Chapter 51: Death River Trial

Li Hao walked along a damp, stony path for several miles until he reached another waterfall and deep pool.

“Strange, I thought I just heard a flute.”

Li Hao glanced around—was it an illusion?

The waterfall ahead hung like a curtain, but between the streams, there appeared to be a small temple.

Li Hao felt a flicker of surprise, his figure shifting as he activated the Supreme-level White Phoenix Walk technique, slipping through the water curtain like a bird darting through trees, yet not a single drop clung to him.

He had spent two of his three remaining Art Points on movement arts, allowing him to effortlessly comprehend this upper-tier cultivation method.

As Li Hao entered the waterfall, on another moss-covered stone platform far downstream, two slender figures stood still.

“Huh, Yueyao, didn’t someone just pass by over there?” Lin Feifei exclaimed, pointing toward the waterfall.

“It seemed so.”

Song Yueyao had noticed too, but the figure vanished in an instant—wearing what looked like Outer Palace robes.

“So it wasn’t my imagination. Why would an Outer Palace disciple come here? The new student exams haven’t started yet.”

Lin Feifei frowned: “He seems to have entered the Fangzhu Divine Temple—could he be aiming for the Death River?”

Song Yueyao turned her gaze away, shaking her head slightly; she had no interest in such outside matters. She lifted her flute and blew a soft note.

…

Behind the waterfall, Li Hao gazed at the temple before him.

It was tiny—barely half a person’s height.

Yet its design was exquisite, housing two statues: one male, one female. So ancient were they that their faces had blurred with time, but upon closer inspection, their original expressions seemed gentle and kind.

But with patches of earth peeling and faces rotting, their half-smiling lips now appeared eerie and grotesque.

On either side of the temple stood a vertical inscription: Earth gives birth to all things; soil buries all living beings.

Above it, a horizontal plaque read: Lord of This Realm.

As Li Hao studied the temple, a small booklet suddenly flew out from within, opening before his eyes.

Immediately after, a sheet of paper shot forth like divine light, striking his forehead at blinding speed.

Li Hao’s heart lurched—he tried to dodge—but even with his Fifteen-Li realm cultivation, he was too slow. The divine light pierced him.

In an instant, the surrounding heavens and earth seemed drowned in watery light, then faded, revealing another world—both real and illusory.

The dim cave grew hazy, as if a watery barrier now enclosed him within a three-foot radius.

Simultaneously, phantom golden characters floated before Li Hao’s eyes:

【You have entered the Death River】

【Your registered origin confirmed: Great Yu Dynasty, Qingzhou】

【Please leave your name within the Death River】

Li Hao froze—had he truly entered the Death River?

He looked around: a flowing, membrane-like barrier surrounded him. Beyond it, the light was dim, faint outlines of broken mountains visible—vast and empty, nothing like the narrow cave he had just left.

This was the legendary, mysterious, and perilous place? How extraordinary!

Though he had heard tales of the Death River, experiencing it firsthand still filled him with awe—it surpassed ordinary martial arts entirely.

Yet, which level of Death River was this?

During his usual fishing trips, Second Uncle had mentioned there were five types of Death Rivers; even he and Wind Elder dared not lightly enter a Youdu-level one, for it held great terrors.

At that moment, the golden light that had pierced Li Hao’s forehead coalesced into his palm, forming a sheet of golden paper.

The paper was blank.

Simultaneously, streams of information flooded his mind. He understood, thought for a moment, bit his finger, and wrote his Death River name upon the golden paper:

Chong Er.

As he finished writing, golden light erupted from the paper, swallowing his blood-written name, then dissolved into golden radiance that sank into his body.

At the same time, the surrounding watery barrier gradually faded, revealing the broken mountains and barren land beyond.

In his mind, an automatic message appeared: Realm: Fengshan Death River.

Death River Completion: 0%.

Li Hao looked up: the sky burned crimson, the setting sun like blood, half-submerged in the earth far away.

Before him stood a desolate mountain, within which lay a village with wisps of cooking smoke.

Li Hao’s gaze shifted—he released his spiritual sense to scout ahead.

