Chapter 33: Where the Heart Leads, Between Life and Death

Raising his eyes, he gazed at a sky unbroken by clouds, the deep blue arch above imparting an almost unreal sensation. Sparrow Mountain stood as the inevitable passage to Dead Ridge; in truth, Dead Ridge nestled right beside Sparrow Mountain, and beyond its far side stretched the plains. Yet the path was so seldom traveled that Dead Ridge possessed an air of utter mystery.

Most of Sparrow Mountain was cloaked in primeval forest, with ancient trees numbering beyond count. The labyrinthine mountain paths within would confound any newcomer—without a guide who dwelt there year-round, entering Sparrow Mountain was a journey from which few returned.

On this day, strange cries echoed through the mountain—not beast nor bird, but bearing a distinctly human quality. The shouts startled countless birds, sending them swirling through the sky, their chittering voices full of protest.

“Ah—!”

Sumu leaped from the lofty crown of a towering tree, plunging down from a height of ten meters with a thunderous landing. His figure rolled upon impact, then sprang several meters forward in a blur, coming to a halt before a dozen men clad in black. On closer inspection, each of these men was grotesquely ugly—their exposed faces could easily frighten a child to tears.

“Oh, Mister Ji, I never expected the effects of your medicinal bath to be so astonishing. Even without using my pulse force, I can leap effortlessly, and even falling from such heights feels easy. This is truly remarkable!” Sumu, his face alight with excitement, dashed up to a suspended soft sedan surrounded by black-clad men, speaking as he lifted the curtain to reveal Mister Ji’s smiling face.

“Did you think my medicinal bath was nothing but a fraud?” Mister Ji chuckled. “The strengthening of your body will take another two weeks to fully absorb the bath’s effects. What you see now is but a hint of its power. Do you realize what other marvels your body now possesses?”

Since setting out with Mister Ji, Sumu had discovered his body was light as air; walking required no effort, and his hearing and sight had grown keen, his strength immense. Each movement felt as though he had shed the earth’s constraints.

Unable to contain his joy along the road, he climbed and leapt with abandon, marveling at how much stronger he was than before. Grateful beyond measure, he knew it was only thanks to Mister Ji’s painstaking efforts in arranging the medicinal bath that he had become who he was now.

“I don’t know what else could be so extraordinary—unless it’s this blue sheen?” Sumu touched his arm, the blue reflection a constant reminder of how different he was from others.

“Haha, don’t worry. The blue will soon fade away. The Reincarnation of Ten Thousand Poisons Bath I crafted for you was no simple matter; your body is now something truly extraordinary.” Mister Ji glanced at Sumu’s blue skin. “First, you’re immune to all poisons. Though ‘all’ may be an exaggeration, I used hundreds of the world’s deadliest poisonous plants and insects—their toxins interacting and neutralizing, their essences blended with other medicinal effects and absorbed by your body. In all the vast world, few could poison you now. But remember: for the next two years, do not let food you’ve touched pass to others, or they will surely perish from severe poisoning.”

Mister Ji began with pride, but ended with earnest admonition. Sumu was stunned—he had become a poison man for these years, and silently vowed never again to touch food meant for others, lest he cause their death and commit a grave sin.

“Thankfully you warned me in time, sir, or I would have caused a catastrophe.”

“Just be careful. Avoid contact with others, and after two or three years, the poison will disperse on its own. For now, it’s confined to your skin’s outer layer.”

“Yes, I’ll be cautious.”

Mister Ji smiled and nodded, continuing, “After this bath, your self-healing and recovery abilities are greatly enhanced, and your body’s resilience has increased tremendously. You’ve been reborn; ordinary blades and swords may not even harm you now.”

Sumu paused, respectfully bowing to Mister Ji. “Without your help, sir, how could I be who I am today? If you ever have a wish, I dare not refuse.”

“Haha, you’re still so young—no need for such formal words! I dislike bookish talk. Just work hard to reach the Sovereign’s Realm quickly, so we can begin training the Divine Formula. That would be a great help to me.”

“I will train diligently, sir, and break through soon!” Sumu continued, “But why are we going to Dead Ridge? What kind of place is it?”

“It’s an excellent place,” Mister Ji replied with a mysterious smile. “To speak of Dead Ridge, we must mention the Black Crow and his men. Do you know why they’re all so ugly?”

Sumu had long wanted to ask, but feared hurting their pride, so he kept the question buried in his heart. Hearing Mister Ji offer to explain, he listened intently.

“Dead Ridge is a perilous location. On one side it borders Sparrow Mountain, which is full of fierce beasts and treacherous paths; it’s extremely dangerous. Another side faces the Panmi Marsh, shrouded in toxic mists year-round, impassable even to birds. A third side leads to the legendary Underworld Land, where bones litter the ground and strange events abound. The last side is close to the enemy nation’s border—step across and you’ll be showered with arrows. Danger is everywhere.”

“If it’s so deadly, why are we going there?” Sumu was puzzled; Dead Ridge sounded like a place of certain death.

