it was about to open.
It would open half a year before the Dragon and Tiger Rankings.
And Ming He, as the top-ranked prodigy on the Young Tiger List of the Small Dragon and Tiger Rankings in the Eastern Region, held the dragon energy disciple token. She was qualified to enter the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain.
Even if the Eastern Region is the lowest among the five regions, even if her spiritual energy has completely dissipated at this moment.
“Since you know, you must go,” Zhan Qing Yi said.
This is a natural opportunity bestowed by heaven and earth, capable of granting human prodigies a transformative change.
“I want to obtain the Four Seasons Flower,” Ming He declared with unwavering resolve.
Between the opportunity and her Senior Sister, she firmly chose her Senior Sister.
“But this isn’t a matter of choosing one over the other,” Zhan Qing Yi replied, having known Ming He since her humble beginnings. She understood her thoughts well.
“The Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain, as a secret place of heaven and earth, naturally holds profound opportunities that defy common logic. Spiritual medicines considered rare in the outside world are as common as carrots and cabbages within its bounds.”
Zhan Qing Yi smiled faintly, “For instance, the Stupa Fruit, the Longevity Branch, the Budding Leaf, and many more.”
“Without the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain, even with the full might of Qin Huang Mountain, obtaining these emperor grade spiritual medicines would be exceedingly difficult.” Emperor grade spiritual medicines are born from the essence of heaven and earth, not merely attainable through human effort.
More crucially, it hinges on the elusive luck of cultivators.
That’s why it must be Ming He.
“Will the Four Seasons Flower be there?” Ming He frowned, somewhat tempted but still fixated on that single flower.
“No,” Zhan Qing Yi replied, her lips curving slightly, her gaze deepening. “The Four Seasons Flower is unique; in ten thousand years, only one has existed, and it resides solely on the Northern Wilderness Sword Demon Mountain.”
“But you can first go to the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain and then retrieve the Four Seasons Flower,” Zhan Qing Yi said softly. “Sword Demon Mountain isn’t going anywhere; it will remain.”
“Besides, your spiritual ocean is currently incomplete, and even if you forge a new path in swordsmanship, it won’t be a lasting solution.” Zhan Qing Yi’s eyes flickered toward the Jing Ying Sword at Ming He’s waist. “Your journey to the Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain will bring you opportunities.” She just wasn’t sure if Ming He could seize them.
“Thousand Layers Spirit Mountain,” Ming He murmured, her expression inscrutable. “How long until it opens?”
“Half a month,” Zhan Qing Yi replied, lowering her gaze to conceal the worry in her eyes before looking up, her gaze clear.
“This is Bright Moon Island, above the central region’s deep sea, under the jurisdiction of Qin Huang Mountain. You will stay here for half a month to recover and prepare for the challenges ahead.”
Half a month.
Ming He watched Zhan Qing Yi’s retreating figure in silence for a moment, then suddenly broke the stillness. “Senior Sister, do you know Mu Chen?”
“I’ve heard he is the young leader of the human race?”
“Yes,” Zhan Qing Yi paused, glancing at Ming He as she settled down. “Many in the central region know of him, but in the Eastern Region—few likely do now.”
“Why?” Ming He sat beside Zhan Qing Yi, her expression puzzled.
The bamboo window was half-open, and the waves crashed against the rocks, the sea breeze carrying a refreshing, powerful surge that Ming He adored.
Zhan Qing Yi’s voice carried a distant tone amidst the sea breeze and roaring waves. “Mu Chen hails from the Canglang Sect in the Eastern Region, rising from its depths, much like you.” He was akin to the Sword Master of old.
“On his journey, he has slain numerous alien races and traitors among the human race, earning great renown. He is a morning star for the younger generation of the human race, shining brightly in the heavens, dispelling the darkness.”
“The swordsmanship he practices is Canglang Sword Dao, a vast and boundless path comparable to the Haoran Sword Dao of the Haoran Sword Sect.”
