Chapter 512: Mysterious Palace Crystal

Hah—

As they watched nervously, the being's eyes slowly opened; its eyes had no pupils, only a sheet of blood-red light.

That gaze fell upon Longling and the others, as if it wanted to swallow their souls; its voice was deep and powerful, as if a summons from ancient times.

"Have you come to awaken me?"

Longling and the others were startled; this being was absolutely not something they could easily deal with, and they must respond carefully, or else they might fall into an irredeemable predicament.

Longling took a deep breath; they must find a way to deal with this being, or else they might never be able to leave this strange place.

"We must be careful; this being's power far exceeds our imagination—if we confront it head-on, we must find its weakness."

Everyone nodded, their eyes flashing with determined light; this would be a life-or-death struggle.

Longling and the others began to move cautiously around the being, trying to find its weakness.

They discovered that whenever its gaze fell on someone, that person felt a powerful pressure, as if their soul were about to be devoured.

They realized that the being's eyes might be the source of its power.

They nodded to each other, began trying to avoid its gaze while seeking an opportunity to attack it.

Because they discovered that when it closed its eyes, its power weakened.

Boom—

Under Longling's command, everyone began to divide tasks and cooperate.

Heifeng used his Ghost Dance Secret Technique, constantly shuttling across the battlefield to draw the being's attention.

Fengyu and Yunying then joined forces to cast spells, creating various illusions to confuse it.

Tieya and Tieshan then took the opportunity to approach it, seeking a chance to strike its weakness.

After a fierce battle, they finally found an opportunity; when the being closed its eyes again, Tieya and Tieshan rushed forward and thrust their weapons with all their might into its chest.

The being let out a painful roar, and its power began to rapidly diminish.

Longling and the others did not let this opportunity pass; they immediately intensified their attack.

Under their combined attack, the being finally collapsed, its form gradually dissipating in the air, leaving only that blood-red robe.

As the being dissipated, the stone coffin on the altar slowly closed, and the entire space began to tremble.

Longling and the others quickly left the altar, passed through those mysterious vortices, and returned to the desert.

As they departed, the space on the altar gradually collapsed, finally vanishing into the air.

Longling and the others stood in the desert; their emotions had not yet settled when they encountered a new mysterious phenomenon.

As they cautiously explored beside the scattered rubble, their gaze was drawn to a mysterious white-clad person.

This white-clad person stood silently at the desert's center, his figure slender, his white robes outshining snow, forming a stark contrast with the surrounding desolation.

In his hand he held an ancient brush; the tip flickered with strange light, as if it gathered the essence of heaven and earth, continuously writing in the void—each character so fluid and powerful, as if imbued with some mysterious power.

As the white-clad person's brush tip danced, each character blossomed with radiant light.

These lights differed from ordinary light; they seemed to have their own life, swirling and leaping in the air like a troupe of joyful sprites.

The light of the characters illuminated the surrounding desert, bringing a hint of vitality to this lifeless land.

Longling and the others were deeply captivated by this scene, unconsciously slowing their steps, fearful of disturbing the white-clad person's writing.

They felt that this white-clad person was anything but ordinary; the aura emanating from him was ancient and powerful, making one dare not approach lightly.

They observed carefully, trying to find some clues from the white-clad person's writing.

The white-clad person seemed unaware of their presence, fully absorbed in his writing; each character appeared to pour out his whole heart and soul.

Longling and the others discovered that these characters were none of any language they knew; their structure was complex, their forms varied, each character resembling a fine painting.

As the white-clad person continued writing, the wind in the desert seemed to be affected, gently blowing and carrying those luminous characters away into the distance.

The characters drifted in the air, eventually settling in every corner of the desert; their light gradually seeped into the ground, as if awakening something.

Longling and the others felt these characters were profoundly marvelous; they drew nearer for a better look, then carefully detoured around the scattered rubble, striving to make no sound.

Whenever the white-clad person finished writing a character, he would softly sigh; that sound seemed to contain endless stories and emotions.

