chsdbacks Chapter 24 Acquisition and Bone Fragments
Chapter 24 Acquisition and Bone Fragments
"Cough cough..." Chen Fan lay sprawled on the spirit soil, breathing heavily, and it took him a long time to struggle to sit up. His right arm trembled uncontrollably from his fingertips to his shoulder. After two unleashing of the talismanic treasure's strikes, his dantian's qi and mana were nearly exhausted, and the Prison Suppression Wall in his sea of consciousness had dimmed by a third. On his right chest, where the silver-feathered eagle's sharp claws had struck, a large patch of his black-scaled armor had shattered, the scales rolled up, the lining torn, revealing three deep, bone-revealing blood grooves that were gruesome and terrifying, with blood gushing out. At least two of his ribs were broken, and each breath felt like being repeatedly cut by a dull knife.
The Golden Mirror shattered into several pieces. The Black Scale Armor was mostly ruined. The Silver Armor was torn apart. The talisman was broken in two. All five Lightning Strike Talismans were destroyed. Nearly half of the remaining talismans were damaged in the earlier tumbling and impact—only three Fireball Talismans remained intact, two Ice Cone Talismans, all Wooden Vine Talismans were shattered, one Earth Wall Talisman remained, and one Golden Bell Talisman remained. The Fire Python Talisman was still at the bottom of the bag.
The cost was devastating!
He sat cross-legged in the cold cave for half an hour, swallowing two healing pills. The effects of the medicine subsided slightly, lessening the excruciating pain in his chest, but broken bones wouldn't heal overnight. Dark red scabs had formed on the blood groove of his left shoulder, and the three wounds on his right chest were deeper; each breath aggravated the wounds, causing them to bleed slightly. His magical power had recovered to less than 30%, and his spiritual consciousness was only half intact.
"Huff..." He leaned on his long sword, struggled to his feet, and staggered to the Xuanhun Grass.
The roots of this herb are exceptionally fragile, easily damaged by a jade shovel. One must carefully part the spiritual soil with one's hands, revealing the roots, before scooping them up along with the soil. Fingers were stiff and numb from the cold, yet the movements were remarkably steady. The spiritual soil was carefully parted, and the Seven-Leaf Mystic Soul Grass, along with the soil beneath its roots, was gently placed into a jade box. A sealing talisman was affixed, and it was solemnly stored deep within the storage bag.
"I've got the Mystic Soul Grass." He muttered to himself, a huge weight lifted from his heart.
He then moved to the massive corpse of the Silver-feathered Eagle. A second-tier demonic beast was a treasure trove, but he was currently severely injured and unable to dissect it meticulously. He only plucked about sixty relatively intact dark silver feathers, binding them with beast sinew. The hooked black beak and the gleaming claws were removed separately and placed in a cloth bag. Demonic beasts below level five do not condense demonic cores, and the Silver-feathered Eagle was no exception. Opening its skull, he found only a pool of dark red blood inside.
Feathers, claws, and beaks were stored in the storage bag.
He leaned wearily against the cold rock wall and swallowed another healing pill. His right arm was still trembling, his chest wound burned with pain, and each breath from the broken bone felt like being sawed by a dull knife. His mana was less than 20%, and his spiritual sense less than 30%. He had only seven or eight talismans left to use. His talisman treasures were shattered, his golden mirror was broken, his black-scaled soft armor was ruined, and his silver armor was damaged.
"A second-tier demon beast... all for this one herb..." He closed his eyes, feeling the weakness and pain in his body, his heart filled with indescribable emotions.
After sitting quietly in the cave for nearly two hours, until his magical power had barely recovered to about 40%, he finally stood up again, supporting himself with his longsword. The armored creature rustled in from the crack, its tentacles first pointing warily at the silver-feathered eagle's corpse, then worriedly at the horrific wound on Chen Fan's chest.
"It's alright, I won't die." Chen Fan's voice was hoarse as he bent down to let the armor climb onto his left shoulder. "Let's go."
He squeezed through the crack to the side. The crimson light membrane above his head had dimmed to its lowest point in the cycle, and the entire forbidden area was shrouded in a depressing dark crimson, with the wind howling.
Chen Fan was leaning against the rock wall, struggling to catch his breath. The bleeding from his right chest wound had barely stopped, but the broken bone still throbbed with pain with every breath. His magical power had recovered to less than 40%, and his spiritual sense was only 30%. The armored creature rustled as it climbed onto his lap and gently spat out something it had been carrying in its mouth onto his leg.
A piece of bone.
It's about the size of a palm, dark yellow, with obvious cracks along the edges, clearly broken off from a larger bone. The surface is unusually smooth, not artificially polished, but rather resembles a warm patina developed over many years of handling.
"Where did you come from?" Chen Fan's voice was low and weak, tinged with the pain of his injury.
The armored creature's slender tentacles pointed precisely in the direction of the rock wall recess where the silver-feathered eagle had previously crouched.