“It was a sword path he created himself.” It later became the path that led to his fall into darkness.
“At twenty years old, Mu Chen’s cultivation surpassed the winds, and upon entering the central region, he slew the Envoy of the Black Wind Alliance, who was half a step into the Human King stage—the same envoy Yóu Lìng had encountered before.”
“Later, Mu Chen’s brilliance caught the attention of the Sword Pavilion, and he was exceptionally accepted as an outer disciple, with plans to appoint him as a sword elder.” Zhan Qing Yi lowered her gaze.
“The Sword Pavilion?” Ming He asked, her eyes filled with curiosity.
“It is the legacy of the Sword Master, an existence dedicated solely to swordsmanship. Those within the Sword Pavilion inherit the path of the sword.”
“The Sword Master decreed that human cultivators must venture to the battlefield of the heavens to slay alien races to ascend to the Human King stage, and traverse the five regions to achieve the Wind Master realm. However, those from the Sword Pavilion are exempt from such requirements.”
Zhan Qing Yi’s gaze was filled with reverence and longing. “Disciples of the Sword Pavilion journey across the five regions upon comprehending sword intent and ascend to the battlefield of the heavens upon mastering the sword domain. Their lives are illuminated by the purpose of slaying alien races. For them, there is only the sword and their enemies.”
The sword is the weapon wielded against alien races.
Born into the Sword Pavilion, its members are destined to practice the sword, and their talent in swordsmanship is naturally exceptional. Their cultivation level when grasping sword intent and sword domain is invariably lower than that required for the Wind Master realm and Human King stage.
“In the realm of Eastern Hua, the toll of the Eastern Heaven Bell, heard from the depths of the Deep Sea, is a testament to Young Master Li Fusheng of the Sword Pavilion,” Zhan Qing Yi’s eyes shimmered. “Yet, she is no ordinary disciple of the Sword Pavilion.”
Li Fusheng.
Sword Pavilion.
Ming He repeated the names, her eyes alight with admiration, her chest rising and falling with a sense of yearning.
“But the Imperial Palace acted before the Sword Pavilion.”
“The Imperial Palace chose Mu Chen as the future of the human race, formally proclaiming it to heaven and earth, and appointing him as the young leader of the human race, entrusting him with immense responsibility and unparalleled glory.”
“With Mu Chen’s rise as the young leader of the human race, the Eastern Region, his birthplace, naturally ascended to the forefront of the five regions, overshadowing the central region. It became a land teeming with prodigies, brimming with brilliance.”
The foremost of the five regions.
Is this the Eastern Region of old, as Shishu once described?
Yet now, the Eastern Region languishes at the bottom of the five regions. Is this due to Mu Chen?
Ming He struggled to reconcile the image of the extraordinarily gifted, radiantly talented young man Zhan Qing Yi spoke of with the deranged, half-demon, half-soul figure she encountered on Sword Demon Mountain.
Cultivators of spiritual arts do not age.
They retain their youthful visage eternally.
Ming He frowned. “But during my time in the Eastern Region, I never heard of the Canglang Sect.”
The Eastern Region boasts major sects like the Floating Cloud Sect and the Beast Master Sect, yet the Canglang Sect was unknown to her.
“The Canglang Sect was destroyed long ago,” Zhan Qing Yi replied coldly. “It was annihilated by a prince of the Tian Yan Tribe, but in truth, it was Mu Chen who sealed its fate.”
“Its destruction was justified, even a fitting retribution.”
“Then why did Mu Chen fall into darkness?” Ming He’s heart stirred, recalling the events on Sword Demon Mountain, the sudden appearance of Yóu Lìng, and Zhan Qing Yi’s words about the Canglang Sect’s deserved demise. Her eyes flickered with doubt and confusion.
What truly transpired? And why?
“Because of love,” Zhan Qing Yi replied, her smile tinged with mockery.
