The two said nothing more and continued deeper into the Luoyun Mountain Range.
The further they went, the more the light dimmed.
The canopy above their heads was now so dense it seemed unnatural, sealing off the sky completely. Only the occasional pale beam of light leaked through the gaps, casting a desolate glow upon the ground.
At the same time, the scent in the air changed.
While they could previously smell earth and vegetation, now only a scorched bitterness remained. This acrid scent grew stronger as they progressed, as if something had been smoldering in the forest for a long time without ever being extinguished.
Lu Xueqing led the way, her pace slightly faster than before, though her footsteps were lighter.
Her spiritual sense remained spread out. Bai Qingxue’s presence followed steadily two steps behind, their spiritual senses overlapping like two hands clasped together.
Lu Xueqing didn't need to look back to know Bai Qingxue was there, a thought that brought her a great deal of peace.
After walking for about fifteen minutes, Lu Xueqing suddenly stopped.
“There’s something ahead.”
Bai Qingxue followed her gaze. Through the gaps between several crooked trees, she could vaguely see a clearing.
The two lightened their steps and circled around, one from the left and one from the right.
The clearing was small, only a few yards across.
Several wooden stakes were driven into the ground at odd angles. Their jagged ends didn't look like they had been cut by blades; instead, they appeared to have been snapped by sheer brute force.
In the center of the clearing sat a cold campfire. The ashes were half-dry, with several blackened stones scattered around the edges.
Fragments of stone littered the ground, their surfaces covered in dense, dark red patterns.
Bai Qingxue knelt and picked up a fragment.
The runes on the shard were almost identical to the formation core fragment from six months ago, but they were even denser and finer.
Bai Qingxue rubbed the surface with her fingertip, sensing a faint trace of residual spiritual power. She reached into her sleeve and pulled out the old fragment Liu Ningshuang had given her before they departed.
Placing the two fragments side by side in her palm, she saw the patterns were exactly the same.
“It’s the same type of formation,” Bai Qingxue said, looking up at Lu Xueqing.
Lu Xueqing took it and probed it with her spiritual sense, her brow furrowing.
A greasy resistance pushed back from the runes, like some filth smeared over them, refusing to be touched.
“It seems it’s the same group as before.” Lu Xueqing put the fragment away, her tone darkening.
Bai Qingxue didn't respond, instead turning to walk a circle around the clearing.
The snapped stakes, the scattered runes, the cold ashes—every detail seemed to tell her something.
People had been here, and they had stayed for a significant amount of time.
Reaching the edge of the clearing, Bai Qingxue knelt and brushed aside a clump of withered grass, revealing half a footprint. The edges of the footprint were scorched black, as if left after stepping on something highly corrosive. She touched the edge and felt a slight burning sensation on her fingertip.
Next, Bai Qingxue stood before a tree that had been struck.
There were three deep slashes on the trunk. The cuts were clean, but the edges were a dull, dark grey, unlike the color usually left by normal sword qi.
Bai Qingxue reached out to touch them. The cuts weren't smooth; they felt rough, as if the wood had rotted from the inside out.
Lu Xueqing walked over and felt the slashes as well. She held her fingers against the cuts for a few moments as if identifying something before slowly speaking.
“This is sword qi. However, it doesn't match the techniques of any of the Xuantian Sect’s seven peaks. This residual sword qi is not only cold and gloomy but also carries a corrosive effect.”
Lu Xueqing stood up, her gaze scanning the entire campsite with a heavy expression.
“There were at least two groups of people. One to set the formation, and another to destroy it.”
Bai Qingxue didn't reply.
In her view, things were more complicated than they had anticipated before coming here.
Who set the formation, and who destroyed it? The methods used by both groups were outside the Xuantian Sect’s known scope, and yet they were operating right under the sect’s nose.
What exactly was hidden deep within the Luoyun Mountain Range that was worth them fighting over here?
The two shared a look but said nothing, continuing forward.
The terrain began to descend.
The rotting leaves beneath their feet turned into gravel. The trees grew sparser, revealing the mountain walls on either side.
A sweet, metallic scent of rot mixed with the scorched bitterness in the air, making one feel slightly nauseous.
Lu Xueqing seemed to sense something and suddenly used her sword to push aside a cluster of withered vines.
Behind the vines, a cave entrance was revealed.
