Chapter 135: Falling into the Valley

The lamp post swayed, and the sound of wind was faint. Ning Changjiu's previous dazed expression vanished. His eyes were illuminated by the sword light, and deep within them was the old man's rigid, statue-like face.

The gravekeeper, as he called himself, had his lifeless face rippled by the sword's wind. He seemed not to have expected a junior to draw a sword against him.

But whether he expected it or not didn't matter. He extended a finger, also a deathly gray, as if weathered for many years. It met Ning Changjiu's sword edge without a tremor, leaving not a single scratch.

"What are you doing, young man?" the gravekeeper asked, his voice subtly inflected. He stared at Ning Changjiu with murky eyes, like those of a blind person. "Do you, perhaps, not trust me?"

Of course, Ning Changjiu didn't trust him. In his understanding, those who were trapped here must be criminals from the peak. And if he were a high-level cultivator, how could he be unable to leave this hidden peak's courtyard?

The old man caught the sword, pinching the twisted blade. Its hum instantly ceased. He released his grip without further movement, his gaze still calm and gentle as he looked at Ning Changjiu, showing no blame for the junior's disrespect.

"Why should I trust you?" Ning Changjiu retorted, withdrawing his sword but remaining vigilant.

"Your trust or lack thereof is not important. The fact that you are alive, can speak with me, and can learn my sword techniques—that is my expression of goodwill," the old man said, his pace of speech unwavering.

"With such profound cultivation, why do you remain in this lightless place, Senior?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"As I said, I am the gravekeeper. Everyone believes I am dead..." the gravekeeper replied, shaking his head.

"How long have you been here?" Ning Changjiu inquired.

"Three hundred and seventy-eight years," the gravekeeper stated.

"Are you a contemporary of the founding patriarch?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"They are all dead. Only I remain," the gravekeeper said, uncharacteristically lost in thought.

"Who exactly are you?" Ning Changjiu pressed, frowning.

"You must be an inner disciple, right? If you've bowed before the stone tablet in the Sword Hall, then you should have seen my name..." the gravekeeper replied.

The sword tablet bore the names of successive patriarchs and grand-uncles. Ning Changjiu hadn't examined it closely and didn't know which name belonged to the old man before him, but for some reason, he found himself unconsciously believing the old man's words.

"You say you're a gravekeeper. Whose grave do you keep?" Ning Changjiu asked, forcing himself to remain cautious.

The gravekeeper's vacant gaze slowly swept across the space where black mist surged, milky white light points resembling static moths.

"This graveyard is my tomb," the gravekeeper began. "Back then, the grand patriarch and I ventured deep into the Southern Wilderness. In a desolate land teeming with ferocious beasts, we found a sinkhole where countless bones were buried. Each of those bones weighed thousands of catties, and in the soil around them, fragmented armor and magic artifacts lay like fossils. We stopped there, not venturing into deeper spaces...

Most of these items were brought back then, but most were contaminated. Only after centuries of spiritual energy cleansing might they become usable. We could have endured for centuries more, but that deep venture into the Southern Wilderness still left us affected by the deceased gods..."

The gravekeeper's words grew heavier. Perhaps it was an illusion, but the marks on his face seemed to deepen, as if he might crumble into a stone that would forever remain still at the peak's base.

"So what exactly are you guarding?" Ning Changjiu asked, still puzzled. "And this serpent skeleton, was it also unearthed from the Southern Wilderness?"

"This is also the meaning of my existence," the gravekeeper said, looking at the serpent skeleton.

"Why?" Ning Changjiu pressed.

"It wants to escape," the gravekeeper said, looking at the massive python coiled around the wooden pillar, its head tilted upwards.

As soon as this prophetic utterance was spoken, when Ning Changjiu looked back at the giant python's corpse, it seemed to come alive. Its massive ribcage appeared like countless sharp swords, each ripple a clang of ten thousand swords simultaneously striking.

But this was just an illusion. Ning Changjiu quickly regained his composure.

The ancient serpent skeleton showed no trace of life. It remained quietly coiled around the pillar, like an inherent carving on this Dragon-Coiling Pillar.

It was only now that Ning Changjiu noticed numerous large, sword-like bone spikes embedded within the serpent's spinal column, pinning its massive body securely to the Dragon-Coiling Pillar, like a specimen.

