"Little Song, be careful around here—there are many poisonous plants, and mid-level Crimson-Eyed Snakes come out at night!"
A middle-aged cultivator approached the campfire, patted his companion's shoulder, and teased, "You're too skinny, all skin and bones."
"Don't listen to him, Little Song! They're just low-level snakes!" another middle-aged cultivator under the tree called out. "If anything happens, just shout for help—I'll save you."
"Alright." The cultivator addressed as "Little Song" nodded good-naturedly. "Thank you."
His teammates leaned against the tree, chatting and laughing as they took out meditation cushions to rest, while he alone kept watch.
The orange-yellow firelight flickered across his face, alternating between light and shadow.
Someone under the tree shouted, "Little Song, draw me a few more Anti-Miasma Talismans tomorrow!"
"Little Song, make a few for me too."
The thin Talismaster replied once more, "Understood."
In every secret realm exploration team, there was always such a marginal figure.
Average in combat skills but just useful enough.
Cautious, honest, sparing with words, good-tempered, and never causing trouble or holding others back. If teammates asked him to do tasks, he rarely refused. When teased, he would only give a simple, good-natured smile.
Camping in the wilderness under the vast, starry sky, the night stretched endlessly.
A cold wind swept over the river and through the woods—the murmur of water, the rustle of leaves, and a faint, fishy scent carried on the air.
"Little Song, you're always on night watch. You should ask to switch with someone," someone whispered, drawing closer. "Tonight is different from before—this place really has mid-level Crimson-Eyed Snakes."
"Little Song" by the campfire shook his head. "It's fine."
"Ungrateful." The person, feeling snubbed, scoffed lightly and shook his head as he walked back under the tree.
Song Qianji used a stick to stir the embers in the fire and let out a soft sigh.
This was his sixth day in the secret realm. The scent in the wind felt familiar, the scenery seemed reminiscent, and long-buried memories gradually stirred to life, like an old painting being recolored, slowly unfolding in his mind.
The mountains and rivers within the secret realm had changed drastically from his past life—at most, only thirty to forty percent of his previous experience remained applicable.
Perhaps because the realm was now a battleground for rival powers, each eager to seize more resources quickly, more cultivators had entered this time, making the situation more complex.
No one wanted to go it alone; even Rogue Cultivators formed temporary teams. Each team was led by one or two core members who decided how resources were allocated. Teammates stuck together, helping one another and leveraging their individual strengths.
On his first day alone, Song Qianji attracted attention and wariness wherever he went. Some even suspected he wasn't a normal cultivator but some kind of spirit or demonic entity.
He had come to find someone, and the more discreet his movements, the better. So, he adopted the alias Song Xun and joined a suitable Rogue Cultivator team.
He claimed to have been separated from his companions while entering the secret realm's passage and would leave as soon as the passage reopened in three months. Until then, he only sought shelter and a share of resources.
This Rogue Cultivator team of seven had been hired by a master alchemist to search for Spirit Herbs.
Initially reluctant to take on a new member, Song Qianji didn't explain much. Instead, he made a vow: "Unless you attack me first, I will never harm any of you."
After several days together, the team saw that he was harmless and useful—doing more work and taking fewer rewards—and gradually let their guard down.
This herb-seeking team was the optimal choice Song Qianji had selected after careful, covert observation.The team leader was at the mid-stage of Nascent Soul, steady and reliable. Most of his teammates were at the late-stage of Golden Core, all pure Rogue Cultivators with a hodgepodge of Cultivation Methods. Though their strength was considerable, they were unwilling to provoke teams from major sects or great clans.
The person he intended to kill was severely injured and would likely seek medicinal herbs in the secret realm. Since the number of top-tier Spirit Herbs was limited, they were bound to cross paths sooner or later.
The plump Formation Master, who had earlier asked for the anti-miasma Talisman, circled the trees, measuring directions and placing Formation materials and flags. Rings of golden light flashed, forming a simple, small-scale Protective Array that enveloped his meditating teammates within a spherical barrier woven from chaotic golden lines.
