Waves crashed against the reefs, kicking up sprays of white foam.
A sheer cliff thousands of feet high stood like a fortress wall, barring the ocean's waters here, so that no matter how massive the wind and waves, they could not hope to cross.
"What a treacherous expanse of rugged mountains and sinister waters..."
Qin Sang reached the summit of the cliff and gazed ahead, musing silently to himself.
Crossing the sea, he had expended little effort in locating the land the Heavenly Eye Butterfly had once spotted.
Seen from afar and viewed up close, the landscape differed vastly.
Looking down from this height, he could see towering mountain ranges dotting the terrain like chess pieces, stretching endlessly beyond sight. The peaks rose steep and craggy, with countless similar precipices. Clouds and mist blanketed the valleys between the ridges, rendering the place no less perilous than the two Southern Barbarian provinces of Zhongzhou.
"Spirits and monsters must not be few here; it is hardly suited for mortals to inhabit. I wonder if the inhabitants of this realm are as frail as those in the Storm Realm..."
With the road ahead uncertain, Qin Sang deliberately concealed his aura. His true essence was constrained, and it was inconvenient to employ his divine sense, so he awakened the Heavenly Eye Butterfly to observe the mountains' atmospheric currents.
Before gaining wisdom, only a rare few demons and spirits instinctively grasped techniques to suppress their auras; most had no notion of restraining their presence. Moreover, strength was revered among demons, so not only would they not hide it, but the stronger they were, the more ostentatious they became.
By observing the clouds and vapors within the mountains, one could glean a general idea.
To Qin Sang's great surprise, what met his eyes defied his expectations.
Though wrapped in mountain mists ahead, they were all formed purely from condensed water vapor, extraordinarily clear and pristine.
On the demon island where he had lived for over a decade, a single patch of forest harbored over a hundred spirit beasts, yet here almost no demonic qi could be seen. For two regions to differ so drastically was truly bizarre.
Such a sight meant either that a powerful demon held sway nearby, causing all lesser monsters to flee, or that someone had slain the demons and vanquished the fiends, purging the mountains and rivers.
The Heavenly Eye Butterfly possessed magnificent vision, capable of seeing immense distances. As far as the eye could reach, mountain ranges rolled on without end, showing no edge to the land, and looking to the left and right, it seemed equally limitless.
Qin Sang did not linger on the cliff top for long. Leaping down with the momentum of a pouncing tiger, he silently sped through the forest.
He moved with astonishing speed, darting through the deep, dense woods without making the slightest sound. His figure drifted like a phantom, his aura even fainter than before, relying entirely on his physical body.
The Heavenly Eye Butterfly rested on his left shoulder, keeping watch on their surroundings. Such caution was to guard against any lurking great demons.
Crossing dozens of towering ranges in a single breath, he still found no trace of great demons or human habitation. An eerie stillness hung over the mountains. Frowning slightly, Qin Sang paused atop a forward peak, his nostrils twitching, and he suddenly locked his gaze on the area ahead to his left, his eyes narrowing.
After a brief pause, Qin Sang shifted his direction slightly and headed straight toward it. As he drew near, he slowed his pace and formed a hand seal. His blood surged gently, and a faint sheen of golden light swirled over his skin.
This was the sixth seal of the Seven Masters' Buddhist Seal—the Golden Astral Celestial Armor Seal. Once invoked, one's skin became like armor, exceptionally tough and resilient; it was an extremely potent defensive divine ability.
Having reached the mid-stage of the fourth layer of the Heavenly Demon Refining Form, Qin Sang had gradually mastered this seal.
As for the seventh seal, the Vajra Great Freedom Seal, because he had only broken through not long ago, he had not yet penetrated its subtleties.
Once this seal was cast, his frame took on an added air of solid heft. Stepping forward, he soon spotted two opposing boulders ahead, leaving a gap between them wide enough for two people to walk abreast, with what seemed like a vast space inside.
Pushing off with his toes, he sprang into the stone fissure. Hurrying forward a few paces, he found a mountain valley opening up ahead.
The valley was wedged between three mountains. Because the rock faces of all three were curved, they naturally formed an elliptical sinkhole. River water flowed in from between the peaks, gathering into a pool.
