When people die, especially when tens of thousands perish in warfare, vast quantities of Jing Qi (Essence Energy) and Sha Qi (Baleful Energy) are generated. If the Jing Qi is collected, it can perfectly integrate with the vital energies of heaven and earth, making it a supreme tonic for any cultivator. Under such conditions, anyone cultivating would achieve results with half the effort. Furthermore, that immense Sha Qi is the best medium for tempering one's spirit and will. As long as one can maintain a clear mind within that Sha Qi and remain unmoved by it, it offers unparalleled benefits for personal moral cultivation. The combination of these two elements forms the optimal pathway for breaking through limits and ascending to higher realms.
When Jin Zhanyi finally voiced what He Yiming had already surmised, He Yiming’s expression had turned uglier than ever before.
Jin Zhanyi seemed not to notice He Yiming’s complexion, stomping his feet slightly. “The Jing Qi and Sha Qi on the Central Great Plain are transferred to Ghost Cry Ridge through some unknown means. This conversion formation has existed since antiquity, unchanging for ten thousand years. Whenever the East-West war erupts, Ghost Cry Ridge is also teeming with masters. However, not every master can emerge safely from Ghost Cry Ridge. Those whose cultivation is too low, or whose will is insufficiently firm, venture in only to never return. Yet, even so, most who are aware of this matter and happen to be in position choose to join.”
He Yiming let out a bitter laugh. “I understand. For those who practice the Martial Way, if they stand right before a bottleneck, unable to break through, they will refuse to let slip even a thread of possibility, no matter the cost they must pay.”
As he spoke these words, He Yiming recalled his own days struggling to reach the fifth layer of Inner Strength.
Before encountering the miraculous chance at the bottom of the lake, those days had left an indelible, piercing impression on him. It was precisely the agonizing grind of that period that instilled in He Yiming the habit of relentless effort, paving the way for his later ascent.
The feeling of stagnation and helplessness when facing an insurmountable barrier—that, too, he felt deeply, profoundly so…
“Brother He, since you now know the origins of Ghost Cry Ridge, do you intend to enter?” Jin Zhanyi asked solemnly.
He Yiming paused slightly, then countered, “What are Brother Jin’s intentions?”
“I will naturally enter it,” Jin Zhanyi stated without hesitation. “The outbreak of war is not something I can prevent, nor is it something anyone in this world can stop. The interests involved are simply too vast; anyone attempting to intervene would be ground to dust by the combined might of the Eastern and Western powerhouses.”
Hearing Jin Zhanyi’s words, which were half persuasion and half warning, He Yiming’s expression shifted slightly.
Yet, Jin Zhanyi was not wrong. Since the Great Plain and Ghost Cry Ridge held such mystical utility, no faction would willingly forsake the opportunity. This was especially true for the great sects or powerful clans, who spared no effort in cultivating the next generation of disciples to fruition.
To speak nothing of sacrificing unknown soldiers from both sides, even if ten times the number perished, as long as their core interests were untouched, they would remain entirely unmoved.
In that moment, He Yiming felt a chill that pierced his very core.
The top masters of the East and West tacitly maintained this arrangement. Before the Shendao (Divine Path) masters vanished, this structure was created by those who cultivated the Path of Ruthlessness.
However, after they established this, not a single one stepped forward to denounce it; even those who followed other paths turned a blind eye.
Perhaps they, too, knew that their own descendants would benefit here.
Thousands of years ago, the Shendao masters disappeared, but this mechanism remained, intensifying with time.
He Yiming was acutely aware that Jin Zhanyi’s words contained no exaggeration.
Anyone attempting to obstruct this would find themselves arrayed against the combined force of all the super-masters from both East and West.
Unless one possessed the legendary Shendao mastery—the infinite divine abilities to summon wind and rain, or overturn mountains and seas—it would be impossible to stop any of this from occurring.
He Yiming looked at his own hands. While he possessed firm confidence in his own strength, the thought of this colossal power structure spanning both East and West sent a shiver down his spine.
This, truly, was not something he could halt.
Jin Zhanyi observed He Yiming gradually calming down and regaining his composure. “Brother He, since you cannot stop it, then join it.”
He Yiming looked up in surprise. Jin Zhanyi’s expression was utterly grave. “This world belongs to the strong; to gain greater influence, one must possess commensurate strength. Entering Ghost Cry Ridge is undoubtedly a shortcut.” Jin Zhanyi’s tone suddenly shifted: “Of course, if Brother He believes Ghost Cry Ridge is too dangerous, or if his will is not firm enough, it is not too late to wait for the next great war to erupt before making a choice.”
When Jin Zhanyi spoke these words, there was no hint of mockery in his tone.
