Chapter Twelve: The Great Immortal of the Yellow Mountain (Part 2)

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The Eight Extremes Pure Veil Array was a formation specifically designed to devour the cultivation of others. Anyone within its bounds, should they lose consciousness or prove weaker than the one who laid the array, was left entirely at the mercy of its master. Formed from intricate runic patterns resembling a Bagua diagram, the array converged at a single point—the sole life gate—where it forcibly siphoned the cultivation of those trapped within. Of course, the life gate could just as easily become a gate of death, for it was here that the array’s master stood; if one’s strength was inferior, they would be slain on the spot.

It had to be said, this fox spirit was exceedingly cautious, advancing with calculated precision. It had lain in wait here for several years, feeding only on cultivators of lesser ability—such as the recently captured Fire Qilin and Little Azure, both of whom were less powerful than the fox itself.

The Yellow Manor had a long and storied history. Its previous master beast was also a fox, but unlike the current one, its predecessor was flamboyant and bold, preying on cultivators of great power with far more daring. That was how the manor had once flourished in its heyday. Yet, it was precisely that reckless boldness that led to its downfall, paving the way for the current fox to seize the manor a few years ago, becoming the new master beast.

Little had changed within these walls; save for a few outlying estates the fox dared not touch, nearly everything usable had been confiscated for its own. Furthermore, the fox had only been wielding the array for less than a year, and the remote, isolated nature of this place meant visitors were rare—hence the continued obscurity of the underground manor.

Whether Fire Qilin and Little Azure were fortunate or deeply unlucky to have stumbled into such peril was anyone’s guess. How would they escape their predicament?

The fox spirit uttered a command: “Activate the array!”

As soon as the words fell, the runic patterns on the tightly sealed floor of the manor grew vivid, rising from the floor into the air, and the array began its work. In the next instant, Fire Qilin and Little Azure were frozen in midair.

Suddenly, radiant lights began to emanate from their bodies—one green, one blue. Under the power of the formation, these luminous points started to drift outward, their cultivation being drawn away bit by bit.

Now that the array had been activated, Fire Qilin awoke from slumber, but it was too late. No matter how he tried to suppress his cultivation, it continued to drain away uncontrollably. For Little Azure, bound tightly by spirit-confining ropes, the loss was even swifter—twice as fast as Fire Qilin’s—and she was utterly helpless.

She was like a lamb awaiting slaughter, entirely at the mercy of others.

Yet perhaps fate had other plans. Suddenly, behind the fox, a tiny object no larger than a bean sprouted from the ground, shrouded in a strange white glow. It scurried forward, leapt directly to the life gate, gulped down the stolen cultivation meant for Fire Qilin and Little Azure in a single bite, and immediately darted away.

The fox spirit exclaimed, “What is that?”

Its attention shifted entirely to this mysterious intruder, deeply curious as to what dared spoil its scheme.

When it turned to see the peculiar white light about to burrow into the floor, its interest was piqued even further.

This strange white glow was not some ordinary object, but a sentient herb—a spirit grass with a white blossom atop its head and a lower stem shaped by proximity to human forms, granting it the mobility to move freely like a person.

Such sentient herbs were far rarer and more precious than low-level cultivators. For this herb to have attained sentience, it must have accumulated at least a thousand years of essence.

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A spirit herb grown for a thousand years could elevate a cultivator’s realm by an entire tier in a single dose; it was no exaggeration to call it a celestial herb.

Without hesitation, the fox transformed into its true form and set off in pursuit of the spirit herb.

Meanwhile, the Eight Extremes Pure Veil Array ceased its operation, for without the master at the life gate, its function was forcibly suspended. This was its great flaw: the moment the life gate was vacated, the formation lost its power. Yet the runic patterns still hovered undimmed in the air, awaiting the arrival of some other beast.

For Fire Qilin and Little Azure, this was a golden opportunity. With the obstacle now gone, they could easily escape danger—all thanks to the intervention of that strange white light.

“Are you alright, Little Azure?” Fire Qilin asked.

“I’m fine, brother. Let’s run while we can—we’re no match for it,” she replied.

