Chapter Seventy-One: A Way Out?

A cold, sinister wind swept around them, while the severed hand slowly sank beneath the water’s surface.

Xu Zhong and his companions remained perched atop the treetops. Here, flight was forbidden; flying boats could not cross, and only by harnessing the wind and balancing on its edge could one stand suspended in the void. Now, however, there was no wind to rely on.

Their gazes were all fixed on that severed hand. Before they could see it clearly, the tree beneath their feet began to quake violently. Then, arms sprouted from its trunk, roots were drawn from the sea of corpses and entwined together to form two legs, and even seven orifices grew upon the trunk itself.

The demon tree was about to devour them.

Its branch-formed arms reached up, seizing Xu Zhong and the others by the legs, its maw wide open, ready to stuff them inside. Xu Zhong felt a chill race down his spine as a sword’s brilliance flashed from behind him, severing the branch-arms. He plunged into the sea of corpses below.

In an instant, countless bodies beneath his feet began to sink, hands sprouting up like chives shooting from the earth, grasping at Xu Zhong from all sides, trying to drag him down. Xu Zhong summoned his treasured Six-Foot Pearl.

That day, he had taken three artifacts from the demonic cultivator who tried to assassinate him: the Six-Foot Pearl, the Tricolor Water Lotus, and the Xuan Yuan True Water Shield. All three artifacts were defensive in nature.

At his call, the six bone forks within the Six-Foot Pearl appeared before him, immediately stilling the chaos. Xu Zhong burst forth from the sea of corpses.

“We shouldn’t have rushed out!” Li Feiyu muttered, regretful. They had panicked and only thought of escape, with no time to think. Now, with a brief respite, Li Feiyu realized they had missed their chance.

The inscription was wrong, but it still served a purpose. If the mistake was corrected and the erased inscription restored, everything would return to order.

“It seems we must go back after all,” Li Feiyu said. The others, not fools themselves, quickly understood the crux of the matter.

“No need—Yun Yong is still down below,” Xu Zhong observed, glancing around.

Only then did Li Feiyu and the others notice Yun Yong’s absence. Anxiously, they peered into the water, especially Fang Yuan, whose visual arts were unparalleled, yet even she could not pierce the murky depths.

Then, abruptly, the turmoil ceased. The shifting sea of corpses piled up once more into an island, the yellow-green pus cleared again, and the trees reverted to their natural form. Everything seemed restored to normal.

At that moment, Yun Yong burst forth from the water. After coughing up several mouthfuls, he seemed otherwise unharmed—except that what he vomited was all yellow-green pus.

At the same time, the Fire Luminary hidden within him ignited; his heartbeat thundered like a forge, and flames surged through his body, expelling the pus from every limb and bone.

“How are you?” the others asked, concern in their voices.

Yun Yong waved a hand. “It’s nothing—just nauseated.” He paused, his stomach spasming, and began to retch again.

Fang Yuan, struggling to hold herself together, finally succumbed at the sight of Yun Yong’s relentless vomiting and began to retch herself.

After a while, Yun Yong steadied himself, then shook his head. “You really ought to see what’s down there. It’s truly a spectacle.”

“Is that so?” Xu Zhong’s heart skipped, curiosity piqued. “What did you see?”

“Want to know?” Yun Yong replied, nodding toward the water. “Then follow me.”

With that, Yun Yong plunged below. Xu Zhong hurried after him, while Li Feiyu and Tang Yuan hesitated briefly.

Fang Yuan clutched at Li Feiyu’s sleeve, sweating with anxiety. “Let’s not go!”

“It’s fine,” Li Feiyu reassured her, glancing at Tang Yuan. “Tang Yuan will stay here with you.” With that, Li Feiyu jumped in as well.

Not long after, curiosity got the better of Tang Yuan, and he dove in too.

Fang Yuan looked left and right, gritted her teeth, stamped her foot, and, suppressing her nausea, followed them into the pool.

...

Beneath the surface, the water shimmered jade-green. A wisp of primordial energy rose, dazzling silver light flickering in its wake.

Yun Yong had already restored the Purification Mantra. His cloud script was elegant, flowing like drifting clouds.

Yun Yong led the way, with Xu Zhong and Li Feiyu close behind. They passed through stone gates, descending ever deeper.

From afar, the outline of an arm could be seen, vast as a mountain range stretching beneath the water.

Around the arm, various herbs floated, exuding spiritual energy and a fragrant aroma.

Drawing closer, they realized these were not medicinal herbs, but spices: white cardamom, star anise, galangal, cinnamon bark, and more. The sight of these seasonings was bizarre and jarring in the midst of such surroundings.

“Aren’t these just stew spices?” Fang Yuan tried to distract herself, forcing her mind away from the disgusting scene she had witnessed.

