Ch. 189 - God King Jiang Taixu

The pitch-black ancient mine lay in utter silence. Ye Fan stood still for a long time, contemplating much, but in the end, he didn't change his mind, he chose to press onward.

He proceeded alone, unhurried, carefully observing his surroundings. There were no more carvings on the rock walls; everything before had run its course.

After traveling more than thirty miles, the ground underfoot suddenly became loose and soft, your feet would sink entirely, colored ash-white.

At first, Ye Fan paid no mind. But after several hundred meters, a biting cold crept into his bones. The air was thick with a chilly yin energy, like a harsh northerly wind blowing snow onto his skin.

When his foot broke something hard with a crackling sound, he understood immediately the nature of this place.

The ash-white material beneath his feet wasn’t ordinary soil, but bone ash, mixed with fragmented, partially decayed skeletons. The pervasive yin energy came from this bone ash.

As a cultivator, he was not intimidated, but he couldn't help but wonder how many bones were needed to form such a layer.

He soon realized, it must be from that peerless Godsource in the dragon vein. When it surfaced, mountains of bones and rivers of blood had emerged. Could it be the gruesome beast from tens of thousands of years ago? Those who once harvested that source found their eternal rest here…

Despite walking far, the gray-white bone ash showed no end. The ancient mine was blanketed in its thick layer.

Crack.

Continuing on for several hundred meters, the bone ash finally gave way to exposed skeletons, dense, decayed, fragile. A single step could reduce them to ash. In the relentless passage of time, nothing endures.

Here, the mine felt like a freezer. The cold bit sharply, like icy knives against his skin.

“No wonder the Hellbats lived here,” Ye Fan thought, recalling ancient texts that said they thrived on the borders of deadly zones.

He instantly went on high alert. He didn’t want to lose his life in the mine before even reaching Purple Mountain.

Woo…whee…

Ghostly wind whistled, and wraith-like forms flickered amid the skeletons, faint and insubstantial.

“Do these things really exist?” Ye Fan muttered, stunned.

He raised his stone knife and advanced determinedly. The blade seemed to ward them off; the silhouettes timidly receded.

Clatter…clatter…

From the skeleton-ridden path ahead came the sound of metal chains. A chill gripped Ye Fan’s heart. He sensed a murderous cold.

He pressed against the rock wall, moving silently and invisibly forward, enveloped by his stone-clad armor, leaking no aura.

A hundred meters ahead, a sculpted black hole appeared in the rock wall, and the rattling chains echoed from within.

The hole was profoundly deep. Its chill pierced to the bone, materializing cold that stabbed like needles against skin.

Quickly, Ye Fan lowered the stone helmet’s visor to shield his eyes and face.

From the hole’s depths came barely audible roars, echoing with the chains, a ferocious beast locked within.

Faint ghostly forms gathered around the skeletal heaps, shattering with each roar, their yin energy consumed within the darkness.

“What kind of creature is this?!” Ye Fan frowned; this was no mere mortal, likely a super predator.

Given that tens of thousands died harvesting the source here long ago, blood spilled like rivers, it was no wonder demonic spirits could emerge now.

“But as long as it doesn’t block me, who cares?” He analyzed carefully and judged the beast wouldn’t break free. He cautiously circled around and continued deeper.

“Perhaps this stone armor has some strange power, wicked forces cannot touch it,” he thought, proceeding.

After a long stretch, bones disappeared. The mine became dry, emptier, more desolate.

Ye Fan reckoned he’d advanced some 35 miles; Purple Mountain could not be far away.

After another four or five miles, a strange light appeared ahead, flickering and gentle.

He was stunned. Having passed the skeletal heaps, he expected ever greater danger, but now, just a few miles on, rich spiritforce struck his senses, warm and serene.

“Stepped out of the corpse zone and found a pure land?” he inwardly marveled.

In the distance, the cry of a crane. Ye Fan realized he wasn’t imagining things, he actually saw it.

Moving a few miles ahead, a bright realm appeared: no longer dark, bathed in soft light, peaceful and holy.

“This is source energy!” he thought, recognizing the swirling mist as spiritual vitality of life.

