Hydra, where are you?

They then returned to Little Moon Peak. Liang Xuan had long since refined the Nine-Leaf Resurrection Herb, and Shennong also brought out the Shennong Cauldron. She had obtained the Soul-Summoning Banner as well; everything was ready. Xiao Yao felt both joy and sorrow—joy at the prospect of soon seeing Xiangliu, sorrow because she did not know how to face him.

At last, Xiao Yao set out on the path to find Xiangliu, carrying the Soul-Summoning Banner. No one knew how perilous this journey would be, nor how long it would take to gather what was needed. She embarked on a path unknown to all, unaware that this journey would span over sixty years. In those decades, she endured countless hardships and narrowly escaped death multiple times, which only strengthened her resolve to save Xiangliu’s life.

Xiao Yao and Mao Qiu first went to the place where Xiangliu had been enslaved. They lingered within the slave quarters for seven or eight years, sharing in the agonies of every brutal battle. They came to truly understand how Xiangliu had fought for survival and escaped death back then. They witnessed how each demon slave was subjected to humiliation by their masters—denied food and drink, beaten daily. If they lost a match, the punishment was a torment worse than death. Every day was a nightmare of suffering, driving each slave to fight with desperate fervor in every contest. The slaves lived in constant fear, knowing that winning a single match meant another day of life.

Watching them fight relentlessly for seven or eight years, Xiao Yao saw slave after slave replaced. Only one or two endured through it all. She wondered which one among them, centuries ago, had been Xiangliu. What indomitable will had sustained him? How many times had he been beaten? How many times had death’s cold hand brushed past him? How much humiliation had he borne? Each thought pierced her heart with sorrow. Mao Qiu, too, fell silent whenever a duel unfolded, sharing the pain and grief for his master.

Eighteen years spent in the slave quarters yielded only the faintest trace of Xiangliu’s presence. Xiao Yao captured these fleeting essences within the Soul-Summoning Banner and then set her sights on the next goal.

In the icy wilderness, pristine snowflakes drifted like delicate feathers, softly blanketing every inch of earth, transforming the land into a flawless, ethereal realm. Crystals shimmered with a cold, dazzling light. The biting wind roared like a wild beast, tearing through the air with merciless fury, as if intent on freezing all existence solid.

It howled past, its shrill whistle piercing eardrums, causing one to instinctively hunch over. The wind seemed to penetrate the thickest clothing, seeping deep into the bones, bringing a cold so severe and harsh it made each breath a struggle, as if swallowing shards of ice.

Amid the biting gale and swirling snow, Xiao Yao and Mao Qiu dragged their weary bodies onward, their steps heavy and burdened, embarking on what seemed an endless journey. Alone in the vast, deserted snowfields, they appeared so small, so powerless against the boundless expanse.