"The route ends here."
Hovering above a thick curtain of swirling miasma, the Nine Treasures Glazed Tile Sect's search party came to a stop in mid-air. The path marked on the map had brought them this far—but no farther. Now, they'd have to rely on their own instincts.
"We'll need to descend and scout the terrain ourselves." Ning Bowen studied the poisonous fog below, slowly rolling up the map. A glimmer of hope stirred in his eyes. "As long as we can find the valley, we'll find the legendary land for cultivating immortal herbs."
"I'll go first."
Qinglan stepped forward, her blue phoenix wings spreading wide as she rose in the air. Nine soul rings—yellow, yellow, purple, purple, black, black, black, black, black—glowed brilliantly beneath her feet.
As her seventh soul ring lit up and activating Martial Soul True Body, her graceful human form vanished in a burst of radiant light, replaced by a majestic Blue Phoenix soaring in the sky.
"Eighth Soul Skill—Blue Sky Sea's Roar!"
Boom.
A vortex of compressed air exploded out from her wings, cutting through the thick fog. The miasma twisted violently, drawn into a swirling vacuum that tore open a wide channel in the noxious clouds below.
But the gap didn't last.
Even as Qinglan maintained her soul skill, the miasma rushed back in to fill the space, thicker than ever.
She froze midair. "It's... regenerating?"
"Good enough, Qingmei," Yang Zihan called out as she approached. At a glance from her, Qinglan dispersed her skill, allowing the miasma to close again.
Turning to Ning Bowen, Zihan said, "The Seven-Aurora Green Phosphorus Flowers aren't afraid of fire. We'll need to find an area that's pure miasma—no soul beast interference—and burn our way in."
"Understood." Ning Bowen nodded calmly, unsurprised by the results. He turned to an elder nearby. "Uncle Yan, I'll leave the rest to you."
"No problem."
With a rumble, Wu Yan released his martial spirit. A crimson dragon surged forth, wings wide, body massive. Its long, serpentine neck curled in the air as the dragon's eyes scanned the forest below—majestic and fearsome.
"Old Bai, cover the sect master and the juniors."
"Got it."
The ever-jovial Bai Sheng wiped the smile from his face. His martial spirit, the Sky Star Furnace, appeared in his hand—a shimmering golden furnace etched with seven silver stars.
With a deep hum, he activated his power.
The cauldron expanded rapidly, settling over Ning Bowen, Chen Junting, and Ning Tian. The lid sealed tight, and a golden shield rose, completely isolating them from the dangerous atmosphere.
High above, the red dragon reared back and roared. Then—
Fwoosh!
A torrent of dragonfire surged downward, scorching the air. A pillar of flame, brilliant and blistering, shot into the miasma below. Poison clouds roiled and cracked under the searing heat, and in their place, a path of charred soil opened through the forest.
"Move!"
Yang Zihan dived first, followed closely by the other elders. Seven powerful figures fell like comets toward the burned corridor. Wu Yan's dragonfire kept the miasma at bay—barely.
As they descended, it became clear that the fog wasn't giving up easily.
The moment Wu Yan's fire died down, the miasma began to creep inward again.
They landed quickly, and the seven Titled Douluo surrounded the sect master and juniors with overlapping soul barriers, holding back the still-lingering toxins.
Even so, everyone noticed it—the faint corrosion. Barely visible, but there. Even the barriers weren't completely immune.
The ground was worse.
The plants beneath their feet were strange and vibrant, their colors almost unnatural. Yang Zihan crouched to examine one. Her face hardened. "They're all poisonous," she muttered. "Every last one. Even Soul Saints would die with a touch. The miasma's influence has turned this place into a natural deathtrap."
There was no time to linger.
Wu Yan retracted his dragon form and resumed clearing the path ahead. With each breath of dragonflame, entire swathes of twisted foliage crumbled to ash. The air reeked of char and venom.
They pressed forward.
Soon, the first signs of decay appeared—bones.
White, warped, half-melted bones littered the path. They were soul beast remains, long since rotted and poisoned beyond recognition. The further they went, the more disturbing the scene became.
Chen Junting stayed close to the elders, Ning Tian never far from his side. But even protected, his sharp eyes caught a detail that froze him.
"Wait."
He pointed ahead. Just off the path, barely visible through the haze, was a human corpse.
But unlike the soul beast remains, this one hadn't decayed.
Its flesh had turned rainbow-hued from the toxins, but the body remained eerily intact—no rot, no melting.
Something felt wrong.
"Master." Chen Junting nudged Ye Xuanji and pointed. "There."
The old man turned, his gaze following Junting's finger. When his eyes landed on the corpse, his expression darkened immediately.
"No decomposition...?" he muttered. "That's not right."
The others gathered quickly.
Ning Bowen's expression sharpened. "Pull it in."
A green vine shot out from the brush, wrapping around the waist of the corpse. The miasma reacted instantly, slithering along the vine like it had found prey. Zhiyong extended a hand and pulsed his soul power into the vine, the glow of his plant-based spirit forcing the miasma to retreat.
Then—snap—the vine dragged the body into the protective barrier.
Yang Zihan was already crouching, hands moving swiftly.
"Time of death—ten days, maybe more," she murmured. "Cause—miasma poisoning, that much is clear. But... something else. There's another toxin on this body. I've never seen it before."
She frowned.
Ning Tian, standing close, caught the change in her mother's face. "Mom? What is it?"
Zihan looked up, forced a soft smile. "It's nothing, dear."
But her voice had gone cold.
"This other toxin... it might not even be poison."
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(End of Chapter)
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