"Is this...the Ba Snake?" Ning Changjiu asked, recalling the old man's earlier description.

"Yes, this is a ferocious beast from thousands of years ago," the gravekeeper nodded. "Their existence is even more ancient than the twelve Lords of the Divine Realm. Yet, these ancient demons are ultimately not true gods. Even if it could swallow a giant elephant whole, it would eventually be slain by a god."

"A god killed it?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"Aside from a true god, who else could have slain such a magnificent masterpiece?" the gravekeeper mused, gazing at the skeleton as if it were the most beautiful sculpture in the world.

Ning Changjiu recalled the first of the three large screens in the Sword Hall—the black gauze screen depicting the Barbarian riding an elephant and slaying a serpent. Then he thought of the other two: one showed a creature with a human face and dragon body, and the other, a great demon resembling a nine-headed flood dragon. He had initially believed those three paintings were merely based on mythical imagination, never expecting that the corpse of a Ba Snake was actually hidden within this mountain.

The serpent demon, only heard of in legends, now lay hugely before him, causing his heart to involuntarily clench.

"But everyone from your generation died. Why have you lived until now?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"It seems you still don't trust me," the gravekeeper sighed, old age settling on his statue-like face. He was silent for a moment before finally speaking. "Because of the lower half of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture."

"The Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture?" Ning Changjiu looked astonished. That was exactly what Yan Zhou had lost decades ago and searched for.

"The lower half of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture was only lost decades ago. What does that have to do with you?" Ning Changjiu asked.

"Is that what your current Peak Master told you?" the gravekeeper chuckled dryly.

Ning Changjiu didn't answer.

"Actually, the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture was lost over two hundred years ago," the gravekeeper shook his head. "What was later kept in the sect was merely a fragmented ancient scroll written by the grand patriarch before his death."

"What?" Ning Changjiu felt something was amiss but couldn't pinpoint it.

"The Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture is divided into two volumes, but their meanings are entirely different," the gravekeeper continued. "The upper volume can be practiced by all inner peak disciples. While its techniques are exquisite, they were created move by move by the grand patriarch and still couldn't transcend human thought. However, the lower volume of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture is fundamentally different... The grand patriarch specifically wrote the upper volume to conceal the secret of the lower volume."

The gravekeeper turned and looked at Ning Changjiu, enunciating each word: "The lower volume of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture is a true... Divine Scripture!"

"Divine Scripture"—those two words struck Ning Changjiu's mind, causing his spirit to surge like waves, and he almost dropped the short sword in his hand.

In his understanding, the Oracle Sword Sect was merely a sect with a few cultivators at the Purple Courtyard realm, and Hidden Peak was the weakest of the four peaks. He never imagined that falling to the peak's base today would reveal a century-old secret.

"The Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture is with you?" Ning Changjiu asked, his spirit stirring.

The gravekeeper didn't hide it. He extended a hand, his arm like a heavy sword. As he lifted it, a sword intent, both similar and yet profoundly different from the sect's own, surged forth. It was like a mirage in the desert, making it impossible for a parched traveler to distinguish between the false desert and the towering structure.

The gravekeeper looked at his own arm, a hint of pride emerging on his eternally unchanging face.

Ning Changjiu felt the sword intent emanating from him.

The old man was like a living fossil. Though situated in this graveyard filled with evil artifacts, his body exuded only solemnity and reverence, with no trace of evil intrusion. The supreme mastery of the lower volume of the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture seemed to have long melted into his very blood.

The gravekeeper glanced at Ning Changjiu, seeing excitement and hope emerge on the junior's perpetually calm facade, as if he was desperate to master the scripture, emerge from the mountain, bring the long-lost scripture back to light, and claim credit from his Peak Master.

"Kneel before the stone tablet," the gravekeeper continued. "Become my disciple, and I will bestow upon you everything you desire."

Ning Changjiu unconsciously moved, walking back to the stone tablet—the tombstone the old man had set for himself.

"Why are you telling me so much?" Ning Changjiu asked with difficulty, opening his mouth.

