Chapter 94: A Visitor from Beyond
This novel is translated and hosted on Bcatranslation
“Mountain Lord, you truly have the makings of a divine being. Let me scout the enemy for you!” The talking sparrow, full of energy and enthusiasm, chirped confidently.
From its perspective, with the outsider already taken care of, the Golden Armor Protector seemed hardly worth mentioning.
High in the night sky, the black-clad woman’s mount was panicking. Its master had been slain in a remarkably short time, and fear gripped it, urging it to flee at once.
Qin Ming, his bow drawn to a full moon, released an iron arrow with a twang. It whistled through the night fog, striking the aberrant bird. A spray of blood followed as the arrow pierced deep, leaving the creature severely wounded.
“If you value your life, land immediately,” Qin Ming commanded, his garments billowing in the wind as he stood atop the red eagle, an imposing figure.
The talking sparrow returned swiftly, its tone urgent. “Mountain Lord, the situation is a bit tricky. That Golden Armor Protector’s mount is a batbird.”
“Is a batbird something special?” Qin Ming asked curiously.
“Batbirds have an extraordinary sense of smell, ranking among the best in the mountains. They are incredibly rare and often used to track enemies,” the sparrow explained in a rush. It paused, then asked nervously, “Has someone tampered with you? That Golden Armor Protector seemed so composed, almost certain they could find you.”
Qin Ming sniffed at his own body but detected no peculiar odors.
“Batbirds can perceive a myriad of scents far beyond what other creatures can,” the sparrow added, clearly uneasy about this particular aberrant.
“So you’re saying I’ve been marked? People are truly unpredictable,” Qin Ming muttered, frowning. He thought back to his encounters in Silver Vine Town, suspecting that someone he had met had left a trace on him. It might not have been Zheng Mao Ze directly; after all, such things could be done without physical contact.
“Has he arrived?” Qin Ming asked.
“He’s landed on the edge of the desert but hasn’t come in yet,” the sparrow reported.
“He’s keeping his distance from the black-clad woman, likely avoiding any misunderstandings,” Qin Ming guessed. It was clear to him that this man was not her follower. Otherwise, why would the Golden Armor Protector trail behind so leisurely, letting her engage directly? If they were allies, he would have taken the lead.
“Since the batbird is tracking us and there’s no escaping it, we fight. Prepare quickly!” Qin Ming declared, refusing to back down.
The black-clad woman’s possessions were meager—other than a charred small shield, a black spear no longer than a chopstick, and some daylight gold, there wasn’t anything particularly valuable.
“Flap your wings and erase some of the battle traces here. Hurry!” Qin Ming instructed the red eagle.
Turning to the talking sparrow, he said, “Grab her shoe and follow me. Leave some footprints in the sand behind us.”
“Mountain Lord, you’re making this hard for a bird,” the sparrow grumbled, fluttering its wings.
“You’re a mutated creature. Isn’t this easy for you? Just be quick. Although he’s keeping his distance for now, he won’t wait long,” Qin Ming urged.
With the black-clad woman’s body in tow, Qin Ming dashed into the pitch-black night fog.
Killing her hadn’t triggered any ominous or dangerous phenomena in the desert, which led him to suspect that her death might align with certain rituals of the Secret Sect, unintentionally offering a sacrifice. According to rumors, those who had performed blood sacrifices to other deities often encountered trouble in the desert.
“Wait for me over there!” Qin Ming ordered the wounded mount of the black-clad woman, ensuring it stayed put.
He removed his outer garment and buried it in the yellow sand, carefully disguising the scene. Using a piece of the woman’s sleeve, he vigorously wiped his neck, hands, and other parts of his body, hoping to remove any lingering scent. Then he rubbed himself down with sand as an added precaution.
“Why hasn’t he entered yet?” Qin Ming muttered, frustrated at the Golden Armor Protector’s delay.
Having slain the black-clad woman, Qin Ming’s confidence surged.
In the past, many had warned him of how formidable outsiders were and how they should never be provoked. That advice had weighed on him, especially after his encounter with the mist-body youth. If not for the fortunate presence of the White Jade Alloy Blade, which countered the “mist body,” he might have perished.
But today, the supposed insurmountable gap between immortals and mortals seemed exaggerated. With his multiple fusions of Celestial Light Force, he was now capable of wounding and even killing such individuals.
Even so, Qin Ming remained cautious of the land beyond. Its dangers were undeniable. After all, their very first stage of cultivation allowed them to wield the power of consciousness—a lofty concept.
“Spirit Mind—purge all distractions, quiet the heart, and achieve purity. Only then can one awaken the light of the soul and manifest the power of consciousness. What a profound principle,” Qin Ming mused, begrudgingly impressed.
This didn’t mean the outsiders neglected their physical bodies. They would later strengthen their forms with extraordinary power, leaving no glaring weaknesses.
What made them truly terrifying was the maturity of their path. It allowed them to progress steadily, unlike the Awakening Path, which became increasingly difficult after the Outer Saint Realm.
Spirit Mind was often considered superior to Awakening. Normally, a Spirit Mind cultivator who had awakened the light of the soul multiple times could suppress even the most advanced Celestial Light Force.
For those on the Awakening Path, this often led to despair. Despite having immense reserves of Celestial Light Force, they found it ineffective against the consciousness power of Spirit Mind cultivators. It was as if they were born to counter them.
In the end, it became widely accepted: Awakening was no match for Spirit Mind.
“This has almost become a universal truth,” Qin Ming thought grimly.
“Celestial Strength and Buddha Force—those legendary techniques might be able to shake the masters of the outsiders. But such methods are rarely seen, let alone practiced.”
