Chapter 60: Independent Cultivators Are Paupers

At the hazy dusk, a golden light woven from a monk's robe swept over the mottled city walls of Cui County. This thing was not as convenient to fly on as sword light.

Chen Ye always felt he would fall off the monk's robe at any moment; he could only grip the edge of the monk's robe tightly before daring to look down at the bustling city below.

Cui Xian was no longer draped in white mourning garments; instead, lanterns swayed between vermilion-painted pavilions. Tavern banners unfurled in the evening breeze, and the clamor of clinking cups and chopsticks drifted faintly through the air.

Clearly, the seven-day mourning period had not yet passed, yet the white mourning clothes were already removed; it seemed the remnants of that county magistrate had already met with misfortune.

But this had nothing to do with Chen Ye; what he wanted to see was not evil-doers receiving retribution, but rather where his old acquaintances were.

Monk Fang Yuan asked slowly, "How is it?"

Chen Ye's pair of Spirit Eyes blinked, and finally the golden hue faded away.

Rubbing his sore eyes, Chen Ye could only sigh.

It had been two days since he parted with Su Chunyi; Chen Ye had shamelessly begged Monk Fang Yuan to carry him flying for two days.

His eyes were bloodshot from staring, yet in the end he found neither his Ten Thousand Souls Banner nor any trace left by Hearing Mo Ci.

It seemed that, in the end, when great disaster loomed, everyone fled for themselves.

This was not strange; demonic sect cultivators did not care much for master-disciple bonds.

Chen Ye had barely managed to preserve Hearing Mo Ci's divine soul with the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, while Hearing Mo Ci had exhausted his cultivation to help Chen Ye overcome several crises.

At the final critical moment, Chen Ye chose to recklessly throw his life away, and Hearing Mo Ci left in disappointment because of it.

It was reasonable; everything made sense.

It was just a pity for that Ten Thousand Souls Banner; it was truly a rare treasure.

But he could only blame himself.

Ordinary demonic lords would never allow a magical treasure too much autonomy; letting the Ten Thousand Souls Banner detach from its master and act freely was no different from throwing a meat bun at a dog—it would never return.

Only Chen Ye had never regarded the resentful souls within the Ten Thousand Souls Banner as servants, which was why he granted the resentful souls such great freedom of movement.

Looking down at the gradually receding Cui Xian, Chen Ye spoke as if to himself, "Master, take care."

Then Chen Ye raised his head to gaze at the boundless sea of clouds and said to Monk Fang Yuan, "Please, Master, take me to Hundred Seas Valley."

"Amitabha. Please, donor, restrain your grief. The path of cultivation always involves partings. This humble monk still remembers when he first began cultivation; my parents often came to Ci Xin Temple to visit. By the time I emerged from one seclusion, I saw only two old graves..."

"Master, if you cannot comfort people, there is no need to force it."

"Amitabha. Then this humble monk will chant Buddhist scriptures for you."

"Master, I know more Buddhist scriptures than you."

"Then this humble monk..."

Seeing that Monk Fang Yuan still would not give up, Chen Ye hurriedly interrupted, "Master, you should tell me what kind of place Hundred Seas Valley is."

Only then did Monk Fang Yuan give up on "comforting" Chen Ye and instead introduce Hundred Seas Valley to him.

"Speaking of Hundred Seas Valley, it was not called this name before; it was called White Bones Valley, because the entire valley was filled with white bones, hence that name. Once upon a time, this was not a gathering place for independent cultivators, but the territory of the Crimson Practice Holy Sect..."

Chen Ye said in surprise, "Crimson Practice Holy Sect? One of the original eighteen demonic paths?"

The original eighteen Demon Lords each had their own lineage sects; the Crimson Practice Demon Lord was apparently ranked sixth or some other number? Chen Ye had only heard these legends and had not deeply investigated the specifics, since all the Demon Lords were long dead.

There were countless cultivation sects in the world; naturally, the five great orthodox sects were the most powerful. The demonic sects had long become rats hiding their heads, forming no significant threat.

However, over the years, the transmission of the five orthodox sects had become increasingly difficult, and their disciples grew fewer and fewer.

On the contrary, independent cultivators of the heterodox paths had become more and more numerous.

According to Monk Fang Yuan, Hundred Seas Valley was a gathering place for independent cultivators; it could not be counted as a unified sect, only a loose alliance.

When this place was still called White Bones Valley, it was the burial ground of the Crimson Practice Holy Sect.