The gravekeeper knew his heart was already swayed. His voice was calm yet forceful: "To enter this place, one needs exceptional courage and extraordinary fortune. You possess both. Your talent and innate bone structure are also excellent; with a little refinement, you will become a sharp sword capable of astonishing the world. Most importantly, you dared to draw your sword against me. This is an uncommon courage, and it is the true reason I am willing to tell you everything. In my life, I have never taken a proper disciple. You will be my last, and my proudest."

As Ning Changjiu listened, his chin lowered, as if finally bowing to the other. The sword in his hand was held loosely, as if by a mere thread, easily taken with a gentle grab.

Ning Changjiu bent his body and knelt before the stone tablet.

A pleased smile spread across the gravekeeper's face. He looked at Ning Changjiu as if at his dearest child, benevolent even as he was about to turn into a true stone statue.

Then, his smile froze on his face.

In an instant, the young man before him shifted into an odd sword stance. The sword in his hand, which had been easily blocked earlier, now pierced his stone-hard throat.

There was not a shred of murderous intent from him, yet this sudden strike symbolized true death.

Ning Changjiu had never believed him, from beginning to end. All his piety, admiration, and anticipation were merely a facade, just as the old man had consistently tried to make him believe with his magical words.

But the old man was too impatient, and his enticement backfired.

Ning Changjiu thrust that sword again.

He extinguished the single point of light within his dark spiritual consciousness.

And so the sword pierced his body.

The gravekeeper stared blankly at him, lips parted in utter shock and incomprehension. "Why... why? Do you want the Heavenly Oracle Sword Scripture to be lost forever? Are you... are you really a disciple of this sect! What sword technique are you using!'"

The gravekeeper's questions would forever remain unanswered as his body collapsed.

As his body fell like stone, the last two words he uttered sent shivers down Ning Changjiu's spine once more.

He said: "Save me."

At the sword arena, Ning Xiaoling had regained her composure. For some reason, she felt much calmer, devoid of chaotic emotions. Yet, the images that had suddenly flooded her mind earlier still haunted her like a nightmare, and no matter how many times she recited the sect's Heart-Calming Incantation, she couldn't shake them off.

Some disciples, thinking she was disheartened after losing the previous match, explained to her, as if she hadn't understood the rules, that even a loser could win the championship by continuing to win all subsequent matches.

Ning Xiaoling listened, merely nodding perfunctorily. At this moment, she cared little about victory or defeat. All she wanted was for her senior brother to be alright.

She believed that as long as her mind remained clear, she could defeat anyone. But what was the point? She wasn't more diligent or talented than them; all her advancements were thanks to her senior brother's help.

It was a gift from her senior brother.

In the following few matches, Ning Xiaoling was neither particularly serious nor careless. Against every opponent, she would engage in dozens of moves before narrowly winning.

Lu Yuanbai, watching from the side, found it delightful, thinking the young girl's techniques were more forceful and intriguing than he had imagined. With more practice, she should be able to enter the mid-level of the Immortal Path. But then she would be at his level, and at that thought, Lu Yuanbai couldn't help but sigh silently, feeling a little sad.

Meanwhile, Yazhu could discern more. She had initially thought Ning Xiaoling was at the initial stage of the Immortal Path, as she had broken through the Profound Entry and entered the Immortal Path on the day the Sword Star lit up, in front of everyone. But the more she watched this competition, the more startled she became. She realized that Ning Xiaoling faced no pressure whatsoever when battling cultivators at the initial stage of the Immortal Path. Could it be that within this past month, Ning Xiaoling had already entered the mid-level of the Immortal Path?

Only a few months... What kind of talent was this? Moreover, her legendary innate spiritual ability had yet to be revealed.

Even Senior Sister Jiajia wasn't this impressive back then, was she?

And at this moment, Lu Jiajia had already gone to Hidden Peak.

There was an extremely secluded one-way passage from the Peak Master's Hall to Hidden Peak. Upon entering Hidden Peak, she immediately sensed traces of a battle.

She followed her intuition forward, then discovered many cave dwellings with open doors, indicating that the elders who had been in secluded cultivation had all emerged.

Her unease grew. Her heart was in her throat. She still didn't know what had happened, yet she suddenly felt as if she would never see that elegant face of the young man in white again. Her heart felt hollow, and she couldn't even hear her own heartbeat.

