The moment Qin Ming entered the underground crevice, his exhaustion vanished. It had not been a trick of the mind outside—the place that had once nearly claimed his life was now entirely transformed. He looked up: the mouth of the crevice was only four paces above him, and all around, silver light wove through the ground like strands of spider silk, brushing his skin with a faint, pleasant warmth. Sword in one hand and long black-gold hammer in the other, he pressed on. Last time he had fallen here by accident and not dared to go deep. Now he wanted to explore.
The ground was rough and strewn with stones, and moisture pearled along the walls, dripping down. The passage narrowed until his shoulders nearly scraped the rock, then opened into a broad, smooth space where the silver filaments thickened densely, as though a host of giant spiders had woven their webs here. Some threads piercing through the living rock bore flecks of pale gold, and white mist rose all around. Standing there, Qin Ming felt his body grow light and loose, a warm comfort washing over him like a soak in a hot spring. He frowned. Was this some violent transformation in the special node hidden in the mountain—or had his terrible ordeal the last time tempered him into adaptation?
The memory of that first horror was still vivid: his heart hammering like a wild drum, lungs near to bursting, blood racing at a terrifying pace, and somewhere deep below, the far-off sound of a waterfall. Now he puzzled over the changes since leaving this place. The strangest concerned the "wild path" he practiced—silent for years, yet after he fought through death's door, it began to produce a strange reaction. He knew now the wild path was not wild at all; it came from the silk tome he had stubbornly followed since childhood.
"Someone once told me the silk tome could not be cultivated," he murmured, "that most of it was ripped away and burned." The few remaining pages could still be practiced, but they needed someone who had trained in them to guide a beginner—and such people should have died long ago. "No such teacher exists, no one helped me, yet I mastered it. Does this place have something to do with that?" Could it be that the silk tome's method was always meant to be learned under someone's protection, inside these extremely dangerous special nodes? He sank into thought, then walked on, touching the pale-gold, thicker filaments with caution. Deeper, he found glowing threads trailing purple vapors straight through the rock—extraordinary, yet harmless to his flesh.
Beyond the mountain, in the dense forest, the purple-eyed raven was flying when a broad swell of black mist surged up to bar its way. "Who is it?" It grew wary, its violet eyes weaving mysterious symbols, and made out a figure within the fog: a great owl, taller than a man's shoulder, perched on a towering tree, its wings nimble as hands as it flipped through an animal-hide book.
"It's been a long while. Care to share a few drinks?" the owl said, keeping the fog thick.
"I'm patrolling the mountain. No time." The raven held it in wary respect.
"And what high status have you now? This isn't even your territory. Quite the achievement—gone to keep the gate for some crusty old man!" The owl barred its way, ready to lecture. "You really won't return to the mist-black world of the wild? You come from a great bird clan, carry high-order blood, deep roots—how can you fall so low? Do you truly mean to reshape your true form into a two-legged beast and dwell in the cities forever?"
"Mm," the raven nodded. "There's nothing truly wrong with it. I have talent enough to change form. Others lurk near forbidden grounds and turn into aberrants—why can't we walk the opposite road and seek our own path?"
"Outrageous! Man no longer man, beast no longer beast!" the owl rebuked. "You're a raven of a great house wanting to become a man—I'll tell Master Crow, and he'll pluck you feather by feather into a bald two-legged beast!"
They quarreled. "Stay out of my affairs and don't block my way," the raven snapped. "You may delay my true work. If they weigh that boy early and something goes wrong, it'll be disaster. If he proves moldable I'll need him later, to fetch something for me in the teeming mortal world—it bears on the path I wish to walk. You know the truth of it. Get out of my way."
You Liangyun had told it the trial would come in about two days, but they might strike early. Just then a mutated talking bird came flapping up, shrieking: "Master Wu! You're back from the depths—terrible news! Those people are all dead!"
The raven tore free of the mist. "What happened?"
