Chapter 462: Bald Peak
Despite sensing the danger, Xu Sanyan resolved to investigate further. The threat wasn’t overwhelming, nor did it fill him with dread.
Moreover, greater risks often yield greater rewards. The ruins of the Four Venerables Seeking Immortality Sect might conceal secrets related to achieving sainthood or even immortality—secrets that held unparalleled allure for Xu Sanyan.
The Yue Clan Patriarch continued to lead the way, scouting ahead, while Xu Sanyan followed at the rear of the group. As they ventured deeper, the sky grew increasingly dim. The sun overhead seemed distant, appearing only as a faint golden halo.
After walking for some time, the Yue Clan Patriarch halted. Xu Sanyan mentally compared their location to where Yue Chonghai had vanished earlier. This was likely the spot.
The Yue Clan Patriarch stared into the impenetrable darkness ahead, where the sunlight was completely swallowed. The area felt like a tear in the fabric of reality, radiating an intense sense of incongruity, as if it didn’t belong in this world.
This unsettling sensation made Xu Sanyan uneasy.
“The rift is here,” the Yue Clan Patriarch said. “Invisible and intangible, yet stepping into it will make you vanish.”
Xu Sanyan extended his divine sense in all directions, faintly detecting a familiar scent. A thin barrier seemed to stretch between the void and reality, invisible to the eye and intangible to the touch, yet undeniably present.
“Soul-Gathering Brilliance-Preserving Grand Formation…”
Xu Sanyan murmured to himself. He couldn’t mistake this scent—it was undoubtedly the Soul-Gathering Brilliance-Preserving Grand Formation!
Though the formation could manifest in countless variations, its fundamental structure remained constant. Xu Sanyan was intimately familiar with the swirling, intertwined formation patterns.
The formation’s techniques far surpassed Xu Sanyan’s own, leaving him in awe. The spirit energy flowed through formation patterns that had endured for millennia, etched into the void itself without any physical medium—a truly breathtaking feat.
Having identified the formation, Xu Sanyan’s confidence surged. This was arguably the Great Formation he knew best. Even if trapped within, he was certain he could find a way out.
Xu Sanyan turned to the group with a smile. “Ladies and gentlemen, please proceed.”
The others were reluctant, but under his oppressive aura, they had no choice but to obey.
“Ah… this old man will go first,” the Yue Clan Patriarch sighed, stepping forward.
Suddenly, the air ahead rippled like water disturbed by a splash. The Yue Clan Patriarch and his group, who had been leading the way, vanished without a trace, as if they had disappeared into thin air.
The rest of the group filed in one by one. Xu Sanyan treated everyone equally, regardless of gender, age, height, weight, beauty, or ugliness—all had to enter. He was the last to step through.
His mind swam for a moment, and the scene before him blurred. When Xu Sanyan regained his senses, he found himself in an entirely different world. Startled cries echoed around him. Lu Wanzhe clutched Lu Wang’s sleeve, her face pale with fear.
Xu Sanyan’s gaze swept across the landscape. A dense demonic cloud hung overhead, its oppressive weight refusing to dissipate. A faint, otherworldly light pierced through the cloud cover, illuminating the barren mountain peaks below, adding to the surreal atmosphere.
The treeless mountain peaks resembled the bald heads of vultures, gleaming smooth and polished. A piercing yin wind howled through the crags, its shrill cries echoing like the wails of ghostly creatures.
The pitch-black earth beneath their feet was utterly devoid of life, not even a single blade of grass dared to grow, as if the land itself were dead.
Xu Sanyan sensed something lurking in the shadows, silently observing their group. He turned to look, but found nothing.
If one had to describe this place in a single word, “death” would be the most fitting.
Ghost Realm!
“Is this the Underworld…?” someone murmured, their voice tinged with despair.
“Grandson!”
The Yue Clan Patriarch suddenly roared. Xu Sanyan followed the sound, but instead of Yue Chonghai, he saw only a gaunt corpse draped in a wide robe.
