The Black Mountain was treacherous.
Yet an entire night passed, and the Black Mountain remained dead silent, so quiet that it was as if no living creature existed there.
Xie Shi truly found it difficult to discover what danger lurked here.
[System, have you found the data on the Black Mountain?]
The information was too scarce, making it impossible to figure anything out.
Xie Shi decided to be obedient for now, cooperate properly, and fish for information.
[There is a different dimension here,] the system said.
[A different dimension?]
[The different dimension here can shield my signal.] The system’s tone sounded somewhat displeased.
[A different dimension within a small world can shield your signal?] Xie Shi was surprised, but after thinking about it, he felt it was only natural. [It seems this world really has derailed severely.]
The system did not speak for a long time, and the crackling sound of static electricity transmitted through Xie Shi’s mind, as though it were analyzing something.
Song Yan also seemed to have foreseen the danger of the Black Mountain.
He usually loved clinging to Xie Shi, but today, he walked side-by-side with him in a rare display.
Assuming Song Yan was frightened, Xie Shi pinched his little finger and spoke in a low voice, “Don’t be afraid.”
Song Yan smiled at him and said, “I’m not afraid.”
He truly was not afraid.
It was just that the aura within the Black Mountain was truly unpleasant.
It was already the second day, and the two of them had entered the Black Mountain.
The Black Mountain was barren, filled everywhere with sheer precipices, steep cliffs, and blade-sharp rocks.
Under the reflection of the light, they cast a cold, weapon-like sheen.
The entire Black Mountain did not even possess a single patch of soil.
Song Yan raised his head to look at the sky.
The Wilderness always had abundant daylight; almost every day, the place was cloudless with a scorching sun.
Yet the Black Mountain, despite being so close to the Wilderness, seemed like an existence completely isolated from it.
The gray sky pressed down extremely low, almost making it hard for people to breathe.
Dark clouds rolled, and the wind howled like ghost cries.
It looked as though a heavy rain was about to fall at any moment.
A heavy rain fraught with towering grievances.
Yes, the reason the aura felt ill-omened was that the grievance here was far, far too heavy.
So heavy that it had practically materialized into a mist, swimming sluggishly through the air.
This was a rare sight indeed in the arid Wilderness.
The mist was thick, emitting a fluorescent blue luster, teasing people’s skin like a snake.
Xie Shi touched the back of his neck, pulling away a palm full of pale blue dampness.
This dampness seeped into his palms, bringing a bone-chilling cold.
That was soul fire.
Mist-like soul fire.
The Black Mountain was entirely filled with grievances, which could only manifest as ubiquitous mist, wrapping the Black Mountain layer upon layer.
[System, are you still there?]
[ ]
[System?]
There was no reply.
It seemed to have been completely blocked out.
A small world was actually capable of blocking the system.
What on earth was inside this place?
The Black Mountain was rugged and difficult to traverse, with mist obstructing their line of sight. The two of them remained silent, walking cautiously along the mountain path.
Xie Shi held the Buchan Sword in one hand while holding Song Yan’s hand with the other.
A cyan spiritual aura covered the sword, flickering like a flame along the blade.
Xie Shi’s nerves were taut; if he discovered anything amiss, he would immediately urge Buchan to leave the Black Mountain.
If leaving was even an option.
After walking for an unknown amount of time, the sky gradually darkened, and the moon revealed a sliver of its figure.
The two finally reached the peak of the Black Mountain.
Gazing into the distance, the horizons were filled with rolling, boundless mountain ranges.
The pale blue, viscous mist, resembling some kind of colloid, coiled between the black mountains.
Xie Shi turned his head to look at Song Yan.
A few wisps of blue mist clung to his face, and seeing Xie Shi look over, he smiled softly.
It lacked any sense of terror, instead carrying a kind of bewitching aesthetic.
So much time had already passed.
Yet the Black Mountain remained entirely peaceful.
It seemed as though nothing terrifying existed at all.
Yet the more it was like this, the more hair-raising it felt.
After all, these blue grievances were no fake illusion.