"Master Wu, I did the task you set me, but on the way a three-meter bear leading a gang of two-legged beasts chased me. I was startled away a moment, and in that time a whole bunch on your side lay down dead. I smelled their blood when I returned, but I don't know how they died."
The raven followed it to the scene and sensed intently, for it was keen on the breath of life and death. "Qi Huai'en is dead. No death-aura of that boy here. Interesting—was Qi Huai'en slain by an outsider, or did he perish clashing with the boy?" It waved the talking bird away. "If that boy is truly this formidable, having got this far alone, then it's fine he isn't bound for Flowing Light City. No need for me to meddle now." It flew off.
In the snow, You Liangyun was reporting: "Qi Huai'en weighed Qin Ming and said he's still a hair short. The mountain is chaos—a fierce clash broke out in the forest before I left." The raven flew back and settled on a low tree. "Qi Huai'en rushed to save someone and died himself. A pity."
"Stay, then," said the woman in the black fur cloak. You Liangyun froze, then made the great salute, flushed with excitement.
Deep in the mountain, the five-colored haze dimmed. Ling Xu and Wei Mo rose, casting aside cup and jug. Ling Xu tapped his foot with his long blade, splitting his beast-hide boot so his toes showed; struck his chest to shred his white robes; ran a finger over his skin and brought up streaks of blood—a master of fake wounds. "The Lord of Ling City, so devoted to a bright appearance, reduced to this!" Wei Mo remarked, even as he pried crimson plates from his armor and stuffed them away, making himself utterly disheveled. Elsewhere, the mackerel cat had seized a black bobcat, smeared its blood over itself, and scattered glittering spiritual substance; a mantis beast did the same.
Plainly Redcloud City's upper ranks and the mountain's aberrants had joined hands again, unwilling to let other strong ones seize the rare products of the special nodes. A crude ambush would rouse public wrath and bring the great organizations' vengeance. Earlier they had driven off the migrating high-order creatures seeking to seize the place, slain a mighty aberrant, and drawn out all its spiritual nature to trigger a special node—laying out an artificial five-colored haze ground to lure factions into a scramble. Now Ling Xu, the mackerel cat, and the higher aberrants fought one another in sham clashes, holding each other back outside the fray. They could not fake everything: Old Liu the weasel was truly intercepted, and the mysterious mountain lord had thrown himself into the battle center. Results were decent—experts had died near the haze ground, and foreign high-order creatures and great-organization strongmen were gravely wounded.
Deep in the crevice, Qin Ming practiced the silk tome's method, feeling clearer and more comfortable by the moment, as though a mysterious warmth washed over him from head to foot. This place was woven with glowing filaments dangerous enough to harm even Wang Nianzhu in his Second New Life, who desperately needed spiritual serpent blood to nourish himself. Yet Qin Ming could stay here at length without harm, and felt his constitution faintly improve. "Could the silk tome's art suit training in a place like this?" he wondered. But no one was left to answer—the men of former years had died, been crippled, or vanished, and the yellowed tome was an heirloom from who knew how long ago.
Suddenly the ground shook violently, nearly throwing him down. Outside, the vanished five-colored haze ground had left high-order creatures and secret-organization experts at a standstill, none able to enter the node. Just then all the node's radiance scattered—and far away, a brand-new five-colored haze burst out with stunning violence. "How is there another one?" "No—the rare product is shifting elsewhere along the spiritual earth-lines!" Ling Xu, Old Liu, and the others who had planned follow-up moves stood stunned; they no longer needed pretense, for the true haze ground had appeared.
Boom! The whole range shook more fiercely than before, and the black night sky was torn apart, lit fully by a spectacle of even greater scale. "Ten colors! Beams of light standing like great pillars propping up the night—an unheard-of marvel! What rare treasure can be coming?" Even the high-order creatures were struck dumb. In an instant, no matter how wounded, every strong one vanished and charged for the grander spectacle where endless light-rain seethed and scattered, drawing every eye.