227: Chapter 227 Playing with Hands

Saint Lingyuan's gaze fell upon Old Turtle, her pupils constricting imperceptibly.

The last time she saw this Old Turtle was in the Xuantian Secret Realm.

At that time, this Old Turtle was only at the sixth level of the Asking Dao Realm. While he could be considered a top expert in the Southern Region, in the eyes of a Saint, he was nothing more than a slightly larger ant.

But now—

The Peak of the eighth level of the Asking Dao Realm.

He was just one step away from entering the ninth level.

And she remembered clearly that it had only been a few months since the Xuantian Secret Realm closed.

A few months... from the sixth level to the Peak of the eighth level of the Asking Dao Realm?

Saint Lingyuan took a deep breath and lowered her eyes calmly, though turbulent waves surged in her heart.

She had lived for three thousand years and had seen countless Geniuses, as well as many old monsters who had accumulated strength over time.

But like this, breaking through two small Realms in a few months, let alone the Southern Region, was an extremely rare occurrence even among the great powers of the Central Plains.

How long had this Old Turtle been by Shen Qingyuan's side?

If he stayed for another year or so, wouldn't he be ready to challenge the Saint Realm?

Saint Lingyuan suddenly felt that the ten-thousand-year White Jade Spirit Ginseng she had gifted was a bit shabby.

Old Turtle, however, had no mind to notice the change in Saint Lingyuan's expression.

He had just been soaking comfortably in the Blood Pool, the blood essence of the Saint-level Yao Beast washing over his Meridians and Yao body like a warm current. He had even touched the threshold of the ninth level of the Asking Dao Realm and only needed a few more days of consolidation to break through.

As a result, he was called out by a voice transmission from Luo Qingyue. Though he still felt unsatisfied, seeing Shen Qingyuan's slightly darkened expression, he dared not dally and honestly stood to the side with his hands hanging down.

Shen Qingyuan leaned on the soft couch, his slender fingers tapping the armrest rhythmically. His gaze fell upon Old Turtle, and his tone was unreadable: "Accompany me to the Northern Plains."

The wind of the Northern Plains blew from the depths of the glaciers in the extreme north.

That kind of cold was not just biting, but carried a chill that drilled into the bone marrow, as if it could freeze even Qi.

Large snowflakes drifted down from the grey sky, wrapping everything between heaven and earth in a thick layer of white.

An inconspicuous carriage was slowly driving along the snow-covered official road, entering the black city built against the mountain ahead.

Pulling the carriage was a scrawny old horse, and sitting on the carriage shaft was a hunched old man in grey robes.

The old man hunched his neck, his hands tucked into his sleeves, his grey hair and eyebrows covered in snow, looking like an old beggar who might freeze to death on the carriage shaft at any moment.

But if anyone looked closely, they would find that his murky old eyes hid a shock that could not be suppressed.

From the moment the Venerable said he wanted to come to the Northern Plains to him appearing on the official road of the Northern Plains driving this broken carriage, how much time had passed? One incense stick? Two? He couldn't quite remember.

He only remembered Shen Qingyuan casually tearing open a spatial rift and pushing the carriage into it. Then, after his vision blurred, he regained his senses to find himself in a world of ice and snow.

From the Southern Region to the Northern Plains, it spanned most of Cangxuan.

Even a Cultivator at the Peak of the Asking Dao Realm traveling at full speed would take half a year, having to avoid some Yao Beast territories and bypass the edges of forbidden zones.

But in the Venerable's hands, it was just the time it took to drink a cup of tea.

"Venerable, Mobei City is three miles ahead." Old Turtle withdrew his thoughts, turned his head slightly, and spoke into the carriage.

The carriage curtain was lifted a corner. Shen Qingyuan, with his hands tucked in his sleeves, lazily leaned out half his body and glanced at the grey-white city built against the mountain in the distance.

The cities of the Northern Plains were completely different from those in the Southern Region.

There were no green bricks and black tiles, no upturned eaves. The city walls were covered with thick ice, shining with a grey-white luster under the dim sky, like a giant beast carved from ancient ice and snow, crouching at the end of the world.

There was a long queue at the city gate, mostly Cultivators wrapped in thick animal skins, as well as merchants leading snow camels, all exhaling white mist from their noses and mouths, hunching their necks in the cold wind.

