Chapter 177: The Fourth Forbidden Land
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
Under the soft embrace of the moonlight, amidst crumbled ruins and broken walls, the faint chirping of insects wove through the air, adding a touch of desolation and serenity to the scene.
Qin Ming stood amidst the rubble, gazing into the distant mountains and forests. His initial concern melted away into a radiant smile.
His body had fully recovered, brimming with vitality. He no longer resembled a fragile “porcelain doll” pieced together to hold.
Yet, the relief was short-lived. Upon careful introspection, Qin Ming discovered an alarming problem—another domain of his cultivation was now in utter chaos.
The Celestial Light Forces within him had scattered, each occupying its own “territory,” turning his body into a vivid patchwork of radiant hues.
Once, Qin Ming had cultivated numerous Celestial Light Forces, eventually unifying them under the Silk Script Method. Now, these forces had all rebelled, each asserting dominance as if rulers of their own fiefdoms.
Lu Zi Zai had warned him of this potential danger long ago and even passed down the Worldly Fire Refinement to help Qin Ming temper his core skills. However, Qin Ming never imagined this day would come so soon.
Logically, such an issue should only arise in later stages, but his case was an exception. There had been precedents of elder cultivators, with mastery close to creation itself, experiencing catastrophic failures.
Qin Ming’s predicament stemmed from two primary factors. Firstly, despite his young age, he had mastered five extraordinary techniques and over thirty Celestial Light Forces, with twenty-seven of them achieving full fruition. Secondly, and more critically, his near-death experience had completely destabilized the forces within him. His body had been shattered, suppressing the myriad forces had become impossible.
The integration of the Silk Script Sutra into his being, once seamless, now faltered. While it once allowed him to command the forces with ease, his battered body—broken organs and countless fractures—could no longer sustain such authority.
During his miraculous recovery, aided by the appearance of the Golden Thread Jade Garment, the forces scattered, each retreating to its own domain.
Qin Ming was now in grave danger. Any attempt to mobilize these forces without care could lead to catastrophic self-destruction.
“The Separation Flame Force entangled with my heart—so that’s why it glows like a blazing crimson sun,” Qin Ming muttered. Initially, he had thought it was merely a sign of abundant vitality.
His lungs surged with golden radiance as he breathed, a testament to the Golden Silkworm Force’s restless activity. What once filled him with pride now left his face clouded with worry.
The River Network Force lingered ominously near his kidneys. If it detonated, the consequences would be unimaginable.
Through internal observation, his entire body appeared as a kaleidoscope of radiance. Each Celestial Light Force had staked its claim like rebellious warlords.
“You all dare rebel against me now!” Qin Ming roared internally, though his face quickly stiffened. Suppressing his anger was essential; his liver was entwined with the Wood Force, and any flare-up could cause a deadly reaction with the Separation Flame Force.
Realizing the gravity of his situation, Qin Ming forced himself to remain calm. He could not risk acting on impulse. Immediate resolution of this critical issue was his only option.
According to the teachings of the Silk Script Method, his condition was akin to a terminal illness: the True Skills had scattered. Once this happened, recovery was almost impossible and depended solely on one’s own resilience.
Back in the small courtyard, Qin Ming settled onto a large green stone. The ruins offered little solace, save for this serene space. He barely thought of the kindly old grandmother or the mature-looking boy, Wu Yao Zu.
The tiny courtyard, though dilapidated, exuded tranquility. A leisurely hen ambled near the vegetable patch, where cucumbers glowed faintly, eggplants shimmered with a hint of purple mist, and strawberries glistened with a crimson sheen—all appearing strangely alive.
Qin Ming calmed his mind and began channeling the Silk Script Method. Having practiced it for over a decade, it was as natural as breathing, a golden river coursing through his body.
Resolute, he decided to reabsorb and unify all the forces, eliminating this dangerous disarray. Otherwise, he risked annihilation.
A sudden blaze of crimson erupted from his heart as the Separation Flame Force surged forth.
“Submit!” Qin Ming commanded coldly.
The Silk Script Method subdued it, weaving it back into unity. With a deep breath, he felt a small measure of relief. One threat was neutralized.
Hour by hour, he reclaimed forces—Golden Silkworm Force, Soft Force, Vajra Force, and Dominating Force among them. Yet his brow remained furrowed, his face damp with sweat. The forces had grown unruly; even when subdued, they retained a wild, restless edge.
