Chapter Fifty-Nine: No One Came After Us

The mournful cry stretched on, its sharpness amplified in the tranquil forest. Su Yizhao did not hesitate; like a phantom, he darted toward the source of the sound. Amidst the tangled woods, his movement was unhindered. Within three or four breaths, as the cry faded from piercing to inaudible, Su Yizhao caught sight of Chi Xiangdong.

Chi Xiangdong was in a pitiful state. Though not dead, his body was suspended from a tall tree, flesh and blood in tatters. Eight cultivators lurked throughout the woods, unleashing flying swords. Each flash of sword light stripped another piece of flesh from his body. His mastery in body cultivation allowed him to endure the pain of such torment; it would not elicit a scream from him. What truly made him cry out was the torture of his soul.

Ripples spread through the air as waves of soul attacks surged into his forehead. Chi Xiangdong’s eyes were tightly shut, sweat the size of beans mingling with blood, sliding down his face. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, as if a dying ember had flared. In his gaze appeared the silhouette of Su Yizhao.

Su Yizhao did not hesitate; as he arrived, he shielded Chi Xiangdong with his own body. His ten fingers moved rapidly, nine golden flying swords transformed into streams of light and shot into the forest.

A series of sharp sounds, like rain falling on leaves, echoed as trees collapsed. Eight cultivators emerged with sinister grins, but on the tree, there was no longer any sign of their victim.

“Trying to escape?” one cultivator sneered. “Send word to Elder Tang. With his cultivation at the pinnacle of the Six Divine Realms, he will surely stop this man!”

Su Yizhao wasted no time; he hoisted Chi Xiangdong and sped off to the left. He was confident he could slay the eight cultivators in a short time, but he could not guarantee preventing them from sending a message. If a Tang clan cultivator of the Void Realm were to arrive, escape would be impossible.

Spiritual energy poured unceasingly into Chi Xiangdong’s body. The bleeding had stopped, but the missing flesh could not regenerate so quickly. Yet this was not the most severe injury. The gravest wound was to his soul.

At that moment, Chi Xiangdong seemed to hallucinate, muttering, “Not to the left, go forward...!”

Su Yizhao heard clearly, but did not comply. Forward would lead them directly to the Tang clan—why go that way?

Both sides were flanked by snowy mountains—surely the snow mountains were preferable! In the southwestern borderlands, snow had fallen, but he had never seen true snow-capped peaks. Now, he dared not hold back; his spiritual energy surged to the fullest. Instantly, shadows in the forest linked into a line, gradually receding into the distance...

Near the forest, two mountain ranges stretched over a hundred thousand miles, perpetually blanketed in snow. The ranges resembled the arms of a giant, embracing a valley within which towers and pavilions clustered. Above the grand gate, a bold “Tang” character gazed down at the land before it.

Ten thousand miles from the Tang clan’s left flank, atop the snowy peaks, two figures surveyed the earth below.

“What dangers lurk in these snow mountains?” Su Yizhao asked.

Seventeen days had passed since their escape from the woods. Though Chi Xiangdong’s flesh had yet to fully regenerate, his spirit was much restored.

Chi Xiangdong wore an expression of confusion. “These mountains often see wandering cultivators and elite disciples from sects passing through. Why is it that now, not a soul can be seen?”

Su Yizhao had his reservations about Chi Xiangdong’s doubts but did not rebuke him. He gazed at the snowy summit ahead, his voice bold: “So this is the snow mountain—magnificent indeed! Let us cultivate atop that peak for a few days before we move on.”

Chi Xiangdong protested urgently, “No, Fellow Su, we should avoid this place of trouble!”

“Ha! Fellow Chi, follow me!”

Su Yizhao, braving the swirling snow, shot toward the summit like an arrow. After circling the peak, he carved an ice cave midway up the mountain. “Rest and heal, Fellow Chi. I must enter seclusion to cultivate.”

He slipped into the ice cave, sealed the entrance, and fell silent.

Chi Xiangdong murmured softly, “Strange... The Ice Marrow of the snow mountain has always drawn cultivators like moths to flame, sparking fierce contention—could it be gone now, or have people simply stopped fighting for it?”

With that, he found a spot and burrowed into the thick snow.

No sooner had Su Yizhao sealed the ice cave than he sat cross-legged, his heart racing with the thrill of escape. Though none had pursued them, his brief clash with the Six Divine Realms cultivator had nearly exhausted the spiritual energy in his dantian. After seventeen days of relentless flight, he was on the verge of collapse.

Fortunately, Chi Xiangdong now trusted him implicitly, never suspecting the daily weakening of his strength.

He probed into his storage ring with his spiritual sense and gave a sudden tug.

A cascade of three hundred thousand spirit stones fell from above, burying him completely.

Rich spiritual energy rushed into his body, gathering at his chest. From now until the mark upon his chest left him, he could not cast any spell.

The mark on his chest absorbed the energy ravenously, while the pentagonal pool of profound energy in his dantian was dry and empty.

There were only four hundred thousand spirit stones left in the ring—once these were gone, he would have nothing but lower-grade profound stones to rely on.

As he pondered, some stones were drained of energy and crumbled to dust.

He drew out a ring and searched it with his spiritual sense.

Three jade slips flew out.

“These Tang clan cultivators are of considerable power and status—perhaps there’s a sixth-tier technique among them!”

He pressed his spiritual sense to his forehead, his gaze dimming with disappointment.

“Tang Clan Armaments Manual”—so the Tang clan is merely a family of weapon smiths?

He had no interest in weapon forging and tossed the slip aside, picking up the second.

“Catalogue of Supreme Divine Weapons”—discarded.

“Notes on Refining Void Treasures”—cast away!

If that finely dressed cultivator were revived and saw such treatment, he’d surely die of rage once more.

“Is this all?” Su Yizhao scoured the storage ring with his spiritual sense.

But the vast ring contained no other technique slips—only a mountain of premium-grade profound stones.

He needed those stones, of course, but what he needed most was a sixth-tier cultivation technique!

Su Yizhao brooded—he was worse off than Tang Wen.

No, wait!

He suddenly realized something.

The ring overflowed with premium-grade profound stones—his spiritual sense counted ten million.

And those nine flying swords, able to clash with his own without leaving a mark, were surely supreme divine weapons.

No wonder they were a family of smiths!

Su Yizhao mused inwardly.

He did not know that, were the Tang clan to hear this, they would cough blood in outrage.

The Tang clan’s strength may be lacking, but in forging, none within a million miles could rival them.

The sound of shattering stones echoed through the ice cave.

Su Yizhao gradually sank into meditation.

The mark upon his chest slowly expanded, its purple glow deepening.

Outside, the wind and snow persisted, piling atop the cave entrance, sealing it layer by layer.

The blizzard howled, and in the far distance, the sounds of fierce combat seemed to arise, only to be quickly swallowed by the storm…