Ningzhou in the Dongyu Kingdom of Tiannan was an unremarkable small state adjacent to Changzhou, where the Fallen Demon Valley was located.
Unlike the vast, dense mountain ranges of Changzhou, Ningzhou was mostly barren with yellow earth and sparse vegetation, with few trees or rivers. As a result, cultivators residing here were scarce, limited to a few minor cultivation families who occupied the meager and inferior spiritual veins scattered across the state. These families lived in relative peace, as no one contested their meager resources.
In the southwest of Ningzhou lay a mountain range called Spirit Qilin Mountain, one of the few spiritual veins in the state. Though the mountain spanned over a hundred li, the actual spiritual vein covered only about ten li. Only the main peak and two nearby smaller peaks were barely suitable for cultivation. Yet, despite the limited space, three cultivation families—one large and two small—coexisted here, each occupying one of the three peaks.
The Huang, Li, and Wang families, forced to settle in this spiritually barren region, were all minor clans of little renown. Even the strongest among them, the Huang family, had only two Foundation Establishment cultivators, let alone any Core Formation experts. The rest of their disciples were low-level Qi Condensation cultivators, mostly at the third or fourth layer. Additionally, the three families had thousands of non-cultivating members who had to reside outside the mountain’s spiritual influence.
Despite their close proximity, the three families maintained peaceful relations, even intermarrying over the past century. The reason for their harmony lay in an unnamed mystical spiritual spring atop the main peak. Though not as rare as a true Spirit Eye Spring, this spring had remarkable properties. When its water was used to brew spiritual tea with certain herbs, it could cleanse the meridians of low-level Qi Condensation disciples (below the sixth layer), greatly benefiting their future cultivation. This was why the families stubbornly remained despite the poor conditions.
However, the spring was not available year-round. It only surfaced for a few fixed days annually, producing a pitifully small amount of water, insufficient for all three families. After deliberation, the elders decided to seal the spring, opening it only once every decade. A decade’s accumulation provided enough for all three families, coinciding with the emergence of new disciples, ensuring no waste.
Thus, this humble spring bound the three families together, forcing them to cooperate in guarding and utilizing it. Every ten years, they would unseal it to allow their young disciples to benefit from its effects.
On this day, a grand ceremony was being held at the main peak to unseal the spring. Before a towering black cliff, dozens of disciples from the three families stood in rows, their faces alight with excitement.
These disciples ranged from eleven to seventeen years old, mostly at the third or fourth layer of Qi Condensation, with some even at the first or second layer. At the front stood over a dozen older cultivators, all above the tenth layer of Qi Condensation, including three elders—one at mid-stage Foundation Establishment and two at early-stage.
These senior cultivators held ritual implements, chanting incantations to dismantle the formation seals. Seven or eight talismans of varying colors glowed faintly on the cliff.
Under the three elders’ lead, the chanting grew louder and faster, and the flags in their hands emitted increasingly bright white light. Moments later, the elders simultaneously raised a hand, sending forth a spell that transformed into a radiant mist, causing the talismans to flutter down.
Several disciples holding jade boxes rushed forward to collect the talismans, carefully storing them before retreating. Such sealing talismans were precious treasures for minor families like theirs.
With the talismans removed, the cliff emitted a white glow and began to tremble. The cultivators at the front, including the three elders, raised their flags, shooting thin beams of light into the white glow.
The cliff shook violently before splitting down the middle with a thunderous roar, revealing a semicircular gap over ten zhang wide.
The young disciples craned their necks, eager to glimpse the legendary spring. For most, this would be their only chance to see it in their lifetime.
Deep within the gap lay a pristine white jade pool, three zhang long and one zhang wide, containing a small amount of crystal-clear water so pure it seemed untouched by dust. A faint, refreshing fragrance wafted from it, invigorating all who smelled it.
As murmurs spread among the disciples, the middle elder—a clean-shaven man with a stern face—turned and silenced them with a sharp gaze.
This was Huang Yuanming, the Huang family elder and the strongest cultivator on Spirit Qilin Mountain, revered even by the Li and Wang family disciples.
“Brother Huang’s authority truly keeps these youngsters in line,” chuckled a gray-robed elder.
“Indeed, Brother Huang is nearing late-stage Foundation Establishment. Perhaps he’ll advance further,” added a green-robed elder enviously.
Huang Yuanming waved off their praise. “At my age, further advancement is unlikely. Such opportunities belong to the younger generation. Let’s prepare the spiritual tea for them. This year’s spring water seems more abundant—a good sign.”
The other two elders, representing their respective families, each had only one Foundation Establishment cultivator, making them inferior to the Huang family. Still, they shared a long-standing friendship with Huang Yuanming.
Following his lead, they summoned their disciples to begin brewing the tea.
Just as the disciples approached the pool, an astonishing event occurred.
A low rumble echoed above the pool, followed by flashes of multicolored light. A black sphere materialized, twisting into a spatial rift before ejecting a figure wrapped in radiant mist, who plummeted into the pool with a splash. The rift then vanished.
The figure—a young man in a blue scholar’s robe—stood up, surveying the stunned crowd with an odd expression.
Huang Yuanming and the others were speechless.
The man, seemingly unfazed, dried his robes with a flick of spiritual light.
“Where is this? Still in Dongyu Kingdom?” he asked casually, stepping out of the pool and fixing his gaze on Huang Yuanming, his tone brooking no argument.
“Ningzhou, Dongyu Kingdom. May I ask for your esteemed name, Senior?” Huang Yuanming replied with a deep bow, having sensed the man’s unfathomable cultivation—at least Core Formation.
The other elders also bowed deeply, their faces filled with awe.
“Ningzhou…” The young man murmured, his expression thoughtful.
This was none other than Han Li, who had just escaped the ruins of the Ethereal Spirit Garden. Twenty-seven years had passed since the great battle in the Fallen Demon Valley.
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