Heifeng quietly walked up to Longling's side and whispered, "This person is not simple; the characters contain great power, and I sense they are somehow linked to this desert."

Longling nodded, his eyes fixed on the white-clad person, trying to find clues; he then said softly to the group, "Be careful—this person might be the guardian of the ancient pagoda, and his power could differ from the enemies we have faced before."

Fengyu and Yunying then joined forces to cast spells, granting the party protective and beneficial enchantments.

They knew that in this place full of unknowns, any oversight could lead to disastrous consequences.

Tieya and Tieshan gripped their weapons tightly, ready at any moment to face possible enemies.

They searched the desert for possible cover and escape routes, so that if battle broke out, the team could retreat quickly.

Just as Longling and the others were nervously observing, the white-clad person suddenly stopped. He gently lifted his head, his gaze piercing through endless void, as if staring at some distant world.

His voice was deep and powerful, as if a summons from ancient times: "You—have you come to seek the secret of the ancient pagoda?"

Longling and the others were startled; they had not expected the white-clad person to speak. Longling gathered his courage, stepped forward, and said respectfully, "Yes, I hope to find the way home."

The white-clad person's gaze fell upon Longling; his eyes were deep and mysterious, as if they could see through a person's soul.

He fell silent for a moment, then slowly said, "The secret of the ancient pagoda is not easily uncovered; it requires wisdom, courage, and opportunity."

Longling nodded firmly, his voice full of resolve: "I am ready; no matter how many difficulties lie ahead, I will face them bravely."

The white-clad person gave a faint smile, a glint of appreciation flashing in his eyes.

He lightly waved the brush in his hand; the characters drifting in the air suddenly converged, forming a Gate of Light.

"Then let me test you. Pass through this gate, and you will enter a new world."

Longling and the others exchanged glances, took a deep breath, and together stepped into the Gate of Light.

As they entered, the Gate of Light gradually faded, and the desert returned to its dead silence, as if nothing had ever happened.

Beneath the white-clad person's brush lay not only characters, but also boundless artistic conception.

Each of his strokes seemed to be painting a world; each drop of ink told a story.

And now, he invited Longling to a special contest with him—using artistic conception as the canvas, twisting ink into poetry.

Longling, this brave explorer, was filled with a longing for the unknown and fearlessness toward challenges.

It was not merely a word game, but a contest of souls.

She nodded, indicating her acceptance of the challenge; a brush likewise appeared in her hand—though the brush was ordinary, in Longling's hand it gave off an extraordinary glow.

The white-clothed person first moved the brush; the brush tip lightly touched the void, and immediately a clear spring gushed from the desert, forming a winding stream.

The stream water was clear to the bottom, fish darted happily within, flora flourished on the banks, butterflies danced—all of this was vividly lifelike, as if truly existing in that desert.

The white-clothed person softly chanted: "Clear spring flows over stones, flowers bloom not amidst a hundred flowers, standing alone by a sparse fence, interest never ends."

Longling smiled faintly, the brush tip lightly swept the void, and instantly a towering mountain rose in the desert, its peak lofty, piercing the clouds.

Mist wound through the mountains, the summit white with snow, at the mountain base green trees formed shade, birdsong made the mountains more secluded. Longling chanted: "I will ascend the supreme peak, survey all mountains as small; the mountain high, I am the peak; the clouds deep, unknown where."

A glint of appreciation flashed in the white-clothed person's eyes; the brush tip danced again, this time he painted a starry sky—stars twinkling, the Milky Way spanning across, beneath the sky a tranquil lake, its surface like a mirror reflecting the heavens full of stars.

"The stars hang over the vast plain, the moon surges with the great river's flow, the heavenly steps' night cool as water, lying to watch the Weaver and Herdsman stars." the white-clothed person chanted.

Longling's brush tip was not to be outdone; in the void it sketched a magnificent sunrise—dawn just risen, myriad rays of rosy light, illuminating the whole world.

Under the sunlight, all things revived, teeming with life, everything filled with hope and vigor.

"River flowers at sunrise outshine fire, spring river waters green as blue—who could forget Jiangnan?"

