Second Entry into the Hall of Seven Kills

After concluding their discussion, Elder Zou invited Qin Sang to travel alongside them, but Qin Sang declined once again. "This poor Daoist is accustomed to coming and going alone. Besides, I still have a few personal matters to attend to before heading to the Hall of Seven Kills, so I will not trouble Elder Zou and fellow Daoists," Qin Sang said with a smile. The Eastern Pole Alliance and the Western Nether Alliance were definitely up to something in the Hall of Seven Kills, and Qin Sang had been deliberately avoiding entanglement with these people. Elder Zou let out a soft sigh, his tone carrying an enigmatic note. "Since the Daoist has no such inclination, Zou will not force the matter. Once we part today, who knows if we shall ever meet again. Take care, Daoist." "Take care, Elder Zou!" Solemnly, Qin Sang cupped his hands in farewell. After parting ways with Elder Zou, Qin Sang frequented shops and auction houses, spending a substantial sum of spirit stones to purchase treasures suited for various purposes. Three days later, he departed Tianxing Island alone and flew toward Dongmen Island. Returning to Dongmen Island brought back memories of the first time he had entered the Hall of Seven Kills. The Hall of Seven Kills was ever-changing and unpredictable. A place that had been safe during his last visit might now be overrun by a horde of vicious beasts, or ancient, perilous restrictions hidden within might have been triggered for reasons unknown. However, his current strength far surpassed what it had been back then. So long as he remained cautious enough, the outcome should be no worse than last time. Inside a temporarily rented cave dwelling, Qin Sang took out fifteen banner poles and stroked them gently. In Qin Sang's mind, the primary objective of this foray into the Hall of Seven Kills was not even finding the ancient teleportation formation, but subduing the Nine Nether Demonic Fire and refining the Eighteen Demon Banners. As an artifact refiner, he was acutely aware of the worth of a supreme-grade magic treasure. If he missed this opportunity, he was unlikely to find another chance to acquire one, even after reaching the Nascent Soul stage. With the Eighteen Demon Banners in hand, even if he failed to find the path back, his strength would at least be formidable enough to seek out further opportunities. At this thought, a glint flickered in Qin Sang's eyes, and a contemplative look crossed his face. He thought of the Flying Yaksha still trapped in the Ghost Domain, wondering how it was faring. Having his strongest refined corpse stolen away by a stray soul or wild ghost in the Ghost Domain was something Qin Sang had never anticipated. Even after emerging, he still felt a prickle of annoyance whenever he recalled it. The ghostly creature's strength probably was not too overwhelming; otherwise, there would have been no need for such stealthy deceit—it could have simply attacked his true body directly. Nevertheless, it seemed sentient and knew how to obscure the soul imprint he had left inside the corpse, so it could not be taken lightly. For such a ghost to exist within a Ghost Domain sealed for countless years by the Nine Nether Demonic Fire was rather thought-provoking. Some strange mutation must have occurred. A ghost cultivator's lifespan was indeed longer than that of normal cultivators, but it could hardly be so absurdly long. It seemed the Ghost Domain still concealed secrets he had yet to uncover. Back then, the Heavenly Eye Butterfly had not yet achieved its third metamorphosis and its Heavenly Eye remained unopened; otherwise, he would not have been led around by the nose. Now, the Heavenly Eye Butterfly had advanced to the middle phase of its third metamorphosis, and its innate divine ability had sharpened by another degree. This was the perfect time to settle scores. So long as that ghost dared to show itself, it would have nowhere to hide beneath the gaze of the Heavenly Eye. Reclaiming the refined corpse was secondary, as a corpse possessing strength merely comparable to the early Core Formation stage offered little help to him now. What truly mattered was that refining the demon banners and absorbing the Nine Nether Demonic Fire brooked no disturbance whatsoever. He had to extract the power of the Nine Nether Demonic Fire bit by bit and seal it within the demon banners. Even the slightest accident could trigger a violent surge of the demonic fire, turning it back upon him in deadly backlash. After pondering for a while, Qin Sang put away the banner poles and entered deep meditation, quietly awaiting the final moment. In the blink of an