Chapter Forty-Three: The Stirring Sands Begin to Blur the Eyes

At this stop, Hongjian felt as if two hundred years had passed, yet since she was still within the secret realm, clearly the three-day limit had not yet arrived.

Hongjian shook her head, still unable to fully awaken from that long, dreamlike trance. After pausing, she thought, “Ah, thankfully so. I enjoyed myself, but outside the secret realm, my parents and brother are still waiting for me.”

In that dreamlike lifetime, aside from the final, thrilling moments, Hongjian had fared well; it was as if sweet spring water flowed over parched earth. Her deep-rooted longing for her parents, buried for so long, had gradually mellowed through nearly two hundred years of daily companionship. Had it been another Foundation Establishment cultivator experiencing this, it would surely have led to profound insights, greatly benefiting future cultivation and resistance to inner demons. But for a young girl like Hongjian, it merely fulfilled a wish, granting her a heap of ambiguous memories—the true value of which she would only comprehend as she grew older.

Now her divine sense was unobstructed. Beyond the Mist Valley stretched a long, yellow-sand ancient road. Walking several yards along it, she fully emerged from the dense fog, gazing into the distance where the path led straight toward far-off mountains.

This time, what she saw should be real. Hongjian shaded her eyes and surveyed the surroundings, secretly clicking her tongue. “Such a great mountain—this secret realm truly is vast. No wonder I haven't encountered a single senior brother yet.”

But if she entered the mountain, she would surely meet someone. Where could Senior Brother Jian Hui be now? Hongjian had sealed “Flowing Melody” in her universe pouch from the start, so she had no idea how many times he had tried to contact her. Entering the sect’s secret realm was no easy feat; perhaps he had no time now to bother with her.

The wind rose.

The world grew obscure, as a fierce wind swept yellow sand toward her, threatening to blow people away. Hongjian lifted her left arm to shield her face, holding “Moon Surge” and bracing herself against the wind.

The weather in this secret realm changed on a whim, making it hard to bear. In just a moment, she was transformed into a little yellow-clay figure, spitting out sand she had accidentally swallowed, squinting to keep her eye on the path. In such conditions, she could rely only on her divine sense to search her surroundings. She wondered how Qi Xiuning and the others would cope if they came this way.

Just then, Hongjian sensed two people approaching from afar. Her divine sense swept over them, and immediately, the two detected her presence. One of them exclaimed, turned his head to glance this way, seemingly trying to discern who she was.

Hongjian was equally curious about their identities. Judging by their reaction, they were likely two Foundation Establishment cultivators. Hongjian felt that encountering a pair traveling together would be safer than meeting someone alone, so without hesitation, she changed direction to join them.

“Quack!” A sudden frog’s cry rang out from the sand.

Hongjian’s instincts warned her, and she instantly withdrew her divine sense. Sure enough, some creature had stealthily approached from beneath a sand pile. It was only the size of a teacup, but it leaped out, carried by the wind and sand, and darted toward her abdomen.

Luckily, she still held “Moon Surge” in her hand. Hongjian swiftly retreated, leaving an opening. With a flick of her wrist, several points of light shot forth, and the creature burst apart midair, dead beyond doubt.

The two Foundation Establishment disciples, originally heading her way, paused at the sight. One couldn’t help but remark, “Who is that? Just a sand frog—why use a magical artifact?”

The other hesitated, probably having judged her appearance and stature, and whispered to his companion, “Looks like the young girl under Elder Yan of Evening Tide Peak. She’s only at the Qi Refining stage—what else could she do without an artifact?”

Hongjian’s keen senses caught their distant conversation clearly despite the howling wind. From their words, she quickly deduced that neither belonged to Evening Tide Peak, and that the creature attacking her was called a sand frog—apparently a minor threat in this secret realm.

She turned her back to the wind and called out loudly, “Are you well, Senior Brothers? I am Fang Hongjian from Evening Tide Peak. Do you know how much longer we can remain in this secret realm?”

Though they were of the same sect, in the secret realm one could never be too careful; if someone harbored ill intentions, it was difficult to guard against them. Thus, unless the relationship was close, most would simply greet from afar and go their separate ways. But encountering a young girl at the Qi Refining stage posed no such threat.

The two quickly approached. The first to notice her was a stout, burly man, whose cultivation seemed higher than his companion’s. He took the lead, sizing Hongjian up carefully before smiling, “I thought so from afar—it is indeed Fang Junior Sister. We are from Fragrant Summit. My surname is Zhao, his is Chi. Only half a day has passed since we entered, so there is a long way yet before we leave. Since we’ve met, why not cross this sand array together? We can look out for each other.”

He spoke politely; Hongjian understood his intentions and replied straightforwardly, “That would be wonderful. Thank you, Senior Brothers, for your protection.”

Among the sect’s five great peaks, Fragrant Summit and Winter’s End Peak housed wood-attribute cultivators. The head of Fragrant Summit was Elder Mu Fengshan, a Nascent Soul master. Hongjian had only interacted with Golden Core Fei Chengji and Pan Cong, Fang Zheng’s instructor, from Fragrant Summit, so it was perfectly normal not to know these two Foundation Establishment disciples.

The men saw she was young but remarkably sensible, and nodded. The one surnamed Chi said, “To encounter you here, Fang Junior Sister, you must be quite adept at exploring on your own. With the two of us, there’s no need to worry about the sand array. It seems your gains from this sect’s secret realm expedition are destined to be plentiful.”

They said only half a day had passed since entering the secret realm. Hongjian realized the time she spent navigating the Mist Valley was about the same. So her long entrapment in that dreamlike world had not actually delayed her much. With this in mind, she smiled and offered, “I landed in a valley shrouded in white mist at the start and spent half a day finding the exit. If not for meeting you, I’d surely have struggled here as well.”

Thus she gently indicated to them that she had gained little in the past half day.

Whether Zhao caught the hint or not, he simply nodded and said, “No need to be polite. Meeting here is fate. Let’s go.”

Moving forward, whenever they encountered sand frogs, Senior Brother Zhao would use his magic. With a light tap of his finger, a small emerald arrow shot forth, piercing the creatures easily. Hongjian watched in admiration. Foundation Establishment was indeed a world apart; judging by Zhao’s ease, such spells hardly consumed his true essence. A single sand frog was unimpressive, but if many attacked at once, she would truly be at a loss.

She wondered, in that dream, what cultivation technique had she practiced after reaching Foundation Establishment? Why was there no memory of it? Hongjian patted her head. The name of the technique never appeared in the dream, but at the end, when the sea was stained with blood, she remembered: every time she cast a spell, the surrounding seas for miles would respond to her command.