She didn't know why she felt this way, able only to tell herself it was because she needed his Golden Crow for her body refinement.

She quickly ran towards that direction.

That was the center of Hidden Peak.

The abyss immediately came to Lu Jiajia's mind.

She didn't know that Ning Changjiu frequently came to Hidden Peak to cultivate, nor could she imagine he would enter the deeper parts of Hidden Peak... There were restrictions there, weren't there? Didn't they stop him?

She rushed past swiftly.

The elders in the peak made way when they saw the Peak Master approaching.

"What exactly happened?"

Lu Jiajia saw the shattered cliff face and the fragmented bones on the ground. Her unease was confirmed. When the indistinguishable pile of broken bones appeared before her, her mind buzzed and went blank. It took a while for the elders' words calling to her to register in her ears again.

"Whose blood is this...?" Lu Jiajia asked, clinging to a sliver of hope.

Fortunately, that sliver of hope was also confirmed.

"This is Yan Feng's body. He escaped from the Cold Prison and encountered someone cultivating in seclusion here. They fought, and Yan Feng was killed here. Before his death, he self-destructed, dragging the other person down into the peak valley."

Lu Jiajia leaned over and looked into the peak's depths. The man-eating darkness in the abyss suppressed her vision. An uncontrollable urge welled up within her; she even wanted to jump directly down to rescue him.

"Did you see who fell down?" Lu Jiajia asked.

"No, we didn't see clearly, but it seemed to be a person in white," replied an elder who had first noticed the commotion.

"It must be Ning Changjiu..." Lu Jiajia no longer held any other thoughts.

She didn't know how Ning Changjiu had killed Yan Feng, nor did she care about it anymore.

Lu Jiajia nodded slightly, her eyes, hidden beneath her eyelids, revealed little emotion. After a moment, her voice became calmer. "Prepare ropes and soul lamps. I'm going down the peak."

"Absolutely not!" a middle-aged man immediately interjected. "You've only recently become Peak Master; you have no idea what's hidden at the bottom of this peak!"

"I know," Lu Jiajia stubbornly replied.

"You... sigh. It's just a disciple, no need for such extremes. Just visit his family, offer some immortal fortune, and be done with it."

"He has no family," Lu Jiajia answered.

"Isn't that even better?" the man blurted out, then felt his words were inappropriate but added nothing further.

"Therefore, I am his family," Lu Jiajia said softly. "I will not abandon any disciple."

"If you are so stubborn, then go. But before you enter the peak valley, draft a document for the relinquishment of the Peak Master position. If you don't return, the Peak Master will be chosen according to that document, to avoid unnecessary strife."

This demand seemed reasonable but was actually extremely rigid and unreasonable. Many present, upon hearing it, felt a strange expectation, secretly hoping Lu Jiajia would stubbornly agree, draft the document, and descend the peak.

"Very well," Lu Jiajia nodded, not disappointing their expectations.

At the bottom of the peak, after Ning Changjiu slew the stone-like old man, his body froze.

A wisp of smoke emerged behind him.

It was the figure of another old man. If Ning Changjiu had turned around, he would have realized the old man looked identical to the stone statue from before.

"I underestimated you," the old man merely said, a hint of regret in his voice.

Then, a finger touched the back of his head.

Ning Changjiu's expression became blank. Many things were rapidly erased from his mind.

The old man extended his hand, virtually drew a large door, pushed it open, and then pushed Ning Changjiu's body out.

When Ning Changjiu came to, he was already outside the peak.

This was the base of the peak.

He couldn't recall what he had experienced, nor why he was there.

He only vaguely remembered going to Hidden Peak for cultivation that morning, and then wanting to watch Ning Xiaoling's sword trial on time.

He clutched his head, feeling great pain, and stumbled a few steps, touching the peak stone as he went, eventually staggering into the open ground at the peak's return point.

Then, he noticed that many people were staring at him, all dressed in outer disciple attire.

An old man holding a brush was writing something nearby. His eyesight was poor. He looked up at the young man before him, and seeing him also dressed as an outer disciple, said, "Are you also participating in the assessment? What's your name? Let me know when you're ready; it's about to begin."