“Agreed,” he said.

Quickly untying her bonds, Fire Qilin led Little Azure out of the array through the life gate, then hid themselves in another part of the manor.

He reasoned that the fox would expect them to flee outside, so by staying concealed within the manor and suppressing their presence, they could wait for the fox to leave in pursuit and then make their true escape.

It was a sound plan, but at that moment the fox had no interest in them—devouring the cultivation of two minor captives could not compare to the immense benefit of consuming a sentient herb.

A thousand meters beneath the manor, in a subterranean chase, the herb and the fox raced through the darkness. Unbeknownst to the fox, it was being lured into a trap by the very herb it pursued.

After leaping from Fire Qilin’s body and tunneling underground, the herb had discovered an ancient ruin beneath the manor. Within lay a bloodthirsty killing array—perfect for dealing with the fox.

The ruin was already scarred and dilapidated, with only the killing array retaining any power. It could be triggered but once, but that single chance was more than enough to save Fire Qilin and Little Azure.

The herb itself had slumbered in the spatial pouch of a great immortal, only awakening when Fire Qilin and Little Azure accidentally disturbed it. This was fate, and in gratitude, the herb decided to help them—considering the debt repaid.

“You won’t escape me today!” the fox shouted, oblivious to the peril it now faced.

Suddenly, the spirit herb, now within arm’s reach, leapt with all its might toward a pit. In an instant, the ancient ruin blazed with light.

Not only did the gloom vanish, but the killing array was activated, forming an invisible barrier that trapped the herb and the fox together—the slaughter had begun!

Weapons of every shape and kind materialized in the air: spears, short blades, daggers, broadswords, axes, and more. Frozen in midair, they suddenly launched their assault upon the fox and the spirit herb.

“You tricked me?” the fox howled.

The herb said nothing. Under the fox’s gaze, it darted away again.

The herb was anything but foolish; it would never have triggered the killing array without some means of escape. Otherwise, a thousand years of cultivation would have been wasted.

The fox was not entirely witless either. It realized the herb must have a way out, so it resolved to follow wherever the herb led.

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But once the killing array was activated, escaping was no simple task.

Before the fox could follow the herb’s lead, an illusory axe cleaved down from the void, blocking its path.

It seemed the fox was destined to remain.

The spirit herb, glancing back once, turned and sped toward the manor above.

It fled through the only life gate—had it not learned the formation’s secrets upon first taking human shape, it might have perished here alongside the fox, two lonely spirits in the dark.

With this business settled, the herb could finally seek a secluded paradise to take root and grow.

To humans, it was a miraculous elixir for advancement, but from its own perspective, attaining sentience had been a hard-won feat—it would never allow itself to be consumed.

For spirit herbs like it, cultivation was far more arduous than for beasts or humans; it cherished its own existence all the more.

“Little Azure, do you sense something amiss?” asked Fire Qilin.

“There’s movement underground,” Little Azure replied.

“Whatever it is, our safety comes first. Best we stay hidden,” said Fire Qilin.

“Agreed,” she answered.

They too felt the tremors below, but given the danger they still faced, they chose to remain still.

Their hiding place was an ice cellar. If not for a nearby hot spring providing warmth, it might well have been their tomb.

The hot spring maintained a balmy temperature, but stepping out into the cellar brought a biting chill.

Yet something strange was happening—they began to experience changes in their bodies.

“There’s something odd about this place,” said Fire Qilin.

“Brother, I feel—” Little Azure began.

Suddenly, both slipped into deep sleep as their bodies underwent transformation.

When they awoke a day later, they found themselves utterly changed, as though reborn—no longer the Fire Qilin and Little Azure of old.

All this was thanks to the hot spring, which had fundamentally transformed their spiritual roots.

This was no ordinary water, but Titanium Spirit Water left behind by ancient immortals. It possessed the miraculous ability to refine and elevate spiritual roots.

Anyone who bathed in it would benefit immensely, though not everyone could undergo such a transformation. Only those with inferior or damaged spiritual roots—like Little Azure, who previously had none—could be granted a single chance at rebirth, the quality of their new roots left to fate.