The corpse appeared to have been dead for quite some time. Its flesh had long since weathered away, leaving only a layer of skin clinging tightly to the bones. The sunken cheeks and hollow eyes gave it the appearance of a malevolent ghost.
Yet strangely, the robe remained pristine, its vivid white starkly contrasting with the macabre scene.
A ripple of unease spread through the crowd as Xu Sanyan approached Yue Chonghai’s corpse for a closer examination. He found no obvious cause of death, as if the man had been drained of his life essence in an instant.
Xu Sanyan’s senses sharpened. There’s something here!
And it’s powerful.
Yue Chonghai was, after all, a Dao Seeking Realm cultivator. The complete absence of any signs of struggle proved that whatever had killed him was no ordinary threat.
Whoosh…
A yin wind swept through the crowd, lifting dust and sand from the ground and swirling it toward the mountain peak. The dark clouds above churned with the wind, as if manipulated by an invisible, colossal hand.
Xu Sanyan extended his senses, detecting nothing beyond the lingering Yin Qi.
The vast expanse of heaven and earth stretched before them, dominated by a towering, barren peak. Yin winds howled relentlessly, and demonic clouds lingered, shrouding the landscape in perpetual twilight—a fitting remnant of an ancient sect.
Xu Sanyan surveyed the surroundings. Only the barren peak seemed worth exploring. He pointed toward it and declared, “Let’s investigate that place.”
No one objected. They all followed behind him. The Yue Clan Patriarch had already collected Yue Chonghai’s corpse, leaving no time for mourning.
Today’s celebratory banquet had transformed into a funeral feast. The only silver lining was that the guest of honor remained the same: Yue Chonghai.
Yue Shanhe gazed at his brother’s corpse, his heart churning with conflicting emotions. He felt both fear for his own safety and sorrow for his brother’s death, yet deep within him, hidden even from himself, lurked a flicker of joy.
Lu Wang materialized a long spear, its crimson tassel a stark contrast against the monochrome Ghost Realm, like a splash of vibrant red in an ink wash painting.
“Awooo~”
Suddenly, a piercing, mournful howl echoed from the depths, sharp as a night owl’s cry, sending a chill down their spines.
Lu Wanzhe clutched her brother’s sleeve, her usual playful energy vanished. She trembled like a frightened quail, her entire body shaking.
Xu Sanyan’s eyes narrowed, his gaze snapping downward. “Something’s beneath us!”
“Ah!!”
The words were barely out of his mouth when a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. A withered, skeletal hand shot up from the ground, seized a cultivator’s ankle, and dragged him into the earth. The pitch-black soil split open like a monster’s gaping maw, swallowing the man whole before snapping shut again in an instant.
Xu Sanyan saw it clearly: the hand was wreathed in dense Yin Qi—undoubtedly the work of a ghost!
Panic gripped the crowd as they scrambled into the air, desperate to avoid being dragged into the depths by the spectral horror.
The Lu Clan elder’s eyes darted nervously, his presence so faint that Xu Sanyan sometimes forgot he was even there.
Song Zhizhi and the other Myriad Blossom Sword Sect disciples huddled behind a plain-looking woman—their Sect Leader. In this moment of terror, only her presence offered them a sliver of comfort.
“Move!” Xu Sanyan urged, unwilling to linger in this eerie place. No wonder this is the Four Venerables Seeking Immortality Sect, he thought. Even after tens of thousands of years, it remains this perilous.
As they drew closer to the barren peak, Xu Sanyan finally grasped its true scale. The mountain rivaled Crimson Dragon Mountain in grandeur, yet its utter lack of vegetation made it appear strangely gaunt.
“What’s that?!”
A horrified shout erupted from the crowd. All eyes turned upward, and their hearts froze in terror. The summit of the barren peak was covered in a writhing mass of ghost faces, layered upon each other in a grotesque tapestry. Countless spectral limbs intertwined and coiled, their pitch-black bodies forming the very substance of the desolate mountain itself!
(End of the Chapter)