The Separation Flame Force, in particular, rebelled repeatedly, threatening to break free. It was no wonder they said that once True Skills scattered, recovery was nearly impossible.
Despite his talent, exhaustion crept in. After half a day, he had barely reintegrated half of the forces.
Night fell, shrouding the world in pitch-black darkness. Qin Ming noticed the moon’s disappearance, realizing that in this strange land, moonlit days gave way to truly dark nights.
As he merged the stubborn Wuji Force, a sound broke the silence. Rising, Qin Ming peered outside the courtyard—and froze.
The ruinous wasteland he had seen by daylight was gone. Before him was a bustling town bathed in brilliant lights.
“Am I seeing ghosts?” Qin Ming wondered. The stark contrast left him bewildered.
Every building glowed warmly. The streets teemed with life—mythical beings like the lion-like Suanni, robed figures from the Beyond, and even towering Giant Spirit Deities roamed the lively streets.
A golden-haired elder, perched atop a four-tusked white elephant, passed by and smiled at Qin Ming.
“Night falls, and ghosts, gods, and men mingle freely,” Qin Ming mused, staring in amazement at the scene.
Further down, he spotted a youth radiating Pure Yang Consciousness Aura—a rare sight indeed. Overhead, a Moon Worm floated, illuminating the town with its soft glow.
At a street corner, a silver-haired girl appeared, exuding Divine Wisdom that surrounded her in halos. Her gaze briefly flicked toward Qin Ming before she disappeared into the crowd.
Qin Ming retreated into the courtyard, unable to discern whether this was an illusion wrought by the ruins or the true form of a mysterious town unveiled by the night.
Within the courtyard, faint golden light emanated, creating a sacred barrier that muffled the town’s noise.
He resumed his work, battling the unruly Celestial Light Forces until exhaustion forced him to stop.
Late into the night, neither the kind grandmother nor Wu Yao Zu returned. Hungry, Qin Ming decided to fend for himself. The modest kitchen was stocked with seasonings, dried meats, and the five-colored mushrooms that had once induced vivid hallucinations but carried no harm.
“The mushroom soup tasted incredible last time. It caused some illusions but did no real harm,” he murmured, preparing his meal.
Soon after Qin Ming had eaten his fill and emerged from the kitchen, he was greeted by an astonishing transformation. The humble room he had left behind had been replaced by a resplendent palace of jade and ivory, glittering with an ethereal sheen.
Leaning on the courtyard wall, he peered outside. The ruined village was gone, replaced by a grand city. Towering divine towers of pristine white jade rose into the sky, their surfaces gleaming like polished stone. Golden halls stood proudly amidst the expanse, exuding an aura of sacred majesty. A gentle white mist flowed through the city streets, casting an almost dreamlike quality over the entire scene. It was as though he had stumbled into a celestial realm.
The streets were bustling with life. Towering Giant Spirit Deities strode among the crowds, their colossal forms dwarfing everything around them. Majestic Six-Tusked White Elephants lumbered through the thoroughfares, while brilliant Golden-Winged Rocs soared through the sky, radiating blinding beams of light that illuminated the entire city.
Feeling overwhelmed and disoriented, Qin Ming climbed down from the wall and retreated into the opulent room behind him. He collapsed onto a bed exuding wisps of purple energy and fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, Qin Ming woke up, pushed open the courtyard door, and was stunned. Once again, the world had changed. The ethereal city had vanished, leaving behind the desolation of rubble-strewn ruins. The soft moonlight illuminated the crumbling scene, accompanied by the steady hum of nocturnal insects.
“I’ve definitely fallen into a Forbidden Land,” Qin Ming muttered to himself, his expression grim. The strange sights he had witnessed defied all his expectations.
Forbidden Lands were known to be mysterious and unpredictable. That such bizarre phenomena occurred here was entirely unsurprising.
With a determined expression, he commanded, “Integrate the techniques!” For three exhausting days, Qin Ming labored tirelessly, using the Silk Script Method to stabilize his internal energy. At last, he succeeded, unifying all his techniques and regaining balance.
On the evening of the third day, just as the moon began to dip below the horizon, Wu Yao Zu, a robust figure with a gruff yet youthful appearance, appeared with a look of astonishment on his face. “You didn’t explode?” he blurted out.
Qin Ming raised an eyebrow, his irritation momentarily overriding his confusion. “What kind of question is that?” he snapped, forgetting to ask whether Wu Yao Zu was a man or some spectral being.
