61 - A Farewell to Mr. Luo

Chapter 61 This was the last memory of the dragon essence within the dragon corpse, the deepest one engraved. As a true dragon, it was pinned to the ground, watching helplessly as it bled to death. Not even a single cry could be let out. White Fan felt an inexplicable heaviness in her chest, an unbearable discomfort. "Who am I?" "Who exactly am I?" "No, this isn't me." Outside, He Yiman was leading White Fan northward, with a slim trail of green light ahead of them, followed by various colored mystical glows, looking exceptionally eye-catching. "She's heading north." "Let her go north. With so many people, she won't survive this time." The cultivators chasing after them had faces flushed with excitement, all eager to obtain a dao path through He Yiman. To the north of the Southern Continent lies a high plateau, sparse in vegetation and filled with yellow sand, with even less spiritual energy than the Southern Continent. Few cultivators would set up their abodes here. Many of the cultivators who had followed from the Southern Continent stopped here. "I didn't expect her to run into the Northern Continent." "Keep chasing. The Northern Continent is vast and sparsely populated. Even if the Northern Continent cultivators see us, there are so many of us. What can they do to stop us?" The Northern Continent, unlike the Southern Continent, is poor in resources and sparsely populated, with no one establishing sects or schools. They live like mice in caves. Establishing a sect in the Northern Continent is like announcing to everyone that there are resources here, inviting robbers. The Southern and Northern Continents are divided by a towering black mountain range, devoid of vegetation and pitch black. The surface temperatures are frighteningly high. Additionally, the Southern and Northern Continents rarely interact. Compared to other continents, the Southern Continent views the Northern Continent with disdain, seeing them as refugees. However, they have never dared to invade the Northern Continent due to its harsh environment and the ruthlessness of its cultivators, who fight without regard for life or reason. Claiming such a thankless land is pointless; it’s better to let them kill each other off. He Yiman's speed while controlling the wind was incredibly fast, no slower than the Nascent Soul monsters, especially since those chasing her were just scattered cultivators, the strongest only at the mid-Golden Core stage, unable to catch up to her quickly. A streak of green light flashed into the Northern Continent's sky, like a shooting star. Upon entering the Northern Continent, He Yiman immediately sensed the thinning spiritual energy, and her speed slowed significantly. Being not a cultivator, although her spiritual power could be used endlessly, in a place poor in spiritual energy, its effectiveness naturally reduced. Seeing her speed drop, the pursuing cultivators grew excited and noisy. "Look, she's slowing down." "I knew her spiritual power couldn’t be endless. Coming here is a death wish." "See the benefits of the dao path? As long as there's spiritual energy, spiritual power is inexhaustible. It’s unfair that the Heavens let a mere mortal master a dao path." Jealous of He Yiman's talent, a few excitable scattered cultivators grumbled enviously. In the cultivation world, except for He Yiman, other powerful dao path holders were Nascent Soul or higher cultivators, and obtaining their dao paths was like chasing a dream. But He Yiman was different. Back when she was under the protection of the Mayfly Palace, no one dared to harm her even as a mortal. Now with Mayfly Palace gone, she was like an unclaimed cheese, everyone wanted a piece. He Yiman's flute playing grew more intense, but her speed continued to slow, sweat beading on her forehead. Being dragged along, White Fan’s expression grew increasingly conflicted. At this moment, she couldn't distinguish her own identity. Decades of memories felt like grains of sand in a vast sea of thousands of years of recollection, easily overwhelmed. Only through constant inner self-affirmation and the two names He Yiman called out from outside did White Fan manage not to completely lose herself. The cat-and-mouse chase grew more intense, with barely any time to catch a breath in the Northern Continent skies. Meanwhile, at the far end of the Northern Continent, in a tomb, a pale-faced young man with a green lantern was exploring. His face was somewhat translucent, light passing through his body, his pallor unlike that of the living. With hollow eyes and tattered clothes, he resembled a beggar, muttering to himself. "Finally found a tomb. I thought the yin energy would be enough for me to transform completely, but I only managed to become like this. After a hundred years of being a lantern, I’ve had enough." Muttering to himself, he continued digging through the mud. Outside, in a dark corner, the ground suddenly loosened as if something was trying to break through. A few scrawny, disheveled mice scurried away in fear. After a few attempts, a pale hand broke through the soil, slowly pulling a translucent figure out. The young man crawling out of the ground kept the lantern attached to his waist. One corner of the lantern was chipped, looking familiar upon closer inspection. He touched the chipped edge of the lantern and then the ear he was missing. "It's all because of that flood dragon. The old beggar died, but even in transformation, I