bayedsolid Chapter 489 The Turmoil at the Alliance Conference
Chapter 489 The Turmoil at the Alliance Conference
Three days later, at dawn, I stood before the gates of Demon Cloud Valley, the Key of Destiny in my palm slightly warm.
Wen Chen smoothed the wind-blown strands of my hair, his fingertips brushing against the faint scar behind my ear—a mark left by the remnants of the Dark Moon Cult during yesterday's sneak attack. "Last night I checked the records of Demon Cloud Valley," he said, his voice low enough for only the two of us to hear, "the evil spirits of the mass grave first appeared three months ago, precisely around the time the Dark Moon Cult began infiltrating the Immortal Realm."
As I gazed at the swirling blue mist in the valley, my throat suddenly tightened.
The Wind Demon King doesn't just want to exorcise evil spirits; he wants to see if I have the ability to stir up the undercurrents.
"Fairy Xiao has arrived early." The voice of the Wind Demon King drifted out from the mist, his black cloak reeking of wine, and the bronze wine pot in his hand gleaming coldly in the morning mist.
Behind him were six shadow guards, two of whom were supporting their seriously injured companion. The man's arm had a bluish-purple bite mark, from which black blood was gushing out.
My gaze swept over the bite mark, and my heart skipped a beat—the shape of the wound was neither like the claw mark of a demon cultivator nor the tooth mark of an ordinary spirit beast, but rather like... some kind of living thing corrupted by resentment.
“Let’s go to the mass grave first.” I suppressed my surging doubts and nodded to the Wind Demon King.
The mass grave is located at the deepest part of Demon Cloud Valley. The pine trees along the way are entwined with dark brown vines, and you can hear the crisp sound of withered branches breaking with every step you take.
Zhao Xianzi walked to my right. Her Qingfeng sword was already three inches out of its sheath, and a faint blue halo floated on the blade—a sign that she had sensed evil energy.
"We've arrived." The Wind Demon King suddenly stopped.
I looked up and saw that the valley in front of me was filled with broken tombstones and bones, and half of a blood-stained suit of armor was visible under the decaying leaves.
Even more horrifying were the "spirit beasts" scurrying around the graves: they resembled snow leopards, but had snake tongues, and bluish-purple pustules bulging under their fur; with each step they took, they made a clicking sound as if their joints were dislocating.
“These are the snow leopards I keep in my valley,” the Wind Demon King’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his wine flaking white from being clenched in his palm. “They suddenly turned into this three months ago, biting anyone they see, and they don’t even recognize their owners.”
A snow leopard suddenly darted out from the side, and a foul, putrid stench swept over us.
I spun around to avoid it, but just as it brushed against the hem of my clothes, the pustules on its fur burst open with a "pop," and the black blood that splattered onto the bluestone slabs hissed and steamed.
"Watch out!" Wen Chen's figure flashed in front of me, his fingertips forming a hand seal, and a golden fire talisman was precisely placed on the snow leopard's forehead.
The fire talisman ignited not an ordinary flame, but a pure fire carrying the chanting of Sanskrit. The snow leopard let out a piercing scream, and the abscess shrank at a speed visible to the naked eye.
But its eyes turned even redder, and saliva dripped from its fangs as it continued to charge forward despite the flames.
"This isn't demonic poison, it's a soul-controlling technique." I took out the Key of Destiny, and the moment the bronze key touched my palm, a surge of heat rushed up my head through my meridians.
Dark patterns appeared on the surface of the key, pointing as if it had come to life to the old locust tree deep in the mountain valley.
“They’ve been controlled by evil magic.” I gripped the key tighter. “The source is that locust tree.”
The Wind Demon King's wine jug clattered to the ground, splashing wine onto the tips of his shoes: "That's the Town-Suppressing Locust Tree of my Demon Cloud Valley, planted for three hundred years..."
Fairy Zhao swung her sword, slashing away the snow leopard that pounced on her. The sword vibrated and hummed. "Sister Xiao, I'll protect you!" She then threw out three lightning talismans, which blasted the surrounding snow leopards back.
Wen Chen drew the jade flute from his waist. The flute's clear and melodious sound was like the cry of a crane. The snow leopards that were being controlled paused, and a glimmer of clarity flashed in their previously empty eyes.
I took the opportunity to rush towards the old locust tree, and with each step I could feel the heat of the Key of Destiny rising—a sign that the closer one gets to the source, the more intense the reaction.
The bark of the old locust tree was covered with Darkmoon Cult totems, and the tree hollow contained the skeletons of seven children, each with a rusty nail driven into its forehead.
