The heavy doors of the ancestral library boomed shut behind me, the sound echoing the finality of my discovery. I stood blinking in the bright afternoon sun, the ancient, dusty scent of the archives still clinging to my robes. The journal in my hand felt impossibly heavy, a weight of history and dread.
Ming pushed himself off the stone pillar he'd been leaning against, his ever-present nonchalance a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts raging in my mind. He took one look at my face, at the grim set of my jaw and the wide, haunted look in my eyes, and his casual demeanor vanished.
"You found it," he stated. It wasn't a question.
I didn't speak, not yet. The courtyard was still part of the Xiao Clan's territory, with disciples and servants occasionally passing by. We walked in a tense, charged silence, our footsteps echoing on the stone paths as we left the manor and made our way back to the sanctuary of our pavilion. Only when the grand doors of our own estate were sealed behind us did I finally allow myself to speak.
In the quiet solitude of my forge, I opened the leather-bound journal and laid it on the central stone platform. I read the final, chilling entry from the ancestor Xiao He aloud. My voice was steady, but the words themselves seemed to suck the warmth from the room. I spoke of the "valley of silent shadows," the unnatural cold that "devoured the soul," and the terrifying vision of black-robed figures performing a ritual before a collapsed cavern.
When I finished, Ming was silent for a long time, his blindfolded face turned towards the journal as if his Six Eyes could read the very soul-imprint left on the page.
"A collapsed cave," he murmured, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "A slumbering 'god of death'. So that's it."
"It's not just a listening post," I said, connecting the dots. "Wu Tan City isn't the target; it's the forward operating base. The Hall of Souls isn't just watching something here. They are guarding it. Or, worse, they are trying to unseal it. That's why they need a permanent agent like Jia Lie Bi—to monitor the site, procure soul-related materials for whatever rituals they're performing, and ensure the local powers stay blissfully ignorant."
The revelation re-contextualized everything. The clan war, the marketplace intrigues—it was all a puppet show, a meaningless distraction designed to keep the city's inhabitants squabbling amongst themselves while a far greater, more sinister operation was underway just beyond the horizon. Our enemy wasn't just a single agent; it was a long-standing, secret operation centered on a physical, geographical location.
"So we go," Ming said, his voice cutting through the heavy atmosphere with the sharpness of shattered glass. "We find this valley. We're ghosts, aren't we? We slip in, get a look at what they're so desperate to hide, and we slip out. We can't fight an enemy we don't understand. Knowledge is power, and right now, we're operating in the dark."
His aggressive, proactive nature was taking over. He saw a target, and his instinct was to move on it, to seize the initiative. But a cold spike of fear, tempered by the cold, calculating logic of a strategist, shot through me.
"Ming, are you insane?" I retorted, my voice sharp. "Did you not hear the journal? Xiao He was a powerful expert, likely a Dou Grandmaster or even a Dou King from the way his spiritual energy lingers on the page, and he barely escaped with his life. We are a 9th Duan and an 8th Duan Dou Zhi Qi. We are ants. The spiritual pressure from that sealed cave alone could shatter our souls before we ever saw the black robes. To go there now isn't recon; it's suicide."
"Sitting here and waiting for them to unseal their 'god of death' is also suicide, just slower," he shot back, his frustration palpable. "We have abilities they can't predict. My Infinity can shield us from spiritual pressure. Your Soul-Guiding Hand can sense them from a mile away. We have advantages that ancestor never did. Sticking our heads in the sand is not a survival strategy, Qing-er."
"And running headfirst into a dragon's nest isn't either!" I argued, my voice rising. We were at a tactical impasse, his Gojo-esque audacity clashing with my Taigong Wang-like caution. He was right that inaction was a losing game, but I was right that a direct approach was a death sentence.
We stared at each other, the tension thick between us. We needed a third option, a path that balanced his need for action with my demand for caution.
"Alright," I said finally, letting out a long breath. "You're right. We can't stay here forever. But we don't go to the valley. Not yet." A new, comprehensive plan began to form in my mind, a middle path. "We go to the mountains. The Demonic Beast Mountain Range. It's the perfect place to achieve all of our immediate objectives at once."