The medical cultivator scattered powder to repel poisonous insects, while the Sword Cultivator laid his sword across his knees.
Spirit Herbs grew in deep forests, often accompanied by toxic miasmas, venomous snakes, insects, rodents, and ferocious demonic beasts—precautions were essential.
Before long, Song Qianji heard his teammates' breathing rhythms steady as they gradually entered deep meditation.
He stood up and moved into the shadows beneath a tree, silently placing seven or eight Formation materials.
Streaks of golden light flashed, reinforcing the original Array and making it more aesthetically pleasing, with harmonious and fluid lines. Song Qianji glanced around, somewhat satisfied, before returning to the campfire.
Accustomed to the orderly Array Lines crafted by Ji Chen, he found such crude and sloppy work deeply unappealing.
Cold, sparse stars dotted the sky.
The riverbed in the secret realm, stained crimson by the sedimentation of a special mineral, gave the place its name—Blood River Valley.
The quieter the night, the louder the roars of beasts in the deep forest, and the river roared like boulders shattering mountains.
Song Qianji lowered his gaze, his fingers unconsciously turning a dark red bead within his sleeve.
The night breeze brushed through his hair and sleeves, carrying a cloying, bloody scent, like the stench of fragrant flowers rotting.
Faint singing arose, wordless, only a melodious, lingering hum.
Song Qianji abruptly looked up, flicked his sleeve, and sent a Talisman flying behind him, sticking directly to a tree trunk.
A foul wind swept the ground, dark clouds churned, obscuring the stars and moon.
"Hiss—hiss—"
The sound came from all directions, converging like a tide, encircling Song Qianji layer upon layer.
Something scaly slid through the dense forest grass, rustling like robes brushing against a bamboo mat.
In the thick woods, countless crimson vertical pupils lit up one after another, flickering like red lanterns.
Darkness engulfed the world, filled with foul winds and blood-red eyes.
Suddenly, a delicate cry pierced the air: "Immortal Master!"
The voice was soft and charming, like a plea for help, its trembling tail note enough to melt bones and sway spirits.
Song Qianji frowned slightly.
Seeing his indifference, the voice drew closer step by step: "Immortal Master Song, Immortal Master Song Xun."
"Song Xun, Song Xun, ah."
"Hiss—hiss—"
The sound wavered between weeping and laughter, carrying a bewitching power that, along with the cloying bloody scent, drilled straight into one's ears.
The howling wind, the hissing of serpents, and the delicate cries of a woman blanketed the land, enveloping the wilderness.
A crescent moon suddenly emerged from the clouds, its faint light spilling into the dense forest and illuminating a delicate, lotus-like face.
A beauty with raven hair and snow-white skin hid among the trees, revealing only her face as she called out softly:
"Song Xun. Come here."
Song Qianji sat before the campfire, his eyes as if seeing nothing:
"I come here not for treasure, nor with intent to kill. Leave at once."
His voice was not loud, but it cut through the wind like a sharp sword, piercing through the forest.
The forest full of crimson-eyed snakes seemed enraged, hissing furiously.
They thrashed their tails wildly, shaking the trees violently.
Beneath the large tree, the Rogue Cultivators bathed in golden light, protected by the Array and silencing Talismans, sat with eyes closed in deep meditation, their expressions serene and peaceful."What a heartless gentleman." The beauty smiled with a lingering resentment, swaying her waist as she gracefully approached the bonfire, casting a glance toward the tree. "You protect them so fiercely, yet they remain unaware. What do you gain from this?"
She wore only a sheer veil, thin and translucent, fluttering with the wind.
The cloyingly sweet scent in the air grew stronger, almost suffocating.
The rogue cultivator meditating with closed eyes furrowed his brow, fine beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
The veil drifted toward Song Qianji like a cloud obscuring the sky, constantly shifting forms—now resembling a golden mountain, now a palace.
The singing resumed, growing even more seductive and enchanting:
"Song Xun, let me see what you desire most... Huh?"
The veil froze mid-air. The beauty's voice cut off abruptly, her expression shifting to one of bewildered confusion.
