In the vast expanse of the Middle Earth, where the hidden currents of the great clans churned, the distant Southern Frontier was a land of silent reconstruction after the catastrophic Beast Demon scourge. Despite being the most devastated region, it seemed as if the world had forgotten about this corner. The desolate lands of the Southern Frontier were far from the gaze of the affluent Middle Earth dwellers.
In the Qili Cave, the settlement of the Gold Clan, the scars left by the Beast Demons were still visible. Yet, amidst the ruins, new houses had been erected. On the mountain waist behind the cave, the enigmatic entrance to the sacrificial altar remained active, with many worshipers entering and exiting. In these times of rebirth, the protection of their ancestors was more crucial than ever for the Gold Clan.
The people of the Gold Clan rose at dawn and rested at dusk, day by day. As the sun set and night fell, the weary Gold Clansmen returned home, relaxing their tired bodies, and after dinner, they gradually drifted into slumber under the stars.
When the night deepened and all was quiet, a white figure appeared in the Qili Cave, like a faint, ethereal glow in the darkness. Moving gracefully through the serene valley, the figure approached the foot of the mountain leading to the altar.
Two Gold Clan soldiers guarded the entrance to the mountain. Suddenly, a gust of wind blew, and before them, a flash of white light streaked past, leaving a faint, sweet fragrance. They felt a momentary daze, as if ensnared by an enchanting spell.
Behind them, a ghostly, slender figure emerged from the darkness, appearing on the platform of the altar entrance. Dressed in white, she exuded a mesmerizing charm, drawing the attention of the stars above. It was none other than Little White.
She glanced around, then towards the dark cave. Although it was pitch black, a faint smile played on her lips. She sensed something, shook her head, and sighed softly.
The defenses here were far weaker than she had anticipated, a stark contrast to when she and Ghost Li came to seek the Great Witch. The burly guards below were one thing, but the altar should have been guarded by many shamans. Instead, it was almost completely unguarded, a testament to the devastating loss suffered by the Gold Clan.
Indeed, the Gold Clan was not the only one. Across the land, countless innocents had lost their homes and lives because of the Beast God’s rampage. The moral complexities were truly difficult to unravel.
Little White shook her head, not dwelling on it. She darted forward, transforming into a white beam of light, and entered the cave. The interior remained mostly unchanged, with torches lighting the way as before. However, her senses told her that the number of people inside was few, and those who were present were likely asleep, breathing slowly and evenly.
Ignoring them, she flew silently through the cave, her thousand years of cultivation making her virtually undetectable, even to the skilled. Soon, she arrived at the spacious chamber where the Great Witch used to reside.
Halting, she frowned and peered inside. From a distance, she sensed someone else, awake and unlike the others. Inside the cave, the fire blazed brightly, casting shadows on the stone dog god statue. Little White gazed at the statue for a moment, then turned her attention to the figure sitting by the fire.
A young man sat facing the fire, his back to the entrance. He drew mysterious symbols in the air, chanting in a low, reverent voice. Silently, Little White approached him, the firelight casting a long shadow behind her. She listened to his deep, melodic voice, which echoed in the ancient cave, seemingly telling a story.
The young shaman, absorbed in his ritual, was startled by her presence. Before he could turn, a delicate, fair hand appeared, gently tapping his forehead. His eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious.
The eerie chanting and echoes ceased. Little White looked at the young face, smiled, and whispered, “I don’t know if the dog god exists or if it will protect your clan, but with such devout faith, the Great Witch would be at peace.”
Shaking her head, she stepped around the unconscious shaman and the fire, heading towards the dog god statue. The Gold Clan believed the dog god granted them new life and protected their lineage. Even the priests did not dare approach the statue lightly.
Now, Little White stood before the black stone dog god statue. The statue, carved from the lustrous black stone of the Southern Frontier, emitted a faint, silver glow. Though not a miracle as the Gold Clan believed, it was a rare, beautiful anomaly in the stone.
Her purpose was not to admire the statue, and soon her attention focused on the dog’s head. The statue, carved with exquisite skill, was so lifelike that it seemed to watch her with sentient eyes.
Startled, she stepped back, feeling a sudden release of pressure. She frowned, examined the statue again, and muttered, “Such a mind-bending restriction.” Pondering, she added, “But this is clearly Central Earth magic. How did it end up here?”
Shaking off the thought, she turned her attention back to the statue. Her fingers touched the dark, pure eyes, and a low rumble echoed through the cave. The statue slowly sank, revealing a smooth stone wall, shrouded in a faint, black mist.
With a wave of her sleeve, a gentle breeze cleared the mist, revealing a golden light. More golden lights appeared, forming intricate patterns and texts. Even Little White’s face glowed with the reflected light.
As she read the mysterious texts, her eyes lit up. Before her lay the secrets of the ancient witch clans. Her gaze lingered, pausing, and then she saw the massive, fierce fire dragon.
Taking a deep breath, she smiled, confirming what she saw. Closing her eyes, she memorized the texts.
When she opened her eyes, she mused, “I never expected them to leave this behind. Did they foresee the fall of the witch clans?”
She smiled, turning, but stopped, sensing something. Coldly, she scanned the empty cave, confirming no one else was there. Shaking her head, she dispelled the remaining mist, revealing more text.
Her face lit up with surprise. “So, the soul-summoning technique is here…”
Yet, as she read further, her joy faded, replaced by a heavy, confused expression. Finally, she sighed, “I see. So this is how the ancient witches perished… What should I do? Should I tell her?”
The mist reappeared, concealing the text. She stepped back, contemplating. The statue returned to its place, covering the secret.
In the silence, Little White left the cave, her steps slow and thoughtful. The ancient dog god statue watched over the cave, its eyes reflecting the flames, filled with sorrow.
Suddenly, the young shaman stirred, carefully rising and peering at the entrance. Finding it quiet, he relaxed, whispering, “Phew, if not for our self-closing spell, I wouldn’t have fooled her…”
His eyes grew intense, and he turned to the statue. Stepping closer, he raised his hands, trembling, and touched the statue’s eyes. The low rumble resumed, and the statue sank, revealing the secret chamber.
The young shaman, his face aglow, rushed in, scattering the mist, and the golden light reappeared. Reading the texts, his face showed rapture. He forgot the small patch of lingering mist.
The golden text and patterns filled his mind, and beside him, the statue’s eyes, now filled with sorrow, watched as he delved deeper into the forbidden knowledge.
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