Jiuyou put the map away, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked up at the cave ceiling.
His divine sense instantly pierced through layers of rock and shot straight into the sky. His heartbeat quickened a few beats; ever since he first saw that map, his heart had never truly settled.
Rumor had it that tens of thousands of years ago, ancient cultivators who had transformed into divine beings left the Tianyuan Sea. Using some unknown marvel, they had traveled to a vast, boundless land. The beings there called that land the "Continent."
Ancient leftover records stated: on the Continent, countless opportunities and ancient relics could be found, secret realms and inheritances were as common as fish crossing a river, and spirit stone deposits seemed inexhaustible. Sects rose like forests, powers intertwined, and the strong were as numerous as clouds.
More importantly, within the entire Tianyuan Sea, humans only occupied a small portion. The remaining territories were either held by demon clans or full of deadly, unpredictable dangers that no one dared to tread. Every few decades, waves of demonic beasts would surge like tides, leaving heavy casualties.
But in those records, such trouble did not exist on the Continent. On that land, level-five or six demonic beasts were rare sights, and shape-shifting great demons were virtually unheard of.
Because of this, the "Continent" in ancient records became the cultivation paradise countless Tianyuan Sea cultivators dreamed of, their ultimate spiritual anchor.
Jiuyou clasped his hands behind his back, his ten fingers slowly tightening.
"If such a place truly exists..."
He raised one hand, held it before his eyes, and suddenly opened his palm wide.
Cyan Flames burst to life with a soft pop, the firelight flickering and casting his face and the entire cave abode in shifting illumination.
If it had been in the past, he would most likely have scoffed at the Continent rumors.
But now he truly held a detailed map of the Continent in his hands. Though he did not know whether it was genuine, the mountains, rivers, and spirit-vein distributions were drawn with meticulous precision—far from something fabricated out of thin air.
Jiuyou pondered for a long while, finally snorted coldly, swept his sleeve, and turned to leave the cave abode.
Whether the Continent existed or not was irrelevant to him for the moment. The pressing matter was to increase his longevity.
Everything else could wait until after he returned alive from Heavenly Abyss Mountain.
For the next several months, Jiuyou announced to others that he would be secluding himself.
He transplanted the Coldwind Wood into his cave abode and used the Little Green Bottle to hasten ripening every few days.
One Coldwind Wood after another grew rapidly under the nurture of the green liquid, accumulating years as time passed. The entire Soul Wraith Hall and the mountain peak were wrapped in wave after wave of bone-chilling cold. Frost thickly covered the stone steps and eaves, reflecting a ghostly cyan glow in the moonlight.
Even the disciples guarding outside the hall, though forcing circulation of their full law power to resist, still shivered from the cold. They did not know what marvel their patriarch was cultivating, only sensing the chill grew more intense each day; approaching within three steps of the hall entrance sometimes made law power circulation sluggish.
Some bold disciples privately speculated that the patriarch had likely cultivated some new miraculous technique. But most kept silent. On Soul Wraith Island, prying into the patriarch's private matters was a path to death.
Jiuyou sat cross-legged in the cave and calculated the days.
The Little Green Bottle truly was a heaven-sent object. At this rate, in just several dozen years it could cultivate ten-thousand-year Coldwind Wood. With a few ten-thousand-year Coldwind Wood trees assisting, his Nether Capital's Frozen Domain could soon be refined to consummation. Then, even against a mid-Nascent Soul opponent, he would have a fighting chance.
Unfortunately, Heavenly Abyss Mountain would open in fifteen years; he did not have that long to wait.
"Ten-thousand-year Coldwind Wood... put it aside for now."
Jiuyou muttered quietly, his gaze falling on the Little Green Bottle in his palm. Suddenly, an idea struck him.
If this thing could hasten the ripening of spirit herbs, might it also have strange effects on cultivators or demonic beasts?
He was not a man of idle imagination; once the thought arose, he acted immediately.
A few days later, Jiuyou left and personally captured several level-five and level-six demonic beasts.
The experiment's result made his brow tighten.
Any of those beasts that swallowed a single drop of the green liquid died on the spot within moments. Their meridians snapped inch by inch, their internal organs collapsed and rotted as if a hundred poisons devoured their hearts. Upon inspection, he found the green liquid to be a lethal toxin to demonic beasts.
Moreover, it seemed effective only when ingested. Applied to external wounds, it had no effect and left no trace.
Unconvinced, Jiuyou repeatedly diluted the green liquid—hundredfold, thousandfold, ten-thousandfold.
No difference.
Even a drop diluted ten thousand times still killed those beasts in a very short time, their deaths miserable and uniform.
"Could it... affect cultivators the same way?"
Jiuyou's gaze darkened. After a moment's contemplation, he summoned a few foundation-establishing disciples and a Golden Core elder from the island.
Under his "kind" coercion and inducement, those foundation disciples and the Golden Core elder "voluntarily" and tremblingly drank the diluted green liquid.
