Wind Extreme Nails

With a light tap of her foot, the Grand Shaman transformed into an escaping light that soared straight up. Old Devil Fang and the other cultivators followed closely behind. Before long, they arrived at that mysterious valley. The valley was deathly silent, without a soul in sight. The Grand Shaman swept her gaze across the area, then flashed into the deepest part of the valley, arriving before an ancient restriction set between two sheer cliffs. The interior was pitch-black, like a black hole. The black light was composed of dense, slender threads. These threads were extensions of the ancient restriction embedded in the cliffs on both sides, crisscrossing to seal off the entire valley entrance. Slender as they were, the threads were not physical matter. Human cultivators turned pale at the mere mention of them, not daring to approach even a fraction of an inch. This place had already claimed the lives of many cultivators. Fortunately, as long as one did not intrude of their own accord, the ancient restriction would not cause harm. "The Heaven Tower is clearly the ruins of an ancient human sword cultivator sect. Why would a relic of the Witch Clan be hidden here?" Standing before the ancient restriction, Old Devil Fang still harbored doubts. Staring fixedly into the depths of the ancient restriction, the Grand Shaman remarked indifferently, "Who can say for sure whether the humans and the Witch Clan were friends or foes in ancient times? The Hall of Seven Kills contains more than just ancient human ruins; the Witch Clan and Demon Clan also left their marks here. The fact that we can cultivate human techniques directly speaks volumes. Moreover, while humans are utterly helpless against these restrictions, our Witch Clan might not be." As she spoke, the Grand Shaman flipped her palm, producing two treasures shaped like black iron nails. She poured her true essence into them. The iron nails glowed with faint azure light from within, revealing countless azure runes. At the same time, miniature whirlwinds gathered at their tips, gradually turning azure as well. "Last time inside, peril lurked at every turn, and the harvest was meager. It was because I could never shake off Lingzhuzi. With him eyeing me like a hawk, I could not take out these two Wind Extreme Nails and had to resort to other means... These treasures happen to counter the restrictions here and are the best choice." The Grand Shaman flicked her fingers. "Go!" Bang! Bang! The two iron nails struck into the opposing cliff faces, sinking completely into the rock. The stone walls shook violently. The black light within surged like streams of black water about to spill forth. Fierce winds abruptly howled through the valley, centered squarely upon the two Wind Extreme Nails. The Grand Shaman formed an incantation seal, pushing the treasures with all her might. Soon, the black light on the stone walls gradually settled down. At the same time, some of the tangled threads across the valley began to dim dramatically until they vanished entirely. In an instant, the dense black lines grew much sparser than before. Though they still appeared exceedingly dangerous, navigating through them was no longer difficult for the Grand Shaman and her companions. Having completed all this, even someone of the Grand Shaman's profound cultivation felt somewhat strained. She turned to the two elderly men behind her and said, "Elder Feng, Elder Yue, please guard this place. Do not let any human cultivators take the Wind Extreme Nails." "Rest assured, Grand Shaman. We two old men will defend this place to the death!" an elder replied in a deep voice. The Grand Shaman said gently, "There is no need to defend it to the death. If you spot human cultivators and we have not yet returned, simply retrieve the Wind Extreme Nails and hide in the shadows, then return after they have left." "Understood!" One elder sat cross-legged on the ground, while the other darted out of the valley on watch. With all arrangements made, the Grand Shaman gave Old Devil Fang a nod and led the remaining members into the restriction. The black lines here remained tangled and perilous. Moving with great care, the Grand Shaman and the others slipped through the gaps between the threads, advancing deeper inside. The valley's interior was far larger than imagined. Underfoot was bare rock, and looking up, the ceiling was nowhere in sight; it was as if they stood inside an immensely deep canyon, with nothing around them except the black lines. The Grand Shaman and Old Devil Fang walked at the forefront, while the rest followed in silence. They spread out widely to prevent anyone from inadvertently triggering the restriction and endangering the others. After walking for a while, the Grand Shaman paused and looked around. She brushed a hand over her waist and retrieved a pitch-black stone plate inscribed with several simple symbols on its surface. Raising the stone plate with one hand, she chanted an obscure, enigmatic incantation. Before long, an exquisite tattoo suddenly appeared upon her snow-white wrist. Seeing this, Old Devil Fang and the others showed no surprise whatsoever. These tattoos represented divine glyphs. This was the true power belonging to their Witch Clan—along with natal insect gu, it was their clan's genuine heritage. Unfortunately, the path of divine glyphs had reached a dead end, capping out at the equivalent of the Qi Refinement stage at most. Every Witch Clan expert present had thoroughly studied the way of divine glyphs, and without exception, all had failed. The natal insect gu, on the other hand, held great promise; someone had even forged an unprecedented grand path along it. At this thought, several Witch Clan cultivators instinctively glanced at Old Devil Fang. Old Devil Fang had discarded his mortal body and fused into the body of an insect gu for the sake of a breakthrough—an act that was utterly shocking. Yet, if there were a high probability of breaking through to the Nascent Soul stage, surely many would be willing to do the same. After being active for a period, Old Devil Fang had grown exceedingly mysterious, secluding himself in Spirit Cicada Cave for deep cultivation all these years, never taking on any disciples. They wondered whether Old Devil Fang would make this secret art public and pass it down after he passed away. Old Devil Fang, however, remained silent, calmly awaiting the Grand Shaman's moves. Ding! The stone plate trembled lightly in the Grand Shaman's hand. As she channeled the power of the divine glyph, countless threads of misty rain suddenly began to drift down around her, shrouding her in haze. What seemed like a picturesque scene of a beauty amidst the rain was unfolding within an extraordinarily perilous ancient restriction. These rain threads brushed past the black lines in heart-stopping proximity, yet never touched them, showcasing the Grand Shaman's exquisite, pinnacle control. Drip, drop... As the rain fell into the stone plate, the bizarre symbols within seemed to come alive, and the basin transformed into a vast lake with churning waves. The Grand Shaman gently swiped a finger through the plate. The surging waves rushed in one direction, pressing against the rim as if trying to breach it, yet unable to escape. Seeing this, the Grand Shaman lifted her eyes toward that direction and said, "It is over there!" The group set off immediately. Holding the stone plate, the Grand Shaman took the lead. Old Devil Fang hovered nearby, keeping vigil to guard against any surprises that might disrupt her. After walking like this for a time, expressions of astonishment appeared on everyone's faces. Ahead of them, the black lines formed by the restriction abruptly vanished. In their place stood a circular stone hall, bearing neither a plaque nor a single stroke of writing. Mottled and steeped in an ancient aura, the stone hall was clearly not a creation of the present era. Glancing around, they quickly found the entrance: an enormous, oblong stone slab. Standing upright before them like a giant monument, the slab served as the hall's door. Directly in its center was a circular recess. Realizing what it meant, everyone turned their eyes toward the stone plate in the Grand Shaman's hand—the recess was the exact same size as the plate. After a brief contemplation, the Grand Shaman took a step forward. Instead of rushing to fit the stone plate into place, she reached out, lightly touching the stone monument with her fingertips, and carefully sensed the restrictions within the stone hall.