C66 The Abnormality of the Forbidden Area

"I just can't wrap my head around it—why on earth would Yuan Tine and Zhao Yafu take his advice?" Wu Ji, a young man from Eastgriffin, grumbled all the way. "Sister Hui, do you think they're doing this deliberately?"

Wu Ji was another Yellow Court Stage cultivator from Cold Moon City. Though he was only in the early stages, he was significantly younger than Han Hui—just sixteen. His cultivation potential outshone Han Hui's, suggesting his future accomplishments might surpass hers.

The Wu family was the most powerful in Cold Moon City, with Wu Ji's father, Wu Lie, serving as the current City Lord. As such, even though Han Hui was the official leader, everyone, including Han Hui herself, took Wu Ji very seriously. The Han family elders had made it clear before their departure: Wu Ji's safety was paramount.

Han Hui had faced challenges from both the Van family and Waning Moon City, opting to step back each time, partly due to Wu Ji's presence. Wu Lie couldn't bear the thought of his son facing any mishaps during the trials in the forbidden land, let alone death or severe injury. After all, Wu Ji was on the cusp of advancing to the middle stage of the Yellow Court.

At sixteen, reaching the middle stage could set Wu Ji on a path to rival the Five Moons of the empire.

"I'm just as clueless about why Yuan Tine and Zhao Yafu would value his opinion," Han Hui admitted, her mood somber. "Let's not dwell on them. They've yet to face the hardships we've encountered. Once they're chased down and shamed as we were, they'll grasp the true nature of the forbidden land's challenges."

"Then they'll realize just how vulnerable Darkmoon City is," Wu Ji huffed in agreement. "That day is bound to come."

The determined party set off toward the location of the mural they'd left earlier. They speculated that enough time had passed for the Waning Moon City folks to have moved on. Murals, after all, are inanimate; they don't move, and the Waning Moon City's cultivators certainly couldn't take it with them.

In the end, those people would inevitably depart.

Several hours later.

Han Hui, Woo Ji, and their companions edged closer.

"Look, it's Feng Xin!"

Woo Ji halted abruptly, pointing towards the distant horizon and whispered.

Han Hui's gaze snapped in that direction.

Across the other side of the deep pit, a line of eight figures made their way onto a broad stone path, advancing in silence.

The girl at the forefront was Feng Xin of Waning Moon City, the very person who had earlier forced them to leave with a dismissive command.

"There's more to Waning Moon City's group than meets the eye," Han Hui observed, a slight frown creasing his brow. "Could it be that some have already ventured down the stone path ahead of us?"

Woo Ji shared the puzzlement. "If I can see Feng Xin, she should be able to see me. Yet, she doesn't look back, as if we're of no consequence to her."

"It is odd," Han Hui mused, suspicion clouding his thoughts. "Given Feng Xin's nature, she'd typically throw a scornful jibe or two our way. She wouldn't let us off the hook so easily."

They all took note that the individuals from Waning Moon City weren't conversing among themselves; instead, they moved further away, their backs turned to them.

It seemed they had moved on to explore other deep pits, other regions.

"Let's check out that mural!"

Woo Ji proposed.

Han Hui concurred.

Shortly thereafter, the group from Eastgriffin stood before the mural.

The space before the mural was deserted.

Confused by the absence of Waning Moon City's people, they assumed they had completely departed.

Thus, they began to closely examine the mural's enigmatic details.

Regrettably, despite a lengthy scrutiny, none could decipher any secrets within the mural. Reluctantly, they resorted to sketching a copy of the mural with pen and ink.

"Sister Hui, there are a few clouds missing," Woo Ji murmured.

"What?"

"I mean, the mural previously had several clouds drifting among the streams. But now, those clouds have vanished, and it doesn't look like they've been cut out," Woo Ji explained.

Han Hui's astonishment grew. "Perhaps, the marvels hidden within the mural were discovered by Feng Xin and her group from Waning Moon City."

"Oh, what a shame," Woo Ji lamented with a sigh. "The folks from Darkmoon City are so full of themselves, thinking they're superior to us! They label us weak, but if they were to confront Feng Xin or anyone from the other cities, what strength would they have to stand on?"

"Just wait and see—they'll be begging us to form an alliance," Han Hui declared with a snort.

...

"Bang!"

Yet another clam bead burst silently into dust.

Led by Fong Xin, the eight from Waning Moon City caused every clam bead they passed to disintegrate into dust and smoke before they could even draw near.

"Fong Xin!"

At the pit's bottom, by the Moon Fragment, stood Gao Hong of Deermead, his team behind him. He frowned and called out in alarm.

This was the very spot the Van family had cleared earlier.

After Van Ning and Yu Yuan's covert clash, they had quietly healed their wounds here. When they realized their kin couldn't glean the mysterious sword spell from the Moon Fragment's sword patterns, they departed.

Van Ning had a hunch that the opportunity had vanished the moment the ancient, boundless aura dissipated. Without wasting time, he made the decisive call to leave.

Then, after they were well away, Gao Hong and his Deermead companions descended, hoping against hope that they might be the lucky ones to decipher the enigma of the sword patterns.

Despite knowing the odds were slim, they couldn't let go of the chance to press their luck. Perhaps someone would strike it incredibly fortunate?

Gao Hong hadn't anticipated that after half a day of fruitless contemplation, they would run into Fong Xin of Waning Moon City.

He had a history with Fong Xin; their families shared some connections. In his surprise, he quickly said, "First come, first served! Fong Xin, you and the Waning Moon City folks hold off for now. Once we're done here, you can bring your people down to examine the site."

He didn't forbid her, merely asked her to wait a bit.

Regrettably, Fong Xin, descending the stone steps, turned a deaf ear to his plea.

Gao Hong's face darkened with displeasure, "Fong Xin, what is the meaning of this?"

Fong Xin paid him no mind. As she descended, her attention was fixed solely on the Moon Fragment and its sword-shaped patterns.

A sinister green glint flickered in the depths of her black eyes.

"Fong Xin!" Gao Hong bellowed.

She finally showed a hint of impatience and paused.

Yet her gaze remained locked on the Moon Fragment and its sword patterns.

She simply extended a hand and pointed towards Gao Hong and his group.

The seven other young challengers from Waning Moon City, trailing behind her, were still a dozen meters from the bottom of the pit when they suddenly leaped down. They descended gently, drifting like dandelion fluff. Yet, in the instant before they touched the ground, the pupils of all seven simultaneously shifted, turning a dark green that resembled a pair of chilling ghostly flames.

With vacant expressions and without a moment's hesitation, they launched an attack on Gao Hong and his companions. What should have been an evenly matched battle between equals unfolded into a scene of utter disparity. Under Fong Xin's command, these seven were not just fighting; they were mercilessly slaughtering Gao Hong and the Deermead cultivators beside him.

Their bodies were as cold and unyielding as forged metal, their movements lethally precise. In contrast, Gao Hong and his allies, mere mortals of flesh and blood, were effortlessly impaled by the seven's piercing hands during the most basic of physical confrontations.

Eventually, Fong Xin leisurely made her way to the Moon Fragment. Around her lay a gruesome tableau of dismembered corpses. The deaths of Gao Hong and his peers were not only tragic but also bewildering and deeply unjust.

Standing by the Moon Fragment, Fong Xin placed her hand on a sword-shaped pattern, her expression one of deep nostalgia and longing, as if lost in memories of bygone days. After a moment, she whispered in a rhythmic, ancient cadence, "The soul, the soul is no more."

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