Chapter Thirty-Six: The Sacred Qilin (Part One)

“There are no signs of life,” Du Niang informed Zhou Yu after her investigation.

“That is... that is a Guardian of the Spirit Realm!” The envoy from the Beichen family exclaimed as he recognized the young man.

When Zhou Yu first entered the Spirit Realm, Du Niang had told him that the two elderly men playing chess and the young man were all C-ranked powerhouses.

A C-ranked powerhouse had perished so silently—how perilous must the path ahead be?

The night wind swept through the crowd, who were as silent as crows and sparrows, as if frozen in place.

“We’re retreating!” The envoy from the Soul Sect said through gritted teeth, deeply unwilling, yet resolute. The sacred beast lay ahead, its allure immense, but the danger was now undeniable—a C-ranked powerhouse had been frozen to death. Many in the crowd abruptly awoke from their fevered dreams of the sacred beast.

The Soul Sect envoy led his followers away. Gradually, others left as well, though many more hesitated, torn between desire and fear.

Zhou Yu glanced quietly at Nan Fenglang, only to find her eyes already on him.

Nan Fenglang flashed him a smile, then turned to the members of her family and said, “Let’s all go back.”

Zhou Yu was momentarily stunned—he hadn’t expected Nan Fenglang to back down at this moment. He too pondered whether to advance.

According to the old man’s descriptions along the way, the sacred beast was incomparably powerful—a mature sacred beast rivaled an A-ranked powerhouse. This was precisely what Zhou Yu needed. Because of his unique constitution, he could not take the ordinary path to ascend in strength. If he could absorb all the energy of a sacred beast, he would surely advance, perhaps more than one rank.

If others knew of my mad ambition, wouldn’t they be terrified? Zhou Yu mused, shaking his head.

“But from a theoretical standpoint, your idea makes sense,” Du Niang remarked.

“You’re right. As long as there’s even a sliver of hope, I must seize it. For me, power is everything. Only with enough strength can I do as I wish.”

Zhou Yu’s eyes gradually brightened. He was just about to move forward when someone tapped him from behind. He turned around—it was Nan Fenglang.

“Would you like your elder sister to accompany you?” she asked, her smile sometimes as warm as a spring breeze, sometimes as dazzling as a peony, sometimes as pure as a narcissus, yet always beautiful.

Zhou Yu nodded. “With you by my side, even if I don’t see the sacred beast, it will have been worth it.”

“Has your tongue been dipped in honey? Ha ha…” Nan Fenglang laughed, stepping forward.

Zhou Yu followed her toward the center of the great lake. He did not ask why Nan Fenglang had turned back—he knew she wouldn’t answer truthfully, and even if she did, he could not be sure it was the truth.

The old man frowned and followed them. Abu tried to go as well, but Nan Feng Xiaolang stopped him.

Zhou Yu looked back and said to Abu, “Wait here for me. I’ll return.”

Abu nodded and stayed behind.

“I’ve had our people withdraw to a safe distance. Xiaolang will be here, ready to support us,” Nan Fenglang suddenly explained.

“It must truly be dangerous, then,” Zhou Yu replied.

“Afraid?” asked Nan Fenglang.

“Of course I’m afraid. But fear alone won’t stop me from moving forward,” Zhou Yu said.

Nan Fenglang smoothed her wind-blown hair with her hand, slowed her steps slightly, and kept pace with Zhou Yu.

The envoy from the Beichen family gritted his teeth and said in a low voice, “We’ll follow.”

Once someone took the lead, the courage of the crowd grew. In the end, some fifty or sixty people followed Nan Fenglang and Zhou Yu toward the center of the lake.

The group skirted wide around the Spirit Realm envoy frozen in ice. The chill radiating from the ice sculpture seemed to pierce their very organs. Though many were powerful, the cold was enough to make them hesitate.

“What is that?!”

“A mountain!”

When they reached the center of the great lake, they suddenly saw, not far ahead, a towering ice mountain—hundreds of meters high and about a kilometer wide, emanating a frigid aura.

As Nan Fenglang and Zhou Yu stopped, everyone else followed suit.

Zhou Yu looked up at the massive ice mountain before him, sighing in awe.

Nan Fenglang rubbed her slightly reddened cheeks, her breath misting before her lips. She listened to the wind, her brows knitting. “There’s something odd inside,” she murmured.

Zhou Yu withdrew his gaze from the ice mountain and glanced at the old man, who was taking small sips from his flask. Then he whispered to Nan Fenglang, “There is something strange indeed. The inside of this ice mountain is hollow. The Divine Qilin should be inside, but it seems to have already been subdued.” This was information from Du Niang, which Zhou Yu shared openly with Nan Fenglang, declaring his trust.

Nan Fenglang was surprised but quickly looked at Zhou Yu with piqued interest. She giggled and playfully punched his shoulder. “You certainly have a lot of secrets, little brother—abilities on par with my family’s Wind Listening Art.”

“Miss Nan Feng, what do you think?” Zhou Yu ignored the jest and asked in all seriousness.

“My findings are much the same as yours. So—shall we go in?” Nan Fenglang looked seriously at the ice mountain, the dangerous aura intensifying as they approached, even stirring a faint fear in her heart.

Zhou Yu pressed his right hand lightly against the icy surface, feeling the chill in his palm. Resolutely, he said, “We’ve come this far—how can we turn back now?”

With that, Zhou Yu plunged his right hand into the thick ice, then his left, and began to climb upward.

The sound of cracking ice drew everyone’s attention. The young man who, at the start of the martial field demonstration, had seemed so immovable and passive—only to turn things around at the last moment and astonish everyone—once again became the focus of all eyes.

With his hands sunk into the biting cold of the ice mountain, Zhou Yu gritted his teeth and climbed, the chill numbing his fingers despite the effects of the Snow Fox Demon Pill and the opening of his meridians.

Watching his stubborn back, Nan Fenglang clenched her teeth as well, swept her sleeve, and conjured a fierce wind, lifting both herself and Zhou Yu up along the ice mountain.

The rest of the group looked ashamed. They usually fancied themselves as heroes, yet now a youth outshone them all. Their shame became courage as they each used their abilities to ascend the ice.

The old man came last, swallowing a mouthful of strong liquor. “Did he stir their fighting spirit by accident?” he muttered, then slammed his greatsword into the ground, using the counterforce to leap onto the ice. As his ascent slowed, he drove his sword into the mountain’s side, shattered a block of ice beneath his feet, and climbed higher.

By the time the old man reached the summit, Zhou Yu had already been standing there for a while, as still as an ice sculpture, his eyes fixed, wide with shock, on a spot within the mountain.

Fifty or sixty others froze as well—the scene before them was simply too astonishing.

The sacred beast, the most supreme existence on the Path of Rebirth, had not been seen in its true form for ten thousand years, not since the great Sacred Beast War.

In the heart of the ice mountain was a hollowed valley, a basin encircled by cliffs a hundred meters high, enclosing a space nearly a kilometer across.

In the center of this vast open space, there were about twenty human figures. For so few in such an expanse, the place should have felt deserted, yet now it seemed crowded.

For in the midst of the plain, a giant beast, five hundred meters long and three hundred meters wide, lay crouched, its twin wings folded at its sides.

The Divine Qilin!