Chapter 11: What Happened

On the evening of the second day after leaving the seaside, a plump grey rabbit sizzled on the coals, its fat dripping, filling the air with rich aroma.

Qin Yue sat quietly nearby in meditation. The spiritual energy he absorbed here through practicing the Northern Sea Swallowing Breath Technique was not as abundant as in the Frozen Abyss, but still better than at the coast. Now, he could enter his spiritual realm while awake, cultivating and yet keeping his consciousness alert to happenings in the real world.

This ability had emerged when Little White sent him out—during that momentary glimpse of that mysterious presence. Now, he had grown proficient, even able, from time to time, to move his hands and rotate the wooden spit to prevent the rabbit from charring.

Just as the rabbit was nearly done and he prepared to enjoy his dinner, Qin Yue was suddenly gripped by a strong sense of unease. He felt as though something had locked its gaze upon him. He opened his eyes, growing wary, peering into the dim depths of the forest.

Though the sun had only just set, the primitive jungle was already cloaked in darkness. All around was silence; even the insects’ chorus was absent. Qin Yue narrowed his eyes, expanding his senses, his entire being taut with vigilance.

Suddenly.

A distant, shrill cry echoed from deep within the forest—its origin uncertain, sharp and filled with terror. Moments later, the sound of frantic passage through the undergrowth rushed closer. Qin Yue felt puzzled; it seemed less like a beast charging to attack him, and more like…something fleeing.

A shadow flashed past, a dozen yards to his left, oblivious to Qin Yue and his campfire. He couldn’t even discern what it was before it vanished into the darkness behind him.

Then came a chaotic stampede. He caught a glimpse of a creature, twice the size of a Siberian tiger, tiger-like in form but covered in yellow scales, fearsome and majestic, racing past.

It, too, ignored him, its demeanor frantic and panicked.

Qin Yue’s sense of unease intensified. He hesitated, wondering if he should flee as well, when a thunderous rumble sounded from that direction.

The entire jungle was in turmoil!

A multitude of carnivorous and herbivorous creatures, heedless of danger, stampeded northward—toward him. A massive stag, with two forked antlers atop its head, even trampled straight over Qin Yue’s campfire, kicking the roasted rabbit aside, then crashed headlong into a tree so thick a man couldn’t wrap his arms around it.

With a loud crack, the tree snapped, and the stag, stunned by its own impact, staggered and collapsed. Before it could rise, a herd of its kind trampled it, its cries fading as it failed to stand.

At the moment the giant stag charged, Qin Yue invoked his escape technique, burrowing deep into the earth.

The persistent rumbling overhead was astonishing—he couldn’t fathom what had driven the animals into such a frenzy.

Yet, his sense of dread finally eased a little. He waited until the sounds above faded, then emerged once more.

The scene before him was shocking.

The rabbit was gone; the clearing was covered in animal tracks, forming a crude path through the forest. Several trees had been broken, blood staining the splintered wood.

The unfortunate stag that had kicked the rabbit and crashed into a tree lay mangled, its regal antlers broken, dead beyond doubt.

Silence returned. If not for the dead stag, the ravaged ground, and shattered trees, one might have thought it all an illusion.

Qin Yue eyed the stag’s two relatively intact legs, swallowed, hurried over, cut some meat, threaded it with vines, and departed swiftly, not daring to linger.

God knows what caused that terrifying beast tide—he had no intention of staying to confront it.

Though it was taboo to travel the forest at night, he had no choice now.

The mountain range spanned a great width; to avoid the Demon Beast Valley, he’d have to travel at least fifteen hundred li.

All night, Qin Yue sped through the darkness. Perhaps the beast tide had scared off all other creatures—he encountered not a single living thing.

At dawn, with sunlight filtering through the dense canopy, he reckoned he’d covered at least two hundred li.

Ahead, the sound of water reached him. According to his map, this river was called Blackwater, originating in the thousand-li ice fields to the north, winding south through the mountains. Following it would lead to the human world, though passing through Demon Beast Valley was required—hence few chose that route.

After a night’s journey, Qin Yue found a sheltered spot by the riverbank, built a simple grill from stones, sliced the stag meat, and set it to roast.

Luckily, the forest’s night temperatures were low; otherwise, carrying the meat overnight would have spoiled it.