ended up missing an ear." As he grumbled, a streak of green light suddenly flew overhead, followed by a series of colorful glows, making him dive back into the soil in fright. "What on earth is happening outside? Why are so many cultivators suddenly in the Northern Continent?" Ever since he escaped from White Fan, Ghost Lantern no longer obeyed that mad beggar. Unlike the beggar, who took lives ruthlessly, Ghost Lantern was much more cautious. Sensing the turmoil brewing in the Southern Continent, the old lantern fled north to the Northern Continent. Despite being poor in resources, it was sparsely populated, and demonic and scattered cultivators had no interest in it. But for a ghost cultivator like him, it was different. The Northern Continent was rich in yin energy and old tombs, crucial for shedding his lantern form, a desire long held. Using that yin energy, he had formed a human shape, albeit flimsy due to insufficient yin energy. As for the lantern, he had grown attached to it and, moreover, it was half a magical artifact, too valuable to discard. Just as he emerged, the presence of those cultivators frightened him back into hiding, deciding to venture out later. Outside, the chase had grown so intense that some low-level cultivators, becoming impatient, began attacking with spells, casting and chasing simultaneously. He Yiman, hearing the booming behind her, turned to see the chaotic red, purple, and green spells flying towards her. Originally still in flight, she pulled out her flute and blew with force. The high-pitched sound instantly formed a thin green shield, enormous and transparent. The numerous spells exploded continuously, filling the sky with fiery light. Seeing their spells hit, the distant cultivators cheered. “We got her! We hit her!” “Hurry, let’s check!” “Hope she’s not blown to bits.” Excited, the lower-level cultivators rushed forward, worried they might miss out. Only a few Golden Core stage cultivators stayed behind. He Yiman easily blocked the spells, holding the unconscious White Fan. As the flames and smoke cleared, the low-level cultivators who hurried over were shocked to see they had been wrong. He Yiman stood unharmed nearby, not a hair out of place. She lifted a green sword toward them, and the enormous blade, as large as a towering pillar, swept down. “What is that?” Before the low-level cultivators could react, He Yiman's green sword cut them down. Their triumphant faces hadn’t even changed expressions. Holding her flute aloft, He Yiman pointed at the distant group of Golden Core cultivators. Being chased, she had been gathering spiritual power for this strike. Unfortunately, the Golden Core cultivators were too cautious to approach, or she could have dealt with them all in one go. “Who dares come forward?” He Yiman’s clear voice echoed, full of warning. Seeing the green sword, the Golden Core cultivators hesitated. Some even thought of retreating, valuing their hard-earned Golden Core stages too much to risk their lives. However, a few newly emerged Golden Core cultivators, overconfident in their beginner-stage accomplishments, began to act arrogant. "He Yiman, I advise you to hand over the dao path quickly. Otherwise, we Golden Core cultivators will make you suffer." "You want me to hand over the dao path? Why not go and comprehend it yourself?" The Golden Core cultivator who spoke was clearly infuriated by He Yiman's retort. "Don't be foolish. Fighting us won't bring you any benefits. Furthermore, you are only a mortal. Even if you can endure for a day and a night, you certainly can't hold out for two days and nights." "Hmph, if I can last a day and a night, you might not survive that long." "Such sharp wit! I'll show you." Saying this, the Golden Core cultivator flew forward on his sword, splitting it into three, then into nine, like arrows loosed from a bowstring, all aiming for He Yiman. Seeing the nine swords approach, He Yiman raised her flute, wielding the green sword to push forward. The green sword emitted waves of verdant energy, directly confronting the nine swords. As the two sets of swords clashed, the green sword's brilliance intensified. With a buzzing sound, the green sword let out a clear hum, its light flaring. With one sweep, it charged through the nine swords, scattering them into sparks of light. The opponent, seeing his nine swords dismantled, wore a furious expression. Retrieving his fallen swords, he gritted his teeth and said, "I truly underestimated you—a mere mortal." He pulled out a bell from his robe. Upon seeing this bell, the other Golden Core cultivators were taken aback. The older ones remained silent, but two newly minted Golden Core cultivators exclaimed in surprise. "Is that a soul attack treasure?” The cultivator holding the bell wore a condescending smirk. "Today, you'll witness its power. Hmph, who would've thought a mere mortal would force me to use a treasure? Today, you are doomed." He Yiman’s eyes narrowed as she gazed at the bell. She looked down at White Fan, realizing that she wouldn’t be able to protect her once the fight began. ※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※※ Thank you to the little angels who cast their overlord tickets or watered me with nutrient solution~ Thank you to the little angels who watered [nutrient solution]: kanbujian 20 bottles； Passing by 1 bottle； Thank you all for your support; I will continue to work hard! Previous Chapter Table of Contents Next Chapter