The entrance wasn't large, roughly the width of one person. The interior was pitch black, extending inward beyond the reach of sight.
The rubble at the edge of the cave was fresh, with dark grey facets that matched the color of the slashes at the campsite.
“Junior Sister, shall we go in and take a look?” Lu Xueqing asked, looking at Bai Qingxue.
Bai Qingxue nodded, her hand already pressed against the hilt of the Frost Condensation Sword. Lu Xueqing pulled a Moonlight Stone from her storage bag, its glow illuminating the cave walls.
The cave wasn't deep; it widened after only a dozen steps.
The rock chamber was vast. The walls were bare but covered in dense, dark red runes that stretched from the entrance into the darkness of the depths.
However, most of the runes had been severed by sword marks, the cuts glowing with a blackened grey hue.
“Another Soul Control Formation.” Lu Xueqing walked to the stone wall, bringing the Moonlight Stone closer. “Even larger than the one in the clearing.”
“Someone got here first.” Bai Qingxue scanned the damaged runes. “Just like the campsite, they destroyed the formation here too.”
The two walked along the cave wall toward the back. The light from the Moonlight Stone reached the deepest part, revealing a pond.
However, the water was a strange color—neither clear nor turbid, but a bizarre inky green that was almost black.
“Junior Sister, be careful.” Lu Xueqing stopped Bai Qingxue from approaching the pond. She knelt, picked up a stone, and tossed it in.
The stone sank, and the surface only showed small ripples, as if the water were viscous and sticky.
Lu Xueqing then shone the Moonlight Stone around the edge of the pond.
Various items were scattered around the water—wood splinters, charred strips of cloth, and unidentifiable metal scraps.
Seeing this, Bai Qingxue used the tip of her sword to flip over a piece of blackened cloth, revealing a small patch of yellowed fabric underneath.
It was a fragment of a storage bag.
Bai Qingxue bent down to pick it up and held it under the light of the Moonlight Stone.
The edges of the fragment were scorched, but a small portion of a pattern in the middle had survived.
The pattern embroidered on the storage bag was not one common to the Eastern Region. It depicted a distorted beast horn—not curved normally, but spiraling in reverse with a crude, rugged texture.
Lu Xueqing took it and turned it over, her brow furrowing tightly.
“I’ve never seen this. It’s not from the Eastern Region.”
Bai Qingxue stared at the pattern for several moments. Something flashed in her mind like a lantern lighting up in a thick fog for a split second, vanishing before she could see it clearly. Yet she felt she had seen this pattern somewhere before—or rather, heard of it.
Bai Qingxue thought silently to herself, ‘Was it in the novel?’
“Junior Sister Bai, what’s wrong?” Lu Xueqing asked. Seeing Bai Qingxue motionless, a trace of hidden worry flickered in her eyes.
“It’s nothing.” Bai Qingxue withdrew her thoughts and carefully tucked the fragment into her storage bag.
The two scanned the cave once more but found nothing else.
Lu Xueqing felt that something was still hidden beneath that inky green water, but the Moonlight Stone couldn't penetrate it. Given their current cultivation levels and the risk of further complications, there was no point in staying.
“Let’s go.”
By the time they exited the cave and retraced their steps, the last of the daylight was completely gone.
The entire mountain range was weighed down by a heavy night, so dark one couldn't see their own hand in front of their face.
The two lit their Moonlight Stones and hurried toward the mountain gate, illuminating the path beneath their feet.
Bai Qingxue walked behind, her hand resting on her storage bag.
The beast horn pattern on the fragment continued to swirl in her mind, refusing to stop.
Bai Qingxue felt this was a thread—one end connected to the secrets deep within the Luoyun Mountain Range, and the other connected to the novel she had read in her previous life.
But she couldn't quite grasp it. It was as if every time she was about to remember something, the thought would slip through her fingers like an eel, leaving only a faint, blurry trail.
The trail rippled in her mind for a few moments before dispersing, melting into the twilight, the heavy night, and the swaying halo of light cast by the Moonlight Stone.
And so, Bai Qingxue stopped thinking about it.
The light from the Moonlight Stones swayed as it lit the path ahead, casting their shadows long and slanted against the ground covered in gravel and withered leaves.
One in front, one behind—their shadows overlapped and separated, as if someone were holding an invisible thread between them.
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