Golden Crow Blood: The Endless Trial Begins, Zuoqiu Yang

Several days passed in the blink of an eye.

During this time, Little Li’s daily routine was remarkably disciplined.

In the mornings, he attended his master’s combat training sessions. Though he still couldn’t withstand the pressure of Shang Wu’s "intent," the duration he could endure grew longer each day. He even began developing a vague "sixth sense," which made his nightly dual cultivation sessions with Ying Bing—the ice block—smoother than ever.

This improvement was reflected in his control over his internal energy, ensuring he didn’t overburden his cultivation partner.

Li Mo noticed that their progress in practicing Phoenix Cries Over Heavenly Marsh had reached an astonishing speed.

Previously, even when he achieved harmony with the heavens and earth, he still needed to continuously absorb the essence of the world and refine it into his own "qi." But with Ying Bing’s assistance, this process had accelerated by at least tenfold.

Harmony with the heavens, rare spiritual pills, his master’s brutal training, and dual cultivation with the ice block...

Wait... did something strange just sneak into that list?

Regardless, his advancement in the Qi Condensation stage could only be described as meteoric.

However, there was also some bad news.

His initial estimation had been wrong.

His dantian’s capacity was far too vast, akin to an ocean that could hold countless rivers. He had originally thought he could condense qi into liquid within ten days or eight months, but now it seemed he would need more time.

Little Li wasn’t in a hurry, though.

After all, the process of cultivation was rather... enjoyable.

[Congratulations, Host. You have successfully assisted Ying Bing in her cultivation.]

[Investment Reward: A drop of Golden Crow Blood.]

[Golden Crow Blood]: "Birds embody the essence of yang. This drop contains a trace of the Golden Crow’s solar power."

Inside the World Seed, Jiang Chulong swung branches in both hands, the swishing sounds never ceasing.

The Primordial Heavenly Lord retrieved a crystal vial from his palm.

Inside were several drops of pale golden liquid—though "liquid" wasn’t entirely accurate, as they didn’t blend together. Instead, they burned separately, emitting tiny, mesmerizing flames.

This was the result of Li Mo and the ice block’s dual cultivation over the past few days.

"Teacher... this little bead... it’s so warm."

Jiang Chulong crouched nearby, hugging her knees as the flickering flames reflected in her eyes.

"This is Golden Crow Blood," the Primordial Heavenly Lord said with a light chuckle, as if it were nothing extraordinary.

"Golden Crow? Teacher, you... even have something like this?"

Jiang Chulong’s small mouth opened in surprise.

"Have you seen it before?"

"I... I’ve seen something... kind of similar."

Stammering, she recounted her experience.

Back when she had no one to play with, she would sometimes sneak out of the Cold Palace. Once, she wandered quite far.

"There were... lots of little... little tablets there..."

"And... the statue of the Martial Emperor the Great Ancestor..."

"There was a... three-legged crow... pecking at Great Ancestor’s statue..."

Li Mo realized she was describing the ancestral temple.

After listening for a while, he understood what the little princess had witnessed.

She had gone to the temple and seen a black three-legged bird pecking at the statue of the Martial Emperor the Great Ancestor.

When the bird was caught and killed, the blood it shed somewhat resembled the Golden Crow Blood in his vial.

"That creature likely wasn’t a true Golden Crow, but merely a descendant with a trace of its bloodline."

"A true Golden Crow is a being capable of transforming into the sun itself."

Li Mo smiled.

Jiang Chulong nodded thoughtfully, then asked in confusion,

"But... but isn’t the sun... Great Ancestor?"

This stumped Little Li.

Historical records did indeed state that the Martial Emperor the Great Ancestor had transformed into the sun, but whether that was true or not, who could say?

Fortunately, the little princess didn’t dwell on the question for long.

"Teacher, this... is for you."

Jiang Chulong pulled out a sachet from her sleeve.

The fabric was surprisingly fine, and though it lacked embroidery, the stitching was neat.

She fidgeted nervously, her fingers twisting together as she avoided looking at her teacher’s expression.

"I... I made it myself."

"You know how to do this?"

The Primordial Heavenly Lord was surprised.

"Y-yes... I learned from the palace maids."

"Where did you get the fabric?"

"I... bought it."

Seeing that her teacher seemed pleased, Jiang Chulong relaxed slightly and spoke more smoothly.

"Lately, there’s been a lot of stuff to pick up... swords, sabers... things like that... in the same spots every day."

"Oh?"

The Primordial Heavenly Lord was puzzled.

Could one really just find weapons lying around on the streets? Did they respawn like some kind of game?

But after listening to the little princess’s explanation, he realized what was happening.

The Endless Trials had begun.

Every day, martial artists fought and killed each other.

Some of the more honorable ones would arrange duels in scenic locations.

And our little princess had taken to quietly waiting for them to finish before scavenging the battlefield.

She would even dig graves for the losers, ensuring they were properly buried.

Li Mo: "..."

Looting corpses?

