Escaping Cold Mist Valley was an ordeal that tested the very limits of Mo Liangye's endurance. Every step out of the oppressive, icy fog felt like clawing his way out of a grave. His body screamed in protest – the throbbing pain in his thigh, the raw ache in his arm, the burning cold on his chest where the venom had grazed him, and the bone-deep exhaustion that threatened to pull him under.
He moved with agonizing slowness, leaning heavily on outcroppings of rock, using his dagger as a makeshift walking stick on particularly treacherous slopes. The mist still clung to the valley floor, swirling around his ankles, trying to drag him back into its chilling embrace. His Qi was practically non-existent, offering no warmth or support.
A shadow flickered in the periphery of his mist-shrouded vision. Mo Liangye instantly dropped flat against the icy ground, pressing himself into a shallow crevice, stifling a groan as his wounds protested. He held his breath, listening. Heavy, padded footsteps crunched softly on the frost nearby, accompanied by low, guttural sniffs. Something large was circling, likely drawn by the faint scent of blood he couldn't completely mask.
He remained utterly still, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm against the cold rock. Minutes stretched into an eternity. Finally, the sounds retreated, fading back into the oppressive silence of the valley. He didn't move until long after, forcing his ragged breathing under control. He couldn't afford another fight. Not now.
Pushing himself up with trembling arms, he forced his legs to move, one agonizing step after another, driven only by the image of the spirit stones and the competition that awaited him. He had to get back. He would get back.
It felt like days, though it was likely only several more hours, before he finally stumbled out of the narrow fissure that marked the valley's entrance. The air immediately felt warmer, less hostile, though still cool compared to the outer regions. The oppressive mist thinned, revealing the familiar sight of the rugged, sparsely forested terrain of the inner Back Mountains.
Relief washed over him, so potent it almost buckled his knees. He had survived Cold Mist Valley. He had secured the mission items and the unexpected treasure. He leaned against a rock, allowing himself a moment to catch his breath, the adrenaline that had sustained him starting to ebb, leaving behind only profound weariness and pain.
The journey back to the sect proper was slow and cautious. He traveled mainly during the twilight hours of dusk and dawn, avoiding broad daylight and the dead of night when predators were most active or other disciples might be encountered. He rested briefly in hidden spots, gnawing on his last piece of dry ration, his body craving energy and warmth.
Finally, under the cloak of pre-dawn darkness, he slipped back into the outer disciple area, a silent shadow returning to its burrow. He reached his dilapidated room, barred the door, and sagged against it, the familiar scent of cheap wood and dust a perverse kind of comfort after the sterile cold of the valley.
He didn't rest yet. First, security. He carefully retrieved the leather pouch with the three pulsating venom sacs and the small jade bottle containing the three frozen droplets of Moon Dew. He hid them meticulously beneath the loose floorboard, burying them deeper than his other meager possessions. Only then did he turn his attention to his own wretched state.
He stripped off his torn and blood-stained upper robe. The wounds looked angry in the dim lamplight – the deep claw marks on his chest and arm, the nasty puncture wound on his thigh. They were clean, thanks to the valley's cold, but desperately needed proper treatment.
He retrieved the half-used bottle of Green Jade Salve. "At least I had the foresight for this," he thought grimly, the memory of haggling with the weary market disciple flashing through his mind. He carefully cleaned the wounds with the last of his clean water and applied the cool, green paste.
The relief was immediate and profound compared to the cheap Iron Moss Salve. A soothing coolness spread through the inflamed tissue, dulling the sharp edges of the pain. He could almost feel the potent herbal energies working, calming the irritation, beginning the true process of healing.
"Much better. But the Qi depletion... it's severe. My meridians feel like dry riverbeds." He knew natural recovery would take days, maybe weeks, time he didn't have. "The mission reward... 100 points, 5 stones... I need it now. But I can't show up at the hall looking like I crawled out of a beast's gullet. Need to recover basic functions first."
He reached under the floorboard again, bypassing the venom and dew, and retrieved the Tier 2 Three-Eyed Wolf core he had saved from his previous hunt. Its cold, potent energy felt like a lifeline in his hand.
Sitting cross-legged, he began the slow, deliberate process of absorbing the core's energy. It surged into his depleted meridians, a welcome flood after the drought. It was wilder than spirit stone energy, requiring more effort to refine and control with the 'Flowing Cloud' technique, but it was powerful.
Hours passed in silent concentration. The wolf core gradually dimmed, its energy flowing into Mo Liangye, replenishing his Dantian, soothing his strained meridians, and actively accelerating the healing work of the Green Jade Salve. The pain subsided further, replaced by a dull ache. Color slowly returned to his pale face.
By the time the core crumbled to dust, his standard Qi reserves were full, brimming at the peak of the Mid-stage. His wounds, while still present, looked significantly better, already beginning to knit together under the salve's influence. He felt functional again, though still deeply tired.
After changing into his least-torn set of robes and ensuring his injuries were mostly concealed, Mo Liangye headed to the Contribution Hall. He walked with a measured, steady pace, betraying none of the agony his body had endured just hours before.
He went straight to the mission counter. The same stout, bored deacon was on duty. Mo Liangye calmly placed the leather pouch containing the three Frost Spider venom sacs on the counter.
