Chapter Thirteen: The Wasteland of White Bones

As dusk approached, Li Ruoyu knew it was time to seek a place to stay—concealment and safety were paramount. Ahead, he spotted a waterfall, inspiration flashing through his mind. Summoning the Grand Clock of Order, he directed its force behind the cascade.

The sound of stones plunging into water echoed in the air as Li Ruoyu repeatedly sent the Grand Clock crashing into the space beyond the waterfall. After several attempts, he guided the clock and Wang Bo through the curtain of water, revealing a small cave, freshly carved out by his own hand.

With their spirits rejuvenated, they set off at dawn, heading north from the waterfall. Along the way, they encountered a herd of unicorn horses, striking in their black and white markings as they roamed the grasslands. They also spotted a strange beast, resembling an ordinary ox but covered in porcupine bristles, bearing two wings upon its back—possibly a descendant of the legendary Qiongqi. Another creature appeared, wildcat-shaped but with a white head, its call resembling the sound “liu liu,” reminiscent of the ancient celestial hound. The Valley of Fallen Demons abounded with such exotic and ferocious creatures, validating the chronicles of those who came before.

Their journey led them to a vast, white plain—not shrouded in mist, but blanketed with mountains and seas of bones, forming an endless expanse. This was the Plain of White Bones, a battleground of antiquity where countless beings had perished in fierce clashes. Over the ages, they had been reduced to bleached skeletons, the landscape a silent testament to the bloodshed and brutality of primordial wars. Giant dragon bones and remains of sacred birds littered the field, alongside the colossal skeletons of ancient giants and many other races.

Li Ruoyu captured a beast resembling a lion and released it onto the plain. Forced forward, the lion trembled violently, as if sensing a deadly adversary, then bolted madly out of the bone-strewn field.

Witnessing this, Li Ruoyu surmised that the plain could be traversed, but its depths harbored inexplicable dangers. Together with Wang Bo, he pressed onward into the White Bone Plain. They discovered fragments of artifacts and, among them, intact relics like demon-subduing rods, divine bells, and ancient cauldrons. Yet none could withstand the ravages of time; at the slightest touch, they crumbled to dust. This made Li Ruoyu marvel at the terrifying power of time—silent, yet able to erase all things. He reflected on his own existence, now at the Divine Knot realm, with a lifespan of two hundred years. But what then? Would he fade into decrepitude, or undergo some unforeseen transformation?

Suddenly, Li Ruoyu paused, staring ahead in astonishment.

“Heaven-Severing Purple Gold!”

“Such a massive piece!” Wang Bo exclaimed. Before them lay the remains of what seemed to be a phoenix, beneath which rested a five-foot-square slab of Heaven-Severing Purple Gold. Li Ruoyu hurriedly stored it away in his Sumeru Ring.

This was an extraordinary haul—such a vast piece of Heaven-Severing Purple Gold would make even the patriarchs of great sects envious. Li Ruoyu recalled the wager between Niu Dashan and Yan Lunatic before entering the Valley of Fallen Demons; one of the stakes was precisely this treasure.

Suppressing his excitement, Li Ruoyu turned to the dragon remains opposite the phoenix. He and Wang Bo searched around both skeletons, and indeed found a few small items: a tiny sword resembling a toy ornament, a black bowl, a string of gray prayer beads, and a golden copper shard. The fact that these four objects had resisted the decay of ages suggested they were precious indeed.

Wang Bo chose the bowl and the ornamental sword, prompting Li Ruoyu to tease him for being a glutton.

They continued to comb the perimeter of the White Bone Plain, searching for more relics. Li Ruoyu found a broken spear, and Wang Bo came across an intact bronze mirror of impressive craftsmanship.

Venturing deeper into the plain, they saw a verdant mountain shrouded in forest, standing alone amidst the bones—a sight both extraordinary and eerie. Li Ruoyu halted, observing the mountain from within the plain. The forest was utterly silent, devoid even of birdcalls, intensifying the uncanny atmosphere.

Li Ruoyu harbored no illusions; he decisively skirted the White Bone Plain, pressing onward until he neared its edge. There, he encountered a stone stele, two zhang tall and two chi wide, inscribed with four ancient characters. Upon careful scrutiny, Li Ruoyu recognized them as “White Bone Wasteland”—the name of this desolate field.

Passing through the wasteland, they entered a canyon, the wind carrying sand and dust. Li Ruoyu and Wang Bo advanced into the gorge, where yellow sand covered the ground, exposing many remains—victims of the ancient divine war.

Suddenly, Li Ruoyu spotted a black sand scorpion, no larger than a palm. Alarmed, he cried out,

“Fatty, hurry! That’s a Red Sand Scorpion!”

Red Sand Scorpions often congregate in deserts, highly aggressive, with adults reaching the size of a palm and possessing the power of the Divine Knot. Such were the records of those before.

Despite Li Ruoyu’s quick warning, they were already too late. Swarms of Red Sand Scorpions surged toward them, a black tide racing across the sand.

Li Ruoyu and Wang Bo activated the Chains of Order, hastening their escape, barely keeping ahead of the scorpions. Yet this could not last.

“Split up!” Li Ruoyu commanded, darting in one direction, Wang Bo in another.

They ran for nearly four hours before Li Ruoyu finally shook off the scorpions.

“So tenacious,” he muttered.

If not for the medicinal treasures he consumed along the way, he would surely have been reduced to bones by the Red Sand Scorpions. Though most of his accumulated elixirs from three years were depleted, Li Ruoyu deemed the cost worthwhile for his survival.

Surveying his surroundings, he found himself in a desert, a vast expanse of red earth stretching beyond sight. The wind howled, stirring the sands and deepening the solitude. Why had the scorpions ceased their pursuit? Was this the territory of another creature, one the scorpions feared? Li Ruoyu wondered, proceeding with caution.

Accompanied by the whistling sandstorm, Li Ruoyu pressed onward, gazing across the endless sea of dunes. No living thing appeared. For two days, he journeyed forward without pause, but the desert remained boundless. The sandstorm only grew stronger. Still, Li Ruoyu stayed calm and resolute, continuing his trek. This steady temperament, he reflected, might stem from his fondness for fishing in youth, and from the teachings of Li Zhiheng.