“Perhaps this whole pool is a pot of stew,” Yun Yong replied, prompting everyone to look at him.

“You’re joking, right?” Li Feiyu asked after a pause, recalling Yun Yong’s habit of making ill-timed remarks.

Yun Yong shook his head solemnly. “I’m not joking. It’s the truth.”

He drew out a map copy he had gotten from Xu Zhong and indicated their location.

A ring-shaped basin, flanked by symmetrical mountains. With a sweep of his power, he sketched the underwater terrain: the basin’s edge sloping inward and down, horseshoe-shaped from above, and, in three dimensions, like a cauldron.

“A cauldron?” Xu Zhong blurted out.

The ring of mountains formed the cauldron’s rim, the twin peaks its handles, and the deep pool its belly—two handles, a round mouth, and a deep, bulging body. In their minds, the entire basin now took on the form of a great cauldron.

“They say ‘bells ring for banquets, cauldrons for feasts’—a cauldron is for cooking after all,” Yun Yong continued.

Xu Zhong thought aloud, “It does make sense. But it’s odd—after all this time, the arm still retains such vitality. And after so long, it still hasn’t absorbed the flavor. That’s strange too.”

The others looked at Xu Zhong.

He shrugged, sheepish. “Just kidding.” Then he added, “But what about all those corpses?”

Yun Yong shook his head. “Maybe they weren’t considered appetizing enough.”

Fang Yuan felt nauseous again, and even Xu Zhong and Yun Yong now seemed strange in her eyes—both clearly thick-skinned and unfazed.

“Uh…” Yun Yong noticed the others’ discomfort and said, “I guess I’m not cut out for jokes.”

Li Feiyu continued, “If this is all stew, then whose meal is that arm meant for?”

A chill ran down their spines. Such a massive arm, after countless millennia, still brimming with vitality—how powerful must its original owner have been?

And yet, such a being had been dismembered and left to steep in the cauldron.

Who—or what—could consume such a thing?

The thought grew more horrifying. The next moment, it felt as if an unseen eye slowly opened behind them. Li Feiyu and Tang Yuan kept their composure, but Fang Yuan, more timid, kept glancing over her shoulder.

There was nothing behind them—only the primordial energy.

“So, what is that primordial energy?” Fang Yuan asked, pointing.

“That’s not primordial energy,” Xu Zhong replied. “It’s the energy of the Yimu element.”

None present knew better than he what true primordial energy was.

“Yimu energy?”

Yimu arises from the Wood Luminary and is one of the five luminaries of the human soul.

“The body may have died, but the soul seems still present.”

The five yang luminaries perish with the body, but the yin-yang luminaries persist. Just as sunflowers turn toward the sun, the flesh turns toward the soul.

That strand of Yimu energy was the soul striving to anchor the body.

“Perhaps the cauldron has two aspects,” Xu Zhong mused.

Each coral isle formed from the sea of corpses had, within every stone, a corpse sealed inside—no soul, only vitality.

That endless surge of vitality was somehow grafted onto the severed arm, preserving its life force, keeping it eternally fresh.

And the soul, via the Yimu energy, remained bound to the arm, sustaining its existence.

Through formidable means, someone had separated the souls and bodies of the beings here, using their souls and vitality as sustenance to preserve themselves.

Yet a greater cultivator had, in turn, made him into food, stewing him in the cauldron.

Xu Zhong’s heart pounded furiously.

He looked up at the inscription above. The inscription did not suppress the arm, but the Yimu energy.

In other words, the inscription sought to deliver the arm’s owner.

The others, grasping the implications, grew pale.

“Will we ever get out?” Fang Yuan asked, her voice trembling.

With so many corpses and souls here, it was clear they were not the first to try and fail.

Fang Yuan could already picture her own fate.

“Who can say?” Yun Yong replied flippantly. “But if we can climb along this Yimu energy, maybe we can make it out.”

Since the Yimu energy linked body and soul, it might also connect the cauldron to the outside. Perhaps even the inscriptions were altered by someone outside, using the Yimu energy as a conduit.

They all looked at the Yimu energy.

“But if we thought of this, surely some of the fallen cultivators must have as well?” Yun Yong said coldly.

“They may have thought of it, they may have tried. But in the end, they still died here.”

“If we follow the Yimu energy, can we really escape alive?” he asked.

“But do we have any other choice?”

Either try, or perish trapped here.

It was a riddle with no answer, for there was never meant to be one.

“Let’s go in shifts,” Li Feiyu proposed, summoning a paper crane. “We’ll use these to keep in contact—every fifty steps, check in with your location and safety.”

The crane split into five smaller cranes, settling into each person’s hand.

“I’ll go first. The rest of you follow.” With that, he set his sights on the Yimu energy and began his ascent.