Chapter 6: Confrontation

Upon hearing this, he looked over and saw a young man in his late teens wearing blue clothes, with four middle-aged guardians standing beside him.

He merely glanced at him, then Yang Zhu withdrew his gaze; the person's strength was decent, but not enough to make him take notice.

"Heh, this person has quite the temperament."

"Not putting our Separate Fire Sect in your eyes—are you fearless through ignorance, or do you have something to rely on?"

A few Dao Guardians snorted coldly; Yang Zhu had indeed caught their attention.

They were discussing, but the protected youth's face darkened somewhat, and he remained silent.

From Yang Zhu's earlier gaze, he sensed a feeling of contempt—not deliberately shown, but more like an unconscious behavior arising from within.

"So confident; once inside, I'll want to see just how strong you really are."

These words were practically squeezed out from between his teeth; as an Inner Disciple of the Separate Fire Sect, when had he ever suffered such contempt?

"Could that person be from a holy land? Even daring to disregard the Separate Fire Sect?"

"Quite likely; his background seems not simple—we'd better avoid conflict with him."

The Separate Fire Sect is a second-rate power in the surrounding area; it doesn't even rank in the Eastern Wasteland, yet it's not something ordinary cultivators can provoke.

Seeing this, the crowd couldn't help but chatter, thinking there would be a good show.

In the mountain range, ferocious beasts and vicious birds are abundant, dangers abound, and every so often cultivators engage them in great battles, causing quite a commotion.

Yang Zhu proceeded deep inside, unimpeded, encountering no mishaps.

Beasts are more sensitive to aura than cultivators; upon sensing Yang Zhu's powerful field, they fled in fright, keeping their distance.

Not to mention attacking; that flock of raptors would rather flee far away, for in their eyes Yang Zhu resembled a dormant beast, ready to awaken and sweep everything away at any moment.

This made the Black Emperor delighted; along the way there were many spiritual herbs, originally guarded by ferocious beasts, but now all scared away, and they ended up in its pouch.

"Jade Snake Orchid… Green Vine Fruit!"

On the way, the black dog grinned from ear to ear, busy digging up various spiritual herbs, leaving the areas it passed completely cleaned out.

"Spiritual herbs grow by gathering the essence of heaven and earth, emphasizing endless renewal; you may harvest them, but why not let even the immature ones go?"

"I, the Emperor, follow this principle of not wasting…"

Finally Yang Zhu couldn't stand it, gave it a mouthful, and the Black Emperor restrained himself a bit.

After two hours, Yang Zhu and company reached the depths, finally stopping before a river.

Many cultivators had already gathered here, as if waiting for something.

A huge river stretched before them, at least ten-some zhang wide, standing out starkly against the flat yellow earth.

What caught the eye most was the river's color—actually pitch black! The source of the Black River is unknown, seeming to well up from underground, continually oozing a gloomy, cold aura.

Above the Black River, mist swirled; dim yellow light filtered through the haze, giving people an indescribable unease.

The air was filled with a suffocating sense of oppression, as if an invisible force were binding souls; the first impression was like having arrived in the underworld, where one could be seized at any moment.

Even from far away, it felt as if countless sharp blades were ruthlessly piercing the marrow, inevitably making one's blood run cold.

What's more chilling is that the Black River flows not slowly, yet it raises no ripples and makes no sound at all! Even if one bent down to listen, there was nothing—the Black River was silent as if it didn't exist.

"No wonder they speak of the Divine Nether Soil; it seems they've even reached the underworld."

The Black Emperor's mouth twitched; this well-informed fellow immediately guessed the reason.

"This is Yellow Spring Water welling up from underground; it's said even souls can be frozen."

This Great Demon's methods are indeed formidable; he actually buried himself in such a place.

Either he had ulterior motives, or he simply didn't want his treasures to become cheap for later generations.

At that moment, the horizon was suffused with a blaze of firelight; a Fire Bird unfurled its massive fire wings, bringing a group of people swiftly over.

With each flap of its wings, a wave of heat surged, warping the space. "The people of the Separate Fire Sect have arrived."

"Wang Xiao, though young, has already reached the mid-stage of Life Spring; his talent is not inferior to his younger brother's."

The crowd below exclaimed, quickly recognizing these people's identities.

Above the Fire Bird, a man stood at the very front—none other than the Separate Fire Sect's core disciple, Wang Xiao.

A flash of rosy light, and an animal hide appeared, skimming swiftly along the ground.

Likewise, a row of people stood atop it, their formation not differing much from that of the Separate Fire Sect; they were from the Spirit Treasure Cave Heaven.

Not long after, clouds and mist swirled; a strange beast stepped upon seven-colored auspicious clouds, above which sat a youth holding a stone spear, his attire simple, yet no one dared to underestimate him.

Because the youth emanated a barbaric wild power, his strength was terrifying.

"Who is this again? He looks by no means weak!"

"Could he be from the barbarian tribes?"

Everyone speculated, yet no one knew his true origin.

The youth gripped the stone spear with one hand, arms crossed over his chest, his eyes unusually bright, harboring a primordial killing intent.

In the Eastern Wasteland, indeed there are hidden tigers and dragons; many powerful cultivators lie concealed, usually unshowy, but at critical moments they emerge midway to strike.

In less than half an incense stick's time, more and more cultivators gathered from all directions, all standing by the Black River, daring not to act rashly.

"There are easily over a thousand people here—we've struck it rich…"

The Black Emperor muttered to himself, unknown what scheme he was plotting.

The Great Demon's Yin Tomb has surfaced; thousands of cultivators have flocked upon hearing the news, and inevitably a fierce battle will ensue.

Yang Zhu remained calm and composed, utterly unconcerned about such a situation arising; he had already prepared to face everyone alone.

He fears no power; if anything blocks his advance, he will sweep it all aside! Besides human cultivators, many demon strong ones also rushed over—since the Great Demon's Yin Tomb has appeared, how could they be absent?

Humans and demons are inherently at odds; the moment they meet, the atmosphere turns tense.

A burly man whose arms were covered in blue scales shouted at the human cultivators: "This is my demon tribe's tomb—do you humans also want to meddle?"

Not far off, a two-meter-tall giant slammed his fists together and likewise said: "Exactly, this is the treasure left to us by the Great Demon's ancestors; humans have no right to interfere."

"What's wrong with us human cultivators coming here to seek opportunity? Could it be that our humans have produced a rare treasure, yet you haven't contested for it?"

The people on the animal hide showed no fear; an old man stepped forward and spoke.

A golden-haired, green-eyed beautiful woman with newly grown wings spoke: "Most treasures are nameless, but inside the Yin Tomb is indeed a great power of our demon clan; how do you explain this?"

"Based solely on this, you dare dream of driving away my thousands of cultivators—sheer nonsense!"

Each side held to its own view, neither yielding.

Whoosh! At that moment, the Black River sounded; the black water began to churn, and a huge stone gate rose from the riverbed.

On either side of the stone gate stood two massive stone pillars, carved with demonic script resembling a soaring true dragon and a coiled black tortoise.

Even after a long passage of time, they remained clearly visible.

The stone gate was ancient and unadorned, lacking excessive decoration, yet exuding a majestic aura that overwhelmed the heart.

"Entrance to the Yin Tomb!"

Many cultivators exclaimed, each eager to try, wishing they could enter immediately.

The space inside the gate was shrouded by a silver curtain, making the interior impossible to see.

People dared not act rashly; they suppressed their agitation and refocused their gaze on the opposing sides.

(End of chapter)