My Enemy Became My Cultivation Companion

Perhaps Zhou Yitang noticed something, or maybe she had foreseen it. If possible, Chen Yi would rather appear in person to ask.

Crack.

A strange sound echoed, causing everyone to halt. The person who stepped on something paused, looking down to find debris.

The light from the torch shone over.

Large shadows receded like a tide, their outlines rising and falling sharply. Collapsed statues scattered all around, partially buried into the ground, the earth seemingly sunken, statues cracked, walls leaning, resembling not so much a ruin but rather a desolate graveyard of idols.

Everyone stood frozen in place.

The flickering torchlight swept over the broken walls, revealing the ground covered in shattered statues, their shapes bizarre, akin to countless overturned clay bowls embedded in the earth, the gaps moist with moss, an aura of desolation spread, as if whispering untold stories.

"Are these... the wild god rituals?" someone voiced.

"If it's not the wild god rituals, then how come they're buried in such an eerie place..."

"What kind of holy figure... buried these profane beings here?"

The words rang in his ears, and Zhao Tong's expression turned uncertain as he suddenly recalled the stories elders told about when Dragon and Tiger Mountain first opened, cutting down trees and breaking temples to suppress evil and seal demons.

And the Demon Refining Abyss, it began there.

If these statues are truly malevolent, from a feng shui perspective, then the ancient temple they passed is suppressing these beings here... Realizing this, Zhao Tong involuntarily shivered.

They carefully continued forward, crossing this ruin littered with statues, the statues seemingly moving past them, the scattered ruins exerted an invisible pressure, even the moss exuded a thick, fishy smell pressing against their noses.

Though this place seemed eerie and strange, the Taoists had no choice but to suppress their unease, diligently scanning for more clues around.

Suddenly, someone discovered a line of blood-stained words on a cracked statue.

"Cut down my mountain, ruin my temple! This hatred is unresolved, never to become human!"

Stunned into silence, it was a long while before someone stammered, "Stele... weeping blood?"

In folklore, those who died holding grievances, if inherently kind and unwilling to reincarnate, would transform into stone, eternally bleeding whenever it rained.

Dragon and Tiger Mountain has stood for nearly two thousand years, these blood-stained words remain here, the wild god rituals bound here, how intense must their sorrow and resentment have been?

Zhao Tong took a few deep breaths, trying to calm everyone and avoid unsettling them, as he led them forward.

The torchlight moved slowly in the darkness.

But soon,

like hitting a wall, the light suddenly met an obstacle.

The Taoists were on edge, gathering the torches, and Zhao Tong hurried forward, carefully illuminating the surroundings... revealing...

A blood-stained stele!

The head of the stele's beast was broken, someone tripped over something hard, looking down to find it was an eye, its limbs also severed, as if cut apart, as though it was not a stone sculpture but once a living creature.

Fresh blood smeared the stele forming words, the deceased inscribing all their lifelong sorrows with a desperate hand.

"Lord takes from others thus, today it is but a common occurrence!"

They were weak all over, some even collapsed to the ground.

Puff!

Someone suddenly spat blood, collapsing to the ground without warning, motionless.

His expression unchanged, he hadn't even had time to fear before death....