Death Valley

Sunset dusk, the light dim and hazy.

The disciples of the Mo clan, fully prepared, advanced under the leadership of the branch elder toward the valley to the west.

Ye Shu blended into the crowd, silent and unnoticed.

No one approached him to speak, because those who had been close to Mo Shisan... had all willingly sacrificed themselves for good deeds.

Sins had been cleansed, worldly ties severed.

Now, the small figure on his left shoulder had bloomed into four petals. Even if he encountered a Deity Transformation cultivator, he could hold his own. Within this group, he could be considered mid-to-upper tier in combat strength.

As they marched onward, several other teams merged into their formation along the way.

It appeared that this operation wasn't limited to their branch alone; other branches had also dispatched many disciples. The crowd gradually swelled, eventually becoming a hundred-strong force, advancing in a grand procession toward the western valley.

Ye Shu remained in the crowd, quietly observing.

At the very front of the column stood an old man in a purple-gold robe, hands clasped behind his back, his expression cold and aloof. This was the Void Refining powerhouse dispatched by the main branch.

In this era, where Grand Ascension cultivators did not emerge and Tribulation Transcendence cultivators were revered as sovereigns of their domains, Void Refining was already considered peak combat power. It was clear that the organization called the Leaf Picking Pavilion had caused considerable trouble for the Mo clan, enough for them to go to such lengths.

But this wasn’t what drew Ye Shu’s attention the most.

Instead, it was an unremarkable little old man, whose cultivation level was not high—only around the Deity Transformation stage—yet had several disciples with concealed cultivation levels quietly guarding him.

Had it not been for his keen perception of karmic threads, which revealed that this man was not a member of the Mo clan, he might never have noticed this inconspicuous little elder. He sniffed lightly and caught the faint scent of herbs.

Ye Shu did not question the disciples around him.

Since both the other party and the Mo clan were being so secretive, recklessly inquiring would only alert the enemy.

Everything would reveal itself once they entered the valley.

Ye Shu silently made a mental note. He stayed alert and subtly shifted closer to the little old man.

Partly to protect him, partly to keep watch over him.

The group marched on. Most were silent, with only occasional faint whispers quickly dying down. As they advanced, the sky grew darker, and in the distance, the outline of a valley emerged, resembling a lurking beast in the twilight.

"We have arrived."

The Soul-Sealing Hall elder at the front raised a hand, signaling the column to halt.

"This is where the Leaf Picking Pavilion is hiding."

Mo Wuyan, the head Elder of the Soul-Sealing Hall, narrowed his eyes. "Remember, the witch of Leaf Picking Pavilion has treacherous methods and moves like a ghost. Do not act alone under any circumstances."

"If you encounter anything unusual, just one word—"

"Kill."

"Everyone understand?"

Mo Wuyan turned to the multitude of disciples behind him, his face stern. Seeing their pale faces and trembling legs, he felt a mix of disappointment and irritation. If the young master hadn't insisted on annihilating the Azure Sovereign Sect all those years ago, draining the Soul-Sealing Hall’s strength and almost wiping out its core force, they wouldn't be reduced to scraping together these motley soldiers from the branches.

"We understand!"

The crowd answered in unison, their voices loud yet shaky. But as they gazed at the mist-shrouded valley and recalled the rumors of the Leaf Picking Pavilion, their hearts still thumped with unease.

"Then follow me inside."

Mo Wuyan said coldly, taking the lead as he strode boldly into the valley. The rest filed in behind him.

Caw—caw—

A few crows flapped overhead, letting out unsettling, piercing cries, as if bidding farewell to all who entered.

"Brother, I'm scared."

"Don't be scared... because I’m scared too."

Several disciples leaned against each other, trembling as they stepped into the valley. A strange bluish-purple mist filled the air, dense and hazy, obscuring the path ahead.

"This mist is unusual."

Ye Shu, still among the crowd, narrowed his eyes.

It wasn't ordinary fog. It was a dense miasma capable of blocking the spiritual senses of cultivators.

