Qingzhu

Dead silence reigned behind the door. Qin Sang summoned a baleful corpse, which took the lead and headed up the stone steps. He and his incarnation followed behind. The baleful corpse's footsteps echoed through the long stairwell. Soon, it reached the top and stepped through the doorway. Behind the door lay another visibly dilapidated hall. Strangely, the hall possessed only this single door, with no other exits. In the center of the hall rested a damaged formation. Qin Sang appeared at the threshold and examined the hall and the ruined formation. "It seems to be some kind of Spirit Gathering Array," Qin Sang murmured to himself. He could make out a few clues: when intact, this had indeed been a Spirit Gathering Array, and far more ingenious than any he had ever seen before. After a thorough search to confirm there was nothing else and no trace left by Senior Qingzhu, Qin Sang walked to the opposite side of the hall to inspect the wall. There had to be another exit in the hall. He summoned his ebony sword, channeled sword qi, and slashed into the stone wall. The sword qi sank into the stone and vanished without a trace. "Just as I thought." A look of delight crossed Qin Sang's face. He sent slash after slash of sword qi into the stone wall, all of which were swallowed whole. Before long, a doorway materialized upon the stone surface, looking remarkably similar to the one in the ancient hall of Ziwei Palace. The baleful corpse stepped through first. A moment later, Qin Sang followed. "This place...?" Qin Sang surveyed the surrounding scenery, a look of profound astonishment spreading across his face. The ancient hall's exit also opened onto a stone cliff face, but outside lay a desolate expanse. The baleful corpse stood atop the stone cliff. Qin Sang flickered in motion and drifted up beside it. As he looked around, his surprise deepened. This could tentatively be called the eighth floor of the Heaven Tower. It was a vast realm, likely no smaller than the seventh floor. However, this floor had no towering peaks—only open terrain with undulating mountain ranges, none of which were exceptionally high. To Qin Sang's astonishment, this was the most intact space he had encountered since entering the Heaven Tower. The seven floors below were all fragmented and torn apart; even the colossal mountain on the seventh floor had been smashed to pieces. The eighth floor, however, was remarkably whole. The earth and mountain ranges were pristine and undamaged, as if the cataclysm of war had never reached here. Yet compared to the seventh floor, the atmosphere here was suffocatingly oppressive. The space was unnervingly dim. Overhead hung thick, heavy black clouds composed of an unknown substance, sagging so low that they brushed the mountaintops, pressing down like a weight upon the heart. The earth and mountains were completely barren. Not a single patch of green could be seen, nor even withered grass or trees; everything was stained the same pitch-black as the dark clouds above. Dead silence and utter desolation. The eighth floor of the Heaven Tower was a place that had died completely. Qin Sang's expression grew solemn. For some reason, a pang of bleak sorrow welled in his chest. "Could anything have survived in a place like this?" Qin Sang murmured, his gaze searching in every direction. "Could the ancient teleportation formation be here?" As far as the eye could see stretched barren black expanse. Rolling mountain silhouettes rippled in the distance, devoid of any man-made structures. Qin Sang knew he would have to search on his own; Senior Qingzhu had not left behind a single word. The good news was that the entire space was utterly tranquil, with no vicious beasts making it their lair. He summoned his ebony sword, picked a direction, and set off with his incarnation to look for signs of restrictions. This realm was quite large, and he needed to act quickly. In the direction he had chosen stood a relatively tall peak. Soon, Qin Sang reached the foot of the mountain, concealed his presence, and glided toward the summit. "Hm?" Reaching the peak, Qin Sang gazed in all directions and finally spotted something amiss. At the far end of that single direction lay a neat, straight black line—like a sheer precipice where the earth came to an abrupt halt, an extraordinarily peculiar sight. After a moment of contemplation, Qin Sang flew down the mountain, deciding to take a look at the cliff first. Leaping over one black ridge after another, Qin Sang suddenly halted just as he drew near the precipice, his face seized by sheer shock. Bai's urgent voice warned in his ear, "Watch out! Someone's there!" To his horror, Qin Sang discovered a person standing atop a mountain beside the precipice! The figure was tall and slender, standing straight as a green pine with hands clasped behind his back. Facing away from them, he stared into the void beyond the cliff, motionless. Not the faintest trace of an aura emanated from him. Until now, despite the Heavenly Eye Butterfly keeping watch, it had failed to detect this person's presence. It was as though the man had appeared out of thin air, like a ghost. A chill gripped Qin Sang's heart. The figure turned around slowly, his gaze sharp as a blade, pinning Qin Sang on the spot. Qin Sang's concealment arts were utterly useless under that stare. "Senior Qingzhu!" Catching sight of the man's face, Qin Sang's expression changed drastically, and he cried out in shock. He had seen portraits of Senior Qingzhu back at Shaohua Mountain. Legends of Qingzhu had always circulated through Shaohua Mountain. Raging for the sake of his beloved, cleaving Jianmen Mountain with a single strike, storming the Yuanshen Sect alone with a solitary sword, slaying Golden Core cultivators... Every deed stirred the blood and inspired yearning. Although Shaohua Mountain deliberately downplayed his existence to spare the Yuanshen Sect's dignity, they could not stifle the fervor of his admirers, and Senior Qingzhu's portrait had continued to pass among the disciples. And now, at this very moment, Qin Sang had met the man in the flesh. Senior Qingzhu's whereabouts had always been shrouded in mystery. At first, Qin Sang suspected he had already found the ancient teleportation formation and returned to the Xiaohan Realm. After finding Spirit Tortoise Island, he learned that Senior Qingzhu's old enemies had tracked him down, leading to a great battle after which his fate became unknown. Qin Sang had thought the hope of ever seeing Senior Qingzhu again was nonexistent, yet here was an abrupt reunion. Oddly, why was Senior Qingzhu here? In an instant, Qin Sang's thoughts raced. Without a doubt, Senior Qingzhu had already reached the Nascent Soul stage; otherwise, he could never have evaded the Heavenly Eye Butterfly's perception so effortlessly. Yet Qin Sang did not know Senior Qingzhu's true temperament, nor whether he was truly as fiercely principled as the legends claimed. Deep vigilance gripped his heart, and his entire body tensed. "I..." Qin Sang parted his lips, about to speak, when he suddenly felt something was off. Standing in the darkness, upon seeing Qin Sang, the corners of Qingzhu's mouth curved slightly into a sinister, unnatural smile that made Qin Sang's heart leap in terror. "A Seed-Origin Demon Fetus... another reckless fool who doesn't know life from death..." Qingzhu sneered. His voice rang in Qin Sang's ears, laden with a chilling coldness that pierced to the bone, sending an involuntary shiver through him. "To think there'd be an unexpected harvest. It seems you're the successor he chose?" "Wait! You're not—" Shock seized Qin Sang. This man had Senior Qingzhu's face, yet referred to Qingzhu as 'he.' From his tone, he seemed intimately familiar with both Qingzhu and the Seed-Origin Demon Fetus. Could it be... Qin Sang instinctively glanced at the external incarnation beside him. His figure trembled as a burst of tricolor escape light flared, his true body retreating frantically, choosing to flee for his life without a shred of hesitation. At the same time, the external incarnation moved in the exact opposite direction, charging toward Qingzhu with the blood sword in hand. Seeing this, a flicker of disdain crossed Qingzhu's eyes, and his wicked smile deepened—as if watching a dying plaything struggle in vain.