Beneath the seemingly peaceful surface, it felt as though some terrifying behemoth was concealed.
Xie Shi did not dare to relax for even a single second.
Yet Song Yan seemed completely impervious to the danger. He leaned close to Xie Shi, resting on his shoulder as he said, “A-Shi, are we going down?”
The sudden closeness caused Xie Shi’s hypersensitive nerves to tremble slightly.
The temperature at the summit plummeted, leaving his skin ice-cold.
At times like this, body heat from another person always brought a sense of solace.
After the tremor, Xie Shi’s overly tense nerves relaxed just a fraction. He said, “Yes, it is about to rain, and the mountain peak is not very safe.”
Dark clouds pressed low, with rumbling thunder echoing between them.
The fishy scent of water in the air also grew heavier, and it seemed to be mixed with some other odors.
In a place with such heavy grievances, what kind of rain could this possibly be?
Xie Shi dared not take risks.
Besides, night was about to fall.
Wilderness nights always instilled a sense of insecurity.
They needed to find a place to rest.
During the ascent, Xie Shi had noticed quite a few caves on this mountain.
Smooth, deep, dry, and flat, they made for a good resting spot.
Yet he had not dared to enter them.
After all, no one knew what might crawl out of those caves.
Therefore, Xie Shi used Buchan to slash a few times along the mountain path, forcefully carving out a cave.
To serve as a temporary resting place.
Right not far below the summit.
Only, before they had even walked two steps, the mist at the mountain peak suddenly grew dense.
A thick fog blanketed the area, and Xie Shi could barely make out the direction.
Having walked just two steps, he could no longer proceed.
Song Yan turned his hand over, gently pinching Xie Shi’s wrist. His palm was similarly ice-cold, yet it gave Xie Shi a touch of reassurance.
“A-Shi,” he said softly, “I remember the way here. Come with me.”
Before Xie Shi could reply, a clap of thunder exploded by his ear.
A purple flash of lightning as thick as an infant’s arm crashed down with a booming sound amidst the mist-shrouded mountains.
It illuminated the entire fog-veiled mountain range.
Two cave openings, glowing as bright as torches, flashed past within the layers of mist.
Xie Shi’s heart gave a violent jolt.
[Be careful, a dragon is near.] The system’s voice finally sounded once more.
Xie Shi hurriedly asked, [System, what did you find?]
[Dragon bone.]
[What? System?]
[ ]
This time, no matter how Xie Shi called out, the system remained silent and lifeless, without the slightest response.
It had been completely blocked out.
Meanwhile, the dead-silent mountains suddenly rang with strange sounds.
Clack, clack, clack-clack.
Resembling the sound of bones rubbing and colliding together.
Sound after sound, ethereal and ghostly, enough to make one’s blood run cold.
Song Yan abruptly halted his steps.
Xie Shi’s heart rate soared rapidly.
The two turned their heads in unison to look back, only to spot two massive soul fires burning within the mist.
Floating and drifting, swaying as they approached them.
As it drew closer step by step, Xie Shi finally saw clearly that it was a long, ferocious, ossified dragon skull.
The head alone was comparable to a small hill, let alone how terrifying its body behind it must be!
This was a dragon bone?
A bone spirit?
There was actually a dragon bone spirit on the Black Mountain?
The dragon clan was the leader of the demon race, and in ancient times, dragons had even attained godhood.
A dragon bone, needless to think, could not possibly be compared to the crooked, deformed bone spirits found in the Wilderness.
Moreover, the grievances radiating from this dragon bone were simply too heavy!
No wonder those bone spirits dared not approach this place.
Xie Shi’s expression changed drastically. He hurriedly blocked Song Yan behind him, urging Buchan as he prepared to fly away on his sword.
Right at that moment, the dragon bone let out a resonant, mournful dragon roar that pierced the clouds and shook the heavens. Containing rolling, blood-spattered hatred, it stabbed into Xie Shi’s mind like swords and sabers.
Within the dragon bone’s eye sockets, the soul fire blazed fiercely, instantly scorching its entire body.
Hatred.
So much hatred.
Hatred.
Hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred, hatred!