The deacon glanced at the pouch, then at Mo Liangye, then back at the pouch, his bored expression slowly morphing into stunned disbelief. He carefully opened the pouch, peering inside. His eyes widened. "Three... Tier 2 Peak... Frost Spider venom sacs? Intact?" He looked up sharply at Mo Liangye. "You? You actually got them?"
Mo Liangye simply nodded. "As per the mission requirements."
The deacon picked up one sac carefully, examining its bluish-white luminescence, feeling the faint chill. He looked Mo Liangye up and down, suspicion warring with amazement. "Alone? How in the blazes...? Did you run into an Inner Disciple team fighting them?"
"The valley was quiet," Mo Liangye replied evenly, his face a mask. "I was fortunate."
The deacon stared hard, clearly not believing the 'fortune' part but unable to find fault with the mission items. He shook his head slowly. "Either you're the luckiest damn outer disciple I've ever seen, or you've got secrets buried deeper than a grave." He made the notation in the ledger with a slightly unsteady hand. "Fine. Mission complete. One hundred contribution points, five low-grade spirit stones."
He pushed the points token and a small pouch heavy with the weight of five spirit stones across the counter, still eyeing Mo Liangye with a mixture of awe and suspicion.
Mo Liangye took the reward without a word, the solid weight of the spirit stones a grounding reality. Success. Tangible success. He turned and walked away, ignoring the deacon's lingering stare and the curious glances of other disciples nearby who had overheard parts of the exchange.
He didn't hesitate. He went directly to the points redemption counter and converted the 100 points into spirit stones. With the sect's exchange rate, it yielded thirty-three low-grade stones. Added to the five he received directly, he now possessed thirty-eight spirit stones – an unprecedented fortune for him in this life.
Next, the market. He bought a full, sealed bottle of Green Jade Salve – insurance for future injuries. He also spent a few stones on basic Qi-stabilizing incense, hoping to maximize the efficiency of his upcoming crucial cultivation session. He now had roughly thirty spirit stones remaining. Enough. It had to be enough.
Back in the absolute privacy of his room, the door barred, the incense lit, Mo Liangye prepared himself. His wounds felt much better under the continuous application of the good salve. His Qi was full. It was time to feed the true source of his hope and ambition.
He carefully arranged thirty spirit stones in a circle around him. He took a deep breath, focusing his entire consciousness inward, towards the dormant God Seed in his Dantian. Then, he began to draw upon the spirit stones.
Pure, gentle spiritual energy flowed from the stones, converging on his Dantian. The God Seed pulsed, awakening instantly, eagerly. It was like a vortex opening within him, pulling the energy in with astonishing speed. The first spirit stone dimmed and crumbled to dust within minutes. Then the second, the third... a relentless consumption.
Mo Liangye poured his focus into guiding the energy, feeling the Seed swell, vibrate, straining against some invisible barrier. The pressure built, intense but not painful, filled with an ancient, potent vitality. Stone after stone turned to powder. Ten. Twenty. Twenty-five.
As the energy from the twenty-sixth stone flooded in, the vibration reached a crescendo. He felt it – a distinct crack resonating from the very core of his being. Not a sound, but a sensation, like a shell breaking open.
Through his inner vision, he saw the conceptual God Seed shudder. A network of fine cracks spread across its surface. And then, from the very center, fueled by the torrent of spiritual energy, a minuscule sprout, no larger than a grain of rice but glowing with an intense, vibrant, jade-green light, pushed its way out!
It unfurled delicate, conceptual leaves, radiating an aura of indomitable life force, ancient beyond measure, resilient beyond comprehension. It pulsed softly, anchoring itself within his Dantian, a living miracle born from a dead god's legacy.
Mo Liangye's eyes snapped open, a gasp escaping his lips despite himself. Shock, disbelief, then an overwhelming wave of fierce, triumphant joy surged through him, so potent it almost brought tears to his eyes – an emotion he hadn't felt in a very, very long time.
It had sprouted! The Ancient God Path – Stage One, Sprouted Seed – achieved!
He could feel the difference immediately. A subtle warmth spread from his Dantian, suffusing his entire body. His physical form felt... denser, tougher, imbued with a vitality that had nothing to do with his Qi Refining cultivation. It was a fundamental change, an evolution of his very essence.
He stopped absorbing, leaving the last few spirit stones untouched. He needed to stabilize, to understand this new state. The sprout pulsed gently, already emitting a silent, ravenous hunger for more energy, far greater than the seed ever had.
He slowly clenched his fist, feeling the latent strength humming beneath his skin. His wounds even seemed to itch less, the healing process subtly accelerated further. He was still a Mid-stage Qi Refining disciple on the surface, but beneath that facade, a terrifying power had taken root.
He looked at the few remaining spirit stones, then thought of the three drops of Frozen Moon Dew hidden away. Resources. He needed more. The sprout demanded it. The competition, less than three weeks away now, demanded it.
A cold, predatory gleam entered Mo Liangye's eyes, replacing the fading euphoria. This was just the beginning. The sprout was proof that this path was real, that power beyond imagination was within his grasp. Now, he just had to seize it. The competition wasn't just a chance anymore. It was a hunting ground.