The result mirrored that of the beasts.
Within less than a cup of tea's time, the foundation disciples vomited black blood and collapsed. The Golden Core elder, though more resilient, lasted only a bit longer before his face turned black and his breath ceased—dead without possibility of revival.
Jiuyou personally examined every corpse, ensuring no doubt remained, then burned the bodies and refined their souls, not wasting a shred.
This Little Green Bottle was a deadly poison to all living beings. Whether human or beast, anyone who swallowed it would surely die, no exceptions.
Such ruthless, domineering toxicity even made this death-hardened Nascent Soul old demon privately uneasy.
Jiuyou studied the Little Green Bottle, his expression complex.
He could not determine its origin or its grade from appearance.
But he was certain—its quality surpassed any magic treasure or ancient relic he had ever seen; it might not even be something from this cultivation world at all.
A flicker of hesitation passed through his eyes.
But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
In the next instant, his gaze hardened into resolve and cruelty. He let out a self-mocking laugh, voice raspy as he whispered.
"Since this item was picked up by my ancestral hand, then it is mine by fate. To cower and shrink back, to fret and hesitate, what kind of conduct is that? This old man is indeed getting cowardly in his old age... ha."
The laughter echoed through the cave abode, cold and eerie.
Jiuyou put the Little Green Bottle away and was about to resume cultivation when his divine sense twitched.
A satisfied expression crossed his face. In a flash, his figure vanished from inside the cave abode.
The next second he had already appeared outside the hall.
The disciples guarding the hall saw the patriarch appear so suddenly and trembled, immediately bowing with heads low and clutching their halberds, their voices quivering.
"Disciple... greets the Patriarch!"
Jiuyou's face showed no change as he gazed toward the horizon, a faint, ambiguous smile at the corner of his mouth. He pointed at one disciple with a gesture.
"Go fetch Canfeng, prepare to receive guests."
After a pause, he added, "The rest of you stand down for now. I will have other matters to discuss shortly."
"Yes!"
The disciples responded hurriedly, continuing their bows in the patriarch's direction and retreating a few dozen steps before daring to turn and hurriedly run down the mountain, not even daring to fly for fear of showing the slightest disrespect.
Jiuyou stood with his hands behind his back, eyes fixed on the far distance.
His divine sense suddenly expanded and shot outward.
Two hundred or so miles away, wave after wave of heavy pressure was rapidly bearing down toward Soul Wraith Island.
A massive blood-red spirit vessel tore through the sky. The vessel measured a hundred zhang long, entirely crimson, and swarmed with cultivators. Each person wore blood-red robes embroidered with golden patterns at the hems, expressions solemn, standing tall as pines.
The lowest cultivator aboard was a foundation-establishing disciple.
A giant banner fluttered at the vessel's prow— the emblem of the Demon Sea Sect.
The spirit vessel moved at incredible speed, cutting a sharp ripping sound through the air. Its momentum was immense. Below, lower-level cultivators looked up, faces ranging from terrified to stunned, all deeply shaken by the colossal craft.
A perceptive old cultivator recognized that banner at a glance, sucked in a cold breath, and pulled his companions far away to avoid being drawn into whatever was coming.
"The Demon Sea Sect... that's the Demon Sea Sect's war vessel!"
"Such a big show—who are they aiming at?"
"That direction... Soul Wraith Island? Old demon Jiuyou's territory!"
"Hiss—this is going to be a major incident."
The news spread like wildfire among roaming cultivators, but no one dared approach to investigate; they only watched from afar.
Jiuyou's eyes narrowed slightly as his figure slowly rose into the air.
Moments later, Canfeng hurried over and landed beside Jiuyou. He glanced up at the enormous blood-red vessel, his face changing drastically, his voice trembling with barely contained fear.
"Patriarch! They're headed straight for our Soul Wraith Island! Should we activate the Island-Protecting Grand Formation?"
Jiuyou snorted coldly, raising a hand to stop Canfeng's movement. He spoke leisurely and unhurriedly.
"Huh? Why panic? Guests have arrived."
Canfeng froze, quickly shutting his mouth, but the apprehension and tension in his eyes could not be fully suppressed.
He stole another glance at the patriarch's face. Jiuyou's composure was calm, his mouth even curved with a faint smile, and Canfeng couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration.
This was the bearing of his own patriarch.
The blood-red vessel drew ever closer. The Demon Sea Sect disciples aboard were now clearly visible. The oppressive aura crashed down like a mountain; even a mid-Golden Core cultivator like Canfeng felt his breath grow labored.
At the vessel's front stood a blood-colored figure with hands clasped behind his back, his aura as fathomless as an abyssal sea.
Jiuyou recognized that figure, and the smile on his face deepened.
He spoke slowly, his voice low but carrying across the entire island.
"Brother Blood Sea, I am remiss for not welcoming you sooner. Please forgive me."