Chapter 157: Azure-green Tree Shadow

Cultivators who had witnessed the gruesome scene on-site all firmly believed in Wang Ping's record of defeating a late Golden Core cultivator.

But now a problem lies before them: where did Wang Ping go? This barren land is so vast, lacking spiritual energy; after using spells, restoring spiritual power relies entirely on spirit stones, which works in the short term but no one can endure it long-term.

In such a vast place, finding a cultivator is like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Everyone's gaze involuntarily turned to the monk in monastic robes, who was the close friend of Wang Tian'ao; perhaps he might know something.

Liaoru remained unmoved, like one unaffected by the eight winds, showing no reaction to these people's gazes.

Someone couldn't help but cough, slowly approached Liaoru, and whispered: "Master Liaoru, this should be the battlefield where Wang Tian'ao fought the Golden Core True Person, yet now there is no trace of Wang Tian'ao; Master, do you know his whereabouts?"

Master Liaoru lowly intoned a Buddhist chant: "Amitabha! I also do not know, but I have a question: venerable ones and Fellow Cultivator Lan Ming, you are not familiar with me, yet you followed me ten thousand miles to come here; I do not know why."

That person's eyes drooped slightly, then he forced a smile, saying: "Wang Tian'ao's achievements naturally inspire admiration; everyone wishes to see Wang Tian'ao's face."

Master Liaoru's face was expressionless, yet he sneered inwardly, heh! Do you guess whether I believe it or not?

For a moment, everyone fell into an eerie calm.

After Liaoru and they discovered this place, within the next ten days, cultivators arrived in succession; upon seeing the scene, they were all shocked.

Any cultivator able to come here is no fool; merely inferring from the scene's conditions, they knew Wang Tian'ao's strength.

As the crowd grew, Liaoru finally felt something amiss; if it were only that Fellow Cultivator Lan's achievements had spread, prompting a few to feel admiration and want to come here to pay respects, that would still be understandable.

But now the gathered Foundation Establishment cultivators number no less than a thousand, and half of them are at the peak of Foundation Establishment, which is quite unusual.

The entire Western Droop region does not have so many peak Foundation Establishment cultivators, let alone that their demeanor clashes with the local cultivators of Western Droop; needless to say, these people all come from the Hundred Nations Alliance.

Liaoru is now a post-Foundation Establishment cultivator and also possesses a seven-pattern natal magic treasure; not to mention those peak Foundation Establishment cultivators, even his peers at late Foundation Establishment, after observing them, he has no confidence to defeat even a few.

This indicates that at least these cultivators all possess seven-pattern magic treasures; as this thought just arose, Liaoru felt a pang of panic, sensing that something unknown must have happened.

Otherwise, it would be unthinkable for cultivators to willingly venture two or three hundred thousand li into this barren land where even birds don't defecate.

Liaoru's eyelids drooped slightly; in fact he had already deployed the dream-entry technique, intending to seek the source of the matter in his dreams.

Using himself as a guide, to seek future events.

Soon he arrived amidst a mist, which he was already accustomed to; he firmly stepped forward into the mist, step after step, and then in a daze he saw a fiery red pearl, and also a vast green meadow.

The grass on that meadow was a shade of green he had never seen in his life, and everything flashed by in an instant.

Hmph!

Liaoru let out a muffled grunt, waking from the dream-entry; his face turned deathly pale, his heart filled with dread—the red pearl was fine, but that vast green meadow was merely a fleeting glimpse before he awoke, and his divine sense in the sea of consciousness had already been depleted by more than half.

But he cannot dwell on that now, continually analyzing everything he saw in the dream; the pearl in the dream must be the treasure Huo Yunzi spoke of, indicating that some of these cultivators came for the treasure, which is not hard to understand.

But regarding that vast meadow, Liaoru could not fathom it; the barren land is sealed off from spiritual energy, and all they have flown over are endless yellow-brown deserts—where could a meadow come from?

