As Li Xuanfeng clenched the page in his hand, its fleeting spiritual energy dissipated instantly. The artifact reverted to an inert state. Glancing back at the skies, he saw only two or three items still soaring amid the melee as the cultivators fought over them.
Mindful of his true objective, Li Xuanfeng chose not to reveal his strength unnecessarily. He tucked the dharma manual into his sleeve, swiftly changed positions, and activated his Black Gold Spirit Armor, vanishing into the cover of the pine forest.
Not long after, two beams of light closed in on his previous location. One was a grey-clad cultivator draped in a brown-grey Daoist robe. With narrow eyes and a high-bridged nose, he held a duster in his hand, clearly a disciple of the Changxiao Gate.
The other was a white-robed, middle-aged cultivator, gripping a long sword. Standing atop a jade-colored flying shuttle, his gaze shimmered with spiritual light, a clear indication of advanced perception techniques. Both had evidently locked onto the dharma manual earlier. Though Li Xuanfeng had moved quickly, his presence had already been detected in the moments leading up to his retreat.
The white-robed cultivator fixed his gaze on the man clad in black-gold armor and holding a longbow, and stiffened in surprise. After a tense silence, his voice broke with shock, "Xuanfeng!"
Li Xuanfeng froze for a moment, staring at the man's brows and eyes. After a brief pause, he exclaimed in realization, "Senior Yongling!"
The white-robed middle-aged man was none other than Xiao Yongling, also known as Man on Mount Feather , an old acquaintance of Li Tongya. The two elders had formed their friendship during their days as minor cultivators in the Embryonic Breathing Realm, making Xiao Yongling a respected senior to Li Xuanfeng.
The gray-robed cultivator from Changxiao Gate immediately noticed their familiarity and sensed trouble. Without uttering a word, he turned and fled, hurriedly heading out of the forest.
His escape spell left a long trail of light in the night, stark against the darkness. In his haste, he nearly collided with a blue-green spirit pine.
Xiao Yongling, for reasons unknown, chose not to pursue. Li Xuanfeng, similarly, let the man leave without interference. Instead, he turned to Xiao Yongling, seeing his expression shift between amazement and joy. Li Xuanfeng cupped his fist in greeting and said, "I pay my respects to Senior! Congratulations on reaching the late Foundation Establishment Realm."
Xiao Yongling waved dismissively, though his face still bore traces of his earlier surprise. Recognizing that this was not the place for extended conversation, Li Xuanfeng quickly took out the manual he had obtained and shook his head. "Our luck has not been great—this is just a minor letter."
To avoid misunderstandings, Li Xuanfeng promptly handed the letter to Xiao Yongling. The white-robed man didn't refuse. Taking it, he read it carefully. Thanks to his extensive knowledge, he recognized the ancient script, "Junior Brother Du, retrieving chestnuts from the fire is no easy task. Should you need help, Senior Brother and I will do our utmost—do not hesitate to ask."
The letter's front contained only a few brief lines, seemingly torn from some ancient text. The back, however, was filled with references to the Pristine and Converging Water.
"Hmm," Xiao Yongling murmured in acknowledgment, sighing in regret. "I saw this fly out from the third meditation mat, thinking it was merely some minor commentary on cultivation techniques. I thought its value was low and that fewer people would compete for it... Clearly, I was wrong."
He casually handed the manual back to Li Xuanfeng. With little tangible gain between them, the two approached the great hall. By now, most of the other cultivators had already fled, either having secured treasures or chasing after others. The area outside the hall was almost deserted.
With nothing else to gain, the two moved a few steps closer when a sudden clanging of metal echoed sharply. Both raised their heads toward the starry night sky, their expressions shifting.
Throughout their twenty odd hours journey, the sky above had remained perpetually shrouded in a dim, star-lit night. The mist hanging in the air was a subdued gray, and the only sources of light were the glimmers of spells cast by other cultivators.
However, in the far west, a dazzling radiance began to rise, resembling the morning sun. The intense golden light spread, casting illusions of golden stones in every direction. Both cultivators felt a wave of dizziness and alarm. Their hearts raced as they instinctively closed their eyes.
Almost simultaneously, a deep and melodious bell tone resonated from within the great hall. The sound reverberated, vibrating through their very minds.
Dong…
Li Xuanfeng moved his lips, attempting to speak, only to find that they refused to open. A sharp pain stabbed his eyes as mana surged instinctively to protect his vision.
————
Outside the hall, the competition was intense, but inside, the atmosphere was one of tense stalemate. Yu Muxian and Tang Shedu stood together, their white and black robes forming a sharp contrast, quietly waiting in the southeast corner.
Qing Zhuo, dressed in green-gray with a jade crown perched neatly on his head, stood alone in the west. Nian Yi performed hand seals in the north, while Zhang Yun stood with his hands clasped behind him, the most relaxed of the group.
The remaining two individuals each occupied a corner. One was a cultivator holding a gold hammer, his gaze sweeping across the hall continuously. He stood silently in a corner, the token at his waist swaying slightly, faint gray flames flickering around it. ṟᴀɴ𝐨ꞖĘⱾ
The other was a female cultivator, whose gentle demeanor and striking beauty stood in contrast to the sharpness in her gaze, which was fixed intently on the large bell.
The Fated Ones present maintained their silence. After several breaths of time, Zhang Yun finally stepped forward. He walked slowly to the front of the hall, his expression serious, and spoke solemnly, "Back in the days of the Green Pine Temple, the six cultivators of the Chongming Hall were genuine prodigies who stirred the winds and clouds of their time. Our Golden Feather Sect has always respected these six seniors, and since we have little connection to the temple's Dao lineage, our purpose in entering this grotto heaven is not driven by greed."
He extended his hand toward the great bell in the center of the hall, adding in a quiet voice, "This time, our sect's Daoist Masters seek to advance their cultivation. All we wish for is to observe this Unspeaking Bell , and we will not take anything else."
He infused his mana into the bell and began to form seals with his hands, yet the bell remained utterly still. It neither rang nor reverted to its original form.
"A pity." Zhang Yun sighed softly, turning back to the others and instructing in a low voice, "Close your eyes."
At his words, the group seemed to grasp the meaning and closed their eyes in unison. They calmed their minds and steadied their breaths.
Only a single breath passed before the starry sky above the hall suddenly lit up. A silver-white, oval-shaped object ascended into view, radiating intense brilliance that drowned out the myriad stars in the heavens.
Dong!
The group all closed their eyes and remained silent. Zhang Yun had already kneeled reverently on the ground. The grand bell before him began to tremble violently, as though pushed by some invisible force, emitting a resounding chime.
A numbing sensation spread through their throats and tongues, rendering them all speechless. One after another, they kneeled down, though not with Zhang Yun's ceremonial reverence, they nonetheless bowed respectfully.
A silver-white radiance descended, enveloping the bronze bell that spun incessantly in the air. Gradually, it began to shrink, eventually transforming into a yellow streak of light, no larger than a fist. The light shot out from the hall, soaring skyward like a comet defying gravity.
The bell slowly merged into the silver-white elliptical object in the sky, its form vanishing entirely. At last, two barriers descended from the upper and lower edges of the elliptical object, gently closing together, little by little, until the object completely withdrew from this realm.