eye, a month had passed on Dongmen Island. During this time, more and more cultivators gathered here, yet news of the opening of the Hall of Seven Kills remained overdue, leaving everyone somewhat restless and uneasy. Another half-month slipped by until Qin Sang, who was meditating peacefully in his cave dwelling, was stirred awake by an imposing, formidable aura. Revisiting familiar ground, he knew the time had come. He immediately ceased his technique, swiftly packed all his belongings, and strapped the stone coffin containing his external incarnation onto his back. Just as he flew out of the cave dwelling, a voice echoed from above: "The Hall of Seven Kills shall open tonight at midnight. Fellow Daoists, make your preparations." Qin Sang's eyes flashed. Transforming into an escape light, he flew out of Dongmen Island, took a wide detour, and sped toward the storm on his own. Along the way, he subdued his light, keeping a very low profile. It was still well before midnight, leaving him more than enough time. Before long, Qin Sang reached the storm barrier once more. Beholding the spectacle within the tempest again, he was still shaken to the core. It was hard to imagine why the cultivation realm had turned into such a state, or what extraordinary methods those mighty figures had used to leave behind a barrier that held back the storm and sheltered future generations for so long. After glancing in every direction, Qin Sang's glabella flickered, and he summoned the ebony sword. With sword radiance cloaking his body, he stepped through the barrier without hesitation. No sooner had he plunged into the storm than a gray gale bore down directly on him. Qin Sang's expression shifted slightly. Sword light flashed like lightning, shifting his body over a hundred feet to the side in the blink of an eye. The gale grazed past him, but the colossal waves it dragged in its wake blotted out the sky, impossible to avoid. With a thought, Qin Sang caused his sword light to flare brilliantly, piercing right through the towering surge despite the terrifying impact. His strength was nothing like before; he now dared to traverse the outer periphery of the storm entirely on his own. Even so, facing the core of the gale still stirred a shudder of dread within him. He did not doubt its devastating might in the slightest; had he been swept away by it, even if he managed to break free, he would have had no idea where he had been flung. Becoming lost in the depths of the storm meant finding the way back was virtually impossible, and the outcome was easy to imagine. Out of prudence, Qin Sang slowed his pace and traveled atop his sword, weaving through the gaps between the gales while following the guidance of the jade talisman toward the Hall of Seven Kills. The journey went smoothly, and just as he approached the halfway mark, his brows knit slightly, and he brought his escape light to a halt. Rumble... The howling winds and roaring waves shook the heavens and earth, drowning out all other sounds. Suspended midair, Qin Sang channeled his protective sword qi to withstand the buffeting gale while turning to look to his left. At the far edge of his vision, two silhouettes hovered there as well, faint and indistinct amidst the raging squall. At the same time, Qin Sang sensed their gazes fixed upon him, fraught with ill intent. Xiang Yi mentioned that scoundrels lurk within the storm to fish in troubled waters. Have I actually run into them? Qin Sang narrowed his eyes slightly, a cold sneer surfacing beneath his mask. The two sides stood at a standoff for a brief while. Seeing that they made no move, Qin Sang tapped the ebony sword and tore through the air, departing at once. Only after Qin Sang had left did the two silhouettes finally drift over, one after the other. "He got away!" One of them swept his gaze around, and upon realizing they had lost Qin Sang's trail, he beat his chest and stamped his feet, grumbling, "Eldest Brother, it's not easy finding someone flying solo! Why didn't you let me strike?" The other man wore a ghost-face mask. Staring in the direction where Qin Sang had vanished, he said in a heavy voice, "Those who dare to travel alone through the storm—which of them is easy to provoke? That man's escape light didn't waver in the slightest; he was no ordinary cultivator. I sensed a dangerous aura from him. I suspect that had we truly attacked, we would have been the ones to regret it." "Is he really that strong?" The first man was startled to hear this. "Forget it then! We'll do as Eldest Brother says and let him off! The feng shui here isn't great; let's switch spots. We have to close a deal today, no matter what!"