Back then, the Crimson Practice Holy Sect's arrogance was overwhelming; they raised mortals like pigs and dogs, extracted their tendons, flayed their skin, and refined their souls. The remaining dry bones, which were tasteless and useless, were all thrown into the valley.

The demonic lords of that era were different from those of today; today's demonic lords hid here and there and could not even forge decent magical treasures, while the demonic lords of the past were too lazy to use even bones of inferior quality—they simply threw them away.

Over time, these bones covered the entire valley, and it became White Bones Valley.

Later, the Crimson Practice Demon Lord died in an internal struggle within the demonic sects, and this sect was slaughtered to its last member.

After the great war between orthodoxy and demonry, independent cultivators took an interest in this auspicious site and called a few friends to enter seclusion there.

They claimed to favor the place for its dense spiritual energy and rare human presence, but in truth they mostly coveted the valley full of skeletons.

Orthodox cultivators looked down on it because sect rules forbade them from using human bones to refine treasures.

The demonic lords of the past were so wealthy they could not care less about these tasteless bones.

But independent cultivators are paupers!

Heterodox independent cultivators lacked everything; these skeletons were not killed by them, and leaving them there was a waste—they were perfect for refining treasures.

Later, it became a collective "fishing for bones" by independent cultivators, which was quite a lively period in the cultivation world.

However, as independent cultivators grew in number, they provoked many conflicts, adding many fresh corpses to White Bones Valley.

Seeing that chaos was about to erupt, the orthodox sects had to intervene to suppress it, thus preventing a great war among independent cultivators.

After a hundred years, most of the bones in the valley had been fished out, and it returned to the appearance of an ordinary valley.

The valley had been hollowed out and contained no treasures, but it was still a good place for cultivation.

Moreover, a hundred years of bone-fishing left many traces: various arrays to maintain order, and various communal alchemy furnaces and treasure-refining chambers.

It was still the same saying: independent cultivators are all paupers; how could they bear to simply throw these away?

But monopolizing it was impossible; many things here were supported by the five great orthodox sects, and trying to monopolize them was tantamount to seeking death.

Therefore, after years of discussion, the independent cultivators renamed this place Hundred Seas Valley and established a loose alliance of independent cultivators.

Orthodox cultivators were also pleased with this outcome; after all, once the demonic lords were killed, this group of independent cultivators became the greatest trouble. However, sect rules forbade killing them all before they committed evil, so it was good that they were willing to form an alliance; at least when trouble arose, someone could be held responsible.

They even put in considerable effort at the beginning to facilitate the establishment of the alliance.

Therefore, although Hundred Seas Valley was a mix of dragons and snakes, it was protected by arrays, and ordinary people dared not cause trouble there.

Precisely because murder and robbery were not easily committed, this security attracted many independent cultivators; perhaps to exchange treasures, perhaps to share insights, and over the years it had become increasingly lively.

Independent cultivators like Chen Ye, who had no support, might not live comfortably there, but they would not fear pursuit from the Niepan Sect.

The Niepan Sect is a demonic sect, one left over from the era of the Great War between Righteous and Demonic paths. If they dare come to Hundred Seas Valley, they kill whoever they find—no questions asked, no bodies buried.

Although Chen Ye has a demonic master, Hearing Mo Ci is no longer here, so he is now considered to have a clean record. With the dual guarantees of the Qinghe Sword Sect and the Heart of Compassion Temple, his passage to Hundred Seas Valley will surely be unobstructed.

After introducing Hundred Seas Valley, Monk Fang Yuan said to Chen Ye, "The Heart of Compassion Temple also has disciples stationed permanently in Hundred Seas Valley as a form of trial. I will send word to them; if any trouble arises, they will not stand idly by."

Chen Ye hurriedly expressed his gratitude.

With the care of locals, life would surely be much easier.

"Great Master, I wonder how much farther is Hundred Seas Valley?"

Monk Fang Yuan smiled and pointed forward. Layers of clouds parted, revealing a hundred-li-wide valley stretching before their eyes.

Seven-colored mist, like auspicious clouds, shrouded the valley, competing with the sunlight in brilliance, appearing magnificent and dreamlike.

Chen Ye had never seen such a spectacular sight and could not help but sigh, "Truly worthy of being a place of immortals. Is this the seven-colored auspicious cloud?"

Great Master Fang Yuan shook his head and said, "Benefactor Chen, this seven-colored mist is a poisonous fog that can bewilder the mind and soul. If an outsider wanders in recklessly, within a few hours they will turn into pus and water."

"Ah, this..."

Chen Ye's pleasant illusions instantly shattered. It seemed that even the place where independent cultivators reside is fraught with dangers.