"The Northern Plains are indeed much colder than the Southern Region." Shen Qingyuan retreated back into the carriage, touched Luo Qingyue, who was leaning on the soft cushion, and frowned: "Why are you so cold? Hurry and warm up!"

Luo Qingyue was between laughter and tears. Although the Northern Plains were much colder than the Southern Region, they were all people with cultivation; how could they possibly be cold?

The Young Master was clearly just trying to play with her hands!

The carriage slowly drove into the city.

Mobei City was not large. The main street ran north to south, lined with shops on both sides. The characters on the signs were mostly half-covered by ice and snow, revealing only blurred outlines.

There were few pedestrians on the road. Occasionally, a few Cultivators wrapped in animal skins walked by in a hurry, their movements rushed, and even their conversations were hushed.

The carriage moved slowly along the main street and stopped in front of a three-story inn.

The plaque in front of the inn was mostly frozen and cracked, and only the two characters "North Wind" could barely be identified. Dim yellow light shone from inside, and the sounds of talking and clinking wine glasses could be faintly heard.

Old Turtle jumped off the carriage shaft, tied the carriage to the stone post in front of the door, and turned to lift the carriage curtain: "Venerable, we have arrived."

Shen Qingyuan lazily got off the carriage, hands tucked in his sleeves. He looked up at the rickety plaque, then at the dim yellow light shining from the inn, and stepped inside.

The inn's lobby was not large, with seven or eight tables scattered about. A few oil lamps hung on the walls, their wicks swaying slightly in the cold wind, casting long shadows.

A few tables of guests sat in the corners: Loose Cultivators wrapped in animal skins, merchants wearing thick robes, and a few black-clad Cultivators with obscure auras, talking in low voices in the corner.

Shen Qingyuan's gaze swept over those black-clad Cultivators, did not linger, and walked straight to a seat by the window.

Old Turtle followed behind him, hunched over, and sat in the lower seat.

Luo Qingyue also sat down beside him, her white clothes like snow, looking exceptionally eye-catching in the lobby full of rough animal skins and grey fur robes.

The innkeeper was a scrawny old man. Seeing guests come in, he hurried over, his face full of eager smiles: "Are you stopping for a meal or staying the night, guests?"

"Staying the night." Old Turtle fished out a Mid-Grade Spirit Stone from his bosom and placed it on the table: "We need two superior rooms."

The innkeeper nodded repeatedly and was about to take the Spirit Stone when a black-clad Cultivator in the corner suddenly stood up.

It was a stern-faced middle-aged man wearing a dark red robe, with a token engraved with blood patterns hanging at his waist. He exuded the pressure of the Primal Chaos Realm. His gaze fell directly on Luo Qingyue, and he narrowed his eyes to size her up for a moment before suddenly curling his lips into a smile: "What a beautiful young lady."

Several black-clad Cultivators beside him also stood up, their eyes lecherously scanning Luo Qingyue.

Shen Qingyuan leaned back on the chair, took the hot tea poured by Old Turtle, and took a sip, not even lifting an eyelid.

Seeing that no one paid him any mind, the middle-aged man's smile deepened. He walked over to this side, arrived at the table, looked down at Luo Qingyue, and said in a frivolous tone: "Little lady, what's the point of following these poor wretches? Why not come with brother? Brother will show you what a good life is."

Luo Qingyue sat beside Shen Qingyuan, her white clothes like snow, her face cold and detached. She didn't even glance at that person.

Seeing that she ignored him, the middle-aged man's face darkened slightly, and he reached out to grab her wrist.

"Slap."

A withered palm reached out from the side and precisely clamped onto his wrist.

Old Turtle, hunched over, remained sitting in his chair, not even lifting his bottom.

He merely extended one hand and clamped onto the middle-aged man's wrist.

The middle-aged man's expression changed drastically. With his fourth-level Primal Chaos Realm cultivation, he was currently clamped by this withered palm and couldn't even muster a shred of strength!

"You—"

He wanted to pull his hand back, only to find that the palm was immovable, as if cast from iron.

Old Turtle looked up, his murky old eyes glancing at him, and a kind smile spread across his lips: "So young, why don't you have eyes? You've wasted all that time Cultivating."