Within the mystic realm, opportunity and danger walked hand in hand.
Spiritual herbs were guarded by spirit beasts, and wondrous encounters demanded passing through trials.
As for the fellow disciple standing right before them, whose face was stained a bruised bluish-black and who looked ready to kick the bucket at any second, it was anyone’s guess what kind of tribulation he had run into.
If any other fellow disciples had witnessed this exact scene, they undoubtedly would have been overcome with a surge of pity.
Yet Xiao Shuying had lived through ninety-nine lifetimes; he wouldn’t even bat an eye if someone dropped dead right in front of him.
As for Su Yunyu.
Xiao Shuying cast a sidelong glance in his direction, failing to imagine that the man would possess any inclination to offer rescue.
If anything, telling the fellow to crush his life token and pack his bags back home felt far more aligned with Su Yunyu’s usual style.
Convinced that he had completely fathomed the man’s character, Xiao Shuying was just about to find an excuse of helplessness to dismiss the nuisance when Su Yunyu stepped forward, pinched the fellow’s wrist, and began assessing his pulse.
Xiao Shuying felt a flicker of puzzlement, though he kept his silence. Standing by to watch the spectacle didn’t quite fit his persona either, so he feigned a bewildered and slightly frightened tone:
“M-Master, what is wrong with him?”
“Yellow Spring Fruit.” Su Yunyu murmured softly, drawing upon the encyclopedia provided by the system:
“The toxin of this fruit in its unripe stage can cause numbness in the limbs and blood stasis within the meridians.”
Observing the bruised, dark countenance of the fellow before them, wasn’t that precisely caused by pooled blood obstructing his meridians? Watching him thrash his limbs about like a drowning man further corroborated the symptoms of numbness.
“Wuwuwu,” the fellow let out a sob, pleading with slurred, incoherent articulation:
“Save me.”
Rationally speaking, the proper course of action was to send the person straight out of the mystic realm, yet the most efficient method of detoxification lay right here within the realm itself.
Consequently, Su Yunyu channeled the medicinal potency of the Clearing-Fire Polygonum grass he had left over from earlier into the boy’s body.
This wouldn’t provide an immediate, complete cure, but it was enough to temporarily suppress the toxin.
“This poison will not flare up for a full day. You must decide for yourself whether to leave the mystic realm to seek help or remain inside to search for the antidote.”
The former was the safest life-preserving measure, at the cost of forfeiting the mystic realm qualification he had fought so hard to obtain.
The latter required finding the antidote within twenty-four hours, a gamble no one dared take without genuine courage.
Catching his breath after regaining some composure, the fellow finally steadied himself and stood up unsteadily. Folding his arms across his chest, he offered Su Yunyu a word of thanks:
“Many thanks to my fellow disciple for saving my life; I shall make my own decision.”
As the dark bluish-black shade faded from his face, his true features were finally revealed.
His face was round as a harvest moon, retaining a youthful, boyish innocence. His eyes sparkled with spirited energy as he burst out laughing and speaking without restraint:
“Were you two just roasting fish over there? I wonder what plans you have for this mystic realm, and also, this senior.”
His gaze drifted toward Xiao Shuying standing beside Su Yunyu, catching sight of the white lotus embroidered upon the hem of his robe before smoothly changing tack:
“And this senior brother, you must be the closed-door disciple of the Fengchi Immortal Venerable! Heavens, everyone throughout our entire sect dies of envy over you, Senior Brother.”
At the mention of the Fengchi Immortal Venerable, Xiao Shuying curled his fingers inward slightly. Though a tempest surged within his heart, his outward expression remained completely unchanged.
Su Yunyu was unaccustomed to such ceaseless chattering, and immediately retreated behind his aloof persona.
Neither was Xiao Shuying particularly fond of idle chatter, but standing beside someone who disliked talking even more forced him to compel himself to speak:
“Since you are already well, my senior brother and I have matters to attend to, so we will take our leave.”
