As Qian Ye gradually approached the edges of the landmass, the temperature plunged dramatically, and the storms became even fiercer. Disrupting the stability of space, the agitated primordial force of the Void caused Qian Ye’s blood core to beat increasingly intensely. Dread welled up spontaneously in the depths of his being.
This fear came instinctively, from the very fiber of his life-force, a natural reaction toward an ominous environment. Even the ancient clans of old, who possessed superior bloodlines, proceeded with extreme caution when confronting turbulent Void storms and unstable spatial anomalies. At merely the rank of Count, following the old ways of the bloodline clan meant it wasn’t until advancing to the level of Marquis that exploration into the Void even became viable. Even for someone like Qian Ye, who began the refining practices of an Immolator’s Body early, the stage at which an attempt within the Void would be plausible was not until becoming a distinguished Viscount or Marquis class being.
Xiao Zhujiji, meanwhile, awoke from her slumber now, sensing the danger all around them. When she opened her eyes, she saw Qian Ye ascending a sheer peak, high up in the sky already, at over a couple hundred meters tall. That colossal monolith rose in a near-vertical incline, its face polished as smooth and flawless as if meticulously cut and carved by unrelenting blades of ancient times past—there existed absolutely no holds or purchase upon it for anyone to make progress up. Yet Qian Ye utilized his physical superiority, burrowing his fingers right inside and climbing his way along upward despite the adversity.
To the average warleader this height was the absolute brink—the impossible barrier that not even experienced warriors could hope to surpass. These towering spires managed to survive countless centuries of violent, howling gales beating at their sides. In truth, they remained unyielding and intact because the Void-imbued energies over time had caused the surrounding rock formations’ properties to transcend natural rock; their density and strength had already surpassed solid hardened steel. For a mere human warleader, chipping just a handful of times into the terrain would already cause an irreversible depletion of their stored primal energies—and at best they might manage to scale a mere tens of meters. To think ascending all the way to the top was simply impossible.
Just after she opened her eyes, the first thing that met her line of sight was an eerie wavering black band floating unsteadily midair. At the very glance of the mysterious presence that black streak possessed, instantaneously widened her eyes widely in horror, her entire scalp crawling as her hair stood upright, she screamed aloud without restraint.
The terrifying rip in space was a void fissure—not yet fully established into a complete rupture within reality, yet being brushed against—even the glancing edge would deal destruction akin to the most superior grade prismatic weapons forged by masters of ancient times with their unparalleled forging craft. In terms of resilience to damage, while she possessed superior durability that allowed her to resist with sheer might against a god-ranked martial artist’s unbridled attack fist, she still couldn’t stand a shred of this anomaly’s corrosive destruction.
“It’s alright,” Qian Ye said, calmly evoking a sideways lateral burst of momentum, his precise maneuver completely avoided contact with the void rift’s lethal surge, after which Qian Ye proceeded onward without slowing his ascent as he left the rift far, far below them, now beneath.
Using true-sight—being the advanced ocular visualization that allowed clear vision tracking fluctuations of primordial energy forms—it was effortless for Qian Ye to evade dangers posed by rift currents.
“Would you call this house…our home then?” the tiny Zhujiji muttered, her face drained completely pale, still in a trembling fear from the encounter she had so narrowly survived.
“Not remotely—here isn’t home, remember. There’s something we are searching for.”
“What could that something be?”
“Our search concerns something connected very strongly to Nightveil.”
Zhujiji hesitated slightly, “…Fine—I understand.”咬紧 the lower lip with determination visible across her delicate frame while whisper her agreement with the plan.
As Qian Ye persistently climbed skyward once more, mounting waves of uneasiness swarmed heavily in heart. His soul’s unrest began creeping as soon as their arrival in this cursed region, although the vague unease was formless, and its presence mysterious like whispers without origin. Yet just now, upon mentioning of Nightveil’s name, Qian Ye’s blood core was suddenly pierced with a fierce jolt pain, while the dusky aurum blood qi in his being began a restless stirring. Somewhere deep in lineage passed on from the most senior blood-dynasties of eons gone by, it felt as if he had heard… a mournful anguished cry echoing back through generations and epochs!
Was that the blood-chosen call of the Crimson River, or a reaction of inheritance blood resonance from their shared line? Even with the understanding of the traditions inherited by vampiric nobilities within Qian Ye, he remained unsure; after all these years the depth of true mastery remained ever-elusive—half-formed half-realized like grasping mist with an uncertain mind.
This auric-hued blood qi currently present in Qians being was something unique—having been blended with his other previous essences of blood and then further refined and purified through the ancient volume inherited of the Song lineage. Tracing the history back through countless generations—such as this was unheard—an unheard-of novelty that never took form within even the grandest bloodclan annals. Considering further how few ever completed the path to mastery described within Song Family’s recorded teachings, this was, beyond argument, a novel mutation in lineage evolution never recorded before.
