Chapter 134: The Old Man in the Valley

Grey-black mist churned up and down. In the extreme darkness, these mist clumps surprisingly seemed to carry a dim, ashen light. Within the grey mist, countless long tendrils of smoke, like intertwining, writhing snakes, surged towards Ning Changjiu as he fell. However, they were terrified of the Golden Crow's light and dared not approach.

As he fell, Ning Changjiu gathered his remaining consciousness and bit his tongue. The pain brought him a brief moment of clarity. He opened his golden eyes; the edge of the cliff was already out of sight. His vision was filled with tiny, smoke-formed snakes, densely packed like corpse beetles, already gathered into a hurricane-like inverted cone. A single glance was enough to make one's scalp crawl.

During his rapid descent, Ning Changjiu gripped the sword in his hand and thrust it outwards. Fortunately, he had not fallen too far from the cliff face. His short sword extended only a short distance before it hit the hard rock wall.

He imbued the sword's edge with spiritual energy, stabbing it deeply into the rock. His body crashed against the rock wall with the force of the impact. Then, following the momentum of his descent, the spirit-tempered blade slid continuously downward as if cutting through soft earth, carving an extremely long gash along the smooth wall.

Ning Changjiu didn't know how much longer he would fall into this abyss. Humans always harbor an instinctive fear of the unknown darkness. During his descent, he glanced down, feeling as if he could perceive countless evils and dangers lurking within the gloom.

His Dao heart kept warning him, making it impossible for him to calm down. He clutched the sword hilt tightly, his wrists and arms almost numb. The Golden Crow, unable to coalesce into a concrete shape, trailed a long golden light band wherever it went. That light band gradually converged in the darkness, like a golden fishing line descending from the sky.

After digging his sword into the wall, his descent speed slowed considerably. Consequently, the fear brought by the abyss felt prolonged. Trapped in this heart-pounding duration, he desperately suppressed his continuously trembling heart, striving to bring his emotions back to peace.

The Golden Crow was one with him. As his physical condition worsened, the Golden Crow also grew weaker. Finally, it dispersed into a ball of golden light and abruptly burrowed into Ning Changjiu's body. Ning Changjiu felt a warmth spread through his chest, and that warmth helped dispel much of the cold.

The sword blade continuously scraped against the wall, sending sparks flying. Soon, the pressure on the blade reached its absolute limit.

Ning Changjiu knew that without this sword, falling into the abyss would likely result in him being shattered to pieces.

He gripped the sword hilt tightly with both hands, gritting his teeth. Perhaps it was an illusion, but in his peripheral vision, glancing downward, he caught sight of a faint green light.

The lights were distant and small, arranged in the pattern of some formation. From afar, they resembled constellations in the night sky, yet they carried a sense of mourning for the dead.

Ning Changjiu was too weak to investigate what they were. He could only make a preliminary judgment that it was the bottom of the abyss. Ancient cultivators had hollowed out an entire mountain; he was essentially falling directly from the peak to the base!

Still plummeting at high speed, the distance between him and those eerie ghost flames rapidly closed in an instant.

The ghost flames continuously grew larger in his vision, and the fear in his heart swelled uncontrollably. Just as the sword in his hand seemed to burn to its limit, there was a sharp, explosive crack. The broken sword, previously embedded in the rock wall, suddenly lost its support and slipped into empty space—the rock wall had a fault line, and he had entered a much wider area!

Ning Changjiu let out a low roar, and spiritual energy surged out from his entire body like a tide, shielding him just before he plunged into the encirclement of the lights.

Ning Changjiu crashed onto the ground. His back was in severe pain, as if he had hit something. He paid it no mind, instead rolling several times to dissipate the impact of the fall, before finally colliding with a hard stone pillar.

It was a massive, millstone-like stone base beneath a dragon-coiling pillar.

Ning Changjiu's throat sweetened, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. His body curled up in pain, hands and feet trembling. Blood stained his face, smearing his eyelids. He reached up with his sleeve and wiped his face, trying to clear away the blood.

He struggled to stand, but his injuries were too severe. His Golden Pupils couldn't be formed no matter how hard he tried, so he could only force open his slightly weaker 'sword eyes' to survey his surroundings.

It was a colossal circular space.

The space was constructed from massive stone blocks, making it solemn and imposing.

On the ground, countless strange artifacts were piled up. At first glance, it was hard to tell what they were, but the varying thickness of dust on them indicated they were very old. Many of these artifacts were covered with a layer of ancient fabric, which had a peculiar, somewhat fluffy texture and strings tied at its four corners.