I gasped – this was the Dark Moon Cult's most vicious "Seven Infant Soul-Locking Array," using the souls of children as a lure to control living beings as slaves.
“Breaking the formation requires destroying the main nail.” I turned to look at Wen Chen, who had already leaped to the tree, his fingertips gathering cyan spiritual energy. “I’ll draw away the resentment; you do the work.”
Wen Chen nodded, pointed his jade flute at the tree hole, and the flute's sound suddenly changed into the sound of clashing swords.
The resentment within the tree hollow was stirred up and surged, forming a black vortex.
I seized the opportunity to rush in, used the Key of Destiny to hold the main nail, and pushed with all my spiritual power.
“Crack—”
The moment the spike broke, all the snow leopards let out a mournful cry.
The pustules on their bodies fell off in a rustling sound, revealing their originally snow-white fur. Some even came close to the wounded Shadow Guard and gently licked the wound with their tongues.
The Wind Demon King retrieved the wine jug, his fingers still trembling.
He poured me a glass of wine, the liquid shimmering in the glass: "Fairy Xiao is indeed skilled... Demon Cloud Valley, from this day forward, is the sword of our alliance."
I took the wine cup, but suddenly smelled a familiar, sweet, and slightly fishy odor.
That was the scent of the Dark Moon Cult's Soul-Chasing Incense, stronger than before, as if someone had deliberately scattered it in the wind.
I looked up at the mist beyond the mountain pass and vaguely saw a dark figure flash by, the silver thread of the dark moon embroidered on the hem of his clothes flickering in and out of the mist.
Wen Chen placed his hand on my shoulder, his palm still warm from the sword energy: "What's wrong?"
"It's nothing." I took a sip of my drink, the harsh liquid burning my throat. "I just feel... this fog should dissipate."
The mountain wind lifted my sleeves, and the distant howl of a snow leopard drifted over.
As I gazed at the hollow trunk of the old locust tree, I suddenly recalled the way the Demon Shadow's fingertips brushed against the words "Kill Xiao Yao" when he threw out the Dark Moon Token a few days ago.
Some things are just beginning.
As the withered leaves of the old locust tree swirled and fell at my feet, a cold laugh suddenly came from the mountain mist.
The sound was like ice shards, drilling into the bones along the back of the neck.
"What a clever trick of the thief crying 'stop thief!'" A black, wide sleeve burst through the mist, and a demonic figure strolled out from within, the Dark Moon Token at his waist gleaming coldly in the morning light.
The beauty mark at the corner of his eye curled upwards with a mocking smile. "Fairy Xiao broke the formation beautifully, but unfortunately this formation—" He traced the dark moon totem on the old locust tree with his fingertips, "...is clearly a trap you deliberately set up to control Demon Cloud Valley."
I tightened my grip on the Key of Destiny.
This "biting back" was expected, but hearing him actually say it still made my heart ache.
The Wind Demon King twirled the wine jug halfway in his palm, his knuckles turning white beneath his black cloak—his gaze swept back and forth between me and the Demon Shadow, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he remained silent.
"Lord Demon Shadow's words are suspicious." Fairy Zhao's Qingfeng sword hummed and sprang half a foot out, the tip pointing directly at Demon Shadow's heart. "Three days ago, when the remnants of the Dark Moon Cult attacked Sister Xiao, I saw with my own eyes that they were wearing the same Dark Moon totem."
To call it a setup would seem more like someone was eager to muddy the waters.
The demon's gaze swept over Fairy Zhao as if she were a stumbling block: "Fairy Zhao is so eager to protect her master that she has forgotten the most basic principle—whoever benefits is the perpetrator."
If Xiao Yao could bring Demon Cloud Valley into the fold, the Immortal Realm Alliance's power could expand by 30%. He suddenly turned to the Wind Demon King, his tone softening abruptly, "Brother Feng, have you forgotten?"
Three months ago, you merely mentioned 'considering an alliance,' and then evil spirits appeared in the valley; today, with Xiao Yao's arrival, the evil spirits vanished—is this cause and effect truly just a coincidence?
The Wind Demon King's wine jug clanged against the stone tablet.
He staggered back half a step, bumping into the broken tombstone. The smell of alcohol mixed with cold sweat hit him: "Fairy Xiao...you really didn't..."
"If I wanted to control Demon Cloud Valley, why would I need to use such a heinous formation?" I strode to the old locust tree and lifted the decaying leaves in front of the tree hole.
