Chapter 59
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Chapter 59: Title
Yan Hua and Xi Ning arrived precisely as promised the next day, their helicopter touching down near the valley around nine in the morning.
Many marveled at Ji Lang’s prestige, for even Director Yan Hua himself had come—a rarity, as such external affairs were typically delegated to Deputy Director Xi Ning.
A makeshift helipad had been constructed outside the valley. As the group disembarked, Leng Xingwen stood waiting.
"Director Yan, Deputy Director Xi. It’s been too long," Leng Xingwen greeted with a cordial smile. Since his transfer from the Capital City to Kunlun, their paths had seldom crossed.
"Young Master Leng. I trust you’ve been well?" Xi Ning returned the smile, his gaze briefly scanning the surroundings for someone absent.
"Young Master Leng," Yan Hua acknowledged with a nod.
"She’s atop the peak," Leng Xingwen remarked, squinting toward the mountain ridge flanking the valley. He’d long discerned their purpose here. "Since the valley’s disturbances began, she divides her time between observing from the heights and venturing into the foreign rift."
The statement drew a flicker of guilt from Yan Hua’s group. Ji Lang’s forays into the abyssal rift aimed to cull as many abyssal creatures as possible before catastrophe struck.
"Did you inform her of our arrival?" Xi Ning inquired.
"After your message yesterday noon, I relayed it immediately," Leng Xingwen confirmed.
"Must we ascend now?" Xi Ning hesitated. The jagged summit offered no safe landing for helicopters, and the climb would be perilous.
A glint of steel flashed from the heights. The White Sword Cultivator materialized before them.
Xi Ning had studied Ji Lang’s photographs, yet the images paled against the reality of his presence—a mere shadow of his true bearing.
"Director Yan Hua and Deputy Director Xi Ning of the Special Bureau," Xi Ning introduced with earnest respect. "We owe you profound gratitude for your intervention last night."
Ji Lang’s gaze swept over them before inclining his head fractionally, accepting the gratitude.
"Your purpose here is clear. Ask what you will." Ji Lang understood their mission. The Special Bureau had spent the prior day managing the aftermath of slain Demonic Beasts, their carcasses hauled away after the midnight upheaval.
"A quiet place would suit our discussion better. Allow me to guide you, Senior." Leng Xingwen gestured meaningfully at the surrounding crowd.
The four individuals relocated to a sheltered area furnished with a folding table, four chairs, and modest refreshments—dried fruits, preserves, and tea. Ji Lang offered no comment on the arrangement, though such comforts were rare in a zone where most subsisted on military rations.
As they settled, electronic chimes sounded. Yan Hua and Xi Ning muted their devices without glance—all matters could wait until after this audience.
Xi Ning produced a tablet from his briefcase, displaying a series of images. "Are these Strange Beasts all Demonic Beasts?"
"Images alone cannot confirm this," Ji Lang replied. "Demonic Beasts differ from spirit cultivators in their lack of awakened intelligence—what you term sapience."
"Spirit cultivators mirror human cultivators in passion and purpose. They possess language, venerate deities, communicate meaningfully, even empathize. Demonic Beasts know only instinct—endless slaughter and self-aggrandizement."
“What is the relationship between Demonic Beasts and spirit cultivators? Are they the same race?” Yan Hua furrowed his brow with growing concern.
“That depends on your perspective,” Ji Lang countered. “Would you consider yourself the same race as monkeys?”
The unexpected retort left both Yan Hua and Xi Ning speechless.
Unperturbed by their stunned silence, Ji Lang paused thoughtfully before continuing, “I’ve read contemporary works in this era – including a theory of evolution suggesting humans evolved from primates.”
Evolution theory? But how could a sword cultivator over a thousand years old know such modern concepts? The two men’s expressions shifted through shades of bewilderment.
“Spirit cultivators might be viewed as the evolved forms of animals and plants,” Ji Lang pressed onward despite their astonishment.
“Could you elaborate?” Yan Hua urged, temporarily setting aside his confusion about the evolutionary reference.
Ji Lang’s gaze turned distant, as if sifting through ancient memories. “You’re fortunate indeed to ask such questions. Few today possess knowledge of these primordial matters – fragments I merely chanced to learn long ago.”
The subtle shift in his demeanor set Xi Ning and Yan Hua on edge. Though instinct warned of hidden complexities, neither dared interrupt the sword cultivator’s rare moment of recollection.
After a weighted silence, Ji Lang resumed his narrative. Xi Ning discreetly adjusted his recording device.
“All living creatures were shaped by Goddess Nuwa’s hands – human cultivators included…”
A millennium-old human? The concept hung heavy between them, this lifespan surpassing ancestral lineages. Xi Ning’s mind raced – could the creation myths hold truth after all?