When he saw the scene at the bottom of the sinkhole, Qin Sang's pupils constricted slightly.
The sinkhole was piled high with countless bones and carcasses. The incoming river water had been fouled by them. It was impossible to tell how many layers of bones were stacked here; the lower levels were soaked in putrid corpse fluid, while the upper bones lay exposed to the sky, their jagged white splinters glistening pallidly.
It looked like nothing less than a sacrificial ground!
The sinkhole was deathly still. The blazing sun hung high overhead, clearly the hour when yang qi was at its peak, yet the pit was bone-chillingly cold.
Qin Sang beckoned with his hand, drawing up a piece of white bone. Inspecting it, he muttered, "Demon bone!"
Not just this single piece; the sinkhole was filled entirely with the carcasses of various kinds of demons!
However, these bones could not be used to refine treasures. Their vital essence had already been sucked dry, and many of the corpses had been ripped open, their internal organs vanished.
Only then did Qin Sang understand why no demons were running rampant—they had all been slaughtered.
Here lay only the remains of demonic beasts, for once the spirit bodies of flora spirits were consumed, they differed little from ordinary withered wood and dead grass, with no need to be dumped here deliberately.
This did not look like the work of righteous demon-quellers; it seemed more like demons devouring one another, and the culprit possessed no small amount of intelligence.
Tossing away the bone, Qin Sang leapt out of the sinkhole and headed directly into the interior. He encountered no other demonic beasts along the way.
Continuing forward and crossing an untold number of mountain ranges, the terrain finally began to flatten. After pressing on for another spell, Qin Sang soared into the sky to look out into the distance. His expression shifted slightly as he gazed intently toward his right; there appeared to be roofs and pavilions over there.
He immediately altered his course and sped toward them, confirming that it was indeed a city.
Halfway there, Qin Sang encountered the humans of this realm for the first time.
An elderly man and a youth were walking along the mountain path. Both were mortals, their limbs, facial features, and seven apertures no different from the humans of the Storm Realm.
The elder had a long beard beneath his chin, his steps brisk and his spirit hale.
The youth trailed behind, about twelve or thirteen years old, carrying a book satchel. He swayed his head as he recited some scripture, asking the elder questions from time to time.
Qin Sang listened closely for a moment, then separated a wisp of divine sense to peer into the boy's satchel. After reading through the few volumes inside, a flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes.
The writing of this realm was directly inherited from the same line as the Storm Realm. Without needing to use any spells, he could roughly understand the books' contents!
This was vastly beyond Qin Sang's expectations. It was reasonable for the various provinces of the Storm Realm to share the same writing since they belonged to the same world, but could different minor chiliocosms all originate from a single lineage?
Qin Sang descended from the clouds, took on the appearance of an itinerant Daoist, and emerged from the forest.
The elder and the youth were startled. The elder instantly pulled the boy behind him.
"Greetings, elder,"
Qin Sang gave a Daoist salute, mimicking their cadence and tone.
Seeing that he was a Daoist priest, the elder's guard vanished instantly. He stammered that he dared not accept such honor, hurriedly returning the salute.
*The status of Daoist priests here seems quite high?*
Qin Sang noted inwardly, then continued, "This poor Daoist has traveled here on a pilgrimage and accidentally lost his way in the mountains. Having finally met fellow travelers, I would like to ask what place this is."
Hearing that he was an itinerant Daoist, the elder became even more reverent. "Answering the Daoist master, more than ten li ahead is a ferry. A short boat ride leads to White Dragon Ferry, and traveling downriver from White Dragon Ferry takes one straight to Fulong City..."
Qin Sang cast a backward glance, musing that though these two were sturdier than mortals of the Storm Realm, they were no match for monsters. For them to survive here, there had to be cultivators guarding the city.
He thought for a moment and asked, "May I ask where the two of you are heading? Could this poor Daoist accompany you?"
"Answering the Daoist master, a relative of this humble citizen at White Dragon Ferry has passed away, and we are on our way to attend the funeral..."
The elder answered meekly, not daring to refuse Qin Sang's request.