From the way he spoke, it was clear. This “old youth” had fled upon realizing the danger Qin Ming was in, afraid of being caught in an explosion. Clearly, he had known that Qin Ming’s practice of the Silk Script Method posed significant risks.
“It’s amazing!” Wu Yao Zu marveled. “My grandmother said you were on the verge of death and wouldn’t last three days. Yet here you are, perfectly fine—and even practicing martial arts!”
Indeed, Qin Ming was radiating Celestial Light Force, illuminating the courtyard with dazzling brilliance. Such power would be unthinkable for someone whose body was supposedly about to rupture.
“Are you alive or dead?” Qin Ming asked, narrowing his eyes at Wu Yao Zu.
“I’m alive!” Wu Yao Zu protested, his bearded face turning indignant. “How could you ask me that?”
As Qin Ming scrutinized him, he sensed a robust vitality and a fiery glow emanating from Wu Yao Zu’s blood and flesh. There was no doubt—this was no ghost.
“What’s with the ruins outside?” Qin Ming pressed. “Why does the town become so lively at night? All sorts of extraordinary beings appear, almost like spirits roaming the night.”
Wu Yao Zu scratched his head. “My grandmother says those beings are real. They enter through dreams, arriving with the night mist that envelops the town.”
Qin Ming frowned. “But the town is just a heap of rubble during the day. Does it really restore itself at night?”
“This is a peculiar town on the edge of the Fourth Forbidden Land,” Wu Yao Zu explained. “People outside say strange things happen in Forbidden Lands. Isn’t that just normal?”
He shrugged, looking as puzzled as Qin Ming. “Honestly, I don’t really understand it either.”
Qin Ming’s brow furrowed. “The Fourth Forbidden Land near Kun Lun? I thought there were only three.”
Wu Yao Zu nodded. “That’s right. It was the Fourth Forbidden Land once, but it was breached and shattered. What’s left is only a fragment, isolated from the outside world and largely forgotten.”
Kun Lun, Qin Ming thought, his mind racing. A place of legends. It was no wonder the region held secrets far beyond ordinary comprehension.
Wu Yao Zu continued, “It’s a pity you’re on the Path of Awakening. At this stage, your consciousness can’t leave your body. Otherwise, I’d take you into the town tonight—it’s lively and fascinating. You’d see creatures of every kind.”
Qin Ming’s interest was piqued. “I think I can manage it.”
“Let’s wait until you’ve met my grandmother tomorrow,” Wu Yao Zu replied before departing, leaving Qin Ming to his thoughts.
The next day, Qin Ming followed Wu Yao Zu into a forest, where they came upon a stone mountain. It was carved into the likeness of a benevolent old woman—a towering, lifelike statue that radiated kindness.
Qin Ming’s heart sank as he looked at Wu Yao Zu. “Is this your grandmother?”
The statue remained motionless, but a voice echoed from it. “Don’t be alarmed. This is my remnant image. I passed away long ago, but a sliver of my Pure Yang Consciousness remains. I linger here out of concern for my grandson.”
Qin Ming turned to Wu Yao Zu, whose youthful yet aged demeanor suddenly made perfect sense.
The grandmother’s voice continued, “Yao Zu was born from a stone egg sixteen years ago. He’s about your age.”
She shifted her attention to Qin Ming. “You’re remarkable. Even after dispersing your energy while practicing that sutra, you survived and restored it. Your aptitude surpasses even that of its original practitioner.”
Qin Ming’s heart leaped. If he could obtain a piece of the Silk Script Sutra here, it might compensate for what the Cui Family had taken from him.
The grandmother confirmed his hopes, “A refined portion of the Silk Script Sutra lies in a Divine Temple at the edge of the town.”
Her tone turned grave. “But it won’t be easy to retrieve. For now, focus on resolving your own risks. Until then, you’re liable to explode.”
That night, Wu Yao Zu brought Qin Ming to the courtyard gate, pointing toward the town’s far end. Through the thickening mist, ancient buildings began to emerge, their outlines faint but majestic.
“At the town’s edge lies the Divine Temple,” Wu Yao Zu explained. “The man who originally practiced your sutra once debated with the temple’s master for three days and nights. But that area is perilous.”
Qin Ming gazed into the distance. “Does the temple also appear only in dreams?”
Wu Yao Zu nodded. “Yes, and few dare to enter. There are no living beings inside, only unspeakable horrors.”