Right now however, with full concentration fixed on this climb, this towering peak before him was unmatched compared to any around—he extended above all surroundings by hundreds upon hundreds more meters, boldly isolated and proudly stood, unshakable amidst this Void itself, and so with arrival upon its crest, a vantage point would reveal panoramic dominion upon which the nearby terrain could fall easily under visual survey. It had been claimed widely in passing accounts—that an Evershadow bloodclan vessel had met its fate falling here in this broken sky. But as his awareness grew more and more keen on the brutal surroundings in these outer edge lands here between light and dark, he found his doubts towards those accounts intensifying.
Moreover though, the craftsmanship put into every design decision and structural component of each vampire warship left those other faction warships in sheer envy—ranking unmatched among the Darkness-aligned powers in their mechanical engineering genius. Even though within the Abyssal kin lineages, only with massive unavailability, would the Grand Lord-class flagships barely manage comparable quality production, leaving others hopelessly behind in capability.
It was therefore likely that what these hired mercenaries had witnessed from a distance, amidst the outer regions—were merely sightings during heated skirmishes where they glimpsed such vessels under attack or descending in flames. Yet without confirmation from proximity, certainty upon the question whether the vessel was indeed lost within the void remained highly questionable. Taking into account the warcraft’s design capabilities for emergency landings upon hard landings upon habitable terrain if not utterly obliterated beyond recognition and control, the question of its survival became entirely plausible again.
Even if lofty, this peak—was at last beneath his feet, his feet finally touching its surface atop under the persistence in continual progress in his climbing.
Atop the summit, fierce winds howled with relentless fury while the biting ice and snow—flurrying sideways as the gust battered Qian Ye relentlessly in full fury as if bullets fired continuously towards his frame. The white flurry drifting skyward was not actually pure soft snow in the literal sense—rather, it were minute fragments of condensed, highly structured crystalline structures. Through exposure under the primal energies’ sustained exposure—each of those shards acquired similar hardness compared to a well-forged and refined plate of elite tempered alloys.
This plateau at pinnacle proved unnaturally smooth and vast, so even its surface mirrored a flat reflection like the smoothest of reflective metal sheets. The sheer power present inside these gusts—so unyielding in its force—could easily drag away even multi-toned colossal rocks caught by accident in its violent winds’ grasp.
Similarly influenced by the primordial infusions from Void energies and their interactions with these crystalline grains rubbing continuously in violent contact against surrounding rocky terrain—the entire ridgehead of this peak was ultimately carved and polished into an ultra-reflective pristine luster, like glistening glass.
Qian Ye, upon cresting the summit and standing at the very top at last, experienced a sudden surprise when he almost got swept away unintentionally. Only the sheer speed of immediate reflex reaction saved him in time—Qian Ye hastily yanking ‘Eastpeak (Dongyue)’from containment storage and swiftly driving its massive form blade-deep into the unyielding stone of the terrain’s crust, using its embedded form as leverage. This stabilizing move halted his imminent danger as the storm howled around wildly.
Once stabilizing with ‘Eastpeak’s’ help, he adjusted to the intense environmental turbulence and gradually regained ability to freely perform his own movements within this hostile landscape.
The view available from this position was impressively clear and extensive indeed—even through the blizzard and gales obscuring vision—Qian Ye’s sight encompassed an area spanning dozens of kilometers effortlessly.
Scanning the directions instinctively while looking first towards Landbound boundaries where only swirling violent gusts of Void tempests howled with no trace of intelligent presence. Turning then, focusing in another distinct direction—there among the blizzard of icy projectiles, an anomaly briefly flickered into existence. Just as quickly it faded beyond visibility—repeating the brief emergence several times—Qian Ye was no ordinary observer—he noticed these strange manifestations clearly, otherwise they’d have vanished unseen.
Indeed those blood qi pulses—despite their great distance and appearing amidst this violent snowfall—were unmistakably traces emitted by ancient and extremely pure-blooded aristocrats locked in violent battle. Their aura carried an ancient pedigree unmistakably from one of those dozen or so of the Original Clans of Bloodline descent. It diverged stark contrast to the diluted inferior blood auras emitted within neutral territories from lesser mongrels.
Encountering such vampire presence—and finding them in active conflict—it wasn’t needed for explanation for one to conclude their activities were most certainly linked to whatever fate had befallen this missing warship.
With that certainty in knowledge Qian Ye hesitated no longer—leaping downward from the peak in one graceful motion, using the storming winds to his advantage through aerial gliding techniques, rapidly closing the distance, swiftly approaching in direction of where the battle continued raging below.
