Chapter 529: Chapter 529
Han Yu made his way toward the glowing red beacon that burned in the distant horizon like a wound in the sky.
Its light pulsed faintly, expanding and contracting as if alive, the glow reflected in the thin mist that curled across the forest floor. He could not tell how far it truly was. The hazy landscape of the realm, and the crimson hue shimmered strangely, as though the light itself bent the air around it.
Still, he did not rush.
There was no point in charging into the unknown. A place where the Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect was summoning its disciples could hardly be safe, and though he wore their robes now, one mistake would be enough to expose him.
Patience was the only weapon he could rely on. So, Han Yu chose a steady pace, walking calmly through the forest, his eyes never leaving the beacon. Every so often, he paused to observe the trail ahead.
The ground was littered with signs of battle.
Large sword marks scarred the rocks and trees, and broken fragments of weapons jutted out of the soil like splinters of bone. Here and there, puddles of blood reflected the distant red light, shimmering like liquid rubies.
Yet, strangely, there were no corpses.
Han Yu knelt beside one of the larger pools, dipping his finger lightly into the blood before withdrawing it. It was still faintly warm. The fight here had not ended long ago.
"Where are the bodies?" he murmured softly.
The question weighed heavily on him as he continued forward.
He found more traces of slaughter—splashes of blood painted across fallen stones, drag marks that disappeared into the undergrowth, and shattered talismans that had long lost their light. In one place, he saw what looked like an arm, half-buried beneath a collapsed boulder.
The flesh was torn but drained clean, as if the blood had been sucked out entirely.
He straightened, his expression grim.
The Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect's methods were cruel even by unorthodox standards. They did not waste life when it could serve a purpose. If the corpses were missing, it was not because they buried their enemies. It was far more likely that they had taken them for their blood, their Qi, or perhaps something darker still.
'Were they harvesting the bodies for refinement? For materials? Or to show proof of their kills?' He could not be sure. But the thought unsettled him.
Han Yu walked for nearly an hour without seeing another soul.
The silence of the forest pressed in on him, broken only by the whisper of leaves and the faint hum of the beacon in the distance. The longer he traveled, the larger the crimson pillar appeared, now looming high above the treetops. It rose from what seemed to be a hill, the light spreading outward in slow ripples that dyed the air itself red.
At last, he began to sense other presences, faint ripples of Qi in the distance.
He slowed instinctively, crouching low as he peered through the thick mist.
Tiny black dots were moving against the red sky, silhouettes gliding toward the beacon from different directions. He squinted, focusing his spirit qi in his eyes, and discerned three figures approaching from the west.
All three were wearing the robes of the Slaughtered Moon Divine Blood Sect. Their garments fluttered in the air as they rode upon spirit weapons that shimmered faintly in crimson light.
They did not so much as glance at him when they passed overhead.
Han Yu studied them carefully. Each one possessed the aura of a Core Condensation cultivator, stable and mature. Their expressions were cold, emotionless, they were disciples conditioned for war, not camaraderie.
After they disappeared into the distance, he continued forward.
Minutes turned into half an hour, and soon, more cultivators began to arrive. Tens of them passed by overhead, their presence darkening the air with a faint oppressive energy. Not one of them was below the Core Condensation realm. The weakest among them could have crushed the average sect disciple without effort.
Han Yu moved through the forest, keeping his expression calm, his posture steady. He had to act as one of them now. His disguise would hold so long as no one paid him special attention.
Eventually, the trees began to thin out, revealing the foot of the tall hill.
The red light was almost blinding here, cascading down from the beacon at its summit. Hundreds of the sect's members were already gathered at its base, their black and crimson robes billowing as the energy of the beacon pulsed through the air.
The sight made Han Yu's breath still for a moment.
Each of these cultivators exuded a bloody aura, sharp and oppressive.
It was as though the entire hill was breathing with murderous intent. The smell of iron and rot lingered heavily in the air, a suffocating mixture of Qi and blood essence. Many of the disciples were stained in blood, yet Han Yu noticed that none of it was their own. Their wounds were few, their gazes cold and steady.
Still, not all of them had escaped unscathed. He saw several sitting in meditation, their robes torn and their arms bandaged. The faint flicker of healing talismans glowed beneath their sleeves. Thɪs chapter is updated by novᴇlfire.net
For a moment, a trace of grim satisfaction touched Han Yu's face.
"So the elders of the other sects managed to hurt them after all," he thought.
It was a small comfort, but comfort nonetheless.
He walked closer, blending into the sea of disciples. The beacon above roared quietly, its crimson light spreading like liquid fire. From this close, Han Yu could see that it was not simply a pillar of light but rather a formation.
A massive sigil of blood essence burned in the air, rotating slowly above the ground. The power emanating from it was immense... too precise to be chaotic, too cold to be holy.
As he stepped within the outer ring of disciples, a sudden voice broke through the steady hum.
"Why are you walking, disciple?"