267: Chapter 267 Crisis Fulfilled, Utter Surrender

Lu Changyuan unhooked the communication Formation Plate from his waist—his thumb still pressed against the receiving node of the communication Array Pattern.

Leng Feng's last four words rippled for less than half a breath within the lingering spiritual light of the Formation Plate—then dissipated.

Shadow One turned away from the stone wall of the secret chamber—the waterproof bamboo tube already tucked into the Storage Pouch at her waist—the hilt of her short sword brushed against the stone wall as she turned, emitting a very faint, light metallic click.

Her gaze fell upon the Formation Plate at Lu Changyuan's waist—the dark red communication Array Pattern was still flickering at a very slow pace.

"Save."

Lu Changyuan stood up—the hem of his gray cloth dharma robe dragged across the dark copper alloy floor—emitting a very light friction sound between the fabric and the metal surface.

He took the black crystal out from the inner pocket of his sleeve—the crystal pulsed in his palm—stable—composed—its frequency still synchronized with the constant light waves of the ice-blue cold light in the side hall.

"Shadow Two—clear the path ahead. Shadow One—keep the rubbing safe. We will return to the vestibule the way we came—then turn into the first path of survival."

Shadow Two stepped out from the shadows of the hall door—his short sword was already unsheathed—the tip pointing at the ground—the hem of his waterproof cloak whipped out a very short, fast arc as he turned.

Shadow One followed behind Lu Changyuan—at a distance of less than three feet—her breathing rhythm adjusted to the same pace as Shadow Two's.

The three of them returned along the third path of survival.

The remnants of Sword Intent on the stone walls on both sides of the passage occasionally cast a very faint cyan glimmer under the ice-blue cold light—just as when they had arrived.

But Lu Changyuan's pace was nearly twice as fast as it had been—his False Core stage spiritual sense expanded ahead—bringing the spiritual power fluctuations of the vestibule at the end of the passage into his perception range in advance.

The cold-light Spirit Stones in the vestibule were still shining constantly—the induction Array Patterns of the twelve branched entrances were still breathing out very faint spiritual light at a very slow rhythm.

They passed through the vestibule.

Lu Changyuan stopped for less than half a breath before the entrance of the first path of survival—the black crystal pulsed steadily in his palm—there was no abnormal resonance—then he stepped into the first path of survival.

The route of the first path of survival veered northwest—completely consistent with the offset angle marked on Old Mo's deduction paper.

There were no scratch marks from Sword Cultivators testing their swords on the stone walls on either side of the passage—the ground was smoother than the third path—the traces of ancient Formations along the way had been cleared by the team led by Leng Feng—every dozen steps or so, one could see the remains of a Puppet on the dark copper alloy floor, its array core pierced through by a narrow-bladed straight sword.

The cuts on the remains were smooth—killed with a single sword strike—Leng Feng's sword.

They walked for nearly half an incense stick of time.

At the end of the passage ahead—it lit up.

The intersection of the outer paths of survival.

The space here was at least several times larger than the main hall of the side palace.

The cold-light Spirit Stones on the dome were arranged in a ring—the light shone down from above—covering the ground of the entire intersection in a very faint ice-blue.

But at this moment, this ice-blue was stained by another kind of light—the residual killing power of the Death-Stilling Formation left a very faint grayish-white afterglow in the air—the afterglow wandered slowly across the dark copper alloy floor—like a very thin film of mist floating close to the ground.

Within the Death-Stilling Formation—two sword-shaped spiritual light afterimages were still cutting back and forth at a very slow frequency.

The speed of the afterimages was not fast—but the power of each strike was enough to cut a Late Foundation Establishment Stage Cultivator in half.

Those two corpses lay less than a zhang away inside the Formation—the areas where their bodies were cut were so smooth that it was as if their blood had been instantly evaporated by high heat—no cross-sections of blood vessels or bones could be seen on the cut surfaces—only a very faint layer of grayish-white scorch marks.

Shopkeeper Qian and the remaining people were all kneeling in the innermost part of the safe zone.

They were at least three feet away from the edge of the path of survival—their knees pressed against the dark copper alloy floor—the weight of their bodies pressing their kneecaps white—but not one of them dared to move forward even half an inch.

The Gold-Rank Enforcer of the Rogue Cultivator Alliance knelt beside Shopkeeper Qian—a dark copper heavy battle sword laid horizontally in front of his knees—the dozen or so Spirit Stones on the sword body were still dim—his Peak Foundation Establishment strength had been drained of even the courage to stand up under the deterrence of the Death-Stilling Formation.

The moment Shopkeeper Qian saw Lu Changyuan walk out of the passage entrance—he moved.

His knees shuffled forward on the dark copper alloy floor—the hem of his dharma robe dragged on the ground—his torn left sleeve brushed against the floor as he moved—the cuff was caught by a seam in the dark copper alloy plate—tearing a new cut of less than half an inch.

But he did not stop—he knee-walked until he was less than three steps away from Lu Changyuan—then stopped.

"Lord Lu—"

His voice was trembling—the spasms of his vocal cords were more severe than when they were in the Trapping Array in the vestibule—the trailing sound of every word floated upward—only to be suppressed back down by himself halfway through.

"You were right—not even half a step can be deviated—we believe it—we all believe it—"

Behind him—those kneeling Loose Cultivators nodded simultaneously.

The amplitude of their nodding was extremely small—but the frequency was extremely fast.

The Gold-Rank Enforcer's chin pressed down less than half a degree—a very short, muffled sound issued from his throat—as if he had finally swallowed a sentence that had been suppressed in his throat for a long time.

Lu Changyuan did not look at Shopkeeper Qian.