He never expected her trash-collecting hobby to evolve like this...

"Is... is that not okay?"

"Just be careful."

After some thought, Li Mo decided to teach her a concealment technique.

"Oh, Teacher... when is Big Brother Li coming back?"

This was a question Jiang Chulong asked every day without fail.

"Today."

The Primordial Heavenly Lord gave a definitive answer.

The sect was sending disciples and elders down the mountain to prevent chaos in Ziyang Prefecture City.

Li Mo had known for a while that, as one of the top performers in the martial competition, he would be stationed in the city. His master, Shang Wu, would naturally accompany him as the leading elder.

Speaking of which...

Shouldn’t it be time by now?

Why hadn’t his master sent word?

...

"Huh? Going to Ziyang Prefecture City?"

Faced with her precious disciple’s question, Shang Wu, reclining on her lounge chair, blinked in confusion.

She took a few gulps from her little gourd before scratching her shoulder—pink as a cloud—and finally remembered.

"Oh, right, that was a thing."

"We were supposed to leave two days ago."

Li Mo: "..."

So you just forgot?

After some inquiries, he learned that Old Xiao had already set off ahead of them and had likely been waiting at the rendezvous point for two days.

And so, Li Mo, Ying Bing, and their forgetful master boarded a carriage down the mountain.

...

Evening, without a sunset.

At a relay station a hundred li from Ziyang Prefecture City.

The rain poured heavily, drumming against the roof tiles as a dense mist turned the outside world white.

Despite the downpour, business at the relay station was booming—glasses clinked, and the clamor of voices never ceased.

"Did I leave too early?"

"But I’ve been waiting for two days already..."

A figure in a raincoat, a broken greatsword strapped to his back, sat in a corner eating while occasionally glancing at the entrance.

After some thought, Xiao Qin decided it wasn’t his fault.

Over the past few days, the relay station had seen plenty of bloodshed—fights, deaths, brutal clashes.

It was clear: the Endless Trials had begun.

"Hmph, the Endless Trials."

At that moment, a hoarse voice spoke by his ear:

"I despise those notorious rats the most—sticking like dogskin plasters, slithering into every crevice."

"If it weren’t for being targeted by two Earth Fiend assassins, I wouldn’t have been forced to..."

The Thousand Forms Martial Venerable clearly held no fondness for the Drizzle Pavilion.

"Master, what kind of existence is the Drizzle Pavilion?"

Xiao Qin couldn’t help but ask, curiosity gnawing at him.

Even his master had been driven to such straits?

"In the Drizzle Pavilion, the highest rank is the Thirty-Six Heavenly Killers, who answer directly to the Pavilion Master. Below them are the Seventy-Two Earth Fiends, the Three Hundred and Sixty Human Butchers, and countless unranked assassins."

"Tch, none of those making noise these past two days are even qualified to enter the pavilion."

"Those who truly belong to the Drizzle Pavilion are no honorable duelists who fight in broad daylight. They are venomous snakes who stop at nothing for profit."

"The Drizzle Pavilion is an organization bold enough to assassinate even imperial relatives."

"Give them money, and they’ll do your bidding."

The Thousand Forms Martial Venerable spoke with deep familiarity.

Xiao Qin pondered before asking:

"Do their assassinations ever fail?"

"Failure just means the payment wasn’t enough. They’ll demand more."

"..."

In a way, the Drizzle Pavilion was quite persistent.

Xiao Qin couldn’t help but feel a wary respect for this money-driven, impersonal faction.

He still preferred dealing with gentlemen like Brother Li...

Just then.

A figure crashed through the rain curtain and stepped into the courier station.

The lively clamor of the inn instantly died, replaced by a silence thick as death.

The man was gaunt, a short sword hanging at his waist. Where he stood, the ground slowly darkened to crimson.

What dripped from him wasn’t rainwater—it was blood.

Clang—

Under the weight of every gaze, he strode straight to the seat opposite Xiao Qin and sat down.

"Friend, mind if I sit here?"

With that, he ordered a bowl of beef noodles from the waiter.

"Make yourself at home."

Xiao Qin’s expression darkened.

His master had warned him—this man was no ordinary foe...

"Here’s your beef noodles, sir, no scallions as requested."

The waiter scurried over, all smiles.

The man narrowed his eyes but didn’t touch his chopsticks. Instead, he grinned and said:

"But... I don’t eat beef."

Those words.

Shattered the tension that had hung like a storm about to break. The killing intent erupted at last.

Whoosh—

The once-smiling waiter flicked the towel from his shoulder, sending forth a storm of hair-thin needles like pear blossoms in a gale.

Throughout the courier station, blades hissed from their sheaths.

"Zuo Qiuyang, today is your day to die!"

Patrons, the innkeeper, even the stablehands—every last one lunged at him, murder in their eyes.

Xiao Qin: "?"

So the reason he’d sat here was...

He was the only one in the entire courier station who wasn’t an assassin?

Well. That escalated quickly.