With that, he turned his head as if to walk away, but the fellow immediately called out to stop him:
“Hey, Senior Brother, if there’s anything you’re searching for, feel free to tell me! I happen to have heard quite a few strange tales and encounters in this mystic realm; perhaps I can be of assistance.”
His gaze swept over Xiao Shuying, registering no discernible cultivation, and then shifted to Su Yunyu, failing to recognize who he was while finding his cultivation similarly unreadable.
How fascinating, he thought. The former possessed completely severed meridians, but what about the latter?
Xiao Shuying had never placed much faith in so-called strange tales, and naturally had zero desire to entertain the fellow. Su Yunyu, however, driven by a mindset of treating a dead horse like a live veterinarian, finally spoke up to ask:
“Then have you ever heard of the ninth-grade pill cauldron left behind by the Water-Marsh Immortal in this mystic realm?”
Su Yunyu harbored no grand expectations, but the realm was vast, and since he desperately needed to locate the cauldron with all his might, he had no choice but to throw out the question.
To his utter astonishment, upon hearing this, the fellow’s eyes curved into crescent smiles:
“I actually caught a glimpse of that in a journal I was reading just a few days ago! It seemed to be located in the highest dwelling upon the highest cliff. Speaking of which, the senior brother just mentioned that the poison I contracted came from the Yellow Spring Fruit, if one wishes to cure this poison, I’m afraid the only remedy is the Azure Firmament Flower found precisely upon that highest cliff. Why don’t the three of us travel together as companions?”
“By the way, my name is Song Chi,” he added, executing a solemn, formal bow of introduction.
Su Yunyu rejected the proposition without a moment’s hesitation:
“Apologies, but my… my junior brother and I find traveling with others inconvenient.”
Are you kidding me? Bringing along the Dragon-Heaven protagonist was already an uphill battle; adding another random fellow disciple into the mix would simply shorten his lifespan.
Besides, this chatterbox was giving him a headache with his endless noise. By comparison, the timid and introverted Xiao Shuying suited his tastes far better.
Still, looking at the Dragon-Heaven protagonist, he wondered if his early childhood hardships had fundamentally broken him. Previously unnoticeable, compared to Song Chi’s vibrant energy today, the boy carried an aged, world-weary solemnity far beyond his years.
He lacked any youthful buoyancy or bubbling vitality.
Ah, well, he figured, once his meridians are fully repaired, he’ll naturally open up.
Undeterred by the outright rejection, Song Chi simply continued smiling with a child-like innocence:
“Very well, then I wish Senior Brothers a safe journey. I shall take my leave.”
With those words, he turned and strode off in the opposite direction, neither dragging his feet nor making a nuisance of himself with sticky pestering.
It was enough to make Su Yunyu mentally applaud his wonderfully eccentric style.
Little did he know, after he and Xiao Shuying had departed, Song Chi came to a halt quite some distance away. Turning his head to gaze at the retreating backs of the two figures, he let out an ambiguous, enigmatic smile.
As it turned out, the “highest cliff” happened to be precisely where Su Yunyu was standing.
They simply hadn’t climbed up to its absolute apex yet. Now possessed of a concrete, albeit unconfirmed destination, Su Yunyu immediately led Xiao Shuying toward the summit of the cliff.
The cliff peak opened up before them like the idyllic utopia of the Peach Blossom Spring—suddenly expansive and clear, revealing a deep, plunging gorge while placing them at the highest vantage point of all.
The highest cliff had been reached; as for the hidden dwelling…
Su Yunyu pivoted in place, casting his gaze around until his eyes caught a glimpse of a pitch-black cavern entrance partially concealed behind intertwined branches not far away.
Could this truly be it? Suppressing the fluttering anticipation within his chest and steeling himself for the worst possible outcome, he walked forward and parted the dense foliage.
There, inscribed upon the sheer stone wall before his eyes, were two bold characters: Water-Marsh. Su Yunyu’s breathing constricted for a fraction of a second.
