Behind Gao Qianyuan, a gigantic insect Dharma image emerged, holding a strange insignia resembling a short sword but not quite one. His feet hovered an inch above the ground; his aura resembled an endless sea, continuous and gentle, yet brewing a terrifying storm within its calmness. A single droplet could pierce stone, and an ocean could destroy the world.
Sensing this energy, Lan Jingtian, known as the “Earth-Covering Divine Dragon,” also manifested his Dharma image—a dark, nearly lightless massive sphere, its surface extremely smooth, as if the earth had curved and collapsed following some natural force or principle. The surrounding void instantly contracted toward him, seemingly attempting to form a sphere as well. Light bent and refracted, creating a surreal, demonic realm.
Between them, Meng Qi held a scabbard in his left hand, his back straight. Though his Dharma image was not revealed, his martial cultivation energy, guided by his martial will, surged from his Niwan Palace, piercing the heavens, stirring winds and clouds, radiating vigor and vitality, repelling dark and sinister forces. Any such force that approached was instantly torn apart.
The three masters’ extraordinary auras collided, gathering dark clouds within a radius of dozens of miles, with black lightning flashing, creating an atmosphere of chaos and demonic dance.
In this tense standoff, where whoever moved first would face a joint attack from the other two, Gao Qianyuan and Lan Jingtian suddenly saw “Crazy Blade” Su Meng leisurely turn around, severing the entangling energy that had bound him. It was as if he had been the source of everything, exuding ease and freedom, untouched by worldly dust.
As his energy concealed itself, both Gao Qianyuan and Lan Jingtian felt a sudden emptiness in their hearts, a nauseating sensation as if they would vomit blood. Their prepared attacks momentarily lost their target.
Seeing Su Meng brazenly turn his back on them, Gao Qianyuan and Lan Jingtian felt the unpredictability of their opponent. Even though Su Meng now concealed his energy, appearing completely unguarded and vulnerable, they still needed to proceed cautiously, refraining from rash attacks that might expose their hidden weaknesses.
Though Lan Jingtian’s group had opened their acupoints, the entangling energy had already created a suffocating atmosphere and altered the sky’s appearance, making the danger evident. Yet to them, “Crazy Blade” Su Meng turned casually, seemingly indifferent to his opponents, showing no sign of entanglement, making it impossible for enemies to resist attacking.
However, the anticipated fierce assault never came, and everything remained eerily calm, as if the previous tension had been an illusion.
Meng Qi smiled and said, “This place is dangerous; I’ll escort you out first.”
With that, he lifted his long blade and walked slowly, not even glancing at Gao Qianyuan and Lan Jingtian. They hesitated, torn between attacking and caution, ultimately refraining from action.
The blue-robed man and his female companion felt their hearts pounding, suppressing their confusion and quickly following Meng Qi out of the golden tent.
The group walked neither too slowly nor too quickly, yet Lan Jingtian and Gao Qianyuan remained unable to strike, even though Meng Qi never turned around, always presenting his back to them.
“It’s only been a short while, but he already feels unfathomable…” Gao Qianyuan murmured inwardly as he looked toward Lan Jingtian.
In silent understanding, both simultaneously concealed their auras. One’s body disintegrated into the Formless Sword Gu, merging into the void, while the other vanished into the earth, leaving no trace.
Lan Jingtian was aware that his opponent’s cultivation technique was peculiar, capable of killing silently and invisibly, seemingly similar to the legendary blue-blooded men. However, he felt no fear, as his own earth-moving technique and related Zongshi Lingyu (Grandmaster Domain) gave him an advantage—after all, earth could overcome water.
Hiding underground, Lan Jingtian fully sensed the minute changes in nearby earth-moving power while continuously shifting positions.
Suddenly, a distant chill arrived, carrying an indescribable impurity, as if the thick earth had transformed into a ghostly, shadowy soil.
The sensation vanished instantly, but Lan Jingtian already felt a subtle excitement, quickly moving toward the golden tent, arriving at the area where the former Eternal Cult shamans had been stationed.
Emerging from underground, he unsurprisingly saw the nine-fingered Gao Qianyuan, who seemed to have been searching nearby.
Remaining cautious, Lan Jingtian observed the surroundings, combining received information and the previous sensation to determine the exact location.
After a while, he glanced at the vigilant Gao Qianyuan, countless thoughts flashing through his mind. Ultimately, he chose not to temporarily retreat but instead knelt on one knee, clenched his right fist, and summoned swirling dark brown earth to strike the ground fiercely.
The ground did not shake, rise, or emit any collision sound. Instead, it silently cracked, revealing a bottomless fissure filled with intertwined black and dark green foul and cold mist, seemingly leading to a terrifying and strange place.
“It’s indeed here…” Lan Jingtian exhaled.