Liaoru sat here with eyes closed in contemplation when another batch of cultivators descended from the high sky; suddenly he sensed a familiar aura, and upon opening his eyes he saw Wang Ye and Ouyang Hua striding toward him.

Liaoru smiled faintly, rose to greet the two; Wang Ye came over laughing loudly, but secretly he initiated a divine-sense voice transmission:

"These days, a rumor has spread in the Western Droop cultivation world that Fellow Cultivator Lan possesses an item that allows Golden Core cultivators to advance to the Nascent Soul realm with certainty; Huo Yunzi came for this very reason. Thus many Foundation Establishment cultivators have ventured deep into the barren lands, and Fellow Cultivator Lan Ning has sent us two to help."

Liaoru nodded, then secretly asked: "Besides that, what else?"

Wang Ye gave a subtle glance; Liaoru understood it meant 'none,' and then he told them both about the vast meadow he had dreamed of.

The two of them were also at a loss, so the few of us could only wait and see what else might happen as these cultivators gathered here.

Three days later, a portion of the cultivators suddenly left, heading deeper; thereafter, others followed, flying deeper in succession.

Liaoru and the three of them each took a glance, then also followed the main force as it advanced into the depths.

Meanwhile, in that green meadow of the barren land, Wang Ping sat cross-legged a hundred meters above the ground, eyes tightly shut, his brows furrowing from time to time, and faint beads of sweat appeared on his temples and forehead.

Since initially confirming his guess, over the past half month Wang Ping has repeatedly arranged it in his sea of consciousness, not knowing how many times.

From the initial blind arrangement to discovering a hint of pattern, he spent three days.

Now, in Wang Ping's sea of consciousness, ribbon after ribbon has been placed in different spots, and before him only the last three ribbons remain.

"Place a one chi three cun ribbon three cun to the upper left, then a one and a half cun ribbon five chi to the lower right, and finally place…"

In his sea of consciousness, Wang Ping gazed at the last ribbon, unsure where to place it; though it felt perfect, it seemed there was nowhere left to put it, yet the ribbon in his hand told him the pattern merely looked perfect.

He had experienced this scene three times; each time the same situation occurred, and Wang Ping went from doubt to certainty that his placement was correct, so the last ribbon should go in a unique spot.

But after countless simulations he still could not see where to place this ribbon; Wang Ping felt he was overthinking, so this time he directly exited his sea of consciousness and turned his gaze to the ground.

The position of the last ribbon is right at the center, with no other ribbons within a hundred meters around it!

Perhaps he could try placing it in reality; such a thought suddenly sprang into Wang Ping's mind.

Now he had reached a dead end; doing this would not be a bad plan.

He divided his spiritual power into thousands of strands, letting them float over those ribbons, then according to the pattern he discovered, he laid them out one by one.

As he kept laying them out, Wang Ping's eyes grew brighter; the pattern in reality seemed somewhat different from the one in his sea of consciousness.

But he still dared not be certain; after placing the second-to-last ribbon, Wang Ping gradually lifted it, higher and higher, until he could see the bottom, where there was a gap.

Yet this gap, when manifested in his sea of consciousness, did not exist.

Could it be due to the differing nature of power? Spiritual power and divine sense should be different forces, and Wang Ping could only explain it this way.

After placing the last ribbon at the base of the pattern, the entire pattern suddenly emitted a dazzling azure-green light.

Wang Ping slightly closed his eyes; that light, for a moment, he dared not stare at directly; after three breaths, he opened his eyes, and the image of an azure-green, weathered ancient tree imprinted itself upon his vision.

What kind of tree is this?

Just as that thought arose, the tree-shaped light-and-shadow pattern suddenly shot out one or two beams of radiance, one heading heavenward, one heading earthward.

The beam of light heading downward fell exactly upon the position of that last ribbon, while the upward beam plunged into boundless height, unknown where it reached.