Blinding sparks exploded in the air, and the black eagle let out a shrill cry, dark green demonic blood seeping from its charred flesh.
Qing Feng clicked his tongue, leaning against a bluestone. How could he run into Yan Yi and Zhu Jian here? Daring to provoke a Golden Core great demon while only in the Foundation Establishment realm—he didn't know whether to praise their bravery or lament their disregard for life.
If not for the fact that this black eagle had only recently broken through and its demonic power was not yet fully rounded, it would have torn the two of them to shreds long ago.
“How many talismans do we have left?” Zhu Jian wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, his sword already covered in cracks.
Yan Yi pursed her pale lips and shook her head; the brocade pouch at her waist was already more than half empty.
The protective artifacts prepared by her father, Yao Jin, were sufficient to deal with Foundation Establishment cultivators, but who could have expected that the Thousand Moon Realm would hide a Golden Core great demon?
A sudden whoosh of wind sounded, and the black eagle, wrapped in a Fishy Wind, attacked again. Yan Yi gritted her teeth and threw out the last three Fire Cloud Talismans, but the fiery barrier was torn to shreds by the demonic wind before it could even form.
The young girl, just about to set up a formation, suddenly had her pupils constrict. Zhu Jian, who should have been fighting alongside her, was retreating wildly on his sword, only his voice scattering in the wind: “Senior Sister, hold on, I’ll go invite the two Senior Uncles.”
Qing Feng tapped his sword hilt with his knuckles, a cold glint flashing in his eyes. In the distance, the black eagle’s sharp claws were already nearing Yan Yi’s throat, and the defensive formation patterns on the young girl’s magical robes were disintegrating piece by piece.
Yan Yi was not surprised by Zhu Jian’s escape, but she hadn’t expected it to happen at this moment.
Sword Qi and pill energy should grow and exist together, but those who truly harmonize them are few.
She lowered her gaze to her palm; besides A Yun’s sword, there was no other trustworthy blade.
A sudden whoosh of cold light broke through the air, and the young girl's slender eyelashes didn't even tremble. But upon hearing the word 'Break,' her eyes widened abruptly. Qing Feng, holding his sword, leaped into mid-air. His sword's edge flowed with the fierce energy of a third-level Golden Core, actually forcing back the black eagle's claws.
“Are you looking for death?” She uncharacteristically lost her composure, and the green bell on her wrist rang urgently.
However, the young man smiled and threw out a jade talisman. The moment the talisman paper exploded, a phantom of a golden-winged roc, enveloping both of them, soared into the sky.
She was forced into his embrace, her nostrils filled with a strange scent of pine ink mixed with blood.
The black eagle stared warily at the dissipating talisman light, then turned its wings and swept towards where Zhu Jian had fled.
Qing Feng carried her over several mountain ranges, stopping only when the Blood Ginseng poked its head out of his Qiankun Bag.
“A ginseng king with sentience?” Before Yan Yi could finish her sentence, the Blood Ginseng had already shrunk back into the bag in fright. The young man proudly curled his lips: “It followed this young master willingly…”
His words came to an abrupt halt. The person in his arms, with eyes as cold as ice, was staring at his hand, which had not yet loosened its grip. Qing Feng chuckled awkwardly and took half a step back: “Let’s talk about serious matters first. How could the mountain-protecting formation let in a Golden Core demonic beast?”
The setting sun dyed the snowy ground crimson, and the touch of the silver embroidery on the young girl's waist sash still lingered on his fingertips.
Yan Yi silently smoothed her clothes, looking at the winding bloodstains on the path they had taken. She suddenly remembered that when Qing Feng embraced her, his sleeve was clearly soaked with a warm liquid.
“The specific situation is still unclear. Seven nights ago, an unusual phenomenon suddenly appeared in the night sky; the bright moon cast down blinding silver light, and the laws of the Thousand Moon Realm have been in disarray ever since.”
Yan Yi lightly tapped the mountain rock with her fingertips, and frost spread along the stone wall. “The number of Golden Core demonic beasts has sharply increased, and the Beast Taming Sect’s hunters have become the hunted instead.”
“Law alteration.” Qing Feng’s gaze shifted slightly, and the formation flaw mentioned by Chen Shanyu, along with the Demon Sect spy clues, connected in his mind. “It seems unwelcome guests have infiltrated the Mystic Realm.”
“All communication jade slips have become useless, and the elders are completely out of contact.” Yan Yi suddenly turned to face him directly, “Where have you been all these days?”
“Gathering herbs,” Qing Feng replied, his Qi Refining energy circulating around him, the fluctuations of the first layer of Foundation Establishment carrying the instability of the nascent stage. “I have to earn back the Mystic Realm ticket fee, don’t I?”