With his memories restored, Qin Ming now understood much more about these things.
In the world of the Night Fog, a strange and treacherous battle was underway, shrouded in the dim glow of the desert sands and the veil of a mysterious sky.
The so-called art of Consuming Mist and Dew was not a poetic act of eating sunlight or sipping dewdrops but a far more profound practice. Those who could truly master this art consumed rare substances from the pinnacle of Fire Springs and drank the mysterious “Celestial Essence” hidden deep in the night sky. Achieving this meant a person was already among the true elites of the Beyond. Yet, the veiled woman in black, despite her Spirit Mind Realm, still relied on earthly grains to sustain herself.
The Awakening Path, though widespread, owed its popularity to its accessibility. Ordinary people, lacking other means, could only strive for improvement through the mutations of their own bodies.
Qin Ming, standing firm in his resolve, no longer dwelled on the path of the Beyond. His focus was razor-sharp as he awaited the unfolding confrontation.
“Mountain Lord, I’ve sacrificed too much for you this time. You better not fail me!” whispered the Talking Sparrow, its voice trembling with unease.
“Why hasn’t this been resolved yet?” A Golden Armor Protector, impatient and stern, urged his Bat Bird forward.
The Bat Bird, a grotesque hybrid with leathery wings like a bat’s, the body of a bird, the head of a tiger or leopard, and a pig-like snout, sniffed at the air with extraordinary sensitivity. It soared low, noiselessly pursuing its target. The desert sand, dotted with chaotic footprints and faint traces of blood, pointed towards the deeper recesses of the Night Fog.
“Could she have already succeeded, killed him, and buried him underground?” the protector mused, his brows furrowing. His Bat Bird signaled that there was a strong scent of the target beneath the yellow sand ahead.
“But she wouldn’t bury anyone after a kill,” the protector muttered, gripping his gleaming greatsword as his face darkened. “Something’s wrong!”
From the dense Night Fog, Qin Ming’s voice rang out, calm yet tinged with irony. “Burying clothes under the sand doesn’t fool anyone for long.”
“You’re something else,” sneered the Golden Armor Protector. His radiant golden armor shimmered as he stared ahead with lightning-bright eyes. “An awakened one against someone at the Spirit Mind Realm. You’ve even managed to kill someone from the Beyond. Impressive.”
Through the fog, the injured Red Eagle lay sprawled across the ground, its massive form eerily still.
“She’s not dead—she’s escaped,” Qin Ming’s labored breaths came from behind the eagle.
“Don’t bother lying. She’s certainly dead!” the protector barked coldly. His Bat Bird moved forward cautiously, carrying him closer.
Suddenly, an overwhelming sense of danger swept over him. His instincts screamed. Celestial Light erupted from his body, enveloping him in a protective glow.
“Ahhh!” he roared as realization dawned. The threat wasn’t from ahead but from above—where a meteor-like object plummeted from the sky.
There was no escaping it. The heavy object moved with terrifying speed, impossible to predict. But his instincts, honed to a razor’s edge, saved him from total annihilation. He narrowly avoided the impact, though the descending hammer-like mass tore through his defenses.
A sickening crunch followed as his arm was left mangled and bloodied, and his greatsword dropped to the ground. The Bat Bird was less fortunate; its body was shattered under the immense force, crashing lifelessly into the desert.
The object that had fallen? A colossal hammer.
“Who dares—” The protector’s furious voice trembled with rage. Someone had calculated this perfectly, reducing him to a humiliated, bloodied mess.
From the distance came the Talking Sparrow’s mocking cry. “You stupid bird, run! Playing dead wasn’t an excuse to actually die!”
The Red Eagle stirred, launching itself skyward with a powerful leap.
Perched on the back of another black bird, Qin Ming stood tall, his eyes shining like stars against the night. His archery, legendary in its precision, had seamlessly translated into masterful throwing skills. He had known, deep down, that the hammer would strike its mark.
The Golden Armor Protector was apoplectic. Without even a proper fight, he’d been grievously injured, his arm shredded, and reduced to a spectacle of humiliation. His Celestial Light flared as his anger surged.
Qin Ming directed his mount lower, loosing arrow after arrow. The sharp iron shafts hurtled toward the protector but were deflected by the glowing aura around him.
Astonished, Qin Ming realized he was facing someone who had stepped into the Outer Saint Realm. The protector’s light extended half a foot from his body, effortlessly shielding him and even shredding some of the arrow feathers mid-flight.
“So, they sent an Outer Saint after me,” Qin Ming muttered, a mix of dread and defiance in his voice. Despite this, the tide of the battle was in his favor. He’d grounded the enemy, leaving him vulnerable.
The protector, unable to contain his frustration, cursed the situation. A falling hammer, relentless arrows—this was no fight. It was a humiliation.
But as Qin Ming reached for his last quiver, disaster struck. His black bird faltered, its previous injuries and the strain of supporting Qin Ming’s hammer throw proving too much. It wobbled and began a slow descent.
“Land now!” Qin Ming ordered, his calm strategy suddenly unraveling.
Far ahead, the Talking Sparrow gasped. “What’s this? You threw your hammer and yourself down as well?”
The Red Eagle returned, too late to provide aid.
Qin Ming, though unshaken by the prospect of falling, recognized the true danger. He would soon face the Outer Saint on foot—a perilous scenario. The black bird’s glide offered no comfort; he would soon be within striking distance.
The Golden Armor Protector, nursing his injured arm, smirked through the pain. Grabbing his fallen greatsword, he strode toward the descending bird.
“Now, we finish this,” he growled.