Previously, he had captured one of Gourdo’s grandsons, who, though not particularly powerful, held a high status and was aware of the remnants of the “Yanmeng Evil God Array” set up by the Impermanence Sect. Although the rift connecting to the Nine Nether had been sealed by an unstoppable force, a demonic land had formed between their world and the boundless Nine Nether. This land remained hidden underground and would take anywhere from several years to decades to fully recover.
The golden tent housed numerous treasures and “secrets” that couldn’t be stored in bags and were hard to shield from detection. Carrying them while escaping would be as noticeable as a firefly in the dark, and neither the golden tent warriors nor the Eternal Cult shamans were willing to destroy them. Thus, a group had taken these items and hidden them in the demonic land. Anyone who found them would receive immense rewards, potentially including divine weapons or formation diagrams.
As an elder of the Beggar Clan, Lan Jingtian had always had a poor reputation—being greedy, selfish, and shielding his subordinates who engaged in misconduct. After extracting the intelligence, he hastily rushed to the golden tent and only considered the balance of power between the two sides after confirming the existence of the demonic land.
That group had at least two Grandmasters (Zongshi), and although Lan Jingtian’s cultivation method was unique, granting him significant control over earth-moving power and confidence in defeating two Grandmasters (Zongshi) together, killing or capturing them to prevent them from fleeing with the treasures and secrets would be extremely difficult. Thus, this nine-fingered blue-blooded man could serve as a temporary ally, first eliminating the golden tent warriors and Eternal Cult shamans before discussing further plans. If their strengths were evenly matched, they could split the spoils.
With these thoughts racing through his mind, Lan Jingtian did not say much and directly dove into the fissure emitting black and dark green mist. Gao Qianyuan, expression indifferent, glanced coldly before following inside without hesitation.
His Dharma image emerged, the void contracting into a sphere, the thick, foul mist drawn elsewhere. Lan Jingtian effortlessly stepped onto slightly soft soil.
It was a sloping downward path, the soil mixed with dark red, nearly black blood, appearing soft and muddy. The deeper he went, the denser the cold air became, the surroundings freezing into white frost, and the cave ceiling adorned with icicles.
Lan Jingtian felt a slight surprise; this was an environment highly advantageous to him. His cultivation method and physique were not greatly affected by the extreme cold, but the blue-blooded men might not fare as well.
Although the cold originated from the “water element,” blue-blooded men, unless reaching a certain level, would be more susceptible to freezing or stiffening when encountering cold beyond their limits, their structures differing from ordinary humans. Their strength would significantly diminish, forcing them to divert more energy to alter the environment.
Gao Qianyuan, resembling a drifting willow fluff, moved through the cold air, his eyes devoid of emotion, a faint smirk on his lips, as if mocking Lan Jingtian.
His essence was the Formless Sword Gu, a fusion of metal and water, far from an ordinary blue-blooded man. Extreme cold would affect him, but not to the extent Lan Jingtian imagined.
Each harboring hidden motives, they warily advanced, watching each other and the concealed dangers.
After a while, both simultaneously halted, glancing behind.
In their minds, precisely at the edge of their perception, a powerful surge of blood and energy pierced the heavens, its sharp blade intent severing the spreading consciousness, openly revealing its presence.
“‘Crazy Blade’ Su Meng!” The name simultaneously surfaced in their minds, as if they could visualize the scene.
“Crazy Blade” Su Meng, clad in black with one hand behind his back and the other gripping a long blade, strode forward with deliberate arrogance. He appeared to be tracking them without bothering to conceal his presence, exuding an air of readiness to close the distance at any moment for a lethal strike—an overwhelming pressure radiating from him.
His distance was precisely calculated, exactly at the threshold of their tolerance. One step closer would provoke retaliation, while one step further would approach concealment, failing to generate such evident pressure. Like a wolf driving a flock of sheep, he waited for them to exhaust themselves before acting calmly.
Lan Jingtian instinctively exchanged a glance with Gao Qianyuan, both wishing the other would turn to attack and eliminate the hidden danger. However, they were not even true allies, let alone willing to take risks for each other.
Since the golden tent warriors were still unfound, Lan Jingtian calmed his mind, remained vigilant, and decided to temporarily ignore “Crazy Blade” Su Meng.
Deng, Deng, Deng—each footstep seemed to directly stomp on Lan Jingtian’s heart, intensifying the pressure until he couldn’t help gritting his teeth. “Crazy Blade” Su Meng was overly arrogant. His manner and approach treated them as if they were nothing, merely waiting for the opportunity to strike or driving them ahead to scout for him!
Just then, he halted his steps, for ahead was no path. There stood a pitch-black stone door, its surface crystallized with ice.
Had the demonic land ended here?
Where were the golden tent warriors?
Had they entered behind this door?
Was this a demonic gate leading to the Nine Nether?
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