Chapter 452: The Truth of the Mist Tide
North of the Qian Kingdom stood an immortal mountain, its peak perpetually shrouded in swirling clouds and mist, resembling a celestial realm. This was the location of the Source Worship Sect, one of the five great sects of the central region.
News of Xu Sanyan’s breakthrough to void harmony and his subsequent defeat of two seasoned void harmony experts had spread throughout the central region. Naturally, the Source Worship Sect had also received this information. Moreover, the transformation of five cities in Qian Prefecture into desolate wastelands was too significant to conceal.
When Fang Qingge learned of this news, he was both shocked and incredulous. No matter how hard he racked his brains, he couldn’t fathom how Xu Sanyan had cultivated so rapidly.
Back then, both of them had reached the Peak Stage of Dao Seeking. Yet after only two years apart, while Fang Qingge had barely broken through to the Initial Stage of Soul Refinement, Xu Sanyan had already achieved void harmony.
And not just any void harmony realm—Xu Sanyan had immediately asserted his dominance over the cultivation world. Facing two opponents alone, he had utterly crushed Sun Yingtang and the Old Ancestor of the Jiang Clan, displaying unparalleled might!
Fang Qingge clicked his tongue and turned to the young woman beside him, his voice filled with awe. “Junior Sister, could you have ever imagined things would turn out this way?”
The young woman sat in the stone pavilion, slowly shaking her head. Her face carried a wistful expression, tinged with a hint of sorrow, a complex mix of emotions.
“My husband wasn’t like this back then…”
Fang Qingge chuckled. “You still call him ‘husband’? He’s probably forgotten all about you by now…”
The young woman rested her chin on her hand, propped up on the stone table, lost in thought. Her flawless face glowed with a jade-like luster, and her small, rosy lips looked so tempting one might want to take a bite.
If Xu Sanyan were here, he might not even recognize her. This young woman was none other than Yang Qiyuan, the daughter of Prince Rui and his first wife.
Even before she began cultivating, Yang Qiyuan possessed a natural affinity for communicating with birds and beasts, a rare and extraordinary gift. Her exceptional intelligence and innate spiritual abilities were wasted in the remote Qi Kingdom, like a pearl buried in the mud.
Later, through a series of fortunate coincidences, she escaped her father’s clutches and stumbled upon the Source Worship Sect, leading her to where she is today.
The Yang Qiyuan of today was vastly different from the girl she had been. Back then, she had a limp, buck teeth, and a twitching arm—not only was her appearance unsightly, but her movements were also clumsy.
Now, having achieved some success in her cultivation, her appearance had transformed completely, and her demeanor was utterly different, as if she had been reborn.
Yet one thing still weighed heavily on Yang Qiyuan’s heart: her husband, the man who had formally married her and brought her into his home.
But…
Her own husband had committed such an atrocity.
Five cities, a million lives—sacrificed entirely for his own selfish desires. What kind of ruthless heart could conceive such a thing?
Yang Qiyuan refused to believe that her husband could be responsible for this evil deed, clinging to the hope that it was merely a case of mistaken identity.
“I want to go down the mountain and see for myself.”
“With your cultivation level, what could you possibly accomplish by confronting Xu Sanyan? Do you intend to sway him with love? To persuade him to abandon darkness and embrace the light?” Fang Qingge chuckled at his own words.
Yang Qiyuan rose to leave, leaving only her voice behind: “I need to see if this Xu Sanyan is truly my husband…”
“Ugh…”
The piercing whale song reverberated through the Mist Sea, causing the fog to churn violently.
When Xu Sanyan fled earlier, he had crossed the Mist Sea to reach the Chaotic Cloud Mountains. The two regions were close, and the Mist Sea’s fog was sustained by the Mist Tide. As the fog from the Chaotic Cloud Mountains expanded outward, it finally merged completely with the Mist Sea today.
Bang!
The barrier surrounding the Mist Sea shattered, unleashing torrents of fog in all directions. Countless demons, monsters, and ghosts, now freed from their restraints, roamed with the fog.
The Mist Sea harbored countless creatures that could only survive within the fog’s embrace. Deprived of it, they would perish like fish out of water.