“We found it.”
Hearing those words, Xiao Shuying, who was still scanning the surrounding cliffside from a short distance away, nearly suspected he had misheard.
A pill cauldron shrouded in such deep mystery, a hidden dwelling so flawlessly concealed that even the Sect Master remained entirely unaware of its precise coordinates, did that fellow disciple’s casual remarks genuinely point them straight to the truth?
A subtle sense of anomaly flickered through his mind, though he failed to catch the elusive thread of thought. Stepping up beside Su Yunyu, he gazed at the boundless expanse of the cavern and asked:
“Since the pill cauldron is inside, should we enter right now, Master?”
He remained deeply skeptical that any test left behind by an ancient mighty figure could be so trivially simple.
Naturally, Su Yunyu shared that skepticism. Taking a step forward, he cast a sidelong glance at Xiao Shuying and instructed:
“I shall go inside to inspect it first. Wait for me here.”
With those words, the moment Su Yunyu took his first step across the threshold, a line of characters abruptly materialized across the stone cavern entrance:
“Only a single person may pass through this place.”
Su Yunyu stared at the glowing inscription, his mouth twitching slightly as he turned back to offer Xiao Shuying a helpless look:
“You needn’t enter; this place only permits a single occupant.”
At this point, he genuinely couldn’t be blamed for leaving the Dragon-Heaven protagonist behind outside.
Yet, marching into the unknown without the protagonist’s protagonist-tier fortune backing him up genuinely filled him with a quiet dread.
Regrettably, inviting the Dragon-Heaven protagonist inside was entirely out of the question. Left with no alternative, Su Yunyu had to steel himself, bear the responsibility as vanguard, and step inside with a heavy heart.
Left standing outside the cavern, Xiao Shuying watched as the man’s silhouette gradually dissolved into the enveloping darkness. A mounting sense of foreboding coiled tightly within his chest.
It was an instinctual, primal premonition, signaling the silent approach of imminent danger.
Before he could even steady his racing heartbeat, a familiar rustling sound stirred through the nearby undergrowth, resembling the movement of the Netherfire Pythons from earlier, yet carrying a malice that erupted from the depths of his soul with unprecedented, suffocating intensity.
Xiao Shuying whirled around to look. Emerging from the foliage was a single figure.
It was none other than Song Chi.
His eyes shone brilliantly, and a radiant smile graced his features. He bore no resemblance whatsoever to someone whose life hung by a thread; rather, he looked like a carefree wanderer enjoying a scenic stroll.
Strange, thought Xiao Shuying. The fellow clearly still carries poison within his body, why is there not a single trace of urgency upon him?
Without a sound, Xiao Shuying took a step backward, throwing his entire body into a state of absolute defense.
Seemingly oblivious to the tension, Song Chi strolled forward, glanced toward the hidden dwelling behind Xiao Shuying, and feigned mild astonishment:
“My, the book I read earlier was shockingly accurate. To think the Water-Marsh Immortal’s dwelling is genuinely hidden right here! But Senior Brother, why aren’t you going inside?”
With Su Yunyu out of earshot, Xiao Shuying discarded any remaining pretense of civility:
“What is your true purpose?”
“Senior Brother, what kind of tone is that?” Song Chi chuckled softly:
“I am simply searching for the Azure Firmament Flower, of course.”
Though the words sounded plausible, Xiao Shuying intuitively sensed that the fellow’s true target had nothing to do with any flower.
“Is that so?”
Xiao Shuying made a subtle move to reach for his sound-transmission token, intending to alert Su Yunyu.
Yet the moment his fingers brushed the token, a dark blur flashed across his vision, kicking up a billow of fine dust. Before Xiao Shuying could register the movement, a sharp agony exploded in his chest.
“Cough, cough, cough.” Sent hurtling backward through the air, he crashed heavily against the ground, coughing up a mouthful of bright crimson blood.