The frost between the young girl’s brows softened slightly, a subtle change that made Qing Feng secretly wary. They were merely casual acquaintances; such genuine emotion was truly abnormal.
“A Yun specifically instructed me before she left,” Yan Yi said, ice crystal lotus flowers forming on her fingertips, “to keep an eye on your diligent cultivation. Now I can finally report back.”
Qing Feng nearly crushed the jade talisman at his waist; this girl actually considered him a performance metric. He deliberately shook two dim talismans: “Golden Core-level talismans are worth three hundred spirit stones. Remember to settle the bill when we leave the Mystic Realm.”
“Take it.” Yan Yi tossed over a storage bag, which clinked, clearly revealing the generosity of a fifth-grade pill cultivator’s direct Disciple. “The most urgent task is how to leave alive.”
“Wait.” Qing Feng suddenly closed his eyes to sense the earth veins, his hands forming profound seals. “Here, dragon pulse converge, yin and yang harmonize, perfect for setting up a Concealment Formation.”
Yan Yi leaned against the stone wall, watching the young man embed ordinary materials in specific locations. Each time a spirit pattern lit up, the mountain cave’s presence weakened by a third, eventually blending completely with the surrounding rocks.
Ripples appeared in her ice-like eyes. The little boy from her memories, who always curled up sleeping soundly in the shade of a tree, was now rewriting spatial laws with the techniques of a Formation Grandmaster.
When did that lazy bug, whom A Yun couldn't even wake up by drawing a turtle on his face when they were young, cultivate such heaven-defying abilities?
The strong wind swept over the cliff, and Yan Yi lightly traced the tear in her sleeve with her fingertips.
The decisiveness of that sword light, as it cleaved through the poisonous mist, was still vivid in her mind. A faint curve appeared on her lips, and she suddenly recalled her Master’s words before the pill furnace: sword and pill were originally a bond of life and death.
She lowered her gaze to the figure setting up the formation below the cliff. Zhu Jian’s pathetic flight and Qing Feng’s sword shadow against the wind overlapped in her sea of consciousness, and a hint of mockery flashed in her jade-like eyes.
Was it truly a matter of blood ties, or did frost suddenly condense on the young girl’s fingertips, as she realized with a start that she had actually placed Qing Feng in the same category as that scoundrel?
On the other side of the sea of clouds, Qing Feng was sketching formation patterns with the tip of his sword.
His green robes flapped in the strong wind, and the spiritual light between his fingers flowed like falling stars.
If swordsmanship was an instinct etched into his bones, then formations were his armor for survival.
Ever since he was almost slit in the throat in his sleep that year, he had understood this truth: a killing sword must be sharp, and a life-saving formation must be exquisite.
At this moment, he was pouring half of his savings into the earth veins.
The Illusory Mist Formation concealed their figures, the Dragon Binding Lock entangled their aura, and when the last three profound iron formation flags were inserted into the rock crevices, the entire cliff glowed with a faint blue light.
This set of formations, improved from an ancient remnant scroll, could trap even a Nascent Soul cultivator for half an incense stick’s time.
“Those brutes from the Beast Taming Sect…” He glanced at the jade token at his waist, recalling the mountains of “Myriad Swords Piercing Heart Formation Diagrams” piled in the Sect’s scripture pavilion, and a vein throbbed in his forehead. Those fellow disciples who called Trapping Formations “mere show” probably couldn't even distinguish between a formation eye and a formation core.
As the moon sank in the west, Qing Feng patted the last spiritual pattern into the formation plate. He rubbed his numb wrist bones and crawled into the cave dwelling, letting out a satisfied sigh at the lingering warmth on the green jade pillow.
In the pre-dawn glow of the sky, the sword qi at the entrance of the Thousand Moon Realm competed with the rising sun, but he wrapped himself tighter in his fur blanket and rolled over. Let those sword fanatics do their thing; he was going to sleep and cultivate.
Above the firmament, the situation changed dramatically. Ten thousand feet of sword light were as dazzling as the scorching sun, and the entire Heaven Sword Peak trembled amidst the roar. When that sword light, capable of splitting a galaxy, struck down, the mountain wall of the Thousand Moon Realm cracked with spiderweb-like fissures, yet the entrance to the Mystic Realm never appeared.
“Even the Heaven-Severing Sword can’t break through?” Qin Heng’s hand, gripping his sword hilt, showed bulging veins. The several Peak Lords beside him also had solemn expressions, and Elder Yao Jin’s silver beard was trembling slightly.