After all, those qualified to enter Ghost Cry Ridge were generally elders over a hundred years old; not only did they possess superhuman cultivation in the Martial Way, but their lives had been filled with countless experiences. Their hearts were inherently cold and firm as rock, making them less susceptible to the Sha Qi within Ghost Cry Ridge.
But He Yiming was different; he was still too young. Even Jin Zhanyi harbored doubts about whether he possessed the capacity to withstand the Sha Qi’s intrusion.
He Yiming pondered in silence, his thoughts as active as water splashing from waves. After a long while, He Yiming raised his head, his voice steady as a colossal mountain boulder: “I will go…”
Jin Zhanyi nodded slightly, his gaze drifting south, toward one of the most mysterious and venomous places in this entire world.
※※※※
Two figures walked side-by-side. Their movements were relaxed and easy, yet their speed was astonishingly fast.
Before long, they arrived before the foremost city on the Great Plain—a city equally renowned within the Great Shen Empire.
Beneath this city’s ramparts flowed countless streams of blood; if all that gore were gathered, it would be more than enough to fill the moat surrounding the fortress.
The Grand General stationed here by the previous dynasty renamed the city Xietu Cheng (Blood Slaughter City) after a certain campaign, and this highly evocative name had persisted until the present day.
Legend held that this city had changed hands numerous times during various sieges and defenses, but ultimately, sovereignty remained firmly in the hands of the Great Shen.
Similarly, the first city established by the West on the far side of the vast grassland had changed hands repeatedly, yet it, too, remained ultimately under the control of the Western nations.
When the figures of He Yiming and the other man appeared beneath Xietu Cheng, they immediately drew a faint ripple of sensation.
They had come from the West—the direction where the boundless Western armies were stationed. Their casual, brazen approach naturally aroused immense suspicion.
As soon as they reached the base of the battlements, more than ten strong bows were leveled at them. Over twenty soldiers pointed their spears at them, poised for immediate action.
He Yiming and his companion exchanged a smile. They had never taken such danger to heart, finding the situation rather amusing instead.
Jin Zhanyi had intended to deliver a sharp lesson, but He Yiming stopped him.
Looking at the soldiers, He Yiming’s eyes held a subtle, hidden trace of pity, causing Jin Zhanyi to sigh deeply.
He Yiming was, after all, still He Yiming. No matter how powerful the twenty-year-old He Yiming was in the Martial Way, he could not yet be compared to the centenarian Jin Zhanyi.
The news of two strangers arriving from the West was immediately reported up the chain. Although the soldiers kept guard around them as if they were prisoners, they refrained from pushing or bringing out instruments of torture.
Otherwise, even with He Yiming’s dissuasion, Jin Zhanyi would have unleashed a merciless slaughter without hesitation.
A powerful martial artist, no matter where they were, held a position above the common populace—this was an undeniable truth.
Moments later, a high-ranking officer arrived. Upon seeing Jin Zhanyi, the man paused, then immediately approached with utmost respect. To the astonishment of everyone watching, he courteously invited the pair into the city.
The city was entirely a massive military encampment, yet even within such a setting, possessing sufficient authority and strength meant one could enjoy privileges forever beyond the reach of ordinary men.
At the very heart of the city, within a massive residence, there were beautiful, captivating maids and attendants who were humble in demeanor, nimble, and well-trained. Upon entering this veritable mansion, He Yiming genuinely felt as if he had returned to the Shaoming Residence in the capital of the Northwest Tianluo Kingdom.
A hearty laugh echoed from the inner courtyard; the voice arrived before the speaker did.
“Brother Jin, it’s been over thirty years—do you still remember your little brother?”
Three men emerged from the inner courtyard. They appeared roughly the same age, looking no older than middle-aged, but He Yiming knew their true ages were far from this youthful facade.
Jin Zhanyi stood with his hands clasped behind his back, glancing over the three figures, and smiled. “It turns out we are old acquaintances. Meeting again here is truly rare.”
He half-turned. “Brother He, these three are masters from the three great Inner Land families: Zhu Guanhao of the Zhu family, Fang Sheng of the Fang family, and…” His gaze paused slightly, emphasizing the last name, “…Hao Xue of the Hao family.”
He Yiming’s eyes brightened slightly. Jin Zhanyi had mentioned the great Inner Land families earlier on the Great Plain, and these three were the cream of that crop. Although he had anticipated that the major Inner Land families would not miss this chance presented by the great war, he hadn't expected to encounter their masters so quickly.
P.S.: It’s Sunday today, three chapters. Tomorrow will be five chapters. It seems the end of the month is approaching; brothers, do you have any monthly tickets?
Bai He is leading by so much; it would truly be a tragedy born of excess joy if he were still overtaken in the end.
Asking for monthly tickets…