The sound of cascading water, like raindrops or a river waterfall, echoed through the air. Swirling clouds of mist enveloped the area, flanked by twin pillars of light that seemed to serve as both barriers and dividers.
Radiance bathed everything in sight, with gentle beams of light streaming from all directions, soft and harmonious, neither glaring nor overpowering. The glow was perfectly balanced, smooth as silk, standing in stark contrast to the dark, malevolent aura of the outside world, steeped in deathly energy.
It was as if, after traversing a wasteland of decay and desolation, one had stumbled upon a hidden paradise in the heart of this cursed land, an almost divine sanctuary.
Tendrils of white mist rose like smoke, and ahead lay a steaming pool of crystal-clear water, its surface shimmering with faint spiritual glimmers. These sparkles danced like stars in an endless galaxy, radiating a brilliance as captivating as the cosmos itself.
To any cultivator, this sight would be breathtaking. The pool glowed with an overwhelming concentration of spiritual energy, so dense it had condensed into liquid form. Even in sacred sites like the Spirit Mountain Realm, where spiritual energy far surpassed the mortal world's average, it took extraordinary conditions to produce such spiritual liquid. In the great sects, even a single drop was a priceless treasure. For an ordinary river or stream to yield one drop might take centuries, yet here was an entire pool!
Spanning several hundred meters, this spiritual pool held incalculable value. To rogue cultivators scraping by without resources, it was worth risking the wrath of the Xian Sect to claim. Even the prodigies of major sects would be tempted. The pool alone, without any other treasures, was enough to drive sect leaders to fight for it.
Yet, this was a secret realm known only to the heirs of the Xian Sect. Only Qing Jiang, guided by the celestial steps of the Heavenly Dipper Steps, could enter through the intricate patterns left by the Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady.
Of the two present, Qing was already privy to the pool's secrets, her heart calm and serene. The other was Elder Mu, a lecherous old eunuch who knew nothing of cultivation, his mind consumed by base desires.
Elder Mu scratched his nearly bald head, where only a few strands of hair remained, and followed Qing's gaze upward.
His jaw dropped, eyes wide with astonishment. Before them stood a flawless white jade statue, over twenty meters tall, its form ethereal and graceful. Its arms were delicate as orchids, its waist slender as a willow. The statue's face, unmistakably female, bore an expression of both compassion and chilling severity. Its smooth, oval face radiated gentleness, yet its brow carried an icy, detached coldness.
Positioned at the center of the spiritual pool, the statue was adorned with misty rain-like clouds, lending it an awe-inspiring divine aura. The hem of its skirt dipped into the water, as if an immortal were bathing her feet, with streams of light and celestial energy swirling around it.
This vast spiritual pool, it seemed, was merely the runoff drawn by the statue's presence.
Elder Mu blinked, struck by how the statue's posture, demeanor, and even its eyes bore an uncanny resemblance to Qing's usual bearing, as if they were cast from the same mold.
A knowledgeable observer might marvel at the shared lineage of their cultivation techniques. A demonic sect temptress, however, might seethe with envy.
The Xian Sect's legacy had never faltered, its Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady teachings perfectly preserved through millennia. Through countless shifts in the balance of righteous and demonic forces, the sect's leader wielded unmatched authority.
Qing, brushing aside Elder Mu, exhaled softly, calming the flutter of embarrassment and unease in her heart. She adjusted her robes, feeling the lingering heat against her sensitive, shapely hips fade. Her taut curves relaxed slightly, though they remained as alluringly pronounced as ever. Her expression softened, but a cool breeze slipped through the folds of her dress, grazing the crevice of her hips and sending a shiver through her.
She instinctively pressed her slender, jade-like legs together, noticing faint damp spots on her white skirt, remnants of Elder Mu's earlier contact. His thick, sticky precum had soaked through, leaving a noticeable stain. She couldn't help but wonder, with his sack swollen like phoenix eggs after days of restraint, just how potent and musky the contents must be.
Qing flushed with shame. What was wrong with her? Why did her body betray her with this instinctive retreat, coupled with a strange, unspoken yearning? Ever since her falling out with Feng Wei, she hadn't dared to look at Elder Mu's withered frame or the monstrous organ beneath it.
That colossal, scorching cock, thick and intimidating, had once been something she could ignore. Yet now, even through his trousers, it unnerved her, leaving her flustered and fleeing in disarray.
She shook off the intrusive thoughts and took a deep breath, focusing on the towering white jade statue. Smoothing her attire, she clasped her hands and bowed respectfully, her heart sincere.
Even Elder Mu, despite his lustful nature, dared not act rashly in the face of Qing's solemn gesture. The usually aloof immortal princess, who regarded all things with cool indifference, was showing such reverence. He pressed down on the bulging erection straining against his trousers, but each attempt only made it harder, threatening to tear through the fabric.
His loose pants were tented obscenely, outlining his bony, wrinkled buttocks and the coarse, gray-white hair on his thighs. The triangular silhouette, with his massive cock at the apex, was enough to shame any man.
Tormented by his recent confession to Qing and the fear of rejection, Elder Mu had restrained himself from indulging. His mind was fixated on the memory of Qing's peach-like hips, soft yet firm under his touch. His twin orbs, swollen with days' worth of pent-up seed, were taut and heavy, their wrinkled skin stretched smooth by the sheer volume within.
Pressing harder, he only made the iron-hard shaft throb more fiercely, leaking sticky precum that glued his trousers to his skin. The outline of his enormous glans was unmistakable, and the discomfort of the tight fabric made him ache to rip it off, freeing the beast within to unleash a torrent of thick, pungent semen onto the ground.
But with Qing so solemn, he dared not act. Awkwardly, he mimicked her bow, his scrawny frame hunched, looking like a comical old monkey.
Qing raised her head, her moonlit eyes meeting the statue's serene jade visage. She recalled her childhood, when her master had playfully recounted the events following a failed ascension ten thousand years ago.
The Nine Heavens Mysterious Lady had descended to the mortal realm, slaying immortals who dared aid their descendants in illicit ascensions. She used the Jianmu ruins as a burial ground, suppressing the last immortal gods of the mortal world to their deaths.
The land's sinister aura stemmed from the restless souls of nearly a hundred thousand cultivators and the frenzied curses of those dying immortals.
What the outside world speculated, but never confirmed, was whether the Mysterious Lady left anything for the Xian Sect.
She had.
Bound by the Immortal-Mortal Oath, the Mysterious Lady could not linger in the mortal realm. After slaying the immortals, she returned to the immortal realm but left behind a gift for her successors in this desolate, deathly domain. Crafted from her divine image, infused with the world's spiritual energy and the remnant essence of Jianmu's ethereal wood, this white jade statue held a monumental opportunity, one of the greatest immortal legacies in the ruins.
As if sensing a kindred power, the statue shimmered with a faint glow, releasing a trace of its deeply hidden essence.
Qing felt the statue's power resonate within her, her own energy stirring as if trembling in awe or drawn by its mysteries. Even standing near it, her pure, untainted mana began to flow autonomously, threatening to burst forth.
"The seed of immortal spirit energy," she murmured, her words enough to drive any cultivator mad with desire. Even the Evil King, a land-bound immortal who had endured the Five Declines and Nine Tribulations, would risk everything to claim it.
This was the Mysterious Lady's legacy in the ruins.
Qing could sense her mana on the verge of transformation just by proximity. The resonance of her cultivation technique grew stronger, almost uncontrollable, as quantity spurred qualitative change.
But how could she refine the immortal spirit seed locked within the statue?