“Spiritual-source energy is abundant here, this place must harbor considerable source…” Ye Fan searched, but found nothing material.

Source energy brushed by like flowing colors. A crane flew across, oblivious to his presence, gliding through the ruins.

“I…what is this?” he was astonished.

How was it possible to have living creatures?

Shrouded by his stone armor, his aura was concealed. According to him, this was a death zone, life shouldn’t exist here. Yet before him, he stood dumbstruck.

“Spiritforce…formed-through spiritforce!” he suddenly realized. “These creatures are source formed!”

“This must be a Godsource!”

He remembered tales in the Stone Village: if a Godsource leaked, it could form mysterious creatures that roamed about.

He surged with excitement. To find a Godsource would be a monumental gain, something sanctified enough to warrant Sacred Grounds risking war and bloodshed.

He brandished his stone knife and stood firm amid the mist, searching.

Crack.

At his feet, a bone fractured. He frowned. Bones in this peaceful refuge shouldn’t exist.

He squatted, inspecting them. He came across a dozen or so skeletons, some decades old, some merely hundreds of years. They were remarkably intact, some even shimmering.

“Seem people have wandered here over the years…” Ye Fan shuddered. These explorers died here, this serene surface wasn’t as tranquil as it seemed.

Cranes, earth dragons, flame-red birds, all roamed; fossilized skeletons lay in giant pits, remains of odd ancient beasts.

Puzzled by this oddity, Ye Fan continued ahead for a li. Eventually, he reached the richest spiritual core.

He felt a terrifying killing intent stirring at his heart.

Ahead lay two bottomless chasms: one exhaled boundless spiritforce, the other exhaled murderous baleful energy sharper than sword-blades. They were close together, surrounded by eerie silence.

“Yin–Yang Eyes!”

Ye Fan gasped. The pair formed a living Taiji diagram: one spewing source energy, the other spewing cold kill–energy. Around the spiritual one lay fossilized bones, and around the killing one, divine stones spilled.

“Embracing yin while guarding yang, and vice versa”, it was a natural Taiji, not manmade, its energy circulating in harmony and conflict.

“This is ordained by the Grand Dao!” Ye Fan’s heart trembled. No wonder the Stone Village’s Celestial Source Master insisted this ground must not be touched, “See a thread and know the whole, see one eave of ice and know the cold of winter.”

He hadn’t even reached Purple Mountain yet, and already met such terrifying terrain. A natural Taiji barrier lay ahead.

He knelt, scrutinizing the bones. If the Stone Village’s ancestor died here, it would mean he couldn’t continue.

He counted more than twenty skeletons, dating from several thousand to over ten thousand years old, all pierced. Dead at this very spot, many seemingly unable to pass.

He hurled a bone toward the Taiji.

Ssshhh!

Spiritual and killing energies responded with thousands of sword‑like flashes. The bone instantaneously turned to dust.

He tried to smash through the surrounding stone wall, hoping to find an alternate path, but the energies cleaved it in two, no resilient foe could survive this natural might.

Clearly, everyone died here. One skeleton even had silver‑flecks, undoubtedly a peerless being, but still lay slain.

Searching around he found broken weapons, and near a slender skeleton he discovered a jade token inscribed “Jade Pool.”

His heart stirred: perhaps these were Jade Pool artifacts. Was the secret technique here?

He searched more but found none. It wasn't likely for Jade Pool Heart Scripture to lie here.

“How to pass?” According to his knowledge, the Stone Village ancestor was not formidable. He wouldn't have made it far.

"He got this far…did he break or pass through?"

Kneeling for half an incense‑stick-length of time, he observed the Taiji. Occasionally, it became a single polarity, pure yin or pure yang, and its sword‑energy grew even more terrifying.

He noticed something curious: whenever it became pure yang, i.e., during the spiritual-source eruption, his stone armor and knife glowed.

“This…” he grew excited. The Godsource seems bound to these energies. Perhaps the divine sword-flames wouldn't harm his stone armor.

With renewed courage, he tested it again during another pure-yang eruption: he removed the stone armor and thrust his knife forward.