These must have been objects dropped from above, tied with such fabric to slow their descent and prevent damage upon landing.

Ning Changjiu had once asked Yan Zhou what was hidden here. Yan Zhou told him that the world contained many surviving treasures; they were valuable, but their demonic, evil, or otherwise spirit-corrupting aura could not be erased, forcing them to be sealed away with regret.

And this vast space beneath Hidden Peak was scattered with countless such wicked artifacts.

These were likely artifacts discovered by the original Peak Masters, remnants from the era when gods waged war.

The malevolent aura emanating from these artifacts filled the space, causing Ning Changjiu intense discomfort. He already heard phantom roars and growls of fierce beasts in his ears, and blood and fire seemed to burn his eyelids with their vivid colors.

Fortunately, the spiritual energy in this space was extraordinarily abundant, even several times richer than that in Hidden Peak itself.

This aligned with his initial conjecture: based on the phenomenon that spiritual energy sinks once it reaches a sufficient concentration, the spiritual energy from Hidden Peak would flow like a waterfall into this space. Accumulating such vast quantities of spiritual energy served to suppress and purify the demonic essence of these artifacts.

Even so, this process would likely take hundreds of years.

Ning Changjiu did not believe that falling here was his stroke of luck. He dared not attempt to control any of these artifacts, nor did he see the need for such a risk.

However, these wicked artifacts, as if lonely for too long, emitted yearning trembles upon sensing the presence of a living person, seemingly tempting him to pick them up. Ning Changjiu dismissed these sounds.

With abundant spiritual energy pouring into his body, he briefly regulated his breathing before beginning to search for an exit from this space.

He stood up, his 'sword eyes' slowly sweeping across the surroundings.

The faint green light spots he had seen earlier were indeed lights. Now, without the barrier of dense spiritual energy, those lights appeared as pure milky white before his eyes. The lamp poles were exceptionally long, and he couldn't tell what material they contained, yet it allowed the flames to burn brightly for centuries.

Ning Changjiu stood up, leaning against the massive stone base.

His head suddenly bumped against something extremely hard, causing a sharp pain.

He instinctively recoiled a bit, feeling a bone-chilling coldness behind him.

He sensed something incredibly dangerous behind him. The feeling was like a long sword, capable of cutting through iron like mud, pressed against his back, ready to pierce his heart with the slightest exertion.

Yet, he had only just realized it.

Ning Changjiu calmed himself. As his mind settled, the sense of danger gradually receded. He turned around, opening his 'sword eyes', and saw something resembling a skeleton. He felt something was wrong, so he retreated a few steps, then a few more, until he finally clearly saw what it was.

The dragon-coiling pillar, which pierced through the mountain, truly had a dragon coiled around it!

That dragon-shaped entity was a colossal, bony object. It coiled around the gigantic pillar, layer upon layer, its head only visible after dozens of meters. If its body, coiled around the pillar, were to be stretched out, its length would be unimaginably immense.

The moment Ning Changjiu saw it, a strange emotion arose within him. It was neither fear nor excitement, and he didn't know how to describe it, but there was a sense of epic history, as if gazing upon the vastness of time.

Upon closer inspection, he realized it wasn't a dragon skeleton, as it lacked four claws. It looked more like a mythical giant python. It had been dead for many years, but its massive body, coiled around the pillar, still exuded an undeniable terror. Its conical head was raised diagonally upwards, gazing towards the exit of this well-like space.

Its tilted, upward gaze was so lifelike that one felt it could reawaken at any moment, swiftly slithering up the dragon-coiling pillar and returning to its domain.

The immense oppressive feeling almost suffocated Ning Changjiu. And at that moment, in the endless darkness amidst the eerie, cold lamplight, a voice rang out, plunging Ning Changjiu as if into an ice cellar.

The voice was ancient and feeble, like wind mingled with sand, carrying an uncomfortable flatness and harshness. The owner of the voice sounded like an old man with white hair and beard, with one foot already in the grave.

But it was the only sound in that place at that moment.

"This is the remains of a Bashe. In ancient times, the Barbarians rode divine elephants to slay the Snake Demon, but the divine elephant was swallowed whole by the Bashe. More than half of the Barbarian tribe was lost. Later, the Snake Demon was killed by someone unknown, and its remains fell into the Southern Barrens."

The voice carried a strange magical power; it seemed that after hearing it just once, one would believe every word spoken.