Longling chanted, a tranquil state of mind appearing in her eyes.

"Shasha..."

Under both of their brushes, the artistic conception grew ever more profound, the images ever more vivid, the verses ever more splendid.

Their contest was not merely a clash of technique, but a communion of spirits; through the brush tip they conveyed each other's emotions and thoughts, through verses they expressed their understanding and perception of this world.

In the end, Longling won the contest with a magnificent landscape painting and a poem full of philosophy.

In his painting, the landscapes were magnificent, all things harmonious; in his poem, he expressed reverence for life and nature, and yearning for the future and hope.

The white-clothed person looked at Longling's work, a hint of relief flashing in his eyes: "The Yangtze's back waves push the front waves—old!."

This contest was not merely a victory, but a spiritual baptism, bringing new understanding and insight, filling the heart's path with confidence and anticipation.

As the white-clothed person's silhouette faded, Longling and the others stood in place, witnessing a mysterious yet shocking scene.

The white-clothed person's body gradually turned transparent, as if transforming from substance into light and shadow, finally dissipating completely in the air.

Where he disappeared, the air began to twist, strands of mysterious light converging from all directions, as if drawn by some invisible force.

These lights slowly rotated in the air, weaving into intricate patterns, each pattern containing profound symbols and textures, as if they were doors to another world.

The light grew brighter and denser, finally condensing in the air into a crystal.

This crystal oddly took the shape of a pig, its surface flowing with an unusual luster, like a living thing, emitting a strange and mysterious aura.

The pig-shaped crystal's body was round and smooth, its limbs short, tail curled, its eye sockets inlaid with two red gems flashing an eerie red light.

On the crystal's surface, the patterns and symbols previously woven from light had now become part of it, deeply etched into its skin, making the whole crystal appear even more mysterious and unfathomable.

Longling and the others cautiously approached the crystal, able to sense magical undulations in the air around it.

The crystal's existence was certainly no trivial matter; it might be a key to the desert's secrets, or perhaps a powerful Dharma Implement, its appearance inevitably tied to the secrets of the ancient pagoda.

Longling reached out and lightly touched the crystal's surface; his fingertips felt a chill, but immediately a warm force flowed from the crystal into his body, granting him an unprecedented peace and tranquility.

She could feel that the crystal contained great power, this power both unfamiliar and familiar, as if sharing a mysterious bond with her soul.

Heifeng warily surveyed the surroundings, the Ghost Dance Secret Technique making him unusually sensitive to the environment.

He could sense that the crystal's appearance had already altered the surrounding aura; everything in the desert seemed to pay homage to it, as if it were the ruler of this wasteland.

Fengyu and Yunying then began studying the patterns and symbols on the crystal, trying to interpret the meanings behind them.

These patterns and symbols resembled those they had encountered in the ancient pagoda, yet showed clear differences; they seemed to be a more advanced and complex language.

Tieya and Tieshan stood guard on either side of the crystal, its power possibly attracting unknown entities; they gripped their weapons, ready at any moment to protect the crystal and the team's safety.

Longling took a deep breath; the crystal's appearance was a crucial turning point.

He could sense that the power contained within the crystal might be the key to unveiling the secrets of the ancient pagoda.

"The crystal is extremely powerful; it may guide us deeper into the ancient pagoda, we must treat it with caution—its power could aid us, or bring danger."

Everyone nodded, their eyes flashing with determined light.

This will be a new adventure; the crystal's power may lead them to the core of the ancient pagoda, or bring new challenges and dangers.

Longling lightly grasped the crystal, he could feel the power within the crystal responding to his touch.

However, at this very moment the crystal glowed, and all the runes within the building lit up,

Longling and the others only felt the scene shift, entering a more bizarre palace.

"Demon Master, look, that is the building with the canine emblem, we have seen it before.

"In that case, the palaces evolved from the twelve wooden tumors form a whole, interconnected; only by breaking through can one enter the next palace."

Huang Daxian's eyes showed deep dread, even his back felt a chill.