Chapter Three: The Spiritual Root

Three days later, deep within a vast, boundless land teeming with life, nestled in a mist-shrouded valley, a group of one hundred and fifty to one hundred and sixty people marched steadily through the swirling poison fogs of blue and purple. Like ghosts, they flickered in and out of sight amid the haze.

This group was distinctly divided into two kinds of people.

One group wore black robes, each with a curved blade hanging at their waist. Though numbering only about twenty, they were scattered at both the front and rear of the procession. Occasionally, a few would weave through the ranks, maintaining order with cold efficiency and an indifferent demeanor.

The other group consisted of prisoners, clad in tattered rags, their hands tightly shackled. They formed a long line, heads bowed low, silent and expressionless, mechanically following the march.

Among these prisoners was Cao Yun, who trudged along in the crowd despite waves of pain that would occasionally surge through his body.

The group pressed deeper into the valley, where the poisonous mists gradually thinned and the terrain narrowed into a tight pass shaped like a gourd’s neck.

In the distance, Cao Yun spotted an imposing bronze gate standing five or six zhang tall, intricately carved with fierce wolf totems exuding an eerie and terrifying aura.

On either side of the gate stood massive azure wolves, each over three zhang tall, their backs arched and bodies armored with specially crafted scales that shielded vital areas with an impenetrable defense, their ferocity unmistakable.

As the group approached, the wolves bared their teeth and let out low, hoarse growls, crouching with muscles taut as if ready to launch a savage attack at any moment.

Fortunately, guards nearby calmed the beasts just in time, causing them to restrain their fearsome demeanor and settle back into stillness.

A burly man at the forefront led the group to the bronze gate. After some negotiation, accompanied by the heavy grinding of mechanisms, the colossal bronze door slowly lifted, revealing a passage into the unknown.

Cao Yun gazed intently down the corridor, inwardly marveling at the formidable defenses that far exceeded his expectations. Once inside, escape would be harder than scaling the heavens.

“As long as I live, there will be a day I rise again,” he whispered to himself, narrowing his eyes as the group pressed onward.

They marched along a corridor about two zhang wide for more than a li, until suddenly the path opened into a vast expanse—a sprawling square paved with blue stone, majestic and awe-inspiring.

At the far end stood a grand circular hall, its walls meticulously constructed of blue stone blocks, crowned by a massive dome resembling an impregnable fortress, radiating solemnity and mystery.

On either side of the hall stretched numerous round buildings of similar design. Beyond them loomed a mountain peak, faint outlines of stone structures visible upon its summit.

From behind the hall came the occasional roar of beasts, while hawks and falcons circled overhead, their cries low and mournful.

The square was mostly deserted; when passersby caught sight of the procession, the guards escorting them would respectfully press a hand to their chest in salute.

They did not linger long before being led to the left side of the square, ultimately stopping before a grand stone hall.

Cao Yun looked up to see three twisted and ominous characters carved above the stone door: “Blood Slave Hall.”

At that moment, a gaunt, gray-robed elder emerged from the hall. Though tall, he appeared somewhat withdrawn and shrunken.

“This time there are quite a few,” the elder croaked hoarsely. “Are these all brought by Elder Li?”

The burly guard bowed and smiled. “Yes, Elder Wang. We had good fortune this time—one hundred thirty-seven in total. All can ignite magic stones; maybe a few have spirit roots.”

The elder nodded slightly. “Let’s hope so. Once I finish testing their spirit roots, you may go to the Outer Gate Steward Hall to claim your rewards.”

“Thank you, Elder Wang,” the guard replied gratefully.

The guards then pressed Cao Yun and the other prisoners into the vast stone hall.

Inside, the hall was spacious beyond measure. Hanging on the walls were bronze wolf-head chandeliers of various shapes, their yellow flames dancing within, illuminating the hall as brightly as daylight.

Cao Yun’s gaze was immediately drawn to a massive stone stele at the center, shaped like an ancient wolf-head totem. Its surface was etched with orderly lines and mysterious patterns, emanating an aura both ancient and profound.

At five distinct points on the stele were embedded glowing characters: Metal, Wood, Water, Fire, and Earth. These characters seemed to hold some primordial power of heaven and earth, their light alluring and evocative.

“Step forward,” Elder Wang’s voice was cold and authoritative. He pointed at a burly youth, signaling him to stand before the stele.

Fear instantly painted the youth’s face. Trembling like a leaf in autumn wind, he dared not take a single step forward.

Seeing this, Elder Wang’s eyes flickered with disdain. He raised his hand and gently pressed the youth’s back.

The youth stiffened as if frozen in place, his body rigid. Elder Wang effortlessly lifted him up and tossed him before the stele like an object.

Witnessing this, the crowd was struck with horror and filled with dread.

Cao Yun’s eyes widened as he observed intently, seeking any useful information from the unfolding scene.

Elder Wang firmly held the youth’s hands, pressing them forcibly against the stele. Then, with a leap, the elder moved behind him, swiftly gesturing before his chest. Moments later, a dazzling azure light flared on his palm.

With a casual wave, the light settled precisely on the youth’s body. The youth was instantly enveloped by the glow, screaming in terror, his voice laden with despair and helplessness.

Yet, to everyone’s surprise, no cruel or bloody scene followed. The azure light flickered once before swiftly vanishing. At the same time, the five characters on the stele flashed a brief white light, then fell silent.

“No spirit root. Stand over there,” Elder Wang said coldly and calmly, pointing to an empty space on the left.

Though puzzled, the burly youth dared not resist and obediently walked to the designated spot.

Next, Elder Wang randomly pointed to another person, who trembled and pressed his hands on the stele, only to see the same flicker of the five characters, followed by silence.

“No spirit root,” came Elder Wang’s voice again, tinged with impatience.

“No.”

“No.”

...

Seventeen or eighteen were tested in succession—none possessed a spirit root.

By the end, Elder Wang’s interest had clearly waned. He didn’t even bother speaking further, simply waving his hand to signal those without spirit roots to stand aside.

The burly guard glanced nervously at the empty space where those without spirit roots were gathered, wiping cold sweat from his forehead.

At that moment, a faint note of surprise suddenly escaped Elder Wang’s lips, breaking the heavy silence.