Ning Changjiu's expression was dazed for a moment. Suddenly, the Golden Crow in his heart cried out, and a wave of clarity flooded his eyes. He blurted out, "Who are you?"

At the sword arena, Ning Xiaoling kept waiting for Ning Changjiu, but he never arrived.

In her first match, she utterly defeated her opponent in just three sword strokes, astonishing the entire audience. However, after winning, she was slow to sheathe her sword. The defeated disciple, seeing Ning Xiaoling pointing her sword at him, thought it was intentional humiliation and almost burst into tears. Only then did Ning Xiaoling realize, hastily withdrew her sword, and apologized.

Martial Uncle Yazhu announced the victor.

Lu Jiajia stood high above, a hint of confusion etched between her smoke-like brows. She felt Ning Xiaoling was acting strangely. Then she looked around and understood why.

On such an important day, Ning Changjiu hadn't shown up? What exactly was he doing?

Ning Xiaoling walked towards the rest area, carrying her sword. She suddenly clutched her chest; it was a sensation akin to stumbling in a dream. This feeling filled her with great worry. She thought, "How could Senior Brother not come to see me? Has something... happened?"

Her brows remained furrowed, her heart ceaselessly pounding. She was restless, her sword heart utterly unable to find peace.

Le Rou also noticed Ning Xiaoling's unusual behavior. Her thoughts, however, differed from Ning Xiaoling's. She speculated, "Has Ning Changjiu seen through my scheme again? Is he afraid I'll expose him at the sword trial, so he deliberately stayed away?"

An outer disciple's presence or absence should have been insignificant, but at this moment, it created a distinct atmosphere in the arena, an atmosphere emanating directly from Ning Xiaoling.

Everyone could feel her distraction, unease, and anxiety.

"Next round: Ning Xiaoling versus Xu Weiran!"

Yazhu announced the names of the next pair to compete.

Xu Weiran was generally recognized as the male disciple with the highest cultivation in the peak, second only to Nancheng. He was also the only person Ning Xiaoling had previously thought she should be wary of. While Senior Brother Xu Weiran wasn't particularly outstanding in his swordsmanship, his strength lay in his steady reliability. Every sword stroke he made was well-ordered for both attack and defense, making it almost impossible to find any flaws in him when facing someone of the same cultivation level.

But at this moment, Ning Xiaoling's mind was completely elsewhere. Her heart pounded, and she became increasingly certain that something had happened to her Senior Brother!

"Xiaoling," Martial Uncle Yazhu called her name.

A somewhat distracted Ning Xiaoling finally came to her senses. She stood up, holding her sword with the tip pointed down, dragging it listlessly across the sword arena.

Seeing this, Yazhu's expression soured. She said, "Have I not taught you this? The sword tip is a true killing instrument, yet it's also the most vulnerable part of a sword. It must never carelessly touch stone or brick. Any damage to a sword can be fatal in a life-or-death struggle between experts!"

Listening to Yazhu's reprimand, Ning Xiaoling became a little clearer and replied, "Yes."

Yazhu looked at her and asked, "Are you feeling unwell?"

Ning Xiaoling pursed her lips and shook her head. Yazhu said, "Then let's begin."

Xu Weiran looked at the distracted girl before him. He didn't know what cultivation realm Ning Xiaoling was currently in, but she had previously defeated a disciple who had entered the Profound Upper Realm in just three moves. The strength she displayed absolutely warranted no underestimation. Thinking of this, Xu Weiran brushed away a fleeting hint of bitterness in his heart and meticulously adopted his starting sword stance.

Ning Xiaoling, however, suddenly turned and ran towards Lu Jiajia. She leaned close to Lu Jiajia's ear and whispered something.

Whatever the urgent matter was, as soon as Ning Xiaoling spoke, Lu Jiajia's body tensed significantly, and the sword qi radiating from her became even sharper.

After listening to Ning Xiaoling, Lu Jiajia also felt a sense of tension. She gathered her voice into a thread and asked, "Could Ning Changjiu have simply forgotten the time?"

Ning Xiaoling vehemently shook her head. She didn't know how to explain her bond with her Senior Brother, but she earnestly insisted, "Master, Senior Brother is definitely in danger right now!"

Lu Jiajia remained unconvinced, saying, "With Ning Changjiu's abilities, what could possibly put him in danger here in the peak?"

Ning Xiaoling understood her Senior Brother better. With a mournful expression, she said, "Even though Senior Brother is formidable, you also know that he always manages to attract incredibly powerful things..."

Lu Jiajia briefly thought back and realized this had indeed been the case all along. Even she, who had complete confidence in Ning Changjiu, couldn't help but feel worried.