I laid out my strategy, a multi-faceted operation designed to prepare us for the inevitable confrontation.
"Objective one: Combat training," I began. "Our real-world fighting experience is pathetically limited. We need to learn how to fight, and how to fight together. The mountains are filled with dangerous, unpredictable beasts. It's the perfect training ground to hone our skills and forge us into a real combat unit."
"Objective two: Resource gathering," I continued. "My supply of Monster Cores is finite, and our herb collection has been picked clean of anything useful for my soul cultivation. The mountains are a living treasure trove. We can hunt for our own materials, making us completely self-sufficient and allowing me to continue my rapid progression."
"Objective three," I finished, my gaze intense, "is reconnaissance. We will use the ancestor's journal as a guide and travel towards the Azure Serpent Gorge, the landmark he mentioned. We will not enter the valley of shadows itself. But we will explore its periphery. From a safe distance, I can use my 'Soul-Guiding Hand' to try and feel that 'cold that devours the soul'. We can confirm the location, get a baseline reading of the danger level, and maybe even observe the movements of any patrols, all without ever exposing ourselves directly."
It was a perfect compromise. It was a training mission, a resource run, and a stealth reconnaissance operation all rolled into one. It was action, but it was prepared action.
A slow grin spread across Ming's face. The frustration was gone, replaced by the familiar, thrilling excitement of a new adventure. "A training arc with a side of espionage. Now that's a plan I can get behind."
Our preparations began at once. The alliance with the Xiao Clan, which I had forged to hunt for clues, now became our outfitter. I sent a list to the Great Elder under the guise of "acquiring materials for a new, more complex alchemical experiment that requires a specific environment."
The list was extensive. We acquired the highest quality maps of the Demonic Beast Mountain Range available, which I spent a night cross-referencing with the hand-drawn charts in Xiao He's journal, triangulating the probable location of the valley. We purchased durable survival gear, ropes, climbing tools, and a set of high-quality storage rings—a luxury we could now afford—to carry our supplies and future loot. I also had them procure a large quantity of empty vials and preservation boxes for any herbs I might find.
While I handled the supplies, Ming took it upon himself to acquire a proper weapon. He disappeared for an afternoon and returned with a single, perfectly crafted Jian, a double-edged straight sword. It was simple, unadorned, with a black hilt and a scabbard of hardened leather.
"Just in case I need to poke something that my Infinity can't," he said with a shrug, though I could see the way he handled it that he was more than familiar with a blade.
I, in turn, spent the final night in my forge, converting two dozen of my remaining Monster Cores into pure, potent Soul Orbs. They were my emergency rations, a way to quickly restore my spiritual energy in the field.
On the morning of the third day, our preparations were complete. We left a simple, sealed message with the head steward, informing him that "Young Miss Bai and her guardian have entered a short period of secluded meditation to attempt a breakthrough and are not to be disturbed under any circumstances." It was the perfect cover story, one that would give us a window of at least a week, perhaps two, before anyone in the Xiao Clan grew suspicious.
Long before the sun rose, we slipped out of our pavilion. We moved through the sleeping streets of Wu Tan City like two phantoms, our faces concealed by the hoods of our new, dark travelling cloaks.
We reached the massive stone gate that marked the city's eastern exit. Before us, the world opened up. The vast, untamed wilderness stretched to the horizon, a rolling sea of green and grey. In the distance, shrouded in the purple mists of dawn, was the colossal, intimidating silhouette of the Demonic Beast Mountain Range.
The city had been our chessboard, a game of wits and manipulation. We had played it well. But that game was over. Now, we were stepping into a far larger, wilder, and more dangerous arena, a place where the rules were written in blood and claw.
Ming turned to me, the first rays of the rising sun glinting off the hilt of his sword. A confident, eager smirk played on his lips. "Ready for a real adventure, Qing-er?"
I looked up at the menacing mountains, at the untamed world that awaited us, a thrill of fear and exhilaration running through me in equal measure.
"It's about time," I replied.