He felt an immense impact, like a raging river striking a raft. His knife wasn't shattered, it almost spun from his grip.

He stared in amazement. “The relationship between all things is wondrous, divine sword-air devastates the world, yet harmless to the Stone Shell.”

This secret was only known in the Celestial Source lineage. Even top cultivators were powerless before this natural deity‑force, but here, he’d found the fix.

“So that ancestor truly passed through.” Ye Fan thought: hopefully not too far ahead, so I could track him.

He knew: life is paramount. He could gamble for opportunity, but not for death.

A thick bed of bone powder scarred the ground before the Taiji, countless cultivators were ground to dust over the ages.

Behind him lay dozens more skeletons, surviving well enough to show they were strong, yet even the Taiji energy killed them.

“Heh: many of the bones shine jade-like…like those in the Bronze Immortal Palace.”

He glanced at the silver‑flecked skeleton again, it must be a top-tier figure from the Eastern Wilderness and he shivered to think of their fate.

“Sometimes might alone isn’t enough, strategy counts.”

After a quarter–hour wait, another pure-yang moment came. He removed his stone armor for another test, now convinced, he could pass through.

“This underground is rich with Godsource, but formed a natural Taiji; you can’t just dig it out.”

Half an hour later, he adjusted to peak readiness to cross the god‑diagram.

“I wonder what lies beyond…I must be near the depths of Purple Mountain?”

During a pure-yang surge, he transformed into lightning and dashed across. The sword‑energies cascaded, yet upon contacting his stone shell, rippled as water, no breach made.

“The Stone-Shell truly has spiritual sentience,” he thought, serenely protected through the span.

Shh,

He passed through the shimmering curtain, crashing into solid rock: the mine’s end. Ahead, a purple stone wall blocked the way.

“Purple Mountain!” he exclaimed. He had arrived at the subterranean Purple Mountain.

He sensed his surroundings, no life traces detected, then activated his Golden Book to chisel through the purple rock and step inside.

He was surprised: as he advanced, the tunnel behind him sealed swiftly; Purple Mountain acted alive, mending ruptures instantly.

Unease rose. He struck backward, forcing his passage again, and barely made it out.

“Well…not as bad as I imagined.”

He left many mental markings along the way, chiseling Purple Mountain open to move forward.

Boom!

A final blast, and blurring before his eyes, he entered a courtyard of bluish jade steps, moon‑white jade gate, grand architecture.

He had reached his destination, inside Purple Mountain.

He remained still, sensing for life, none detected, before ascending the steps.

This courtyard, carved from purple jade into a dwelling. Stepping onto blue‑jade stairs, entering the white‑jade moon gate, silent and cold like the Moon Palace.

“There are nine dragon veins, so nine entrances into Purple Mountain.”

“And inside, surely ancient beasts move. That Godsource from the mine, is here.”

He swallowed hard. The creature from tens of thousands of years ago had been terrible, only a Grand Emperor could be its master.

The court was empty, nothing but ancient jade carvings, not a word left behind.

He retrieved the imperial jade piece and hung it as a talisman, hoping it might help.

The halls and pavilions were carved in ancient jade, truly palace-like. He searched every corner; all was still.

At the courtyard’s end, he found a staircase of blood-jade, leading into a deep chamber.

“This courtyard is just a gate; beyond lies the real depth of Purple Mountain…”

He stepped forward a few paces, then on the purple wall saw carved words:

“God King Jiang Taixu mistakenly entered Demon‑Mountain, decided to explore!”

Ye Fan was stunned. An Eastern Wilderness God King had passed through.

“He’s a Jiang, likely from the ancient Jiang Clan…”

The brushwork was powerful, steeped in Dao Resonance, like a divine presence watching.

“He must have been a Supreme God King.”

He placed his hand on the inscription, estimating it to be at least 4,000 years old.

A few steps on, another inscription weaker, older:

“Rouge Cultivator Li Mu explored Demon‑Mountain!”

This carving was ancient, at least ten thousand years, easy to see its age in the faded etchings.

“This was a mighty cultivator!”