What was this? A patch of vibrant green... something?
At that moment, Song Qianji's hand twitched slightly.
"Whoosh!"
A fiery dragon erupted from his palm, its aura domineering and violent, charging recklessly into the forest.
Over a dozen dark shadows rushed toward the circle under the tree but collided with an invisible wall, thrown back thirty meters and smashing through trees.
The iron-hard snake skin sizzled and smoked, the serpents writhing unwillingly.
Song Qianji threw the fire-stoking stick in his hand as if drawing a bow to shoot an arrow.
Sparks exploded along its path, the broken wood cutting through the wind, stopping precisely at the beauty's throat.
Her eyes widened in terror, unleashing a piercing shriek.
Song Qianji said calmly, "Don't show yourself again."
He withdrew his hand into his sleeve, and the stick fell to the ground nearby, its flames extinguished.
The crimson-eyed snakes retreated like a receding tide, fleeing in panic. Soon, the dense forest returned to tranquility.
Song Qianji glanced at his rogue cultivator teammates and shook his head helplessly.
This sprite was only two hundred years old—still very young.
This area of dense forest teemed with snakes, and having fed on them for years, it had mastered serpent control.
Sprites delighted in using song to bewitch hearts, stirring desires and clouding minds.
Cultivators were their finest nourishment—devouring their essence, blood, heart, and liver, even crunching their bones to dust.
After the secret realm opened, while outside cultivators sought opportunities, the inner demons and sprites also craved a feast.
"Demons eat demons. Demons eat humans. Humans eat demons. Humans eat humans." Song Qianji whittled another stick to tend the bonfire, murmuring to himself, "All this consuming... far less interesting than farming."
The bonfire crackled through the long night.
At dawn the next day, Song Qianji collected his talismans and formation materials, restoring the area under the tree to its original state.
The rogue cultivators gradually opened their eyes and rose to stretch.
The team leader scanned the surroundings warily, signaling the cultivators skilled in Evasion Arts and stealth to scout ahead.
The portly Formation Master gathered formation materials, chuckling as he stretched. "Ever since Little Song joined our team, we haven't encountered any demonic beasts at night. Our luck has truly turned."
Song Qianji distributed newly made miasma-repelling talismans to his teammates. Some thanked him politely, others took it for granted, but Song Qianji maintained a steady smile throughout.
The leader handed him a bottle of low-grade energy-restoring elixirs: "Working for a great alchemist has its perks—endless elixirs. This harvest looks promising. If we can obtain a 'Hundred-Year Firegrass,' the reward doubles again, with a share for Little Song too."
The change in distribution method caused some to frown, hesitating to speak.
"I contributed little; no need to include me." Song Qianji declined promptly, averting a dispute and earning a few satisfied glances that seemed to say, "You know your place.""He's back, he's back!" shouted the scout who had gone ahead. "Guess what I saw?"
He was small and lean, leaping out from the woods like an agile monkey, even his expression resembling one.
The round-faced, plump Formation Master laughed: "Zhang Hou, you didn't see snakes, did you?"
Zhang Hou widened his eyes, both excited and fearful: "Good heavens, the ground was covered with snakes! Hundreds of them, all Crimson-Eyed Snakes!"
The teammates gathered around, while Song Qianji stood at the edge, raising an eyebrow slightly.
"And you managed to come back alive?" The team's Sword Cultivator was talkative and sarcastic, always speaking with a sneer. "Since when did you have such skills?"
Zhang Hou's face turned pale: "They were all dead! Being skinned!"
The skin of Crimson-Eyed Snakes was decent material for artifact crafting, suitable for making protective armor.
The team leader's expression turned grave upon hearing this: "Someone killed hundreds of Crimson-Eyed Snakes overnight? Who was it?"
"I didn't dare get closer for a better look, afraid I'd be mistaken for an enemy," Zhang Hou said. "There were many of them, all wearing silver armor. Their leader was quite young—I heard someone nearby call him 'Senior Brother Ciquan'."
A collective gasp swept through the group:
"Could it be... Li Ciquan?"
"With silver armor too—it must be him."
