Vessel of Worlds

As the final days of the Dragon Descent Valley expedition drew near, the atmosphere inside the valley grew ever more tense. Elite disciples, brimming with confidence in their own strength, roamed constantly. The moment they caught a cultivator alone, they killed without mercy and took everything—even if the victim was from their own sect.

But when two cultivators of equal strength crossed paths, they would part ways by unspoken agreement, as though they had never met at all.

No one was willing to risk a life-or-death battle against a worthy opponent without being certain of victory.

During this time, Andy had been making his way slowly toward Peaceful Valley. He had time to spare, and his caution was extreme—he kept his Concealment Technique active at all times as he advanced at a measured pace. His progress was anything but fast. On top of that, he frequently detected other cultivators passing through the area, and each time he was forced to hide and wait, costing him more time.

Along the way, he had avoided at least seven or eight cultivators at the absolute peak of the thirteenth layer. He had even witnessed a fight to the death between two thirteenth-layer cultivators.

The Hundred Crafts Sect cultivator had wielded a matched set of four throwing knives, each just a few cun long, sending them whirling through the air in a dizzying storm. His opponent—a middle-aged Jade Clarity Sect Daoist—was overwhelmed, and when he finally left an opening, the knives cut him down.

Andy was confident that if he revealed himself at that moment and struck with the peak-grade Yuchang Sword, he would have a seventy or eighty percent chance of killing the Hundred Crafts Sect cultivator in a single blow. But using the peak-grade artifact drained too much spiritual power. If he happened to encounter yet another cultivator shortly afterward, the danger would multiply. So he let the man leave.

He had already completed two tasks. There was no need for the risk.

And so, after seven or eight days of painstaking caution, Andy finally drew close to Peaceful Valley. He was just over a hundred kilometers from the exit.

Now he only needed to pass through the narrow gorge ahead, and he would be within Peaceful Valley's boundaries. From there, he could find a burrow or a large tree and hide, quietly waiting for the exit to open.

This was the bloodiest and most frenzied stretch of the expedition. Anyone still moving through the valley at this point was, without exception, an elite disciple. Like seasoned hunters, they stalked their prey.

Some elite disciples chose to roam, killing every cultivator they encountered.

Others chose to lie in ambush at chokepoints and well-traveled routes, picking off whoever came along.

The gorge before Andy—barely two hundred zhang long—was an ideal spot for an ambush. It led directly to Peaceful Valley, ensuring a steady stream of passing cultivators. The terrain was narrow, and the cliff faces were thick with vegetation, making artifact flight impractical. If an elite disciple lay in wait here, an ambush would have an excellent chance of succeeding.

Andy had not originally planned to reach Peaceful Valley through this gorge. But after sweeping it repeatedly with his spiritual sense, he confirmed that not a single cultivator was present.

Perhaps the most dangerous-looking place was actually the safest. The gorge was so obviously treacherous that most cultivators would avoid it entirely, preferring to take a detour of dozens of kilometers. Perhaps that was exactly why no one was here.

With that reasoning, Andy decided to pass through.

He pushed his Concealment Technique to its fullest, suppressing every trace of his presence, and stepped into the long, narrow gorge wedged between two towering peaks. His spiritual sense swept the surroundings without pause.

Stolen story; please report.

Suddenly, a powerful surge of spiritual energy erupted from the rock face seven or eight zhang to his side. A streak of blue light burst from the stone and hurtled straight at him.

There was no time to slap on a defensive talisman. Andy pulled out the crystalline ice shield and thrust it toward the incoming blue light.

A spirit tool with its spirit stone already installed could be activated instantly—faster than an ordinary artifact. In that split-second of crisis, Andy reached for the mid-grade spirit tool without a second thought.

A crisp clink rang out. The weapon inside the blue light—a spike-shaped artifact seven or eight cun long—was stopped cold by the ice shield.

The shield had a small chip in one corner, but it was still a mid-grade spirit tool fitted with a mid-grade ice spirit stone. Against a single strike from a high-grade artifact, it held without the slightest strain.

