Chapter 103: Journey to the Cold Ruins

A moment later, a faint azure beam of light silently shot into the sky from the Grand Hall at the rear mountain of Spirit Soul Path, utterly soundless and unnoticed by anyone.

Within the streak of light, Jiuyou idly toyed with a golden orb in his hand.

The Crimson Sun Pearl. This pearl was not of particularly high grade, merely a low-rank ancient relic, but to Golden Core cultivators, it was already a rare treasure.

Beyond that, he had also taken in two "poor homeless wandering souls" and sent them to join the great family of the Nether Capital. Those two had been sensible enough, not daring to make a single sound from start to finish.

From those two Golden Core cultivators earlier, Jiuyou had gleaned quite a bit of information.

Over the past century, aside from the occasional cultivator who ventured into the Cold Ruins relying on their cultivation or chasing fortune, nothing earth-shattering had occurred in that perilous land.

The Cold Ruins were perpetually shrouded in miasma and Yin-sha energy, with the miasma being particularly troublesome. This substance was nothing but harm to cultivators, and both the Righteous Path and the Demonic Path gave it a wide berth.

Yin-sha ghost creatures could at least be refined and utilized, but miasma was completely useless. Merely touching it brought harm, and prolonged exposure meant certain death. Even those with profound cultivation, if they stayed too long in the miasma, would find their flesh and souls eroded, eventually dying with no place for burial.

If there was any change worth mentioning...

About seventy to eighty years ago, large amounts of miasma and frigid air within the Cold Ruins began converging toward the interior, as if something were absorbing them. No one knew what had happened, and no one dared to venture deep for answers. Golden Core cultivators lacked the courage, and even Nascent Soul cultivators were reluctant to take that risk.

Then, about fifty-plus years ago, a cultivator at Early Nascent Soul who claimed to be an elder of the Blood Abyss Sect arrived, drawn by the reputation of the place. He said he needed to enter the Cold Ruins to search for a spiritual herb. After going in, he never came back out.

"Blood Abyss Sect... those people again."

Jiuyou pondered silently.

That Blood Abyss Sect elder who had likely fallen fifty years ago had probably run into the Tier 10 Demon King within the Cold Ruins. And the anomaly seventy to eighty years ago was most likely tied to that Demon King as well.

At least he had obtained the information he wanted, which was better than stumbling in blind.

Jiuyou tucked the Crimson Sun Pearl into his sleeve. Its power was far inferior to even a tenth of the Golden Sun Mountain, but its merit lay in being specifically effective against frost and Yin-sha. It might prove useful at a critical moment.

Those two Golden Core cultivators had wailed and begged to give it to him, and he simply couldn't refuse. After all, he was someone who just couldn't say no.

Leaving Jade Frost Prefecture, Jiuyou continued flying south.

At the southernmost tip of Dayong stretched an enormous mountain range spanning millions of miles.

This mountain range separated Dayong from Southern Frost. Due to its treacherous terrain and year-round snow, it was named the Thousand Snow Mountain Range. The climate was harsh, spiritual energy was scarce, and it sat right next to Blood Demon Valley. By all logic, few cultivators should have been willing to linger here.

Yet at the foot of this mountain, several cultivator cities had risen one after another, gathering tens of thousands of cultivators. These people came from all over Qian Prefecture, most drawn by the region's reputation.

Though the Thousand Snow Mountain Range was dangerous, it teemed with demon beast materials and spiritual herbs rarely seen elsewhere. Perhaps some obscure corner hid a millennium-old spiritual herb that, once sold, could match several years of revenue for a small sect. Where there was great reward, there was never a shortage of brave souls.

Jiuyou reviewed the jade slip map given by Dong Yanwei in his mind.

Crossing the Thousand Snow Mountain Range, one would reach a towering wasteland. Deep within that wasteland lay a vast white snow basin.

Beneath the basin ran a large high-grade cold spiritual vein. Combined with the low-lying terrain, tens of thousands of years of frigid air had gathered here. Over time, this had nurtured many aged cold-attributed spiritual herbs, attracting numerous demon beasts of the same affinity.

Thus, demon beasts ran rampant within the Cold Ruins, and many cultivators charged in seeking demon beast materials and high-grade spiritual herbs, most of them meeting their graves there.

Countless demon beast and cultivator corpses lay uncollected, scattered across the basin. Day after day, year after year, the baleful energy grew ever denser. Frigid air, baleful energy, and killing intent intermingled, eventually forming miasma that lingered endlessly, never dispersing.

Yet crisis often accompanied opportunity.

The natural treasures born within the Cold Ruins, the relics and pills left by predecessors, drew wave after wave of later adventurers to brave the danger. Among them were those with immense supernatural power, yet very few managed to return safely. Survivors spread word by word, broadcasting the terror of the Cold Ruins to all directions.

Over the ages, this place had become a forbidden land spoken of with dread.

Even so, some refused to accept their fate. Trusting in their deep fortune or exalted cultivation, they charged in one after another. A few came back alive; most left only their bones behind.

...

Several months later.

After crossing mountains and valleys, Jiuyou finally arrived at the foot of the Thousand Snow Mountain Range. He rested for a few days in a city at the mountain's base, regulating his breath to recover and refining the Crimson Sun Pearl with his sacrificial offerings.

He was no longer far from the Cold Ruins, but the mountain range loomed before him. To reach the wasteland, he had to cross this snow mountain spanning millions of miles.

Given the Cold Ruins' fearsome reputation and the great distance, no teleportation array connected the two locations. To get there, one could only cross the mountains step by step on foot.

Jiuyou was in no hurry.

He changed into the Heavenly Wind Robe, concealed his aura, and stepped alone into the vast snow mountains.

The Thousand Snow Mountain Range stretched endlessly, howling winds and heavy snowfall all around.

Jiuyou traveled through, occasionally encountering a few low- and mid-rank demon beasts, which he dispatched with a casual strike.

Along the way, he also crossed paths with several teams of rogue cultivators venturing into the mountains to gather herbs. The strongest among them was only at Early Golden Core. Jiuyou couldn't be bothered to deal with them, so he concealed his aura and detoured around. Those people never even knew a Nascent Soul cultivator had passed over their heads.

Day after day, the snow mountains receded behind him as the wasteland stretched ahead.

After half a month, Jiuyou finally crossed the last ridge, and the view opened up before him.

The gray-brown land of the wasteland stretched endlessly to the horizon, with icy wind whipping fine snow particles into his face.

In the distant sky, a thick mass of gray-black mist connected heaven and earth, churning slowly.

Wherever the mist spread, not a single blade of grass grew, and deathly silence reigned.

That was the Cold Ruins.

Jiuyou halted his streak of light, hovering mid-air as he gazed at that death ground shrouded in miasma. Even from afar, he could almost feel the endless miasma rushing toward him.

"Truly worthy of its name, living up to every rumor."

He withdrew his gaze, his expression unchanged.

With a flicker of his form, he transformed into a faint azure beam of light, shooting straight toward that expanse of fog.

In the span of a breath.

Jiuyou stood at the edge of a deep valley within the sea of mist, his features hidden in faint light, only a pair of bright eyes visible, deep as an abyss, impenetrable to light.

He stepped into the miasma. A faint azure spiritual energy silently expanded around him, condensing into a thin shell that kept the churning gray-black mist at bay. The Crimson Sun Pearl in his palm gave a slight glow, golden light piercing through his fingers, dispelling the frigid air within three feet of him.

The mist surged but could not draw near. He did not look back, taking only one step before sinking into that boundless silence.