The three walked together along the dirt path. The elder's manner was stiff and cautious, while the youth was full of curiosity.
The elder hesitated, wanting to scold the boy yet ultimately not daring to raise his voice before Qin Sang. Worry was written across his face, terrified that the boy's insolence might offend the Daoist master.
With a slight touch of magic, Qin Sang put their wariness to rest, leading them to pour out everything they knew.
Through their conversation, he learned that this land was called the Nine Dragons Kingdom. Most places in the country had 'Dragon' in their names, and the large city ahead was called Fulong City.
Just as he had surmised, Daoist priests enjoyed an exalted status in the Nine Dragons Kingdom, receiving imperial patronage, and even traveling Daoists were treated with the utmost courtesy.
According to what the elder had heard, it was the same in the neighboring kingdoms. When Daoist priests entered or left the border passes, not only did they require no travel permits, but the presiding officials would even come out personally to pay their respects.
As they talked, the ferry came into view.
"Living outside the city, does the elder not fear the monsters in the mountains?"
Qin Sang looked at the old man and asked.
In this realm, birds, beasts, and vegetation readily absorbed spiritual energy to cultivate; even mortals were bound to encounter them frequently.
Before the elder could speak, the youth chimed in brightly, "We are protected by the City God and Lord White Dragon; monsters dare not take a single step across the line!"
Speaking of the City God and Lord White Dragon, the youth's face brimmed with reverence.
Qin Sang had also learned that the so-called City God referred to a deity enshrined in a City God temple within Fulong City.
Lord White Dragon was the river god of the river ahead.
The Nine Dragons Kingdom revered Daoism and venerated deities, a practice observed by the entire realm from top to bottom. Every year, Fulong City held sacrificial rites to honor the City God and the river god. Even villagers living outside the city had to worship annually; the kingdom had even issued decrees that failing to worship was punishable as a grave crime.
Such circumstances were not uncommon in the mortal realms of the Storm Realm.
However, deities were almost always fraudulent inventions, mostly serving to amass wealth. Even when true local protectors existed, they were merely cultivators acting under the guise of gods.
Though the Nine Dragons Kingdom worshipped deities, the redeeming aspect was that the ceremonies were presided over by the government, without requiring the subjects to turn over precious offerings, which led the populace to worship with genuine sincerity.
Qin Sang thought to himself that while the gods might not be real, there was certainly some presence that deterred demons and spirits to protect the realm, so worshipping them was not entirely in vain.
Unfortunately, though the two had heard many tales of miracles performed by these gods, they had never witnessed one firsthand, leaving Qin Sang unable to judge the origins of the City God and Lord White Dragon.
At this moment, the elder patted the youth's head and added, "As long as we don't venture into the deep mountains, there's nothing to fear. In all my life, this humble citizen has never seen a monster dare enter our village, but it's hard to say once you enter the mountains. I've heard that many herb gatherers and woodcutters have vanished without cause in the hills. Our village isn't far from the peaks, and sometimes we are startled awake at night by strange cries echoing from within. Lately, though, it's been much quieter; the City God and Lord White Dragon must have dispatched divine soldiers to subdue them again..."
If it were truly the work of divine soldiers subduing demons, would they have so brutally devoured the demons' organs and vital essence?
By now, they had arrived at the ferry.
A covered wooden boat was moored before the timber dock, carrying a few villagers already. The boatman was just about to push off with his oar when he saw more people coming and called out hurriedly to urge them on.
Seeing Qin Sang's Daoist attire, the villagers all showed expressions of awe, willingly squeezing together to clear a wide space for him. The boatman was equally deferential, not daring to accept any boat fare.
The small craft drifted downriver.
Paying no heed to the gazes of the others, Qin Sang silently pondered his upcoming course of action.
He had envisioned all sorts of scenarios, even suspecting this might be a demon realm devoid of human traces, never expecting it to be like this.
Where there were humans, there were bound to be cultivators, and where there were cultivators, there had to be a way forward!
*I'll go into the city first to see who Lord White Dragon and the City God truly are.*
Just as this thought flashed through his mind, the boat rounded a bend in the river. Ahead, the broad river ran straight, with White Dragon Ferry lying at the end of this stretch.