Pressing a hand against his ribs, Xiao Shuying felt a terrifying pain threatening to snap his bones. His vision blurred into a dizzying wash of blackness as he forced himself to raise his head and glare toward Song Chi.
He watched as Song Chi curled his lips into a smile. The youthful innocence that had defined his features moments before had completely vanished, replaced by a chilling, cruel malice. Even those eyes, which had previously appeared naive and unworldly, were now filled with a high and mighty arrogance.
It was the cold, detached gaze one might cast upon an insignificant ant. Xiao Shuying had witnessed that exact expression countless times in his life. Clenching his fingers into tight fists, he choked down a mouthful of bloody froth and demanded:
“Who on earth are you?!”
If he were merely an ordinary elder’s disciple, jealousy and malice might explain an attempt on his life; but possessing the terrifying divine might to send him flying with a single blow, he refused to believe such an extraordinary entity could be a mere nobody.
“Why bother troubling yourself with who I am?” Song Chi stepped forward, pressing the sole of his boot mercilessly down onto Xiao Shuying’s chest, pinning him firmly to the earth as though he were nothing more than a pathetic insect incapable of escaping his palm:
“You are about to die anyway.”
Without waiting for Xiao Shuying to react, Song Chi condensed his spiritual breath into a razor-sharp blade and thrust it downward.
Clang! The blow was intercepted dead in its tracks by the defensive magic treasure left behind by Su Yunyu.
Song Chi’s expression darkened slightly, followed by a light, disdainful sneer:
“Your Tianxuan Sect has truly fallen into utter decay. The grand number one person in the world actually took in a worthless piece of trash like you as a disciple, and even gifted you so many precious talismans.”
“Wait.” Catching the underlying implication in those words, Xiao Shuying panted weakly, forcing out the question:
“Do you harbor a deep hatred toward my master?”
Otherwise, why would a completely unremarkable nobody with severed meridians like himself attract such a ruthless, lethal executioner?
“Hatred?” Song Chi burst into sudden laughter, the sound so piercing it drew tears to his eyes:
“No, no, no, you have it completely backward.”
With those words, he once again channeled his spiritual energy, shaping it into twin blades that slashed mercilessly downward.
Crack! The fish-and-bird jade pendant hanging at Xiao Shuying’s waist shattered into pieces instantly.
A rigid stiffness crossed Song Chi’s face, followed by an escalating surge of irritation:
“You certainly carry an endless assortment of trinkets on your person.”
Pinned beneath the relentless pressure, Xiao Shuying was entirely unable to reach his life token. The coppery taste of blood flooded his mouth, while fresh streams of blood welled up continuously from within his chest. He genuinely believed that this time, rather than dying at Su Yunyu’s hands, he was going to meet an ignominious end at the feet of this stranger.
“Who exactly are you?” Xiao Shuying locked his gaze onto Song Chi, his eyes blazing with unyielding defiance. Even as the one pinned beneath the boots, not a single shred of submission could be found in his posture.
“You are not worthy to know me.” Unwilling to waste another breath on idle chatter, Song Chi raised his hand to deliver the final, fatal blow. Yet just as his hand lifted, a deafening bolt of thunder suddenly split the boundless canopy of gloomy clouds overhead.
Song Chi’s movements froze abruptly. He first raised his head to stare at the cracking thunder, then lowered his gaze back to the boy pinned beneath his feet.
Toggling his attention between the sky and the ground, he ground his teeth, seemingly arriving at an agonizing decision.
In the next split second, Xiao Shuying’s consciousness plunged into absolute darkness, dragging him down into total unconsciousness.
The very last memory etched into his fading awareness was the sight of Song Chi retreating into the distance, accompanied by the sound of chaotic, hurried footsteps echoing from within the hidden dwelling.
Warm blood spilled across his lips. In the final abyss of his failing consciousness, only a single desperate thought remained:
This time will you still arrive in time?