Chapter 68: Bone Bloom Curse
Fang Jit hadn't lied—the first stretch of the Yin-Yang Venomgulf was deceptively simple: a flat expanse of mountain stone, steady enough for a mortal to cross with care, never mind elite cultivators like them. But that illusion shattered moments later. After threading through a series of jagged cliff ravines, the path plunged downward into a monstrous valley, its depths devoured by an impenetrable shroud of shadow.
There, a frail ridge—no wider than an inch—stretched across the chasm like a taut, brittle thread. Beneath it yawned an abyss so black that even the twin orbs blazing overhead—one cyan, one crimson—couldn't pierce its void. The darkness gaped like the maw of some colossal, unseen demon, its hunger a palpable weight pulling at their souls. The ridge itself teetered, a fragile lifeline strung over an oblivion that seemed to whisper promises of doom. To the left, a frozen orb howled from the mid-air, exhaling gusts of frost that raked at their flesh with icy talons. To the right, a furnace of flame roared from sky, its searing bellows scorching the air until it shimmered with heat.
High above, the twin orbs waged a primal, unending battle, their forces clashing in a fierce stalemate. Perhaps because they'd drawn closer to the orbs, where their powers collided most intensely, the mutual annihilation dulled their rage. Here, the chill and heat weren't as ferocious as before.
The exposed rocks flanking the ridge bore the scars: on the left, thin sheets of ice glazed the stone in ghostly veils, glinting like the breath of the dead; on the right, heat twisted the air into rippling mirages, as if the rocks themselves melted under an invisible blaze.
Just feet beneath both sides of the narrow ridge, a thick, multi-colored miasma churned, a swirling veil of venomous hues that cloaked the valley's depths. The scenery below dissolved into obscurity. A ceaseless, indescribable rustling rose from the abyss, like a sinister chorus of countless venomous insects and serpents slithering and scuttling across mountain woods and stones. It was a dense cacophony—like countless spring silkworms gnawing leaves, but amplified a thousandfold; like snakes and insects wandering, sound's dense, unending, chilling the spine.
"Be careful." Even Oen Shinae's voice carried an edge of unease as they reached the ridge. Her eyes sharpened with rare focus, flicking toward Lordi Payne with a grim warning before she turned and followed Fang Jit onto the knife-thin path.
Lordi Payne's face drained of color, his breath catching in his throat. He hesitated, a shiver crawling up his spine, then forced himself forward, stepping onto the ridge with the caution of a man treading over a grave.
The narrow spine of stone wasn't just razor-thin—it felt alive with malice. From the valleys below, unholy winds shrieked upward, sporadic and vicious. First came freezing gusts, sharp as spectral claws, slashing at his flesh with a chill that whispered of death. Then scalding blasts roared up, reeking of sulfur and ruin, blistering the air and searing his skin raw.
If Lordi Payne hadn't clawed his way to the fifth layer of Qi Refinement, he'd have crumpled within steps, his body too frail to endure the relentless assault. Even a Foundation Stage cultivator would recoil from this cursed place, desperate to flee its grasp. Fang Jit and Oen Shinae, their figures taut with urgency, surged ahead, their paces a blur against the eerie glow of the twin orbs.
In moments, they'd crossed most of the deep valley, swallowed by the shadows ahead.
Lordi Payne, cursed with his weaker cultivation, lagged behind, each step a battle against the trembling ridge and the howling void. Sharky Ink trailed him, offering no words, no push. Still, the creeping dread spurred Lordi Payne to quicken his pace.