On the third day, Elder Zhong's clothes were tattered, yet he pressed forward resolutely into the depths of the mountains.
Standing atop a towering peak, Elder Zhong surveyed the surrounding terrain. To the left, a chain of mountains was shrouded in dense, ominous mists that obscured the environment within. The black, terrifying haze seemed so malevolent that even the wild beasts and magical creatures had abandoned the area. On the right, a mighty river surged northward, its roaring currents a testament to nature's grandeur.
He let out a long breath, the tension dissipating slightly. Checking his map, Elder Zhong confirmed his path. If he maintained his current pace, he would reach the Kaizong Sect in two months. Fixing his gaze on the horizon, he leapt nimbly from the peak to the base of the mountain, prepared to journey further north. Yet, the moment he reached the valley, he froze.
"What?" Elder Zhong furrowed his brows, scanning the unusual scene.
Trees lay splintered, grass trampled flat—clear evidence of a recent and violent battle. A sense of foreboding crept into his heart as he followed the trail of destruction. Before long, he stumbled upon a corpse.
A wolf's corpse.
The silver wolf from yesterday?
Elder Zhong's heart skipped a beat as he rushed forward. The creature's body bore countless wounds, deep gashes that appeared to be inflicted by sharp blades. Stranger still, its entire body was encased in frost and snow, as if frozen solid.
Frozen?
Elder Zhong glanced at the blazing sun overhead. Though it was not summer, the heat made such freezing seem impossible. Carefully examining the wolf's body, he spotted the scar left by his blade, confirming his suspicions—this was indeed the very wolf that had tried to devour him.
The silver wolf had perished.
But what killed it? A stronger magical beast? Or… had it made a fatal mistake, recklessly challenging an even mightier creature in a fit of rage and met its demise?
A chill ran down Elder Zhong's spine as he scanned his surroundings. Assured there were no other beasts nearby, he drew a small dagger and began to dissect the wolf with swift precision. Though the silver wolf's hide was thick, the finely forged dagger sliced through it effortlessly. After what felt like an eternity, he finally unearthed a small, silver orb—its demon core.
To cultivators, this was a treasure. Though the silver wolf was a lowly creature incapable of spells, its demon core contained the essence of celestial energy. Elder Zhong carefully stowed it away and resumed his journey, venturing deeper into the mountains.
Suddenly, an eerie caw broke the silence overhead.
"Caw!"
Looking up, Elder Zhong spotted a white crow with a wingspan over two meters—a Frost Crow. Its scarlet eyes bore into him with an unrelenting hatred.
The realization hit him hard. The frost covering the silver wolf—was it this creature's doing?
"Caw!"
The Frost Crow shrieked again, releasing a blast of icy breath. Elder Zhong narrowly dodged as the frost struck a nearby tree, instantly encasing it in a thick layer of snow and ice.
Run!
Gripping his blade, Elder Zhong darted through the dense forest, weaving between trees. The Frost Crow pursued relentlessly, spraying frost whenever the terrain opened up. Though he evaded most of the attacks, the biting cold brushed past him several times, leaving his arms numb and sluggish.
His heart sank. At this rate, exhaustion or the Frost Crow's cold breath would be his end. Worse yet, another crow suddenly appeared from the opposite direction, its piercing cry signaling the arrival of reinforcements.
Two Frost Crows now hunted him.
Desperation gripped Elder Zhong as he fumbled for a black pill hidden within his robes—an anti-toxin elixir crafted through painstaking efforts. Swallowing it in one gulp, he veered sharply toward the left, heading straight for the miasma-filled valley.
The pill was his last hope, granting temporary immunity to toxins. It was a gamble. Either the pill would shield him, or the miasma would finish what the Frost Crows started. With frost creeping up his boots, Elder Zhong dove into the misty abyss.
Behind him, the Frost Crows halted, their cries echoing in frustration as they refused to enter the poisonous haze.
Safe? Am I truly safe?
Wiping the sweat from his brow, Elder Zhong circulated his qi to dispel the frost from his limbs. Yet, as he calmed himself, a wave of dizziness overtook him. The miasma was seeping in, albeit slowly. Alarmed, he activated the Red Luan Scripture, a protective aura manifesting as a faint pink mist around his body. To his relief, the technique effectively blocked the encroaching poison.
For now.
But the Red Luan Scripture consumed qi at a relentless pace. He couldn't maintain it indefinitely. Glancing toward the Frost Crows circling beyond the mist, Elder Zhong resolved to press onward, aiming to traverse the valley and climb the ridge ahead. Once out of their line of sight, he could continue north.
Halfway up the ridge, a faint but distinct sound reached his ears—a dull thud from within the mountain itself.
What was that?
Elder Zhong froze, his instincts honed through decades of navigating treacherous business ventures and life-or-death situations. This was no ordinary sound. Driven by a gut feeling, he scoured the ridge until he uncovered a hidden cave, its entrance obscured by dense foliage.
Perhaps fortune awaited him—or perhaps death.
Gripping his blade tightly, Elder Zhong stepped inside.