Qin Sang was just about to stand and move to the bow to inspect it closely when the Heavenly Eye Butterfly concealed on his shoulder suddenly fluttered its wings.
His eyes flickered. Without betraying any reaction, he glanced at an isolated peak along the riverbank, swept his gaze over White Dragon Ferry, and remained seated.
The river's surface was calm, and the boat moved swiftly, arriving at White Dragon Ferry before long.
Behaving like an ordinary person, Qin Sang disembarked behind the elder and the boy.
Amid the clamor of the ferry, the sound of gongs and drums drifted over as an honor guard approached from the distance.
At the head walked a Daoist priest in a pale yellow robe, holding a ghost-flogging staff in one hand and ringing a golden bell in the other.
The people behind the priest were arranged in two rows. The foremost carried offerings of three meats, fruits, and soul-calling banners, followed by several pairs of honorary title placards. Right behind were two men holding a pair of large gongs, followed by a troupe of pipers and drummers.
Behind the musicians, bearers carried a black-topped soul-returning sedan, accompanied by paper-crafted lantern pavilions, censer pavilions, flower pavilions, and the like, matched with eight large embroidered umbrellas, forming a dazzlingly colorful spectacle.
Further behind was a coffin carried by thirty-two pallbearers on poles, trailed by a long procession of mourning sons and grandsons clad in white funeral garments, weeping loudly. Beside them, others held paper figures and paper horses, numbering even more than the mourning descendants.
The priest paced out the Big Dipper steps while chanting scriptures with measured cadence, swaying his head. To onlookers, it resembled a shamanic dance, appearing somewhat comical.
All at once, drums, gongs, and bells sounded together as the noisy funeral procession advanced toward the riverbank.
Seeing the procession, the elder let out an anxious sigh. "Why are they so early today?"
He hurriedly grabbed the boy and moved to step forward.
At that moment, Qin Sang took a deep look at the coffin, then reached out to stop the two. "This poor Daoist wishes to find some food to repay the kindness of your guidance. I hope the elder will not decline."
The two had been eager to rush to the funeral, yet as though bewitched by something, they turned around with Qin Sang and entered a tavern with completely natural expressions.
Qin Sang ordered some dishes.
The elder and the youth entirely forgot the purpose of their trip and began wolfing down the food.
Holding his wine cup, Qin Sang looked out through the window. He could just see the priest leading the procession further along the riverside road until they stopped before a stone-carved shrine.
The shrine was only half a person tall, containing no statue of a god, only a spirit tablet. It was presumably the sacred tablet of that Lord White Dragon.
The priest ordered people to arrange the incense altar and offerings, planted the soul-calling banner before the altar, and stood before it himself, pacing the stars and chanting scriptures.
The gongs and drums fell silent, and the mourning family members choked back their weeping. Only the rhythmic chime of the bell echoed across the river's surface.
Qin Sang could tell from the chanted scriptures that the priest was performing an expiation ritual for the deceased, seeking to invite Lord White Dragon to enter the altar, bear witness, guide the departed soul, and absolve their sins.
The priest performed the rites methodically and smoothly, quite enough to dupe ordinary mortals.
Yet after a long while, Qin Sang still felt no fluctuation whatsoever from the river or the shrine.
Just then, a sudden commotion broke out among the procession.
The priest glanced back with displeasure, just about to reprimand them, when he heard a rapid *thud-thud-thud* of knocking.
*Crack!*
The iron nail fastened to one corner of the coffin lid burst free.
The priest's face drained of color. Gathering his robes, he turned on his heels and bolted, while the rest were struck with terror, screaming shrilly, "Disaster! The corpse has risen! The corpse has risen!"
*Boom!*
The coffin exploded.
Splinters flew in all directions as a dark figure burst forth, lunging madly toward the nearest person. It looked human in shape, but its face was covered in thick green fur.
White Dragon Ferry erupted into chaos.
At that moment, Qin Sang's hand holding the wine cup paused slightly. The gaze he had directed toward the solitary peak across the river and a reed marsh outside White Dragon Ferry snapped back, fixing squarely upon the spirit tablet within the shrine.
Chapter 1746