Chapter 24: Mo Bufan’s String of Bad Luck

As the saying goes, the eye can see the mountain, but the horse runs itself to death before reaching it. In his previous life, Mo Bufan had never experienced this feeling, but now he was finally tasting it in full. The ancestral Dragon Immortal Palace stood plain before his eyes, yet after running for two whole hours, he had not even reached the Four Guardian Halls that surrounded it.

From his research, he knew that around the main hall where the Ancestral Dragon Palace stood, there were four sub-halls named Wind, Rain, Thunder, and Lightning—these were the abodes of the four core disciples of the Ancestral Dragon. The closer one drew to the Ancestral Dragon’s sanctum, the less dangerous the surroundings became; the numbers of monstrous beasts dwindled, and those daring to make trouble were rare indeed.

The Ancestral Dragon’s main hall was built atop the highest peak of the Abyss of Fallen Dragons. From afar, it was all pavilions, terraces, and majestic towers, shrouded in clouds and mist, reminiscent of the golden summit of Emei. As he approached, the scale of the Dragon Clan’s immortal palace became ever clearer, and the lingering aura of the Ancestral Dragon’s domain, coupled with the celestial spectacle, left Mo Bufan in awe. This region was more grandiose than the Epang Palace he had read about in his previous life and more resplendent than the Daoist grounds of the Heavenly Mystery Sect.

“This trip is certainly not in vain!” Mo Bufan rejoiced inwardly. In that other world, how could he ever have witnessed such wondrous scenes? With that thought, he sped up his pace.

After crossing a mountain over a thousand meters high, Mo Bufan suddenly spotted a dozen or so figures making their way at the mountain’s foot, making his heart skip a beat. In the Abyss of Fallen Dragons, teams were usually only six or seven at most; this was his first time seeing so many together. He intended to wait for them to pass, to avoid unneeded trouble, but inadvertently glanced twice more and was startled: the last few in the group looked very familiar.

Looking more carefully, he froze. Wasn’t that Gao Xiu and his four companions among them? They hadn’t died—well, nothing had happened to them, and here they were. As for the ones in front, his expression grew even stranger. Among the eight leading the way, five were disciples of the Origin Sect he had seen before. Of the remaining three, two wore the same attire, and the last one was clad in the blue robe of an inner disciple of the Heavenly Mystery Sect.

Mo Bufan hesitated, then decided to give them a wide berth.

In his former life, he had read too many cultivation novels; in these situations, it usually meant the group was up to something major, and inevitably, someone would die. Besides, with an inner disciple among them, their strength far surpassed his. Even if he wanted to help, there was no place for him. Ever since the affair with the little princess, and her insistence on making him a prince consort, he truly had no interest in meddling in others’ business.

From what he knew of the Abyss of Fallen Dragons, only the Ancestral Dragon’s sanctum and the Four Guardian Halls truly carried the highest risk. He was here with a traveler’s heart, content to observe from the periphery, never intending to enter. He certainly had no plans to enter the four Guardian Halls—he hadn’t even bothered with the Wind Pavilion, after all.

With that thought, he glanced again at the unlucky souls heading toward the Guardian Halls, sighed heavily, and silently wished them well as he skirted the region, continuing toward the lands of the Fallen Dragon.

The three dragons following behind had also noticed the group’s movements. Their understanding of the Four Guardian Halls was far deeper than Mo Bufan’s, and they quickly recognized that the group was headed for the Hall of Wind.

Among the four great halls, the Master of the Wind Hall was the Ancestral Dragon’s eldest disciple, an ancient giant who loved to cultivate spirit herbs but had little interest in array formations. The treasures within were extraordinary. After so many years, the formations in the Wind Hall had become even more dilapidated, but the spirit herbs had all reached the level of King Herbs—any one of which was worth a cultivator’s life.

Clearly, these people were after the spiritual herbs. Yet the three dragons only sneered. The Wind Hall’s formations, though damaged, were not something human cultivators could easily unravel. More importantly, perhaps some descendants of the ancient giants still survived; if they lived, these intruders would be walking to their doom.

Though high-level beasts rarely appeared around the main and sub-halls, that did not mean none existed—they simply could not be bothered to show themselves. Even the Dragon Clan regarded the Four Guardian Halls with extreme caution, never daring to set foot within for years. The Ancestral Dragon’s territory had only been breached at the edges after tens of thousands of years of research; the inner killing formations had been deciphered only in part, with many disciples lost and none making it in. The sub-halls, though weaker, were not by much.

Thus, the three dragons, much like Mo Bufan, were happy to avoid these troublemakers.

Mo Bufan watched as the dozen or so figures entered the Wind Hall and vanished from sight, then continued on his way.

Passing through the area between two sub-halls, sensing no fluctuations nor any defensive arrays, Mo Bufan let out a great sigh of relief. These past ten days, he had meticulously avoided countless troubles, and not a single spirit artifact on him had suffered damage—a stroke of luck indeed.

This was partly due to his keen sensitivity to spiritual energy and his caution, but mainly because he had headed straight for the depths of the Abyss of Fallen Dragons, where the beasts, though formidable, were few. Had he lingered in the outer regions, the frequency of beast encounters would have drained his treasures and left him battered, perhaps even dead before the month was out.

Soon, he crossed the space between the Guardian Halls and found himself close to the Ancestral Dragon’s Celestial Court. Before him loomed a mountain three to four thousand meters high, strewn with both intact and ruined structures, the mountaintop wreathed in clouds and radiant mists. The lingering might of the Ancestral Dragon’s cultivation instantly enveloped Mo Bufan, and as he felt this nearly boundless yet faint aura, the “Heavenly Evolution Technique” within him began to operate on its own.

In that instant, Mo Bufan’s mind grew crystal clear; as the spiritual energy circulated, he felt the Ancestral Dragon’s aura more vividly than ever. It was a spirit of unity with heaven—a sense that heaven was himself, and he was heaven. This aura seemed to be the axis upon which the world turned; with a single thought, he felt he could alter the very fabric of reality around him.

The feeling was indescribably wild and free. As the aura surged, he sensed that he could change the rules of his own inner world, that even the life and death of all things might hinge on his whim.

Alas, this sensation lasted only a moment before fading to near nothingness, and Mo Bufan snapped out of his epiphany.

The instant his awareness returned, he involuntarily staggered back two steps—this place was truly wondrous. That fleeting sensation was what the Immortal Realm called enlightenment; he had suddenly touched a domain that, at his current level, should have been entirely beyond his reach!

“It seems I can really rest here for the remainder of my days,” Mo Bufan thought to himself. Here, aside from the three persistent followers behind him, there were barely any beasts or human cultivators—far safer and less liable to disputes. Moreover, he could bask in the Ancestral Dragon’s lingering might, which would greatly benefit his cultivation.

With that, Mo Bufan began searching for a hidden spot. As for the three dragons behind him, he simply ignored them—should they come looking for trouble, he was well equipped to defend himself.

He soon found a suitable cave and began to rest. But just an hour later, a thunderous explosion erupted behind him, followed by a surge of black mist that shot up into the sky, interwoven with furious, sky-shaking roars.

“Damn it, a demonic eruption!” Mo Bufan’s heart leapt in shock. He could hardly believe his luck. Gazing at the source of the eruption, he couldn’t help cursing the dozen or so people who had just entered the Wind Hall. Even if this outbreak wasn’t directly caused by them, it was certainly connected to their intrusion…