The rusty nails on the seven children's skeletons gleamed a dark red in the sunlight. "The Seven Infants Soul-Locking Array requires the souls of living children as a catalyst. While I, Xiao Yao, am not a particularly benevolent person, I cannot use children's lives as pawns." I tore off a piece of bark adorned with the Dark Moon totem. "The stitches of this totem are exactly the same as the embroidery of the Dark Moon Cult's Left Envoy—Wen Chen, do you remember the Dark Moon Cult's secret letter you intercepted at Cangwu Mountain last month?"
Wen Chen walked to my side and pulled out a yellowed silk scroll from his sleeve.
He traced the bloodstains on the silk scroll with his fingertips, his voice as deep as a mountain stream: "This letter was written three months ago. The Left Envoy of the Dark Moon Cult mentioned that 'there is an opening in Demon Cloud Valley; once the Seven Infants Formation is complete, it can control the beasts and disrupt their minds.' He looked up at the Wind Demon King, "Brother Wind, I examined the injuries of the Shadow Guards in the valley yesterday—the resentment in the black blood perfectly matches the 'Soul-Locking Nails' mentioned in the letter."
The Wind Demon King staggered over, his breath reeking of alcohol onto the silk scroll.
He stared at the bloodstain for what seemed like half an incense stick's time, then suddenly grabbed a rusty nail from a skeleton.
The moment the fingernail dug into the nail, a thin crack appeared in the nail head, revealing half a bronze seal of the Dark Moon Cult inside.
"Damn the Dark Moon Cult!" He suddenly tilted his head back and gulped down a mouthful of wine, the liquid dripping down his chin onto his dark cloak. "Just a few days ago I was wondering why some rogue cultivators were suddenly saying the alliance was 'inviting wolves into the house,' turns out it was all your doing!" He grabbed a wine jug and smashed it at the demonic figure. "Get lost!"
The gates of Demon Cloud Valley do not welcome the dogs of Dark Moon!
The shadowy figure sidestepped the wine jug, the sneer on his lips vanishing completely.
He glanced at the bronze seal in the Wind Demon King's hand, then at Wen Chen and me, and suddenly chuckled, "Xiao Yao, do you think breaking this small formation will stabilize the alliance?" He turned and disappeared into the mist, his voice carried on the wind, "At the Immortal Realm Assembly, you'll have plenty of headaches to deal with."
I stared in the direction he had disappeared, and the Key of Destiny in my palm suddenly became burning hot.
Wen Chen's hand covered the key, spreading its heat evenly: "The Dark Moon Sect wouldn't send just him."
“I know.” I took a deep breath, the mountain wind swirling fallen leaves past my nose, “but at least—” I looked at the Wind Demon King, who was crouching beside the snow leopard, feeding the wounded beast water from a wine jug, “Demon Cloud Valley has stabilized.”
Three days later at the Alliance Conference, the sandalwood incense in the council hall, mixed with a hundred kinds of spiritual energy, made people's noses tingle.
I stood in the main seat, looking at the hems of the robes of the representatives from various immortal realms below the stage—the Wind Demon King sat in the front row, his black cloak washed white, but his wine pot was polished to a shine; Fairy Zhao stood guard at the door, the tassel of her Qingfeng sword being lifted by the draft; Wen Chen stood to my right, his jade flute hanging at his waist, his knuckles lightly tapping the edge of the table.
"Now, the Alliance Conference officially begins—"
The earthquake suddenly started from the soles of my feet.
The glazed tiles of the council hall crashed down, the sandalwood incense burner overturned, sparks splashed onto the brocade, and a wisp of black smoke rose.
I gripped the edge of the table and looked up, only to see black mist suddenly seeping from the cloud patterns on the dome, as if countless hands were tearing at the blue sky.
A low roar came from the black mist, like thunder rolling in the throats of millions of people at the same time.
Wen Chen's jade flute was already at his lips, its sound carrying a sword-like aura: "It's the Dark Moon Sect's 'Netherworld Mist.'" He turned to look at me, a ghostly blue light burning in his eyes, "They're going to ruin today's conference."
I gripped the Key of Destiny tightly; the dark patterns on the key were frantically swirling as the black mist approached.
A clear shout came from outside the mountain gate, followed by the crisp sound of a sword blade cleaving through the mist.
The Wind Demon King's wine jug shattered on the ground, splashing wine onto the tips of my shoes—this time, it wasn't fear, but the will to fight.
A bluish-gray hand emerged from the black mist, its fingernails three inches long, scraping against the pillar and producing a piercing sound.
As I stared at that hand, I suddenly remembered the child's bones in the tree hollow of the mass grave, and the cold laugh of the demonic figure before it disappeared.