After the time it took for a stick of incense to burn, the meat was ready, its fragrance tempting. Qin Yue, ravenous, seized a piece with chopsticks made from branches.

The first bite was tender and chewy, with a hint of spiritual essence—not as potent as the extreme cold demon bear, but far superior to rabbit.

Most importantly, it was delicious!

He devoured six or seven slices in moments, patting his stomach in satisfaction.

He prepared to roast the rest for later, lest it spoil.

But just then, the once clear blue sky overhead turned suddenly overcast.

Mountain climates are fickle; rain can come unexpectedly, Qin Yue knew, but this was too abrupt.

Before he could react, large raindrops began pelting down.

Roasting meat was impossible. For someone of his cultivation, such weather was no trouble—he could simply circulate spiritual energy to stay warm.

Yet this rain felt strange; last night’s unease returned.

The downpour intensified, soon merging with the river ahead, steaming as it hit the earth.

Through the rain, Qin Yue suddenly saw a figure descending from the sky, landing nearby.

It seemed to notice him, flying directly towards his position.

Qin Yue’s sense of impending doom peaked; a huge crisis loomed.

Instinctively, he thought: this must be the true culprit behind last night’s beast tide!

As the shadow lunged at him through the storm, he didn’t hesitate—striking first.

He unleashed all his spiritual power, employing his Netherworld Escape technique, and launched a self-devised martial attack.

At such close range, he could see clearly: it was a woman in a black robe, her face veiled, only her cold eyes visible.

Despite the rain, not a drop touched her.

His fierce assault seemed to surprise her briefly, but she reacted swiftly, waving her hand—

Boom!

A thunderous explosion shattered the air.

Qin Yue felt his organs churn, his throat sweetened, and he spat a mouthful of blood.

Stars danced before his eyes; he plummeted downward, for a moment feeling as though he glimpsed his ancestors…

He vaguely saw the bronze wheel in his spiritual realm, the mouse-headed figure’s eyes flashing before dimming.

His vision darkened; he nearly lost consciousness.

What level was this opponent? Wasn’t he already a young master able to make his mark in the martial world? He must be a mere rookie… right?

Qin Yue doubted himself.

The veiled woman landed before him, her slender hand raised, seemingly ready to finish him.

But upon seeing Qin Yue’s unusually pale face, her gaze sharpened, shifting to his wrist and hand.

She seemed surprised, frowning in thought. Next moment, she clutched her chest, spat a mouthful of blood, and staggered.

She was injured too? Did I hurt her just now? This was a once-in-a-lifetime chance!

Qin Yue struggled to calm his organs, trying to muster his spiritual energy to finish off this dangerous woman.

In this place, no one gambles on human kindness—it was the law of the jungle, plain and simple. Even without the madman’s reminder, he understood.

She eyed him coldly, a single glance making Qin Yue feel as though he’d plunged into an abyss.

The pressure was immense—not mere aura, but a tangible, terrifying force, like a mountain pressing on his chest, making even breathing difficult.

Noticing her hesitation, Qin Yue forced himself to speak: “We have no grudge between us, I never intended to offend you. What happened was a misunderstanding—I can apologize…”

Feng Qianning tried to respond, but her injuries flared violently. She spat blood again, her vision darkening, feet unsteady, eyes locked on Qin Yue.

His handsome features, long hair soaked and plastered to his cheeks, his skin unusually pale, eyes seemingly sincere, yet with a deeply hidden wildness.

There was no doubt—if not for her suppression, if his cultivation were higher, he would not hesitate to kill her!

Thunder crashed overhead, so loud it threatened to split the earth.

Feng Qianning wasted no more time. Enduring her grave wounds, she swept her long black sleeve, scooping Qin Yue from the ground.

Soaring through the storm, she fled into the distance.

…

Qin Yue drifted in and out, as if dreaming.

He slipped into his spiritual realm, the dual cultivation technique he’d perfected earlier activating itself. Instinctively, he followed the images in his mind.

The sensation was both ethereal and real…

When he awoke, he found himself in a dim cave—not deep, with its mouth open to blue sky, white clouds, and warm sunlight.

“Where am I?” he murmured, surprised to discover his injuries had completely healed.

He tried to summon his spiritual energy, and found it abundant, as if he’d ascended a whole realm!

Only then did he remember the veiled woman. He looked around; she was gone.

He glanced at himself—his clothes still intact… as though nothing had happened.