Five steps later, another inscription, slender, Lotus-like strokes:

“Jade Pool Saintess Yang Yi sought Zhang Lin, entered Demon‑Mountain and left her mark.”

Ye Fan was staggered: even the Jade Pool Saintess had come. Zhang Lin was the Stone Village’s progenitor.

“Could this be that millennia-old Jade Pool Saintess?” he exclaimed. She traveled the Northern Region and disappeared, turns out she entered here.

“Her affection for Zhang Lin must have been deep…” he mused, uncertain of the fate of God King Jiang Taixu or Li Mu; but this saintess, unknown.

“She wrote an epitaph for Zhang Lin, who wrote one for her?” Ye Fan lamented.

After another 40–50 steps, he found over thirty inscriptions, from many long-lost Eastern Wilderness clans. Some scuplted perhaps 70,000 years ago.

Eventually he came upon a shallow inscription, clearly less skilled, perhaps more recent.

“Following descendant of Celestial Source Master Zhang Lin, Zhang Jiye left word before entering Imperial‑Mountain.”

Only this one referred to it as “Imperial Mountain” – others called it Demon‑Mountain.

“That’s it, the Zhang lineage!” Ye Fan realized. This sign likely from around a thousand years ago: Zhang Jiye.

“But his cultivation was weak; please don’t go too far, he must not be as strong as the others.”

Reading the thirty-seven names left, Ye Fan realized this place was far more dangerous than he imagined. He had a strong sense that none of these strong ones had returned alive.

“So over countless ages, 37 people entered and left inscriptions…"

He compared them: Gebu Tiancu, 70,000‑year‑old, strongest; then 4,000‑year‑old God King Jiang Taixu.

“Gebu Tiancu’s inscription still emanates Dao‑resonance after 70,000 years. Truly terrifying, might exceed even the God King.”

Given that Old Madman Zhao, who once killed a Supreme God King, had claimed this, it likely stands.

"Third strongest: Jade Pool Saintess Yang Yi, her words flutter like a living lotus.”

“The weakest: Zhang Jiye, a source-detector. He used stone armor to enter, relying on guile.”

“Zhang Jiye...don’t stray too far. Let me find you. We’re both cunning opportunists.”

He felt reassured, he might at least outpace Zhang Jiye.

Inside Purple Mountain, winding purple mist wound and snaked; the terrain irregular. Ye Fan nearly lost his way, but braced himself and pressed on.

He pinned hopes on Zhang Jiye being weak, maybe he didn’t go far.

At that moment, he detected intense demonic summons from deep ahead, a desire that made him involuntarily head in that direction.

“How is this possible?!” He bit his lip, urging inner mental clarity within himself through profound methods.

“What lies within Purple Mountain?” he whispered, and at that moment his Primeval Desolate Sacred Physique manifested its power: a lotus of three leaves bloomed, mysterious light surrounding him.

His stone armor also flickered, its spiritual nature resisting the demonic call.

“It’s done, I’ve entered a truly dangerous death zone. If my body reacts, I might be lost if I linger.”

He felt dread swelling within him.

“Could that demonic lure be from some ancient creature buried here?”

Digging deeper into complex caverns and tunnels, Ye Fan nearly lost his way again. He gritted his teeth and moved forward.

He found seven skeletons, each gleaming jade-like, top-tier cultivators.

Without exception, they’d died the same way, piercing holes in their skulls, instantly killed and their spirits shattered.

“This…” Ye Fan spun and fled.

Over the endless years, 37 had entered; seven died just on the outer reaches, far too dangerous.

He had come for opportunity, not death.

“Zhang Jiye was so weak, yet why haven’t I seen his bones? They won’t gleam like jade, that’s certain.”

Suddenly, the demonic summons strengthened. Ye Fan dashed back.

“You don’t need to run, you're safe for now…” A sudden voice whispered in his ear, shocking his heart.

“Who…are you?” he blinked.

The voice came from a direction, not the demonic core, weak as though about to extinguish.

“Speak. Who are you?” Ye Fan pressed further.

“God King…Jiang Taixu.” The faint, broken voice, five words with the force of thunder in Ye Fan’s ear.

A fully-fledged God King…still alive!

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