"Interesting."

Ye Shu thought to himself.

Wrapped in the mist, the disciples grew even more anxious. Only Mo Wuyan at the front and the little old man in the crowd showed no change in expression.

"If there’s strangeness, it means something is off," Mo Wuyan’s voice came from ahead, calm and steady. "It confirms that the witch at least passed through here. Don’t panic. Stay close to the group."

Hearing Mo Wuyan's voice eased their minds slightly.

Ye Shu remained in the crowd, his gaze sweeping around as he coldly scrutinized his surroundings. This ghostly mist had no effect on him.

In this world, nothing could block the sight of a demigod.

But for these temporary conscripts, it was a different story.

For most, they could only see the figures of a few nearby disciples. Beyond that, everything was swallowed by the dense fog.

Fear quietly festered in the shadows.

Many were already having second thoughts but dared not act rashly under Mo Wuyan’s pressure.

Everyone was trapped in a suffocating atmosphere.

Crack... crack...

The sound of breaking bones kept coming from beneath their feet. Looking down, they found piles of long-dead demonic beast carcasses—dried-up skins with exposed bones, grotesquely disfigured. It was unclear what method had caused such deaths.

"Only the demonic cores were extracted?"

Mo Wuyan muttered with a frown. "What does that witch want with demonic cores?"

Ye Shu was pondering the same question.

Just as they all came to a halt—suddenly—

"Ahhh!!!"

A piercing scream cut through the mist, echoing through the valley. Everyone jolted, snapping their heads toward the source of the sound.

The one screaming was an ordinary disciple, his face pale as death, teeth chattering as if he had seen something truly horrifying.

"What’s going on?"

Mo Wuyan barked, his face darkening.

"G... ghost..."

The disciple raised a trembling hand, pointing into the depths of the mist.

Everyone followed his gaze, alternately glimpsing a blurry figure in the fog, then seeing nothing at all.

As everyone focused intently—

Whoosh!

A dazzling sword light suddenly erupted from behind the crowd, slicing across diagonally.

"What?!"

The startled crowd turned to see a white-clad figure cut in half, falling to the ground with a slap. The attacker was an older Mo disciple, sword in hand, face pale but eyes showing fierce resolve.

"Low tricks like these dare to play mind games here!"

"I almost fell for this sneak attack."

He let out a cold snort, using his sword to lift the severed figure.

The figure was a woman wrapped in coarse, plain white linen, her large hood pulled tightly over her head like a widow in mourning for her husband. Beneath the hood was a delicate, almost painfully beautiful face, as pale as paper—bloodless and deathly pale, exuding an eerie aura that permeated the place.

"It’s just a corpse!"

Seeing that, the other disciples breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Looks like this witch isn’t all that mighty," the sword-wielding disciple sneered, using the tip of his blade to lift the corpse’s chin, examining its pale face closely.

"Not bad looking. What a waste."

He pulled his sword back and turned to leave.

The next moment, splash!

The female corpse on the ground decayed like a pile of mud, dissolving into a pool of foul green liquid that gave off a strange, acrid stench and kept bubbling.

"What is this thing?"

The disciples watching nearby covered their noses and mouths, retreating in disgust and terror, their faces full of revulsion and fear.

And almost at the same time,

"Argh!!!"

The sword-wielding disciple, who had been brimming with pride just moments before, let out a bloodcurdling scream as he, like the female corpse, melted into a pool of foul green liquid, releasing a nauseating odor.

"!"

The disciples staggered back in horror, their faces ashen, as if they had seen something utterly terrifying.

Mo Wuyan's expression finally changed.

"Poison!"

At the same moment,

Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh!

Countless blurry figures suddenly appeared in the mist. Their features were delicate, their faces pale, and they were draped in coarse linen cloth and mourning garments, as if they were vengeful spirits crawling out from underground. They coldly surrounded the Mo family members.

The Picking Leaves Pavilion had arrived.