Chapter 25: Spiritual Herbs and Phantom Beasts
Chapter 25: Spiritual Herbs and Phantom Beasts
Qu Wei’s body remained taut as she vigilantly scanned their surroundings, her beautiful face etched with wariness.
Large raindrops pattered on the leaves, splashing tiny droplets that coalesced into mist, lending the Soul-Luring Forest an otherworldly haze.
A thunderclap suddenly ripped through the air, raising hairs on their necks.
Jin Miaoyi growled, “It’s here. Stay sharp.”
Cheng Lingyu burned with curiosity—what could make his companions so tense?
Before he could ponder further, an agonized shriek tore through the woods, startling him.
The clear raindrops abruptly darkened to crimson, as though blending with fresh blood.
Faint luminous figures materialized on every leaf and blade of grass—identical projections of a cultivator.
“What’s happening?” Cheng Lingyu blurted.
Fang Zhuqing answered grimly, “That figure you see belonged to the screamer. He died here moments ago—his blood now colors this rain.”
No sooner had he spoken than another bloodcurdling cry erupted. The rain deepened to arterial red as the leaf-born figures shifted to display a different victim.
An eerie, terrifying atmosphere gripped the forest, thick with palpable killing intent.
Cheng Lingyu’s skin prickled as strange vibrations rippled through the air—something unnatural approached.
“Full defense!” Qu Wei barked.
A crushing force like Mount Tai’s weight smashed their protective barriers to shards in an instant.
Jin Miaoyi roared, conjuring fresh defenses. Unfathomably mystical energy flared, repelling the invasive force.
Cheng Lingyu trembled. When the barrier shattered, he’d felt demonic eyes boring into him—his heart still hammered against his ribs.
This accursed rain seemed to summon legions of underground demons seeking living sacrifices.
A third scream, more harrowing than its predecessors, stabbed through the company’s resolve.
Invisible assaults came again. Qu Wei and the others strained against each attack, defenses trembling at the brink.
Cheng Lingyu, limited by his low cultivation level, poured energy into his Magic Eyes. His mirror-bright gaze pierced the veil, revealing translucent energy entities flitting through the downpour.
The rain’s crimson hue intensified with each fresh death-cry. Cheng Lingyu’s bones ached with unnatural cold—without his companions, he’d have been devoured already.
Within half an hour, twenty-four cultivators had perished as the group endured dozens of assaults. Cheng Lingyu’s breath caught at the grim tally.
When the storm finally waned, leaving only dripping silence, Miao Sanxu muttered, “Twenty-four dead in one rainfall. This hellish place claims thousands yearly.”
His herbal-gathering fervor had dampened considerably.
Fang Zhuqing countered, “Risk breeds reward—nature’s law. The rain coaxes spiritual herbs from hiding. Our timing’s critical.”
“Move fast. Stay alert,” Jin Miaoyi ordered.
The five soared through mist-wreathed trees, eyes tracking phantom lights flickering between the trunks.
“Those glowing plants are spiritual grass. The brighter the light, the higher their grade. If the light pierces through the mist and shines clearly, that’s a spiritual herb. Look carefully, everyone.”
The mist in the Soul-Luring Forest swirled after the rain, rapidly fading away.
“Over there! I see a faint glow!”
Cheng Lingyu buzzed with excitement—finally seeing spiritual grass with his own eyes marked real progress.
Qu Wei, Jin Miaoyi, Miao Sanxu, and Fang Zhuqing also spotted scattered spiritual grass within a five-mile radius.
Suddenly, a dazzling flash seized their attention.
“Spiritual herb! After it, quick!”
The glowing ganoderma bore intricate runic marks across its surface, drawing spiritual energy from the air.
It darted through the forest like a streak of light, vanishing instantly.
Shouts erupted from distant woods—other cultivators had spotted the herb too.
Qu Wei, well-versed in herbal lore, explained, “That ganoderma’s nearby. Search carefully. And watch for phantom beasts—they guard every spiritual herb.”
Cheng Lingyu frowned. “Phantom beasts?”
“Monsters with special abilities like invisibility,” Jin Miaoyi said, sifting through undergrowth. “They carry phantom beads inside—valuable for crafting magical artifacts.”
“Can phantom beads boost cultivation if swallowed?”
“No,” Qu Wei cut in. “Some things merge with humans, others don’t. Beast pills work, phantom beads don’t. Monster cores vary—depends on your constitution.”
Cheng Lingyu scanned the trees. “What grade was that ganoderma?”
“Low-grade—under fifteen centuries old,” Qu Wei said. “Mid-grade pass three thousand years. High-grade exceed five.”
“Do stronger herbs have fiercer guardians?”
Miao Sanxu snorted. “Obviously. Even a fool knows that.”
Cheng Lingyu flushed—he’d known, but wanted confirmation. “How’d you tell it was low-grade?”
“Major sects study herbs deeply. My Shenhuo Sect trains experts in alchemy and medicine.”
Cheng Lingyu blinked—he hadn’t known Qu Wei hailed from the Shenhuo Sect.
“Low-grade herbs glow with surface patterns,” she continued. “When patterns fuse with the light, it becomes mid-grade. High-grade herbs sprout spirit shadows containing ultimate skills.”
“Ultimate skills?”
“Innate powers from their dao patterns. Over millennia, herbs manifest these as dao seals—spirit shadows bearing their ultimate skill. Consuming a high-grade herb lets you merge with its dao seal and gain that power. Every cultivator’s dream, but high-grade herbs are vanishingly rare.”
Cheng Lingyu’s pulse quickened. A high-grade herb could skyrocket his cultivation and grant an ultimate skill—two rewards for one prize.
The group combed the area, but the ganoderma stayed hidden. Cheng Lingyu fingered The Source Pearl in his pocket—using it would reveal his secret, far costlier than any herb.
“Blast it!” Fang Zhuqing kicked dirt. “It’s right here but we’re blind!”
Jin Miaoyi kept searching methodically. Qu Wei’s brow furrowed as she studied the trees.
“Stay sharp. A phantom beast’s watching us.”
The forest turned eerily still. A chilling wind carried whispers through the pines.
Cheng Lingyu’s Magic Eyes tingled—something cold approached fast. “Look out!”
Ice spikes rained down. As they dodged upward, tendrils of binding force erupted from below, snaring Miao Sanxu and Fang Zhuqing.
The earth swallowed them whole. Ground explosions boomed as their true essence detonated underground.
Cheng Lingyu vaulted onto a tree. Blood seeped through churned soil, weak moans rising beneath.
“Hold on!” Qu Wei and Jin Miaoyi blasted the ground, unearthing their gasping comrades.
A translucent serpentine shape solidified nearby. “Phantom snake!” Cheng Lingyu yelled, backpedaling.
The snake ignored him, sliding toward Qu Wei and Jin Miaoyi.
“Don’t meet its eyes!” Qu Wei hauled Fang Zhuqing backward.
Jin Miaoyi dragged Miao Sanxu the opposite way as the phantom snake advanced.