"A mid-grade spirit tool!"

"A peak-grade artifact?"

Both men spoke at the same time—but the stranger's voice rang with astonished alarm, while Andy's carried the tone of a question.

The man who had launched the blue spike at Andy was a white-robed young cultivator who looked to be in his early twenties. He had sharp, sword-like brows, narrow eyes, a hawkish nose, and an upturned mouth—the face of someone who relished a fight. He was slowly tucking a shimmering, semi-transparent cloak—neither quite silk nor quite cloth—into his robes, but his eyes were fixed on the ice shield hovering before Andy.

Andy, meanwhile, had immediately noticed that strange cloak. Its spiritual fluctuations were faint and erratic—sometimes surging, sometimes nearly vanishing. It resembled an extremely rare auxiliary peak-grade artifact. That must be how the man had fooled Andy's spiritual sense entirely. Even at a distance of seven or eight zhang, Andy had detected nothing. This cloak was clearly no ordinary high-grade artifact.

"You mean this cloak? No, it's not a peak-grade artifact—it's a dharma treasure remnant. Damaged though it is, it's still a cut above any ordinary peak-grade artifact." The white-robed young man spoke languidly, as though discussing the most mundane thing in the world.

"A dharma treasure remnant? For you to possess such a thing, you're clearly no ordinary Qi Condensation disciple. With assets like yours, surely you don't need to bother with someone like me!" Andy's alarm deepened. From the moment this white-robed youth appeared, he had radiated an air of unfathomable depth. Andy had a creeping sense that something very bad was about to happen.

"Quite right. A mere twelfth-layer cultivator like you could have strolled right past me in broad daylight, and I wouldn't have lifted a finger. But that spiritual concealment art of yours is remarkably clever. If you hadn't walked close enough for me to spot you with my own eyes, my spiritual sense alone would never have detected even a trace of your spiritual fluctuations. A secret art that exquisite—now that interests me." The white-robed cultivator nodded, the corner of his mouth curling into a strange smile.

"I see—so my own caution has backfired on me." Andy's heart sank. "I take it that even if I hand over the manual for this art, you won't be letting me go?"

The white-robed youth clapped his hands and laughed. "Ha! You really are sharp. What a pity—what a terrible pity that someone so clever will die today in Dragon Descent Valley. You're absolutely right: an ordinary twelfth-layer cultivator shouldn't have been able to block my Blue Sand Spike ambush, much less produce a mid-grade spirit tool fitted with a mid-grade ice spirit stone. So now I'm very interested in what else you're carrying. Tell you what—if you truly want to live, leave every one of your storage pouches and this ice shield behind, then gouge out both your eyes. Given how pleasant our little chat has been, I'll spare your life as a courtesy." He nodded at Andy as though this were an act of extraordinary generosity.

"I'm afraid not. My eyes may not be much to look at, but I'm rather attached to them—I certainly won't be destroying them. And while you do have a dharma treasure remnant, from what I can tell, its effects seem limited to concealment and stealth. In terms of attack and defense, it doesn't appear to do much." Andy spoke unhurriedly, matching the other man's casual tone.

"Heh. Quite right—you have a keen eye. I'm growing more reluctant by the moment to kill someone like you. How about this: I'll withdraw the demand about your eyes. Would you care to reconsider my offer?" The white-robed youth sounded almost sincere.

"No." Andy's words were iron, with no room for negotiation.

"What a pity." The white-robed youth shook his head, his expression one of deep regret.

With that, he slowly recalled the blue spike to his hand and stowed it in his storage pouch. Against a mid-grade spirit tool, a high-grade artifact was clearly of little use.

But before the white-robed youth could produce whatever terrifying treasure he had in reserve, Andy struck first.

He slapped more than ten defensive talismans onto himself in rapid succession—Golden Shield Talismans, Wooden Armor Talismans, and more—then flicked both wrists. A streak of silver light and over thirty streaks of red came pouring from his sleeves.