Chen Fan frowned, leaning on his knife to support himself as he struggled to his feet, and shuffled to the pit. The pit was filled with rubble, old feathers shed by the silver-feathered eagle, and a few scattered fragments of unknown animal bones. He crouched down, enduring the pain in his chest, and used his hands to clear away the rubble. Sure enough, at the bottom of the pit were a few smaller bone fragments, their markings blurred and indistinct.
He picked up the piece that the armored vehicle had retrieved and flipped it over.
What greets the eye is a dense array of strange characters!
The strokes twisted like earthworms crawling, varying in thickness, some as thick as fingernail marks, others as thin as spider silk. The characters were bizarre, far removed from the ancient seal script, bronze script, or cloud patterns commonly used in the cultivation world. The direction of these characters carried an indescribable wildness and rhythm, like the claw marks of a ferocious beast or the trajectory of a demonic bird soaring through the air.
Chen Fan brought the bone fragment close to his nose, only catching a faint earthy smell and the scent of old bone. He raised it high and examined it carefully in the pale light filtering through the depths of the cave—the edges of the carvings faintly glowed with a very faint, almost imperceptible blue fluorescence, which was only faintly visible at certain angles.
He cautiously diverted a wisp of his magical power and carefully probed the surface of the bone fragment.
"Buzz!"
The moment the magic touched the bone fragment, the twisted and bizarre characters suddenly lit up! Not a pale blue, but a deep, restrained golden light! The golden light flickered for less than half a breath before abruptly extinguishing. The bone fragment instantly returned to its dull yellow and dilapidated appearance, as if the strange phenomenon had been merely an illusion.
Chen Fan examined the bone fragments carefully twice, his eyes filled with doubt and surprise.
"Not of human origin..." he murmured.
Human cultivators typically use jade slips, where they probe with their magic power or divine sense, either to reveal text or to receive information. This bone slip reacted entirely differently—when magic power was probed, the writing shone, but no information was transmitted whatsoever. It was like knocking on a door and giving the password, yet the door remained completely closed.
"Demon script!" A thought flashed through his mind like lightning. He had seen scattered records of it in the miscellaneous notes of the Spirit Beast Mountain Scripture Pavilion. The demon race did not use jade slips; their inheritance was mostly carried by bone fragments. Their script was said to originate from the depths of their bloodline, forming a system of its own, completely unrelated to human script. The demon race's cultivation methods, meridian pathways, spiritual energy circulation, and even realm divisions were all different from those of human cultivators.
……
three days later
The portal to the forbidden passage silently tore through the crimson light membrane. Chen Fan stepped inside, his figure instantly swallowed by the distorted light and shadow.
The world spun, a dizzying, disorienting sensation washing over him. Just a few breaths later, his feet lurched, landing on the solid, scorching Gobi Desert. The dry, burning sand, like coarse sandpaper, instantly lashed his face, sucking the last drop of moisture from his mouth and nose. Chen Fan took a deep breath of this long-lost, harsh air. The breath aroused his broken right ribs, sending a sharp, distinct pain through him, yet also bringing a tangible sense of relief at surviving such a ordeal.
The atmosphere before the Spirit Beast Mountain camp was tense. Two Core Formation stage elders stood imposingly at the front, their auras deeply restrained yet carrying an invisible pressure. Five Foundation Establishment stage deacons were scattered on either side, their gazes sweeping like hawks as they watched the disciples stagger out of the portal. True Person Crimson Cloud was among them, his hands behind his back, his face calm as still water, yet his sharp eyes scanned each returning figure.
"All disciples who have emerged from the forbidden area, come here immediately!" A mid-Foundation Establishment stage deacon surnamed Sun shouted, his voice carrying an unquestionable authority. At his feet crouched two spirit-smelling beasts that resembled weasels but were a size larger. Their grayish-brown fur was glossy, and their jet-black noses were twitching rapidly, emitting a soft "whoosh" sound.
"Open the storage bags and hand over all the spiritual herbs! Anyone who hoards them will have their cultivation abolished and be expelled from the sect!" Deacon Sun's cold voice echoed across the vast Gobi Desert, striking at the hearts of every disciple.
No one answered; only a heavy silence filled the air. Having just crawled out of a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, they were met with a search like prisoners—a cruel, ironclad rule of the cultivation world.
Chen Fan was fifth in line. When it was his turn, he calmly and steadily opened his storage bag, taking out one spiritual herb after another: Golden Leaf Sword Grass (in a jade box), White Velvet Fruit (three), Purple Heart Grass, Vermilion Fruit, and Black Jade Flower. Deacon Sun's sharp eyes carefully examined each item, while a young deacon beside him quickly took notes. Two spirit-sniffing beasts immediately approached, their black noses pressed against the opening of the storage bag and Chen Fan's clothes, sniffing twice with exceptional care before finally retreating without sounding an alarm.
"Five spiritual herbs." After writing this down in the register, Deacon Sun looked up at Chen Fan. "Any more?"
Chen Fan silently took out the jade box with the sealing talisman affixed from the deepest part of his storage bag and slowly opened it.
The Mystic Soul Grass lay quietly on the gray-black spiritual soil. Its seven jet-black leaves, twisted like ghost faces, gleamed with a chilling, eerie luster under the blinding sunlight of the Gobi Desert.