Within moments—after a prolonged duration enduring the storm-laden flight and evading the chaotic eddy currents that plagued this realm—Qian Ye finally regained stable traction once more upon ground below once again.
In the terrain a considerable few kilometers distant, there awaited a low hill. The center of that landscape was where the actual field of carnage had unfolded—evidenced clearly from this distance; over a dozen blood Qi streams danced violently in all directions across the field, several of whom—each individually surging skyward as powerful auric trails extending vertically into the heavens—as powerful and authoritative as if each bearing the strength of a full-fledged Viscount!
In the intricate hierarchy and power scales of vampiric nobility, a Marquis ranked clearly within elite territory and formed the fundamental structural backbone holding together any ancient bloodline dynasty in the greater Eversleep continent power structure.
Even the act of deploying a single Viscount-tier figure implied something significant indeed had occurred. Yet here in the edge regions of neutrality’s dominion—it was a shocking sight indeed to witness a scenario unfold wherein no fewer than three full-blood Viscounts had arrived upon battlefields in confrontation against a mysterious target. Each one was defying the threat of being completely eliminated utterly by the Crimson Throne—the blood empire’s ultimate governing force. For them to be taking this extreme risk in the name of battle, something invaluable was clearly in question of retrieval within these depths of wilderness—what exactly was important enough to force Evershadow nobles’ involvement on such grave risk terms?
Even though currently possessing combat prowess capable of matching average Viscounts when evaluated by traditional measures—Qian Ye understood clearly, in facing three nobles of higher Marquis class and over dozens or so blood warrior of various titles and rankings—it was a fight he held little chance to prevail openly in direct headfirst combat.
Consequently, he settled with remaining hidden for the moment—the idea being to approach stealthily without alerting those ahead during ongoing chaotic battle, observing for patterns and potential strategic opportunities. When the moment arose wherein this battlefield’s struggle tied into events that held connection towards him personally—that was when he’d act.
In these opportunities—he’d exploit sudden sneak assault to deploy the Primordial Lance with a strike aimed straight through to cripple or outright murder one Marquis first. Once the balance of forces shifted even slightly, perhaps then would a window of potential advantage emerge.
At present however, amidst chaotic wind and snowfall and swirling turbulent ambient energies surrounding—added by front lines embroilment in furious fighting, Qians arrival went entirely unnoticed. Therefore infiltrating silently toward center stage posed no issue whatsoever.
Yet as quietly as that was going however, just right after he masked his aura and approached, right into the heart of battlefield—the sudden eruption occurred of a sudden surge of a particular blood aura.
Its presence was not that extraordinary in itself in terms of sheer power, but within this essence it carried an air of profound and solemn majesty which overwhelmed and oppressed all nearby presences present in that arena at that very same time.
At its manifestation into dominance, the other once-proud and freely flowing aura forms within the conflict space all abruptly were dimmed, even the original triumvirate’s of the three Marquis class beings dimmed significantly by this new presence. As the others faded into insignificance, no wonder the others within the melee fell silent into irrelevance.
The mysterious aura quivered power through three powerful waves of pulses that rolled out across the area—it was its third and most powerful that erupted outward like a lance piercing into the heavens like an auroral light bursting through darkness—a clarion call that split the sky open into radiant clarity.
Along with that overwhelming burst into existence came an instant suppression: one of three Viscounts’ auras was now all but erased; their presence reduced to near non-existence.
When Qian Ye first caught sensation and recognition to whose blood essence was present there—his entire body was struck hard, stunned as if a massive force gripped him within its unyielding grip! The pulse from his own heart-like Blood Core roared and trembled furiously as the mysterious aurum essence reacted by bursting suddenly alive. It wasn’t mere instinct and rivalry triggered instinctively due to one Kingblood noble recognizing another—this was deeper, more intimate than mere lineage-based rivalry. The feeling of familiarity burned across mind with a haunting sense of nostalgia, a painful recognition as ancient as the bones of the earth.
On that mountanetop of icy desolation, the lone combatant engaged in fierce and desperate defiance against countless Evershadow vampiric noble foes turned to be—Nightveil!
Yet had she not left already to find again the sacred lands of her kind to reclaim former status within the hierarchy’s Holy Peaks? What could have brought her here then back into danger’s arms so far—once more locked again within battle against these very own dark ones? She had once again attained no greater rank than mere common Count, but now—surrounded by three overwhelming enemy Counts turned traitors led by their Marquis-commanding masters. Even having activated ancient legacy memories and mastery beyond even prior capabilities—she fought with elegance, perfection incarnate—but at present was caught on a razor-thin margin between life and death with every strike exchanged.
At that moment, thoughts of confusion and inquiry were pushed back as meaningless distractions inside that battlefield.
Nothing remained within Qians soul’s landscape now.