“Not so,” Mister Ji shook his head. “Dead Ridge exists for a reason. It marks the border between our nations and serves as the sole transit point for those seeking medicines or treasures in Sparrow Mountain and Panmi Marsh, as well as the entrance for Daoists and shamans exploring the Underworld Land. Though called Dead Ridge, its proper name is Dead Ridge City.”

“Long ago, it was only a small valley, but over time, travelers rested there and gradually built a small city. Dead Ridge City is full of cultivators, and even mighty Star Sea warriors are not uncommon. Once we enter, be cautious; don’t cause trouble.”

“There’s a place in the city called the Battle Wasteland, originally a dueling ground for cultivators, and also a place where those guilty of grave crimes can fight. The victor gets their sentence reduced. There are also strange demons and those seeking breakthroughs through combat—so every day there are battles and deaths.”

“The Black Crow and Night Army members are all people I rescued from the Battle Wasteland. Their ugliness is due to injuries suffered—some lost noses and ears, others limbs, some were poisoned and their skin destroyed. Broken limbs can sometimes be restored, but severed noses and ears are often lost for good, leaving them permanently disfigured.”

Now Sumu understood why these men looked so strange, and why some bore massive scars on their limbs. Looking around, he saw that each man carried himself with calm acceptance—none showed dissatisfaction with their appearance.

“Sir, are we going to the Battle Wasteland?”

“Of course,” Mister Ji sighed. “Your bone transformation cannot be rushed—it must be done one bone at a time. After each replacement, you must acclimate to the new Underworld Bone; any neglect could ruin everything. If even one bone isn’t in harmony with your body, it affects the whole. You must exert every effort to refine each new bone and achieve complete integration. The fastest and best method is constant battle—using these new bones as much as possible, until you and your bones become one.”

“Only through intense combat, dancing on the edge of death, can your cultivation advance by leaps and bounds. The deeper your power, the greater your chance to merge with another Star Source. Once you’ve refined and fused all the Underworld Bones, you must merge with the Star Source. Time waits for no one.”

Sumu suddenly understood—he was to harmonize his new Underworld Bones through battle, and improve his cultivation to prepare for the future assimilation of the Star Source.

“I understand, sir. If fighting is required, that’s perfect—I’ve been wishing for someone to spar with!”

“Heh, but it’s not just sparring. Once you step onto the Battle Wasteland’s platform, there are only two ways to leave: kill your opponent, or be killed. The other is to cut off a part of your opponent’s body. Only such brutal combat can drive improvement. Are you prepared for this?”

“What?! That—”

The unexpected words shattered Sumu’s excitement. Though he loved and sought battle, the price for every fight was a life or injuring another. His nature was kind, and he couldn’t accept this.

“Sir, isn’t there another way? I don’t want to kill or mutilate anyone,” Sumu pleaded. The method was simply too cruel.

Mister Ji’s face darkened at Sumu’s words, and he snorted coldly:

“Just now you swore to obey my every command—now you defy me? Sumu, think! All I’ve done, all my painstaking effort, was for whom? Have you forgotten the time you watched helplessly as An Rui was taken? Forgotten the despair when you were hunted by the Pinglong Fortress men?”

Sumu bit his lip in silence. He understood Mister Ji’s words, but his heart was troubled, unable to accept it for the moment.

Mister Ji softened. “Life and death are decided in a single thought. I won’t force you. If you truly cannot do it, just take your opponent’s little finger. That’s the minimum requirement.”

With those words, Mister Ji lowered the curtain and ignored Sumu. Truthfully, he was disappointed in Sumu—such compassion was no virtue, and would hinder his growth. He needed to consider how to break Sumu’s gentle nature.

Seeing Mister Ji draw the curtain, Sumu wisely paused, letting the sedan advance first. Falling behind, he pondered how, if he must fight, he could win without taking a life or even severing a finger.

A week later, the group was finally about to leave Sparrow Mountain. Fierce beasts abounded within, yet somehow, thanks to Mister Ji’s mysterious methods, they had encountered no dangerous monsters—whether by walking, resting, or detouring.

Sumu frequently asked Black Crow and the others about Dead Ridge City. Without Mister Ji’s permission, they dared not reveal much, only sharing trivial facts. Even so, the mysteries of Dead Ridge gradually took shape in Sumu’s mind, and he began to feel a hint of anticipation.

Standing at the foot of the endless Sparrow Mountains, Mister Ji emerged from the sedan, gazing into the distance at a mist-shrouded patch. Pointing to a yellow dot beneath the haze, he said, “That is Dead Ridge City, though it’s still far and hard to see. The mist is the border of Panmi Marsh, where the miasma is at its weakest.”

Sumu stared, mouth agape, at the yellow-white fog that seemed to envelop heaven and earth. If this was the thinnest part, what horrors lay deeper within?

“It’s said an ancient beast lives there, and the miasma is its doing, though no one has seen it. Let’s go—we’ll arrive in two days.”

Sumu and Black Crow’s group responded together, striding swiftly toward Dead Ridge City.