The sky of the Secret Realm always held an unpredictable, desolate grayness, like ancient ink that had been diluted countless times and splashed haphazardly across the firmament.
There were no sun, moon, or stars to guide the way. Only those oppressive, lead-gray clouds hung heavily overhead, as if they might collapse at any moment.
Wu Yan and her companions had already moved from the Rotten Bone Swamp to the outer edge of the forest.
Ancient trees reached toward the sky, their bark displaying a sickly grayish-white hue akin to sun-dried bones. The massive canopies blotted out the sun, filtering the already dim light into something even more sinister. Thick layers of decaying leaves had accumulated on the ground over untold ages; stepping on them no longer produced a crisp sound, but a nauseatingly soft, wet sinking sensation. Occasionally, a few trickles of black liquid would squeeze out from beneath their feet, emitting a sweet yet rank odor of rot mixed with miasma.
“I say, Lady Bai.” Yu Qingyao casually twirled the long sword in her hand, the blade’s chilling aura cutting through a thorn-covered bramble blocking their path. She stopped and turned her head, her tone carrying a hint of undisguised irritation. “Your Tianyan Sect claims to ‘calculate all heavenly secrets and know all things past and present,’ so why are you leading us around like a headless fly? We’ve been circling this hellish place for two whole hours. Forget that rumored companion spirit herb—I haven’t even seen a decent blade of foxtail grass.”
Walking at the very front, Bai Zhiqiu wore a pale green daoist robe that looked completely out of place in this gloomy, dense forest. Intricate star trajectories were embroidered onto the hem with silver thread; they flowed slightly with her footsteps, faintly shimmering with a protective light that kept the surrounding miasma at bay.
She wasn’t using the large abacus she usually carried on her back. Instead, she held an ancient Ink Jade Compass in one hand. This compass was different from the Bronze Compass she had used before; while those bronze ones were disposable consumables, this specific compass was a custom-made treasure commissioned by her Master.
The compass was only the size of a palm, yet it was densely engraved with the Heavenly Stems, Earthly Branches, and stellar positions. The needle was currently vibrating violently.
Upon hearing Yu Qingyao’s doubt, Bai Zhiqiu didn’t take offense. She stopped, her slender fingers tapping rhythmically against the edge of the compass. She looked back, her peach-blossom eyes—which always seemed to hold a hint of a smile—revealing the confidence and pride of a genius.
“Friend Yu, you’re mistaken. There are fifty paths of the Great Dao; the Heavens derive forty-nine, leaving one to escape,” Bai Zhiqiu said with a slight upward curve of her lips, revealing a playful canine tooth. “The aura within this Secret Realm changes constantly, especially in places that nurture supreme treasures. They naturally form a ‘Lost Track Array’ layout. I’m not wandering aimlessly; I’m searching for that ‘escaped one.’ If we had followed your temper and walked straight just now, we’d probably be in the bellies of a pack of Iron-Backed Gray Wolves by now. I won’t let the gold-lettered reputation of the Tianyan Sect be ruined in my hands.”
“You…” Yu Qingyao’s brows shot up, her hand tightening on her sword hilt until it creaked.
Although she had agreed to let Bai Zhiqiu join the team, she had always harbored a grudge against this woman who was constantly smiling as if she saw through everything. At this moment, she felt even more like the other woman was merely acting mysterious.
“That’s enough.”
A cool voice rang out at the right moment. It wasn’t loud, but it instantly smoothed over the tension in the air.
Wu Yan walked at the rear, dressed in the signature plain white daoist robes of the Piaomiao Sect, her sleeves swaying gently with her stride. Despite walking through two hours of muddy paths, her shoes and the corners of her clothes remained spotless, as if the filth of the world could not touch her. Her dark eyes appeared exceptionally calm, though beneath that calm lay a trace of subtle vigilance.
“Save your strength.” Wu Yan walked between the two, her gaze sweeping over the twisted tree trunks nearby. “The flow of Spirit Chi here has become turbulent. There should be something ahead. Qingyao, focus. Do not let the miasma disturb your mind.”
Hearing this, the retort that had reached Yu Qingyao’s lips was instantly swallowed back down. She gave Bai Zhiqiu a harsh glare before retreating half a step to Wu Yan’s side, assuming a posture of absolute defense.
But her inner state was far from the calm she showed on the surface.
She watched Bai Zhiqiu’s seemingly defenseless back ahead, then stole a glance at the cold, composed Wu Yan beside her. An indescribable feeling of irritability surged in her heart.
Why?
Yu Qingyao questioned herself internally.
Clearly, Wu Yan was the Red-Robed Deviless who had killed without blinking in her previous life. Clearly, she should hate her to the bone and be on guard against her at all times.
But along this journey, whenever she saw Wu Yan show gentleness or tolerance toward Bai Zhiqiu—an outsider she had only recently met—images would uncontrollably pop into her mind. The image of a back standing in front of her amidst the wind and sand of the Western Wilderness.
‘Is she taking a different path in this life? Is she this kind to everyone? Or is this another one of her disguises? Just like how she deceived me in the previous life?’
As soon as this thought emerged, Yu Qingyao felt a chill, followed by a surge of inexplicable hostility toward both Wu Yan and Bai Zhiqiu. This rift between her knowledge and her emotions made her feel like a fractured madman.
“We’re here.”
Bai Zhiqiu suddenly stopped. The compass in her hand emitted a crisp click, and the violently vibrating needle snapped into a fixed position, pointing directly at a thicket of shrubs ahead.
“Qian is three lines, Kun is six breaks. Opening Gate, Auspicious.”
Bai Zhiqiu put away the compass and formed hand seals, casting a technique toward the shrubs. The originally dense thorns and bushes rippled like water and parted to both sides, revealing a path only wide enough for one person. A surge of cold Spirit Chi, so dense it was almost tangible, rushed out from the path.
The three exchanged glances and stepped inside one after another.
The view opened up instantly.
This was an extremely well-hidden valley depression, surrounded by cliffs that looked as if they had been carved by axes. Only a sliver of light filtered down from above. At the very center of the valley sat a cold pool. The water was pitch black and bottomless, its surface as still as a dark mirror without a single ripple.
In the center of this deathly still pool stood a solitary rock. Atop the rock grew a singular, bizarre plant. It had only three leaves, which were a translucent grayish-white. Within the veins of the leaves, there seemed to be flowing mist circulating repeatedly. It didn’t release the dense fragrance typical of ordinary spirit herbs; instead, it emitted a fluctuation that made one’s soul shudder. Even looking at it from a distance created the illusion that one’s soul was being sucked in.
“That is—”
Yu Qingyao’s pupils dilated suddenly. Her heart hammered wildly, its thumping even louder than the sound of the wind.
She had seen this thing in ancient records!
The Soul Shaping Grass!
A legendary heavenly treasure that grew in places of extreme Yin, nurtured by the wandering souls of heaven and earth. Its effects were simple and overbearing—it could repair a damaged soul and even cause the soul’s strength to leap forward by a massive margin!
Yu Qingyao’s fingers trembled slightly.
In her previous life, the fundamental reason she had eventually been forced to perish along with Wu Yan was because her soul had not been strong enough. This caused the power of her final killing move to be insufficient. Speaking of which, that thing should also be within the Cangwu Secret Realm in this life.
The Soul Governance Art.
If she could obtain this Soul Shaping Grass…
Yu Qingyao stared fixedly at the herb, a glint of absolute determination flashing in her eyes.
In this life, if she wanted revenge, if she wanted to truly take control of her own fate in the future…
This item—she had to have it!
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