“Before fashioning humankind,” Ji Lang continued, “Nuwa first sculpted the birds of the sky, beasts of the land, and dwellers of the waters. These primordial beings basked in heaven’s favor through countless seasons, until some awakened intelligence through Spiritual Energy’s nurture.”
“These enlightened beings named themselves ‘yao,’ honoring their creator as Empress Nuwa. Those creatures who absorbed demon power without achieving true sentience became the Demonic Beasts – mindless predators trapped in endless slaughter.”
“When Demonic Beasts breed,” he explained, “their offspring may reclaim ancestral memories through spiritual plants. Success elevates them to spirit cultivators. Conversely,” his voice darkened, “any spirit cultivator’s young failing to awaken their heritage degenerates into mere beasts.”
“So they’re distinct yet intertwined races?” Yan Hua clarified.
A curt nod.
“What of the legendary imperial nectar said to awaken consciousness?”
“It merely ignites latent bloodlines.” Ji Lang’s tone turned clinical. “Success breeds yao, failure leaves beasts.”
Leaning forward, the sword cultivator’s voice dropped to a warning rumble. “Heed this – avoid spirit cultivators. Their clans shelter fiercely beneath ancient powerful demons’ shadows.” An enigmatic smile flickered across his features.
“Would they murder without consequence?” Yan Hua challenged.
Cold steel entered Ji Lang’s laugh. “Heaven’s justice finds them eventually. My blade has claimed its share of wayward yao.”
“Human cultivators once enslaved them,” he continued bitterly, “harvesting flesh and bone for alchemy. This sparked the Second Great War between our kinds.”
“Second?” Xi Ning interjected. “There was a first?”
“When fledgling humanity served as spirit cultivators’ prey.” Ji Lang’s eyes grew stormy. “Our eventual retaliation grew so fierce that Empress Nuwa and Your Highness Haotian themselves intervened.”
Yan Hua squared his shoulders. “We’re civilized now. No arrests without crimes.”
The ancient practitioner’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Let us hope.”
“Does Senior Ji Lang know why the Demonic Beasts emerged this time? Could those fissures in the sky be related to—”
“The Demonic Beasts’ emergence…” Ji Lang appeared contemplative.
“If you possess knowledge of this matter, we implore you to share it,” Yan Hua uttered solemnly. “Forewarning could prevent us from being ambushed as we were previously.”
“It was said when the Spiritual Energy began fading from our world, Empress Nuwa confined nearly all Demonic Beasts and spirit cultivators within an artificial small world of her making.”
“These creatures likely originate from that very realm. The celestial rifts may signify fractures within its boundaries…”
The phrase "small world" sent uneasy tremors through their hearts.
“Does this dimension bear a name?” Leng Xingwen interjected abruptly.
“Indeed.”
“What might it be?”
“The realm forged by Empress Nuwa’s hand carries the designation – Mountain and Sea Realm.”
At the distant camp periphery, Zou Cheng stared at the pulsating live stream interface. Only protocol restrained him from storming into the conversation.
None could fathom why Xiao Tianji had chosen this critical moment to activate his broadcast. Worse still, confidential exchanges between the Special Bureau’s director and the ancient cultivator now rippled across the digital sphere.
On Yunlang Weibo’s live streaming platform, Xiao Tianji’s channel erupted with frenzied commentary:
——Sacred heavens! Another celestial beauty appears!
——That gleaming long sword – I’d trade my soul to wield it!
——Is that Young Master Leng in the background?
——Aren’t those the Special Bureau’s Director and Deputy Director? They’re conversing unaware!
——Ji Lang… how do the characters compose that name?
——Senior cultivator? This maiden looks younger than my granddaughter! _(´ཀ`」 ∠)_
——Demonic Beasts AND spirit cultivators? Since when?
——Empress Nuwa and Your Highness Haotian – the primordial supreme deities?!
——The Great War between Clans… man-eating beasts… we’re living in perilous times!
——Mediation failed? Humans restarted the conflict? Skin-flaying techniques? Barbaric!
——“Mountain and Sea Realm”… why does that stir ancestral memories?
——【Xiao Tianji: Imperial nectar. Mountain and Sea Realm.】 Let ancestral whispers guide you.
Mid-conversation, Ji Lang’s head snapped upward. His long sword leapt from its scabbard as fingertips lightly flicked the blade.
The metallic chime resonated through airwaves moments before the live stream dissolved into static.
Sword energy rippled outward, shattering crystalline mirrors materializing mid-air – all save one.
The surviving artifact gleamed with jade-like translucence, its frame etched with primordial flora and fauna that entranced the soul.
“I’ve endured this surveillance long enough.” Ji Lang’s blade tip hovered before the mirror. “Reveal yourself, Xiao Tianji.”
His declaration froze the assembly – including the breathless Zou Cheng arriving with news of the breached broadcast.
