"Run! This forest is cursed!"
Yang Yu and Old Wu, their faces pale with terror, dared not even glance back as they summoned every ounce of their magical power, soaring away on their swords with frantic urgency. At that very moment, the nameless shadowy forest behind them exuded an icy aura, seeping into the surrounding air and spreading outward in chilling waves. Even from a great distance, one could feel the slow awakening of an ominous, malevolent force.
Yang Fan's senses, honed to a razor's edge, detected the shift. Though he hadn't witnessed the events firsthand, the two sudden, bloodcurdling screams and the desperate retreat of Yang Yu and Old Wu painted a grim enough picture for him to deduce the terrifying truth. A dark, unspeakable energy was coming to life, and it filled his heart with a rising dread.
If two cultivators at the Core Formation stage could be slain without resistance, what hope did he, a mere Foundation Establishment disciple, have?
"Escape… I must escape now!"
Without hesitation, Yang Fan sprang into motion, his feet barely touching the dense forest canopy as he sped through the trees like a gust of wind, heading for the outskirts of the accursed woods. Though capable of rudimentary sword flight, he knew his agility and speed on foot far outstripped what he could manage in the air.
Throughout his retreat, he felt as though a pair of invisible eyes were watching him from the depths of the forest, cold and cruel, scrutinizing his every move.
Fear gnawed at the edges of his mind, but he forced himself to remain calm. He had heard rumors of forbidden places like this—places where danger lurked only in the heart of the wilderness, where the land itself was cursed. As long as he avoided the central region of the forest, he might yet survive.
But with the resurgence of that chilling dark energy, nothing could be certain anymore.
At last, Yang Fan breached the edge of the nameless forest. The oppressive, icy atmosphere that had clung to him seemed to dissolve as he crossed into the open, though remnants of it still lingered at his back, gnawing at his consciousness.
"This nameless forest… it's a forbidden zone of some kind," he thought grimly. "The men from the Yang family have been scared out of their wits. They won't be returning anytime soon."
With that conclusion, he resumed his cautious trek. Sometimes running at full speed, sometimes flying low over obstacles or rivers, he traversed the wild, uncharted mountains with an urgency born of survival instinct. Yang Fan was mindful not to linger in the sky, lest he draw unwanted attention. On foot, he could blend into the rugged terrain more easily and remain out of sight.
After several exhausting hours of this relentless pace, even his formidable endurance began to falter. Finding a small cave tucked into the rocky mountainside, he decided to rest for a while.
"I've put enough distance between myself and that cursed forest," he murmured, feeling a slight relief as he sat cross-legged to meditate. "This is a remote area—far from civilization. The Yang family shouldn't be able to find me here."
As he meditated, his thoughts drifted back to the ominous forest. "Why was there such a dangerous place, so close to the secluded regions of the Xiuyu Pavilion? How could I have never heard of it before?"
His confusion deepened. He could understand his own ignorance of the forest's dangers, but what baffled him was that even the Yang family—prestigious and knowledgeable—seemed just as unaware. That was a mystery in itself.
After a moment's contemplation, Yang Fan drew from the hidden space within his "Xianhong Ring," producing a small, black booklet: *The Nine Nether Demonic Codex (Volume One).* His eyes glinted as he gazed at the ancient tome, its dark secrets seeming to pulse in his hands.
That forest had been cloaked in an overwhelming malevolence, something dark and primal awakening within it. And now, as he held this demonic codex in his hands, unease gnawed at him, whispering of a connection between the two.
Could there be a link between the two? he wondered. Perhaps… the resurgence of that terrifying dark energy was somehow tied to the contents of this forbidden text.
Another thought crept into his mind: "Could I… attempt to cultivate the demonic arts within this codex?"
Though his primary cultivation art, *Xianhong Jue,* was known for its profound depth and immortality, it lacked offensive power. It was, in essence, a supportive path, one that disdained violent techniques and categorized them as paths leading to corruption.
"The *Xianhong Jue* grants longevity and youthfulness, even extending my lifespan beyond that of most cultivators. But… it lacks the power to confront threats head-on," he mused grimly.
