Chapter 77: Jungle Ruins

The middle-aged man’s hair hung in disarray, his face a ghastly shade of iron, his eyes brimming with a savage fury. The aura of early Foundation Establishment surged skyward, yet the oppressive black seal overhead stubbornly refused to descend. Flames of rage blazed in his gaze; his hatred for Yin Tianfang had eclipsed all else. Never since his breakthrough to the Foundation Establishment stage had he suffered such humiliation.

All of this, he owed to Yin Tianfang.

In that strange demon-vine forest, he had almost been driven to the brink of death. He could never have imagined that such a place would conceal a demon-vine grove—those seemingly insignificant vines wielded a lethal, uncanny power. In the end, left with no other option, he had resorted to using a formidable magical treasure. This artifact, a fortunate acquisition of immense might, had been his most prized possession. Yet now, not only had he deployed it, but he was also forced to detonate it to carve out a sliver of hope and escape from the demon-vine forest.

Even now, recalling the ordeal, cold sweat broke out on his brow. His hatred for Yin Tianfang ran marrow-deep.

Passing through this tranquil mountain valley, he had hoped to find respite and tend his wounds. But as he reached the entrance, he was ambushed. The black seal soared into the sky, swelling like a mountain, pressing down with crushing force. Simultaneously, several flying swords shot up from the earth below. Even with his formidable cultivation, the surprise attack left him injured.

One arm hung limply at his side, blood streaming down to pool at his feet. Staring at Yin Tianfang, who now emerged from the valley, the fire within him erupted like a volcano.

“You little wretch, I’ll see you die a thousand deaths! I’ll make you taste every agony this world holds, then rip your soul from your flesh and condemn you to eternal torment!” The man’s face twisted in a snarl as he let out a piercing cry. With a sweep of his sleeve, the black seal was sent flying.

At that instant, a flash of golden light appeared before him—a razor-sharp aura thrusting straight at his heart.

“Hmph, petty tricks!” he sneered, spitting forth a ray of violet light. A purple flying sword whirled protectively around him.

Sparks flew as the two swords clashed. The golden sword was knocked backward, coming to hover before Yin Tianfang. Scratches marred its gleaming blade, and Yin Tianfang’s heart ached at the sight.

With a gesture, the black seal returned to Yin Tianfang’s hand. He stamped the ground and shot away, arrow-swift, vanishing into the distant forest.

“Think you can run? Not so easily!” the middle-aged man snarled, desperate to tear Yin Tianfang limb from limb. He would never let him escape so lightly. Raising his uninjured right hand, he unleashed a surge of spiritual energy, sending a massive palm hurtling toward Yin Tianfang.

The spectral hand radiated a terrifying aura, sweeping up a storm as it smashed through giant trees, reducing them to flying splinters. The blow, charged with wrath, was nothing short of cataclysmic.

Yin Tianfang’s expression hardened. He whirled, flicked his sleeve, and sent the black seal spinning toward the enormous hand.

“Detonate!” he commanded coldly.

With a thunderous boom, the black seal exploded at his command, unleashing a shockwave that tore great fissures into the earth, spreading like a spider’s web. Soil billowed outward in waves.

Blood rushed to Yin Tianfang’s face and he spat out a mouthful, then bolted deeper into the forest. Though far stronger than most peak Qi Condensation cultivators, he was still of the Qi Condensation stage. Against the furious assault of a Foundation Establishment expert, he could not withstand the attack unscathed. The detonation of his magical treasure had shattered the opponent’s strike, but it had also left him grievously wounded.

Now, aside from the golden flying sword, he had nothing left—his black seal was gone, sacrificed in the blast. That sword, at least, he would never abandon. Should the middle-aged man attack again, he would have no choice but to face it head-on, and then he would truly be courting death.

“If this keeps up, I’m finished. I must find a way out,” Yin Tianfang thought, brows furrowed, casting a glance at his relentless pursuer. Spiritual energy surged within him as he pushed himself to greater speed, dashing through the forest.

Within this silent woodland, mist lingered year-round. Though the Misty Forest lay within Qingshui Kingdom and not far from Azure Cloud Sect, even the sect knew little of its depths. To commoners, it was a deathtrap—none who entered ever returned. Even for cultivators, it was fraught with peril; even Nascent Soul experts risked their lives upon entering.

Now, with the middle-aged man in pursuit, Yin Tianfang dared not leave the forest despite its dangers. Should he depart, death would come all the sooner. Here, at least, if he was careful, his pursuer would be forced to act with caution as well, and his chances of survival would be a bit higher.

For half an hour, the chase dragged on. The middle-aged man’s expression grew ever more ominous, and as time passed, a flicker of impatience crept into his eyes. For a Foundation Establishment cultivator to be unable to catch a mere Qi Condensation novice—if word got out, he would be the laughingstock of the world. Worse yet, not only had he failed to capture his quarry, he himself had been driven to such a miserable state, his most powerful spirit treasure lost in the demon-vine forest.

It was a humiliation beyond bearing. Only by capturing Yin Tianfang, subjecting him to every torture imaginable, and extracting his soul for eternal damnation could he hope to satisfy the hatred in his heart.

Suddenly, Yin Tianfang’s expression shifted. Though his spiritual sense could extend only a few dozen yards in this place, he clearly felt a strange energy ahead. After a brief hesitation, he rushed forward.

After covering several dozen more yards, the mist, once white, took on a grayish hue. The farther he went, the denser the gray became, until finally the fog all around was pitch black.

The black mist carried a faint scent of death. When it brushed against the hem of Yin Tianfang’s robe, mere seconds seemed to pass as though years had gone by—the fabric touched by the mist crumbled into dust, drifting to the ground.

A chill ran through Yin Tianfang’s heart. This black mist was not only saturated with the aura of death, but also possessed a corrosive power.

Carefully avoiding the ribbon-like tendrils of black mist floating in the air, he pressed forward. The middle-aged man soon caught up, but, sensing the eerie nature of the black vapor, dared not pursue with reckless abandon, advancing as cautiously as Yin Tianfang.

Soon after, a field of ruins appeared before Yin Tianfang’s eyes.