Qin Sang bounded between the mountain fragments.
His destination was the valley. Whenever he passed a secret area along the way, he would occasionally send out a strand of sword qi to probe it, but each effort was like a stone dropped into the sea, yielding no reaction.
The space on the seventh floor seemed boundless, with jagged peak fragments drifting everywhere.
Qin Sang flew at full speed. After crossing an untold number of fragments, he finally drew near the valley.
Just then, his figure abruptly hitched. He banked his evasive light, darting into a nearby patch of woods, where he reined in his aura and frowned in the direction of the valley.
A moment earlier, shadows of figures had flashed outside the valley entrance—and there seemed to be more than one.
No wonder he had not encountered a single soul along the way.
Could all the cultivators who had charged into the Heaven Tower earlier have gathered here?
Lost in thought, Qin Sang suspected that the battle between the Demon Lord and the Grand Shaman had originated in this valley. That would explain why these people had swarmed here after the two powerhouses departed, hoping to scavenge whatever was left behind.
The Grand Shaman had obtained some sort of treasure in this valley, something that had never occurred in previous expeditions.
The valley might also conceal a teleportation formation leading to the higher floors, tied directly to the ancient cultivators' relics left within the Heaven Tower. The Demon Lord's relentless pursuit had clearly not been motivated solely by the feud between their two races.
For the Witch Clan to reap rewards the moment they arrived, could they have acquired some ancient text that unraveled the secrets of the Hall of Seven Kills?
Qin Sang observed for a while. After confirming there were no Nascent Soul Patriarchs currently in the valley, he could no longer hold back. Transforming into a streak of light, he soared out from the woods and headed straight for the valley.
The valley was immense.
Among all the fragments Qin Sang had seen so far, this was by far the largest, encompassing an entire, intact valley within the shattered mountain.
His light touched down at the valley entrance. Flanking both sides were lush, verdant mountain woods, brimming with vibrant green.
The riverbed running through the middle had long run dry. Though the trees on both banks grew in thick abundance, there was no wind here. The leaves hung utterly motionless. An eerie, deathly stillness pervaded the woods, in stark contrast to the lively green that met the eye.
It felt identical to the lower floors.
At that moment, several cultivators were busily searching throughout the valley. Noticing Qin Sang's arrival, they merely cast him a brief glance before turning back to their business.
Judging by their sullen expressions, none of them had found anything useful yet.
Felled ancient trees and chaotic gouges strewn everywhere were proof enough of a ferocious battle. His guess had been correct: the Nascent Soul experts of both races had definitely fought here.
However, finding any meaningful clues amid the wreckage was like fishing for a needle in the sea.
Qin Sang stood at the entrance and surveyed the area, his gaze ultimately locking onto the valley's depths.
The far end was shrouded in a mass of black light that resembled a dark void.
Looking closer, one could see that the black light was actually composed of countless dense black threads. They crisscrossed in a tangled web, sealing off the interior of the valley completely.
The stone walls on either side were etched with layer upon layer of ancient restrictions, their surfaces mottled and weathered like eroded rock. The black threads originated precisely from these cliff faces.
These black threads were as slender as zither strings and lacked physical substance. They hung suspended in midair, motionless. Because of their sheer numbers, a hasty glance made them look like a solid mass of black radiance.
Though deceptively ethereal, the threads were terrifyingly lethal. Not a single cultivator searching the valley dared to go anywhere near them.
It was said that several Nascent Soul Patriarchs had met their demise there, their bodies annihilated without leaving even a bone behind.
Over the long years, no one had ever successfully breached that barrier.
Along the cliff walls bordering the threads, scattered sword and saber marks pitted the stone. Most of these gouges were ancient, indicating that even the Grand Shaman and the Demon Lord had exercised caution during their clash, wary of disturbing the deadly threads.
*What kind of treasure did the Grand Shaman obtain? And with so many eyes watching, how am I supposed to test my theory?*
Qin Sang frowned deeply, shaking his head in mild resignation before darting into the valley.
He traversed the valley floor, releasing his spiritual sense to search openly and without restraint, just as the others were doing.
Strangely enough, aside from the remnants of battle, they found nothing at all.
A treasure would never be left out in the open, or it would have been snatched away long ago. Since the Grand Shaman had obtained something, she must have unlocked some secret ground.
Just then, Qin Sang overheard the other cultivators conversing nearby.
"Do you think there might not be an ancient palace or secret realm at all? Could the Grand Shaman have actually charged into the inner valley and retrieved the treasure from within?" a cultivator asked, straightening up in frustration after a fruitless search and staring toward the depths.
The others turned their eyes in that direction as well.
The black threads hovered in eerie silence, seemingly capable of swallowing light itself, chilling everyone to the bone.
"Weren't there rumors that a teleportation formation to the higher floors was hidden inside?" someone asked doubtfully. "Could all the past guesses have been wrong? Maybe there is no teleportation formation, only a treasure vault. Still, the Hall of Seven Kills has opened so many times, and no one has ever made it through. Our human race has produced countless prodigies, including figures whose cultivation rivaled the Grand Shaman, yet all were helpless before it. Could the Grand Shaman truly be powerful enough to withstand the might of those black threads?"
Another cultivator countered, "Everyone says the Witch Clan deliberately provoked this conflict and waged war purely for the sake of the Hall of Seven Kills. They must have discovered something to take such a gamble. Besides, the Witch Clan commands so many bizarre, ancient shamanic arts that go far beyond our understanding. It wouldn't be surprising if she possessed some method to counter the threads. Still, if an ancient human relic was truly hidden in there only to be seized first by the Witch Clan, I wonder if our seniors can stomach it."
"The winds of change are sweeping over the Canglang Sea once again!" the man sighed.
As they spoke, a few cultivators flew over, scattering along the boundary of the black threads. Their eyes held lingering dread, not daring to take a single step past the threshold.
None could discern what secrets lay beyond.
Some refused to give up and resumed their search, while others quietly withdrew from the valley.
Qin Sang's gaze remained sharp. As he searched, he kept his ears open to their conversation.
Summoning his ebony sword, he pretended to clear away rubble while secretly channeling sword qi to probe his surroundings.
Back at Ziwei Palace, the Great Sun Cliff had looked no different from any ordinary bluff from the outside, yet within it lay hidden the Sword Path and a teleportation formation—mechanisms that could only be activated by the distinct sword qi of the *Origin Soul Sword-Nurturing Chapter*.
He could only pin his hopes on the same principle here.
In the end, Qin Sang wound up empty-handed like everyone else.
He arrived at the depths of the valley, feeling thoroughly stumped.
*Am I going to have to test every single mountain fragment? In such a short time, that's impossible.*
Qin Sang wore a look of helplessness as he stared at the crisscrossing threads ahead.
With his current cultivation, stepping in would be a certain death sentence.
The threads themselves did not seem to have any connection to sword qi; neither the ebony sword nor the killing talisman showed the slightest reaction.
Unwilling to leave just like this, Qin Sang shifted his gaze, inspecting the cliff walls on both sides from top to bottom.
The stone faces were scarred all over. Some of the sword marks had likely been left by ancient cultivators countless ages ago, standing preserved before the eyes of the present day.
Suddenly, Qin Sang's eyes narrowed sharply, locking onto a single sword mark.
It was carved right at the outer edge of the black threads, tucked away in an obscure spot, so faint and minuscule that it was nearly impossible to detect!
Chapter 784