There was one singular thought, pulsing with the same fervorous intensity as the golden core hidden within his being.
She—was under complete siege.
Above the sky, above the very heavens themselves—a brilliant beam of aurum brilliance erupted directly into skyward ascent, like some ancient beast screaming in unification call upon mountain ranges.
Rays shot outward, an ear-shatter roar like oceans breaking and mountains shaking echoed far and wide until even surrounding gales paused in fearful awe before this rising tide!
As it burst forward, Qian Ye blurred into multiple shadowed afterimages, a spear-like projectile aimed directly upon its battlefield destination.
Every combatant within that crimson carnage was struck by a sudden pulse—an instinctual warning. They halted midattack, heads instinctively turning to the sky behind themselves from which new forces stirred.
One ancient appearing Marquis vampiric leader looked first stunned, and then allowed lips curl into a cruel sneer.
So the blood qi emitted by this approaching individual, although undeniably impressive in strength, was not sufficient in itself to warrant anything but amusement—a noble class ranking of simple Count, perhaps only a single class short—but in reality—the chasm bridging the rank difference between Marquis and Count was unfathomably wide and unforgiving to overcome for lesser contenders. As for the golden blood aura signature this invader possessed—never once had this noble seen such aura from any combat scenario; likely a simple half-breed mutt from among the neutral zones—probably the result of diluted bloodline tainting their once pristine vampiric noble genetics.
Such a pitifully weak being daring storm into this formation’s frontlines and expect a victory?
Qian Ye moved fast, so fast that in the span between heartbeats—arrived already at near foot distance to the battlefield foot base—accelerated faster rather than slowing down! A one-way collision destined toward peak!
The wrinkled old Marquis’ sagging eyelids twitched upwards once. His lips—twist deeper into sinister smirk lines. With calculated menace—he raised a one-handed blade; his pale near-colorless eyes locked onto Qian Ye like hawking raptors scanning for final strike.
Two Vampiric Viscount ranked duelists darted out forward—position themselves at vanguard positions—they lunged toward his approach trajectory—intent on intercepting QianYe.
Their rapiers shot forth lightning quick, blades slicing the air with pinpoint speed, aiming at ribcages and vulnerable organs with precision so terrifyingly well-trained—they bore the mark of aristocratic elite training from within the highest echelon schools.
This battle’s opening moment—Qian Ye held no intention to waste energy upon petty skirmish level pawns, not today, not with her at bay’s edge calling silently for salvation.
His war yell echoed forth into wind and snow—qi aura unleashed full bore into unrestricted burst—Eastpeak cleaved wide into full-circle sweeping stroke.
A massive cutting arc surged out over thirty meter’s expanse, severing both the opposing noble-ranked duelists in half as if they were nothing more than weak paper cutouts. One clean strike; their bodies bisected, and reduced to dual spurting stumps in that crimson aftermath of death.
In the battle formation’s rearguards, a tertiary-ranked vampiric Baron was poised mid-step, ready to enter the fight.
At the unexpected, shocking destruction meted out upon his fellow soldiers—he recoiled with paralyzing alarm. Even the leg raised mid-motion froze midair like stone statue. As Qian Ye streaked forward with unstoppable fury, he stood rooted like a statue, watching him race past—yet remained frozen utterly—without even the impulse to attempt pursuit.
Qian Ye gave no indication he had noticed at all—it showed through disinterest so complete, his momentum didn’t slow by even a millimeters per second—like passing an irrelevant dust mote within rushing winds.
Not until the rushing shadow vanished far overhead, was that tertiary-ranked Baron able to collect himself—left completely unable to grasp why had such overwhelming, unshakable dread gripped him so strongly during that brief passage of fate. After all, he was known among his clan circles as among those core elite figures, considered strong and battle-competence hardened. Even while facing this invader—his instinct was one more aligned with self-preservation avoidance than combat challenge initiation from the start despite elite status.
The sinister old marquis’s countenance displayed irritation now—its expression darkened into a furious snarl. The moment the noble shifted his stance and disappeared with such incredible suddenness.
Before next visible—he re-routed interception trajectory, materializing as barrier directly in between Qian Ye trajectory.
Raising his voice in furious cry, the vampire noble shouted:
“From where do you sprout up—filthy blood-tainted mongrel!?”
Qian Ye glanced briefly toward the brocade pinned upon the nobleman’s jacket’s collar region. In response, he voiced out in icy calm:
“You carry the bloodline line of Maelant! Tread your path back before the opportunity escapes to do so.”
The withered old Marquis did not become angered—he gave voice now to chilling laughter.
Yet even as mirth danced across the surface, the corners of his lips merely dragged still further down, distorting the very definition of horror as he chuckled malevolent mirth into the howling snowfall and bloodstained sky.
“Cackle, cackle.”
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