On the sandy ground, the footprints were faint, light, and somewhat indistinct, yet unmistakably left by a humanoid creature.
Pale, wispy mist curled upward, dispersing ahead—ethereal and mysterious. Even with the Heavenly Eye, one could not see its end, only the faint tendrils of fog.
It was eerily quiet there, utterly unlike the Thunder Abyss!
Here, lightning flashed and thunder roared, ceaselessly bombarding the abyss. The deafening peals formed a tempestuous ocean, all of it coalescing into electric brilliance—waves crashing skyward, surging endlessly!
Shi Hao and the others had reached the edge of the Thunder Abyss. Looking back at the cobblestone path and the sea of lightning, their hearts trembled—they had nearly been struck dead within it.
Making it through was sheer luck.
“If not for the protection of that golden ancient tree, we would all be dead. Even a Supreme Being would have turned to ashes!” Sanzang said, his usual calm shaken by lingering fear.
Behind them, the lightning now shimmered with myriad colors, far more terrifying than before. A single strike from those waves would mean certain death!
Thankfully, they had escaped.
Had they truly left the Thunder Abyss so easily? It felt unreal—such overwhelming terror, yet their passage had seemed almost effortless.
Even though they had been grievously wounded, their bodies pierced and bleeding profusely, surviving such a death trap felt too simple!
“Stay cautious. Don’t fall in the darkness before dawn,” Shenming warned.
Glancing back, the Thunder Pools floated indistinctly, barely visible yet exuding an oppressive aura. It was a relief they hadn’t erupted—the consequences would have been unimaginable.
The cobblestone path stretched into the distance, unyielding amidst the thunder tribulation, enduring eternally. Who had built it?
What kind of place was this? As the lightning momentarily dispersed, revealing the path, they scrutinized it intently.
Near the path lay unrecognizable remains—likely once peerless experts who had perished here, unlike the fortunate trio.
“Is this cobblestone path artificially forged?” Shenming speculated.
If man-made, it was astonishing. What purpose could it serve here, amidst the Thunder Abyss?
“Could it be to collect Thunder Tribulation Liquid?” Shi Hao ventured, though the thought was chilling.
Thunder Pools were nearly mythical—how many could claim one? Throughout history, only Shi Hao had ever captured one in the Imperial Pass.
If someone had created the Thunder Abyss just to harvest Thunder Tribulation Liquid, the implications were horrifying.
“Thunder Pools are uncontrollable. This path must exist to cross the abyss, not to gather liquid,” Sanzang concluded.
He added, “Look—without the path, the lightning would be dozens of times fiercer!”
Shi Hao nodded. The path’s lightning was milder; straying from it would be far deadlier.
“Let’s go.”
They stepped to the abyss’s edge, one foot from the sandy ground.
Sanzang cautiously extended his hand, sensing no fluctuations in the eerily silent terrain.
But as he stepped forward, yellow mist erupted violently—like thunder incarnate. He recoiled, his boot shattered, flesh torn and bleeding.
Even a Golden Burial Warrior’s formidable body had been wounded.
“Worse than the thunder tribulation!” Shenming gasped.
The mist held unknown dangers—what lethal force lurked within?
“Deadly intent!”
Sanzang’s expression darkened. This was a fight for survival, with no guarantee of success.
When Shenming tested the air with a weapon, yellow mist surged again, obliterating it like a tribulation.
She turned to Shi Hao. “Does your willow branch still work?”
The three-foot-long branch, once radiant, now bore golden edges from absorbing the golden tree’s power.
Shi Hao tested it. The mist recoiled against the branch’s glow, forming a protective barrier.
“It works! Let’s advance!” Shenming rejoiced.
Under the barrier, they crossed the sand unscathed—yet left no footprints.
Even stomping failed to mark the ground.
“Whose footprints are these? A long-lived being, at least,” Shi Hao murmured.
Ahead, a stone tablet bore ancient script:
“Warning: Proceeding further invites greater peril. Few can reach that place.”
Sanzang gasped, reading on: “All who follow tread these faint footprints. None leave their own.”
Shi Hao was stunned. Since antiquity, no one had left a mark?
Whose footprints endured across epochs?
A peerless existence, unmatched through time!
The path grew silent, the thunder fading unnaturally soon.
Along the way, visions of past explorers collapsing ahead appeared.
Soon, red sand replaced yellow. Blood mist erupted as they stepped forward, met by thunderous retaliation.
“Without the willow, we’d perish even ten times stronger,” Shenming said, paling.
Lightning targeted the mist, as if purging corruption.
“Does the Thunder Abyss suppress this blood mist?” they wondered.
“Where is Willow Deity leading us?” Shi Hao muttered.
After enduring deafening thunder, they reached solid ground—safe at last.
The willow’s glow faded; danger had passed.
“What’s that?” Shenming exclaimed.
Ahead, a dam stretched across the land. A desiccated corpse hung over it, half on their side.
Its blood still glowed, suffused with immortal qi!
Approaching, their bodies nearly shattered from the pressure—True Immortal blood, potent even now.
They staggered back, bleeding. The blood’s majesty demanded worship.
Only the willow’s light shielded them.
“That corpse is withered, yet its spilled blood retains such power. The body itself would be catastrophic,” Sanzang said gravely.
“Star remnants!” Shenming pointed.
Beyond the dam lay colossal star fragments, overlooked beside the blood’s allure.
“Did stars fall when this being died?” Sanzang mused.
Another corpse hung on the dam—long dead, yet preserved.
What nightmare realm was this?
Had Willow Deity crossed the dam?
Shi Hao’s mind reeled. This ancient land defied comprehension.
Tai Sui Yellow Amulet Paper FuLu Taoist Love Talisman Traditional Chinese Spiritual Charm Attracting Love Protecting Marriage