Chapter 497: The Search

The cold mist in the valley condensed into countless suspended ice prisms, each one reflecting a distorted human figure. Ao Li's sword tip lifted a strand of Fluorescent Mycelium, the end of which connected to a serpentine rune on the surface of an Ice Coffin—the rune was slowly reorganizing, twisting the characters "Soul-Suppressing" into "Cocoon-Feeding."

Lín Jìn's pocket watch chain coiled around the lid of the seventy-second Ice Coffin, and the sound of gears meshing suddenly turned viscous. When he tried to turn the watch crown, a syrup-like liquid seeped from the watch face glass, drawing a miniature version of the dark altar on the ice. "This coffin is devouring my time." No sooner had he spoken than the Frost Flowers on the Ice Coffin's surface burst into growth, and the chain patterns binding his wrist were identical to the serpentine patterns on the Pavilion Master of Xuanfeng's jade hairpin.

Mo-clan cultivator Wang Yan suddenly screamed in agony. The Ice Coffin he touched erupted with a deep blue light, the flesh of his palm melting like candle wax, revealing newly grown snake scales on his finger bones. Worse still, the melted flesh reorganized on the ice surface, forming the face of a molter who had died three days prior. "The coffin is recording death." Ao Li swung her sword to sever the blue light, but the Sword Qi was swallowed by the Ice Coffin, and from within came the sound of her own childhood crying.

At the third ke of the Zi hour, a sudden change occurred. As the group retreated to the valley mouth to rest, nine hundred Ice Coffins simultaneously stood upright, and on their lids emerged portraits of Lín Jìn at different ages. From the corners of the portraits' mouths seeped fluorescent syrup, weaving into a spiderweb of fate in the air. Any cultivator touched by the web strands instantly stiffened, growing scales identical to Shen Mo's on the backs of their necks, and mechanically walked toward their corresponding Ice Coffin.

"Don't touch the web strands!" Lín Jìn threw his pocket watch, freezing time within three zhang, but found tiny pocket watch parts hanging on the halted web—each part engraved with the cultivators' birth dates and times. At that moment, Ao Li's jade pendant let out a mournful cry, and from the cracks in the Dragon Soul Pearl emerged fluorescent umbilical cords, automatically connecting to the three nearest Ice Coffins.

The oldest formation master suddenly burst into mad laughter; his compass needle was melting, the molten iron solidifying on the ice into a prophecy: "The Cocoon-Feeder feeds the coffins with blood." When Lín Jìn pricked his fingertip and flicked a drop of blood toward the Ice Coffin, all nine hundred coffins trembled simultaneously, and the portraits on the lids chanted dark prayers in unison. The blood droplet split into nine hundred and one parts in midair, each precisely falling into the serpent-mouth relief on a coffin lid.

The ice suddenly turned transparent, and the group was horrified to see that from the bottom of each Ice Coffin extended umbilical-cord-like ice prisms, converging toward the main coffin at the valley's center, which had not yet been opened. On the main coffin's surface appeared the Fetal Hair of infant Lín Jìn, those strands visibly mutating into fluorescent vines. When the vines pierced the ice layer, the entire Lingxiao Pavilion's earth veins emitted the roar of chains breaking.

"This isn't a search—it's a Burial Coffin Sacrifice ritual." Ao Li's Sword Qi split the ice, but what surged from the crack was not spring water, but black blood wrapped around pocket watch parts. From the pool of blood rose half of the Pavilion Master of Xuanfeng's face, his mutilated lips moving: "Still missing the last portion of nourishment." No sooner had he spoken than all the cultivators simultaneously vomited syrup, each glob of syrup containing fragments of their respective Lifebound Artifacts.

When Lín Jìn's pocket watch, stained with black blood, began to turn counterclockwise, the main coffin at the center of the Ice Coffin Group burst open with a roar. What surged from within was not cold air, but the heat of midsummer—standing in the heat wave was a Causal Body holding a serpentine jade hairpin, beneath its feet nine hundred miniature mirror images of Ao Li, each with a fragment of the dark altar embedded in its heart.

The wind carried Shen Mo's reverberating laughter: "Every Ice Coffin is a cocoon shell of your fate. Now, it's time to break the cocoon." The Ice Coffin Group suddenly exploded all at once, the shattered ice condensing in the air into a giant phantom of a pocket watch, its Silent Sundial Needle slowly pointing toward the Dragon Soul Pearl on Ao Li's brow. And on the watch's glass face, the group saw in terror that their own reflections were smiling—the backs of those reflections' necks were already covered in snake scales.