Song Qianji thought idly that the name was rather strange. "Ciquan" basically meant "second dog."
But as everyone fell silent and the atmosphere grew peculiar, he finally couldn't resist asking: "Who is that?"
The Medicinal Cultivator beside Song Qianji nudged his arm: "You mean you don't know Li Ciquan?"
Song Qianji shook his head honestly: "No, I don't."
His teammates stared at him in disbelief.
The plump Formation Master exclaimed: "Li Ciquan! Wei Wang's trusted aide! He was the champion of the chess trial in the Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals back then. If it weren't for the once-in-a-century 'Star-Plucking Game,' he would have been the most celebrated. After Wei Wang declared independence, he broke from the Purple Cloud Temple and joined him. How can you not know this? Where are you from? Some remote island overseas?!"
Song Qianji could only remain silent.
The Grand Assembly of Distinguished Appraisals felt like a lifetime ago. He vaguely remembered observing the chess trial back then and incidentally guiding Ji Chen into the basics.
The Sprite riding snakes had met its match with him the previous night. Resentful and furious, it changed direction and happened to run into Wei Zhenyu.
"Meeting the wrong person"—unfortunately, it was completely wiped out.
No one really cared where Little Song came from; they were more concerned about another matter at the moment.
The team leader pondered: "If Li Ciquan is here, that means..."
The talkative Sword Cultivator cut in: "Wei Wang must be here too!"
Once spoken aloud, everyone exchanged glances, their eyes bright and expressions tense.
Song Qianji was taken aback, wondering why they were so excited.
The secret realm was rich in resources—why wouldn't Wei Zhenyu lead a team to explore it? Would he just idle at home cooking instead?
His teammates rubbed their hands in anticipation:
"Meeting by chance is fate—such opportunities are rare!"
"Wei Wang's team is different from other major sects. Could we join forces with them?"Even if we can't, we should at least catch a glimpse of Wei Wang's demeanor.""
Song Qianji took a deep breath and mumbled vaguely: "Maybe not necessary."
"Little Song, are you stupid?!" The Sword Cultivator shot him a disdainful glance.
Song Qianji coughed lightly: "What I mean is, Wei Wang might not be willing."
The team leader tightened his grip on the hilt of his waist saber, bearing the expectations of all his teammates except Song Qianji:
"Let's go and try!"
The Medicinal Cultivator turned back to urge him: "Little Song, why are you dawdling? Hurry up and follow! There are snakes in this area!"
Song Qianji smiled wryly.
The secret realm was vast, yet narrow paths inevitably led to encounters.
...
The morning breeze was cool, carrying the refreshing scent of grass and trees.The morning sun rose, its rays piercing through the gaps in the dense forest, casting golden beams of light.
After Li Ciquan heard the Rogue Cultivator captain introduce himself and state their purpose, his attitude became amiable, his face breaking into a broad smile:
"Wei Wang is just ahead. I'll take you all to him."
A squad of Silver Armor guards "escorted" them deeper into the dense forest.
Song Qianji silently followed at the rear of the group.
The further they went, the larger the snake corpses became—starting as thick as arms, and finally lying felled like great trees across the ground.
Blood spread everywhere, forming gurgling streams, the metallic stench piercing and foul.
Among the Rogue Cultivators, some grew pale, covering their mouths as if to retch, perhaps already regretting their decision.
Song Qianji stepped over a snake corpse. His boot soles soaked in blood, making sticky, squelching sounds as they trod upon the fallen leaves.
"Wei Wang," he heard the surrounding people call out.
Through the gaps in the crowded figures, Song Qianji saw the man sitting beneath a tree, wiping his sword with bowed head.
Within a hundred-zhang radius, a sea of blood churned, yet only the withered log beneath him remained clean, like a royal throne.
He wore golden armor and a red cloak, his cheeks stained with blood, a lock of black hair falling beside his temple.
Hearing the voices, he lifted his gaze slightly—his eyes sharp, cold, and imposing.
Wei Zhenyu felt a gaze settle upon him, but when he looked out, he saw only unfamiliar faces.
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