Chapter Thirty-One: The Relic of the Cultivator

“An immortal cultivator from Donglai!”

As Ye Mo saw the first few words carved into the stone wall beside the skeleton, his entire body trembled, his expression agitated, and the hand gripping his Azure Edge Sword could not help but shake.

For the first time, he was so close to an immortal cultivator.

Even if, right now, all that remained was a skeleton—a dead immortal cultivator.

Ye Mo anxiously continued reading the inscription below.

“I am Li Zhao, an immortal cultivator from Donglai. In the 13,723rd year of the Jiuzhou Continental Calendar, my fellow townsman, Sun Siyin, and I journeyed together to the East Sea in search of Immortal Village. After more than a decade of hardship, we were fortunate enough to obtain immortal fate and step onto the path of cultivation, reaching the Qi Refining stage. My talent was exceptional, and I was chosen by the Immortal City Alliance to serve as a City Lord of Immortal Village level, obtaining a most precious Immortal Village-level City Lord Command Token. But Sun, that traitor, blinded by profit and devoid of loyalty, ambushed me in secret and stole my Command Token. Wounded, I fled to this desolate island, but my injuries were too severe, and I could not recover. I hope that some fated person will avenge me.”

“Within the pill bottle I have left behind are three precious Vitality Pills as a gift. There is also my personal Gold Spirit Sword, a chart of the East Sea, and a basic manual on immortal cultivation associated with the Immortal City Alliance—a few meager possessions, which I hope the fated one will accept. On the last page of the manual is information about my enemy. Even in death, I wish that greedy cur no peace...!”

The several hundred words of this inscription grew fainter as they went on, almost illegible by the end.

Clearly, this was written with the last of the man’s strength before death.

“The Jiuzhou Continental Calendar is the most common way to record years; all nations on the continent use it. Judging by the record, this happened more than a hundred years ago. Perhaps Li Zhao’s enemy is already dead!”

Ye Mo studied the inscription carefully, fell silent for a long while, and finally shook his head.

Moreover, he was merely a seventh-level Body Refiner. How could he possibly be a match for an immortal cultivator? An immortal cultivator was countless times more powerful than the juvenile demon crabs he had encountered.

Li Zhao had been killed; if his enemy Sun Siyin had survived until now, he would be even more formidable!

Ye Mo had grown up in the streets of the Martial Kingdom. Although he practiced martial arts, his livelihood depended mainly on odd jobs in shops in the capital, eking out a living through small business. From childhood, he had adhered to a merchant’s rule: you must fulfill your obligations if you accept a benefit—payment for service, honest transactions.

For him, this was just a transaction: if he took Li Zhao’s possessions, he would have to avenge him. Even if Li Zhao was already a long-dead immortal cultivator, Ye Mo would still abide by this rule.

“I’ll look at your things first, and then decide whether to accept the task of vengeance.”

Ye Mo’s gaze fell on a stone beside the skeleton.

On the stone, neatly arranged, were a pill bottle, a precious sword, an old yellowed scroll, and a battered ancient tome.

Opening the pill bottle, Ye Mo found three pills the size of longan fruits inside. As soon as he opened the stopper, an indescribably rich and enticing fragrance wafted out.

“What a treasure! Absolutely superb—far better than any seventh- or eighth-grade body-tempering herbs!”

Ye Mo took a breath, his pores relaxing, his spirits soaring, overjoyed. However, he did not know what the pills were for or how potent their effects might be.

Until he figured it out, Ye Mo dared not simply ingest a cultivator’s elixirs. He promptly replaced the stopper and set the bottle back on the stone.

Beside it lay a simple, ancient spirit sword. Though dust had settled on it, the faint aura it emitted made Ye Mo feel a suffocating pressure.

Ye Mo wiped the dust from the scabbard, revealing two coiling golden dragons carved into it, their presence imposing and majestic.

“So this is the Gold Spirit Sword used by immortal cultivators? My gold armor, forged from the shell of a juvenile demon crab, should count as a spiritual artifact, but compared to the luster of this Gold Spirit Sword, it’s clearly inferior! As for my Azure Edge Sword, a mundane weapon, it’s not even worth comparing!”

Ye Mo clicked his tongue in admiration, then drew the Gold Spirit Sword from its scabbard and gently slashed it against the cave wall.

A sharp hiss—!

A crack an inch deep appeared in the stone wall.

“This is… far too sharp! It slices through rock as easily as mud!”

Startled, Ye Mo stared at the Gold Spirit Sword in his hand.

He then drew his own Azure Edge Sword and repeated the motion with the same force. This time, only a faint and awkward scratch appeared on the wall.

“Compared to this, my Azure Edge Sword is little more than scrap iron.”

All he could do was marvel.

Clearly, the sharpness of the Gold Spirit Sword was far beyond the Azure Edge. With the same force, the Gold Spirit Sword possessed an overwhelming advantage.

He swung the Gold Spirit Sword a few more times, the blade slicing the air with a soft hiss.

Ye Mo was even more enamored with it, growing more satisfied with every use. He could hardly contain his excitement.

A bottle of unknown but potent Vitality Pills, and this sword that could slice through stone as if it were mud—he was sorely tempted to accept Li Zhao’s dying wish, take these items, and seek vengeance for him.

“No! Sun Siyin is an immortal cultivator, while I am merely a martial artist. To seek revenge on Sun Siyin is nothing short of suicide. For this ‘reward,’ it’s not worth risking my life!”

Ye Mo silently reminded himself, forcibly restraining his impulses, and turned his attention to the other items on the stone platform.

He unrolled the old yellowed scroll.

On it was a vast map of the sea, charting a route from Donglai Kingdom’s harbor to a spiritual island named “Donglai Immortal Village,” with detailed navigational instructions and numerous other islands marked along the way.

“This is a sea chart to Donglai Immortal Village?!”

Ye Mo was stunned, wild joy flooding his heart, his hands trembling.

He was trapped on this deserted island, unable to leave. Not only did he lack a boat and food, but, most crucially, he had no idea which direction to search for the legendary Spirit Island Immortal Village.

Without a sea chart, even if he built a raft and sailed out, the odds of finding Spirit Island Immortal Village were minuscule; he would only end up lost in the boundless sea—a certain death.

Thus, even knowing that sea beasts sometimes came ashore, he could only fortify his camp in the cave, not daring to venture into the sea.

Of course, he could also wait on the island, hoping that a ship might someday pass nearby and rescue him. But who knew if any ships ever sailed these waters?

This sea chart was his only hope of escape.

He must take it.

Ye Mo picked up the last item—a thick, battered ancient tome, made of the finest paper.

On the cover were the words: “Annals of Immortal Cultivation.”

“What is this? It doesn’t look like a cultivation manual; more like a historical record.”

Ye Mo frowned, carefully brushed away the dust, and opened it.