However, as she pondered the many matters concerning Sky Cavern Peak, she couldn't immediately think of anything that could pose a threat to Ning Changjiu.

Lu Jiajia gently patted her shoulder and instructed, "You focus on the sword trial for now. I'll go look for Ning Changjiu for you."

Ning Xiaoling felt a little relieved then, but her suspended anxiety lingered.

Yazhu stood not far away, quietly waiting for the outcome of Ning Xiaoling's conversation with Lu Jiajia. For some reason, even she felt a faint unease lingering in her heart. She had a feeling that something was secretly happening within the peak at that very moment.

After their brief conversation, Lu Jiajia stood up, spoke a few words to Yazhu, and then temporarily left the sword arena.

Many people felt a sense of disappointment at their Master's departure. Many also guessed the reason for her leaving and were indignant, thinking, "Has the Master started treating that outer disciple like a personal student? Ning Changjiu isn't even qualified to participate in Sky Cavern Peak's sword trial, so what does it matter if he comes or not?"

"And Ning Xiaoling, too," they thought, "she's clearly a promising female sword immortal, with the potential to even inherit the Master's position in the future. How could she be so completely captivated by Ning Changjiu, an outer disciple?"

Amidst their dissatisfaction, many also felt a surge of jealousy.

After this small ripple, the sword trial in the arena resumed. Ning Xiaoling cast aside her many distracting thoughts, focusing intently on the sword in Xu Weiran's hand. Her cultivation realm was higher than his; as long as she made no mistakes, there was no possibility of losing.

The battle ended surprisingly quickly: Ning Xiaoling actually lost.

Xu Weiran let out a sigh of relief and mumbled a polite acknowledgement of her concession. However, he noticed that the girl before him showed no signs of defeat on her face, but rather an expression of pain. The sword in Ning Xiaoling's hand clattered to the ground. She clutched her chest, slowly crouched down, then knelt on one knee, gripping her sword hilt for a sense of security. Yet, scene after scene flashed uncontrollably through her mind.

Those scenes depicted a ruined space, a giant skeletal python, an elderly man with a blurred face, endless grey-black mist, and...

She let out a pained groan, her head feeling as if it would explode.

It was these sudden images flooding her mind that caused her sword to be half a beat slow, allowing Xu Weiran to seize the initiative and win.

Yazhu rushed over immediately. She had never encountered such a situation before. Looking at the girl who seemed possessed, she softly wondered to herself, "Has she suffered cultivation deviation?"

The other disciples also panicked. Xu Weiran stood rooted, somewhat at a loss, thinking that he hadn't used any unusual sword moves just now.

However, Ning Xiaoling's physical state changed as quickly as it came. Her tensed body soon relaxed. She reached out, instinctively grasping for something, softly calling out "Senior Brother, Senior Brother..."

Many of the people present were her Senior Brothers, but they knew that the "Senior Brother" Ning Xiaoling spoke of referred only to that white-robed young man.

Yazhu touched her forehead, then sent her divine sense into Ning Xiaoling's body to investigate. Ning Xiaoling's body had now returned to a calm state.

Yazhu sighed in relief and helped her to a seat nearby.

Only at this moment did the changes occurring within Hidden Peak gradually begin to spread.

At the bottom of the peak, Ning Changjiu held a twisted, unrecognizable fragment of his sword. He watched an old man emerge from behind the gigantic snake skeleton. The old man displayed no discernible features, appearing like an ancient stone statue weathered by wind and rain.

"I am the tomb guardian here, watching over this cemetery... I have been dead for many years, and you are the first living person I've seen. Young man, where do you come from, who is your master, and which generation of disciples are you in this peak? I have waited here for over three hundred years. I have been waiting for a disciple to inherit my legacy. Before the final moment of my existence, I wish to impart to him this set of the Imperial Sword Heavenly Sect's true, peerless sword techniques. Young man, answer my questions, then kneel before this stone tablet. From today, you can obtain the sect's sole true inheritance... Surely, you wouldn't wish for it to be lost to the world, would you?"

The old man's words were profound and weighty, carrying an ineffable conviction that left no room for doubt.

Ning Changjiu seemed to be enchanted by his words. He lowered his sword and slowly walked over. He rounded the massive stone base and approached the old man. He opened his mouth as if to express something devoutly, and a kind, satisfied expression appeared on the old man's face, directed at the younger generation.

Then, a flash of sword light abruptly ignited from his sleeve, slashing towards the old man.