The Blade-Wielding Legend

The next day, the snow stopped and the wind died.

The camp was noisy, still boiling with activity in the morning wind and snow.

Li Yan pushed aside the heavy felt curtain of the tent; a surge of biting cold rushed into his lungs, dispersing the faint drowsiness inside.

The brief rest last night had allowed his taut nerves a moment to breathe.

Sha Lifei was polishing the flintlock mechanism of his treasured firearms, Kuai Dayou was fiddling with a few delicate mechanism components in the corner, producing faint clicking sounds, while Wu Ba silently worked his joints, the Meteor Iron Fist Gloves gleaming with a cold hardness in the morning light.

Long Yan'er, wrapped in a snow-white fox fur, walked over from another tent and said thoughtfully, "That Onmyoji… I had already taken control, but he suddenly destroyed his own Divine Soul. So resolute—he was most likely afraid of something being exposed."

Wang Daoxuan stroked his beard, his brows tightly knit: "It seems this secret is very likely the key to them moving as if in an unguarded land."

He looked toward the Array Flags and talismans set up by the Mystical Sect Cultivators in the distance, scarcely visible to the naked eye yet faintly glowing with spiritual light. "Around the camp, the experts of Dragon and Tiger Mountain, the North Emperor Sect, and even the Royal Mystical Sect have layered no fewer than ten defensive Arrays."

"Ordinary monsters and evil spirits, even a single wisp of Yin Wind passing by, would never escape the Array Eye. Yet those Ghost Soldiers and Japan Ninja can slip in like rats under the snow and ambush the patrols…"

"Unless," Li Yan picked up the thread, his gaze sharp as a hawk, "they're not using any 'ordinary path' at all. No fluctuation of spells, no triggering of any Spiritual Mechanism Sensing."

"It's a tunnel, or… some sort of 'natural' passage we have yet to understand. A hidden path that can evade all the Arrays' 'eyes and ears'."

"Find it!" Sha Lifei slung the firearms onto his back. "Even if we have to dig three feet into the ground, we'll drag this rat hole out!"

"To others, searching for a concealed passage in this vast snowfield and among these endless mountains and ravines would be no different from looking for a needle in a haystack." Kong Shangzhao smiled faintly. "But we… may not be without means."

Everyone's gaze, as if by prior agreement, shifted toward Lv San, who was tidying his leather pouch…

......

That afternoon, they left the bustling camp on horseback, braving the bone-piercing wind as they headed toward the great mountain range of rolling, snow-draped peaks behind the camp.

Their target was the highest, most solitary snow peak within sight. The snow was deep enough to reach their knees; when the horses' hooves came down, they made a dull crunching sound.

Upon reaching the summit, their view suddenly opened up.

Beneath their feet stretched the boundless snowfield; the Great Xuan Army Camp was like pieces on a game board, while the direction of the Goryeo Ghost Land in the distance lay shrouded under a mass of leaden clouds.

Lv San removed his beast-hide pouch, his expression solemn.

He changed into a Wizard Robe of a dull hue, embroidered with ancient totems of birds and beasts. It was clearly old, worn at the edges, exuding a sense of primordial desolation.

First he swept away the snow in a sheltered spot, revealing the black bedrock beneath, frozen as hard as iron. Then he took several objects from the pouch:

A Turtle Shell polished smooth, a few pierced pieces of Beast Bone, a packet of dark red pigment mixed from vermillion, realgar, some kind of mineral powder and dried beast blood, and a small bundle of dried mugwort emitting a strange fragrance.

He did not use talismans, nor did he form any spell seals; his movements carried a primitive, almost clumsy sense of devotion.

First he used the pigment to draw a simple square pattern on the exposed rock, symbolizing mountains and earth.

Then he carefully placed the Turtle Shell and Beast Bone at the center of the pattern.

He lit the mugwort; the pale blue smoke was not thick, carrying a pure, piercing herbal scent that spread slowly in the bitter air.

Lv San knelt before the pattern, scooped up a handful of clean snow with both hands, held it to his forehead, and began chanting in a low, lingering tone, the syllables archaic and strange.

This chant was not any known Spell; it sounded more like a call, a conversation with these ancient snowy mountains and rivers.

At times it rose sharp as a hawk's cry, at times it sank deep as a bear's roar, filled with the Wildness and mystery of Chu Territory witches communing with heaven and earth.

"Mountain Spirits and River Deities, birds, beasts, insects and creatures, hear my supplication…" His voice merged into the wind, as if trying to awaken the slumbering soul of the mountain.

This was an ancient Chu Witch Sacrifice to the mountains and rivers—simple, direct, its core lay in "communion" rather than "command."

Lv San was born different, his Beast Taming Skill reaching wondrous heights; he could even "understand" the simple thoughts of birds, beasts, insects, and snakes, and could generate a faint resonance with the "spirits" of mountains and Earth Veins.

Now he was using this ancient ritual as a guide, scattering his intent across this vast forest of mountains and snowfields, to summon or beseech the creatures hidden beneath the snow, in tree hollows, in rock crevices.

Field mice and hares, snow ferrets, hibernating snakes, cold-hardy birds, even mountain spirits and wild sprites—to help search for that possible "secret passage."

The mugwort smoke rose straight up, unnaturally steady on the windless peak.

Lv San's chanting lasted about the time of one incense stick; he kept his eyes closed, fine beads of sweat seeping from his temples, his mind highly focused as his senses spread outward like an invisible spiderweb.

However, what made his heart sink happened.

These vast snowy mountains, though gripped by the severe cold of deep winter and blanketed in thick snow, were by no means a dead land.

Lv San's senses clearly "touched": a family of gray mice shivering in burrows beneath the frozen soil under the snow; sables huddled together for warmth in the hollow of a huge red pine; snakes curled up in cliff crevices, their body temperatures fallen to an extreme low; even several vultures circling higher up, searching for carrion…

Breaths of life dotted the mountain ridges like scattered stars.

But there was no response!

Not the slightest response at all!

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