A spirit form identical to his own body flew from his crown, flickered once, and surged forward like a spirit traversing a thousand li, arriving above the village, overlooking the entire mountain. His spiritual vision rapidly ascended, seeking to comprehend the full scope of the Death River realm.

But as he gazed into the distance, Li Hao saw the Death River’s end swallowed by a mass of darkness. When his spiritual sense penetrated it, a chill seized him—as if something unspeakable slumbered within that darkness, forbidden to be awakened!

Li Hao swiftly retracted his spiritual perception, limiting his awareness to the village and its immediate surroundings.

Within the village, the old and young moved about, men tilling, women weaving—everything appeared harmonious.

…Provided one ignored their faces.

Each person had withered, dried-out features: elders like mummified corpses, children with pupil-less black holes for eyes, tongues dangling to their chests. Women wove at windows, nails like knives, teeth sharp, smiling with a chilling serenity.

Truly a peach-blossom haven beyond death… Li Hao sighed.

Having seen the grotesque forms of various fish spirits, these dead within the Death River didn’t seem so terrifying to him.

“Do I need to eliminate them all to complete it?” Li Hao pondered. He considered retreating, but first he had to reach the corresponding temple within the Death River.

Through his spiritual survey, he had located the temple—it sat atop a stage-like platform at the village’s center.

What a despicable location…

“That man—could he be the leader here? A Soul-Continuation realm cultivator. Can the dead even possess their own spirit forms?”

Li Hao’s gaze settled on the mountain behind the village, where a black-robed scholar sat, a female spirit form wreathed in black smoke clinging to his back—an unsettling, eerie sight.

Having surveyed the situation, Li Hao did not linger. His spirit returned to his body, and he strode boldly into the village.

Soon, villagers loitering at the village entrance spotted Li Hao.

“Hello, hello…” Li Hao smiled and waved.

The old man who had been holding a child suddenly roared, lunging at him with a grotesque snarl.

The child, moments before appearing innocent and vacant, now wore a violent expression, baring sharp teeth as he charged forward.

“So enthusiastic,” Li Hao sighed.

He casually snapped off a dry branch and flicked it lightly.

Snowflakes fell from the air. Before the old man and child reached within two zhang of Li Hao, their bodies froze rigid, heads cleanly severed—the wounds razor-sharp and perfectly smooth.

Then, Li Hao simply picked up the branch and walked calmly along the ancient path into the village.

Along the way, villagers planting rice in the fields, upon noticing him, abruptly turned violent, roaring as they charged.

Some farmers, wearing straw hats and carrying baskets of grain, seized their shoulder poles and rushed forward.

“Do you too dream of conquering the sea?”

Li Hao did not pause. He swung the branch casually, as if snowflakes drifted down—each flake landing on the villagers like a seal, instantly freezing their bodies in place.

As Li Hao advanced deeper into the village, more villagers surged toward him: women carrying pots and bowls, long-tongued weavers, and others.

“All Zhou Tian realm. Hmph. A few even Zhou Tian peak.”

Li Hao flicked the branch idly, walking steadily along the wide road, leaving behind a trail of severed corpses.

These dead seemed like ghosts—normally without physical form—but within the Death River, they possessed flesh and blood, and when severed, spewed black blood.

“Could this be the Death River they’ll test next year?”

Li Hao muttered.

The strength of this Death River didn’t seem high.

The only real threat he’d seen so far was the black-robed scholar behind the village—Soul-Continuation realm.

Using a Soul-Continuation cultivator to test Jia Academy disciples was indeed reasonable.

As each villager fell, Li Hao glanced at the golden paper in his palm—it displayed:

Death River Completion: 89%.

Each villager slain seemed to contribute roughly 1% progress.

“Given the nature of the Death River, even eliminating them all won’t reach 100% completion or true dissolution.”

Li Hao murmured to himself.

The difficulty in suppressing a Death River lies here: only by fully solving it can it vanish.

Some had tried killing every dead soul and destroying every object within—but still failed.

The Death River cannot be destroyed or erased. If unsolved, it reforms, rising again to spread anywhere in the world.

Li Hao passed before the temple beside the stage, glanced at it, but chose not to exit yet.

Since he had come, he intended to test how far he could go—after all, this was his first encounter.

(End of Chapter)