Resolute, Yang Fan set down protective wards around the cave entrance, then gingerly opened the black tome, infusing his consciousness into its depths. At once, he was enveloped in a void of inky blackness, a space where countless runes flickered like distant stars, blazing in eerie, unholy flames. His mind reeled as the arcane knowledge spun before his eyes, its dark power an unbearable weight pressing against his soul.
The codex had no written incantations or mantras—its cultivation method was purely abstract, its secrets passed down in a manner uncannily similar to his *Xianhong Jue*. Its uniqueness meant that it could never be replicated, nor copied. It was a true, one-of-a-kind artifact.
After several intense moments of study, Yang Fan withdrew, his spirit drained. He had barely scratched the surface of the demonic art's mysteries, and already it had taxed him heavily.
"It seems… I am not yet strong enough to comprehend its full scope," he conceded, closing the tome with care.
Demonic cultivation, he knew, was treacherous. Unlike the righteous path, its methods were fraught with danger, capable of consuming a careless cultivator if approached recklessly. One false step could lead to eternal damnation.
After resting a short while, he felt his strength return, his spirit refreshed. Without lingering further, Yang Fan resumed his journey, continuing his long trek through treacherous mountains and across untamed wilderness. On foot, he moved with purpose, avoiding the sky to remain inconspicuous, and carefully traversing the most dangerous of terrains.
Over the next few days, Yang Fan encountered and harvested rare medicinal herbs, and even hunted down a few low-tier demonic beasts, whose bodies yielded precious ingredients. His medical knowledge deepened with each discovery, and his journey, which had begun as a grim necessity, now took on a certain fascination.
By the fourth day, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, Yang Fan followed the flow of a small stream until he saw, in the distance, thin wisps of smoke rising into the evening sky—a village, nestled in the shadow of the mountains, isolated from the world.
At last, civilization.
Breathing a sigh of relief, Yang Fan's face softened with satisfaction. "After these long, arduous days spent wandering through these forsaken lands, I've finally found signs of life."
---
Meanwhile, back in the pursuit led by the Yang family, the two surviving Core Formation cultivators, Yang Yu and Old Wu, had returned to the vicinity of the Xiuyu Pavilion. Half a day after they had fled the nameless forest, they mustered enough courage to venture back, keeping a safe distance from the cursed woodland. From afar, they could feel the oppressive, steadily rising magic within the forest.
The demonic energy was growing, spreading far and wide. Within a hundred miles, all living creatures—beasts and demons alike—had fled, leaving the land eerily still.
Back at the Xiuyu Pavilion, Yang Yu and Old Wu waited anxiously for help. Finally, a streak of azure light crossed the sky and descended before them, revealing a middle-aged scholar with a gentle expression.
"Master Xu, you've finally come!" Yang Yu exclaimed, visibly relieved. Old Wu bowed respectfully to the scholar, who had once accompanied Yang Yu on a mission to the Southern Yang clan.
This was none other than Xu, the same man who had displayed his icy magic in Yang Fan's courtyard, probing the young man's cultivation.
"What happened? I see the two of you look quite shaken," Xu said calmly, though his eyes sharpened with curiosity.
Yang Yu quickly recounted the events, leaving nothing out.
"You mobilized such a force just to capture a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator?" Xu said gravely, shaking his head. "And you've lost two Core Formation elders as well. Now tell me—how did they die?"
Yang Yu's voice grew soft as he explained. "They entered the forest, and… they simply fell from the sky. Screaming as they died. After that, there was nothing. No sign of them."
"The cursed forest…" Xu's face darkened. "You mean the forest to the north of Xiuyu Pavilion? The one near the abyssal valley?"
"Yes… You've heard of it, Master Xu?" Yang Yu asked, surprised.
Xu's expression shifted, alarm flashing in his eyes. "That forest… so it's truly that place."
His sudden reaction shocked both Yang Yu and Old Wu, who immediately sensed that something far graver was at play.
"Master Xu, what is that forest, exactly?" Yang Yu asked cautiously, fear creeping back into his voice.