He pressed the black crystal from his palm onto the array core of the Death-Stilling Formation—the light wall of the Death-Stilling Formation flashed the moment the crystal made contact—the ancient Array Patterns carved on the array core lit up one by one under the radiation of the dark golden fine lines—and then dimmed one by one.

The sword-shaped spiritual light afterimage that was wandering—stopped.

The other one—also stopped.

The two afterimages hovered in the Formation—less than half a foot away from those two corpses—and then, like marionettes that had their spiritual power drained, they disintegrated inch by inch from the edges toward the center—the disintegrated fragments turned into a wisp of extremely faint and thin cyan-gray smoke in the air—and dissipated.

The killing power—stagnated.

Lu Changyuan moved the crystal away from the array core—and glanced at the two corpses inside the Formation.

The corpses maintained the posture of the last moment they were struck by the sword-shaped spiritual light—one lunging forward—one turning sideways—both of their right hands reaching outward—fingers splayed—fingertips less than half an inch away from that Spiritual Plant.

The Spiritual Plant grew in a stone crevice at the edge of the Death-Stilling Formation—it had only three leaves—the edge of each leaf glowing with a very faint silver-white fluorescence—looking like three thin pieces of ice just fished up from the bottom of the water under the ice-blue cold light.

A hundred-year-old Silver-Leaf Cold Marrow Grass—worth at least dozens of Mid-Grade Spirit Stones in the Outer Sea market.

"I said within half a foot."

Lu Changyuan put the crystal back into the inner pocket of his sleeve—"Deviate by half a foot—and if you die, it is none of my business. If anyone does not believe it in the future—you can persuade them yourselves."

Shopkeeper Qian knelt on the ground—head pressed down—forehead almost touching the dark copper alloy floor.

Behind him—those kneeling Loose Cultivators nodded their heads like chickens pecking at rice.

The hilt of the battle sword that the Gold-Rank Enforcer had placed in front of his knees was gripped by his own fingers—his knuckles were white—but it was not anger—it was fear.

In the Trapping Array, he could still grit his teeth and make threats—but now—the two corpses were lying less than a zhang away in front—the grayish-white scorch marks on the cut surfaces were still emitting a very faint smell of burning.

From this moment on—"Lord Lu says half a foot, then it is half a foot"—this sentence would be passed by word of mouth among these Cultivators who had signed the Heavenly Dao oath—there would be no need for Lu Changyuan to say it a second time.

Just at this moment—the other communication Formation Plate at Lu Changyuan's waist lit up.

The communication Array Pattern on this side was deep blue—Elder Wei Changfeng's encrypted frequency band.

The signal attenuation of the encrypted frequency band within the ruins was extremely small—the black crystal served as a token, acting as a relay station within the Seal—raising the penetrating power of the frequency band by at least several times.

Lu Changyuan unhooked the Formation Plate—his thumb pressed against the receiving node.

Elder Wei Changfeng's voice came out from the Formation Plate.

The voice was suppressed and extremely excited—but restrained—honed by over twenty years of struggling in the military—when excited, he actually slowed his speaking speed by nearly half a percent compared to usual.

"The news of the ruins opening has reached the fortress. All stockpiled supplies—the demand has skyrocketed overnight. The first batch of Spirit Pills for restoring Qi and Talismans for breaking restrictions—the premium has already approached thirty percent. Several merchant guilds have added commissions—the Spirit Stones have already been transferred to the Wei Family's public account—and are being transferred to your Inner Harbor account."

He paused—a very light sound of turning pages came from the Formation Plate—he was looking at the account book.

"You are inside—I am outside. We will make money together."

Lu Changyuan tucked the Formation Plate back into his waist.

The deep blue communication Array Pattern dimmed—but the residual spiritual light at the edges of the pattern was still flickering at a very slow pace—that was because Elder Wei Changfeng had not disconnected on his end—he was still waiting for a reply.

Lu Changyuan did not reply—he turned his head toward Leng Feng.

Leng Feng stood at the edge of the Death-Stilling Formation—the tip of his narrow-bladed straight sword reached into the Formation—he used the sword tip to pry that Silver-Leaf Cold Marrow Grass out of the stone crevice—the roots carried very fine stone powder—it traced a very short, light arc in the air—and fell into the Storage Pouch he held in his left hand.

Then he crouched down—and pried out a few more Spiritual Plants from beside the two corpses—each one was pried with the sword tip—the force of the sword tip was controlled just enough to pry the root completely out of the stone crevice—without damaging any of the leaves.

"Master—there are a few more beside these two corpses. Do they count as their harvest—"

"They count." Lu Changyuan interrupted him. "Collect them. According to the Heavenly Dao oath—distribute them."

Leng Feng pried the last Spiritual Plant into the Storage Pouch—the knot at the mouth of the pouch tightened—emitting a very light sound of rope friction.

Lu Changyuan looked toward the end of the first path of survival.

The passage made a turn in the distance—the light after the turn was less than half a notch warmer than here—shifting from ice-blue toward dark gold by a small fraction—that was the color temperature after the cold-light Spirit Stones of the core area and the spiritual light of the Seal chains overlapped.

The warm light cast a very faint dark golden halo at the turn of the passage—the edge of the halo rippled with a very weak spiritual power wave outward every few breaths—like something very deep and heavy was breathing—pulsing—waiting.

He pressed his hand against the inner pocket of his sleeve.

The black crystal pulsed in his palm—stable—but the amplitude of the pulse was less than half a percent larger than when he was in the vestibule and the side hall—it was as if the distance between the crystal and the power in that direction was shortening—with every step closer—the crystal responded a little more.

"Let's go—to the core area. The real good things—are inside there."