A scorching, surging wave of hatred battered Xie Shi’s mind. He was completely unable to bear it, and a splitting headache wracked his brain.
Xie Shi’s legs went soft, and he raised a hand to drive Buchan into the ground to support his body.
He panted heavily, attempting to resist the impact brought upon him by that mournful, blood-curdling dragon roar.
However, the dragon bone gave him no time to catch his breath.
Its massive skeletal body slowly twisted with a clacking sound, locking its gaze onto Xie Shi and charging fiercely toward him.
Buchan dropped powerlessly to the ground, emitting a reluctant, metallic clang.
Xie Shi’s final conscious thought was that expanse of fiercely burning yet incomparably cold, secluded blue flame.
Before his eyes completely closed, he seemed to see someone unfold a pair of black feathers to shield him.
Who?
The dragon bone opened its mouth full of razor-sharp fangs, preparing to snap Xie Shi up into its jaws.
Yet the person standing before it was suddenly snatched away.
“Roar!”
The dragon bone’s angry roar shook the heavens and earth as it glared at the troublemaker.
Before the fluorescent blue full moon, a fully manifested demon was suspended in mid-air.
A pair of huge, pitch-black wings unfolded behind Song Yan, and a pair of curved, wicked demonic horns grew from his head.
Black demonic energy transformed into flames, twining around his demonic horns and fluttering in the wind.
His wings trembled slightly, and with Xie Shi held in his arms, he hovered mid-air.
The blood-red vertical pupils in his eyes lit up, and an endlessly dangerous aura spread out from him.
Song Yan’s hair danced in the wind, the alluring tenderness on his face covered by cold, gloomy ruthlessness. His expression dark, he gazed coldly at this out-of-control dragon bone.
Silently confronting the dragon bone below.
“Roar!”
The dragon bone issued a threatening roar toward him.
Instantly, winds churned and clouds surged as thousands of razor-sharp gale blades swept toward Song Yan. With a tremor of his wings, however, he dissolved all of those gale blades entirely.
“Immortal Lord Zhu Ye,” Song Yan murmured, his gaze dark and obscure as he offered a calm greeting, “Long time no see.”
In the cultivation world, only immortal cultivators who had truly attained the Dao and achieved ascension could be respectfully addressed as Immortal Lords by posterity.
With the withered state of the immortal path, no one had been worthy of the title Immortal Lord for over a thousand years.
The last immortal cultivator addressed as an Immortal Lord was the dragon demon from a thousand years ago who cultivated the Great Dao of All Living Beings, crossed the heavenly tribulation to ascend, but fell due to a failed ascension.
He was the sole immortal cultivator in a thousand years who came closest to achieving divinity. Though he failed to attain the Dao, posterity still respectfully addressed him as Immortal Lord to commemorate him.
Probably no one would have imagined that a former favored son of heaven, the renowned Immortal Lord, would actually perish in such a desolate and lonely place.
Zhu Ye had been dead for a thousand years, his spiritual intelligence long since scattered, and he now relied solely on a breath of lingering grievance to keep his divine soul from dispersing.
His long skeletal body whipped about, the sound of bone joints rubbing together enough to set one’s teeth on edge.
Just as he intended to charge forward once more, Song Yan’s sleeve shifted slightly, and a stalk of seven-leaved purple grass protruded, falling onto Zhu Ye’s body.
The purple grass instantly dissolved into points of light, falling into Zhu Ye’s body.
He froze as if pinned in place; his curved, massive, clearly segmented dragon bone stiffened against the ground, and the soul fire in his eyes instantly dimmed down to a tiny, tiny speck.
Between heaven and earth, only the howling gale and heavy, cold clouds remained.
After an unknown length of time, so long that even spacetime felt as though it were freezing over, Zhu Ye slowly raised his skull to look at Song Yan suspended in mid-air.
He seemed to have finally regained his sanity.
“Ah, it is you,” Zhu Ye uttered in a muffled, decayed murmur, his voice so hoarse it was nearly unrecognizable, resembling ironware that had rusted and gathered thick dust.
Stuttering and leaking wind.