But today, the Mist Sea had breached its banks, unleashing utter calamity.
Deep within the Mist Sea, a pavilion floated abruptly above the surface, its dim red glow resembling a hanging lantern flickering through the fog.
Creak…
The pavilion’s wooden door swung open, revealing a slender, jade-like hand. A red string adorned the wrist, accentuating the arm’s fair, delicate skin.
“Ah… I was suffocating in there! Finally, I can get some fresh air.”
A coquettish voice, brimming with allure, emerged. A crimson dress hung loosely off her shoulder, exposing half of her rounded, voluptuous bosom.
If Xu Sanyan were present, he would undoubtedly recognize this woman. After all, he still possessed half of her toenail.
She was Yu Anwei, the great elder of the Yaotian Holy Sect from thirty thousand years ago, the architect of the Hundred Saints Secret Realm, a survivor who had successfully escaped the heavenly tribulation, the instigator of the chaos in the Chaotic Cloud Mountains, and the sole remaining “immortal” in the world.
The world believed the chaos in the Chaotic Cloud Mountains was caused by Immortal Inquiry Mountain, but this was not the truth.
Without Immortal Inquiry Mountain, the flesh giant might never have appeared, but the Mist Tide would not have ceased.
The Mist Tide would have continued to generate mist, which Yu Anwei had arranged to flow into the Mist Sea, relentlessly filling it until it breached the barrier.
Though the flesh giant was an unexpected development, her ultimate goal had been achieved.
While she remained trapped within the Mist Sea, it was still preferable to being confined within the Hundred Saints Secret Realm.
“Tens of thousands of years have passed,” Yu Anwei murmured to herself, her eyes filled with longing. “I wonder what the world is like now. I wish I could see it.”
Over such a long period, she had learned only to converse with herself, a meager attempt to alleviate her loneliness.
To evade the heavenly tribulation, she had sacrificed most of her cultivation level, leaving her far from her former peak.
Yet, having once been an immortal, even a weakened camel remained larger than a horse. Despite losing much of her cultivation level, she still far surpassed ordinary mortals. Perhaps only five sages in the world could rival her.
Over a hundred miles beyond the Chaotic Cloud Mountains, a steep peak known as Harmonious Mountain rose majestically. It was here that the Praying Dao Sect, one of the five great sects of the Central Region, had established its headquarters.
The once-splendid mountain gate now lay in ruins. The stone tablet at the foot of the mountain, inscribed with the words “Praying Dao Sect,” had been toppled by some unknown force, and no one had bothered to repair it.
The Praying Dao Sect, once ranked among the Five Great Sects, now resembled a haunted wasteland, with only layers of mist swirling overhead.
When the mist first swept across the land, the Praying Dao Sect inexplicably chose to remain on Harmonious Mountain rather than relocate the entire sect. Most of its disciples also opted to stay.
At the summit of Harmonious Mountain stood a grand hall with soaring eaves at each corner, exuding an ancient and solemn aura. Above the entrance, a plaque bore the inscription “Hall of the Founding Ancestor” in bold characters.
Strangely, the omnipresent mist seemed to be blocked by some invisible barrier, never penetrating the hall’s interior. Even the ghostly creatures that roamed the mountain dared not approach the hall, as if fearing some unseen power.
Nearly a thousand disciples of the Praying Dao Sect had taken refuge within the hall. All sat with their eyes closed and breath held, as if meditating, yet no spiritual power emanated from their bodies. Instead, their faces grew increasingly pale, an unsettling sight.
Upon closer inspection, Luo Qingwei was among them.
The Hall of the Founding Ancestor should have housed a statue of the sect’s founder, but it had vanished, replaced by a figure seated on a lotus platform with its back turned to the assembly. The figure’s face remained obscured.
However, the exposed skin of this being was covered in festering, flesh-colored pustules that bubbled and burst like boiling porridge, splattering milky-white pus in all directions—a truly nauseating sight.
The Harmonious Mountain Praying Dao Sect, once hailed as a righteous path sect, now radiated an indescribable aura of the bizarre.
(End of the Chapter)