“Abundant Heaven and Earth Spiritual Energy,” Wu Yingzong noted.
“What a great spot,” Chaosheng said in surprise. “One of the nodes where Heaven-Earth Veins converge. The Demon King chose well.”
Natural spiritual energy surged toward them, brightening the Golden Dragon’s glow. Xiao Kun didn’t land, instead circling the ancient cliffside village.
A Huang returned: “No living creatures here anymore. See that gate?”
“Mm.” Xiang Xian said, “Land on the platform. Let’s go in. No Demonic Qi—safe enough.”
This was undoubtedly the Yao Clan’s former holy land. Buildings ringed a central area, with two massive, ancient doors on the mountainside, adorned with three strange Talismanic Runes. The Golden Dragon vanished as they landed on the platform before the doors.
Xiang Xian patted Xiao Kun, who sighed inwardly. He’d imagined Sa Luan might be imprisoned here and planned to rescue him at all costs, though he worried their group lacked strength—without the Heart Lamp, the Wisdom Sword’s use was fleeting. They might not match “Mu.”
Now, finding the place long abandoned, with Yao Ji gone too, they’d come up empty. Emotions were mixed.
“Bird totems?” Chaosheng craned his neck. The doors were eerie, embedded in the mountainside—solid rock behind, logically.
“Look, these three discs can rotate,” Xiao Kun said.
The doors featured mechanisms: atop the center, a Great Peng Bird emblem; left, a bird bathed in flames; right, a peacock.
“Great Peng King, Phoenix Great Bright King, and Peacock Great Bright King,” Chaosheng said. “Yuzhou mentioned them—Yaojin Palace’s Three Saints!”
Xiang Xian noticed two handprints on the stone doors, newer than the divine bird emblems—slightly recessed and unevenly placed, as if someone had pressed and pushed them open.
“See?” Xiang Xian said.
Xiao Kun: “?”
Xiang Xian pressed his hands to the prints: “Need to solve the mechanism puzzle to open?”
Xiao Kun: “Try injecting Magical Power?”
“No.” Red light flared around Xiang Xian, flowing into the prints—no reaction.
Wu Yingzong: “The opener’s fingers were longer than yours, Master.”
Xiang Xian: “You try.”
“Human hands.” Wu Yingzong compared his palms—too large—and scraped off moss with his fingers. “Master, palm prints remain.”
“Right!” Chaosheng pressed his smaller hands, channeling Magical Power—nothing.
Judging by surrounding weeds, vines, and moss, the prints were over a century old.
“‘Mu’s’ mark?” Xiao Kun examined and placed his hands, injecting spiritual power.
The doors rumbled!
Xiao Kun’s indigo Magical Power flowed like water across the Wushan Holy Land gate’s Talismanic Runes. Brilliant light shot from the central seam, stunning everyone—including Xiao Kun.
The three totems rotated: Great Peng Bird spun right, yielding; Phoenix centered, then right; Peacock Great Bright King returned to middle. With a thunderous boom, smoke billowed from the seam.
One hundred twenty years later, the holy land’s doors slowly parted inward once more.
Xiang Xian: “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” Xiao Kun said blankly. “I just…”
“Why could you open the holy land gate?” Chaosheng asked in shock. “You’ve been here?”
“Impossible,” Xiao Kun said. “I’ve never set foot in the Wushan Mountains.”
Xiang Xian’s doubts peaked, but with the door open and goal at hand, dwelling on it was pointless. “I’ll lead. Old Wu, watch Chaosheng. Let’s go in.”
The Yao Clan holy land lay within Qiyun Peak’s vast mountain belly, like a small abandoned city. Xiang Xian released floating firelight, illuminating the dark space—and couldn’t help exclaiming “Wow.”
In contrast, Chaosheng showed no surprise at all, for he had grown up in the White Jade Palace and was accustomed to such grand architecture.
Xiao Kun murmured, “It truly lives up to being the Yao Clan’s capital.”
The numerous buildings connected seamlessly with the internal mountain body, arranged in a picturesque manner and encircling the central cluster of palaces. Countless natural cave openings served as skylights on the dome above, like stars scattered across the sky. They cast down beams of light following the sun’s path. In the days of its former glory, the illumination must have been plentiful, but after centuries of abandonment, vines and plants had blocked the skylights, leaving the Holy Land shrouded in dimness.
Even so, it still faintly exuded a wild and ethereal charm, like a paradise isolated from the world.
“Someone has been here,” Wu Yingzong reminded them.
Xiang Xian spotted footprints under the stalactites, partially covered by a small puddle of accumulated water—which had likely preserved them for decades.
They followed the entrance stairs into the Holy Land, ascended the suspended jade steps, and arrived before the palace cluster. The palaces, built from massive stones, bore expansive murals, though time had rendered them indistinct.
In the center of the palaces stood a colossal sculpture, its head destroyed, its hands cupped to form a small platform.
“Is this a statue of the goddess?” Xiao Kun asked.
“No head, so I can’t tell who it is,” Chaosheng said with slight puzzlement.
“Yao Ji! Are you here? Yao Ji!” Xiang Xian called out.
“Deputy Emissary, I think at a time like this, shouting isn’t the way,” Xiao Kun said.
“If we can’t find anyone, shouting is the fastest method,” Xiang Xian replied.
The moment they stepped into the plaza area, Xiang Xian abruptly halted.
Many of the buildings here had collapsed, and a giant serpent’s corpse lay coiled in the plaza’s center.
Xiao Kun positioned himself in front of Xiang Xian, shielding him with his body as he drew his Tang Dao, bracing for any potential mishap.
“It’s already dead,” Chaosheng said as he approached a little closer. “No issue.”
“Don’t!” Everyone’s expressions changed simultaneously. Though Chaosheng was an Immortal, this giant serpent measured over a hundred zhang in length, its head as large as a house. Should it suddenly revive from death, it would be no laughing matter.
“I’m just taking a look!” Chaosheng quickly amended.
