Chapter Twenty-Seven: Mutation

At this moment, another person was consumed by rage—Han Liang. Standing before her were thirteen individuals, the Masters of the Thirteen Guardian Halls. She had entrusted them with such a critical mission, and to ensure its success, had even ordered all thirteen to go together. Yet now, they stood before her with a report: every single member of the Thirteen Hall Guards had been wiped out. How could this not enrage her?

Her heart ached. Thirteen Heaven-ranked experts—while the Han family was not lacking in such powerhouses, the loss of each one was a blow to their strength. To lose thirteen in an instant amounted to a tenth of the Han family’s might! The thought was unbearable. Anxiety gnawed at her—who could have done this? Who possessed such overwhelming strength? One of the five Divine Bloodlines? No, it couldn’t be them. The Han family had no conflict of interest with those clans, and they would never dare risk enmity with the Han family by doing such a thing.

A vague unease settled in her heart. What concerned her most was the existence of Leng Bingyan. At first, had she eliminated him or simply ignored him, there would have been no trouble. But now, after driving him out of the Han family, she had inevitably provoked his vengeance. And with the assassination plan’s failure, with him rescued and gone, what the future would hold was impossible to predict. Would the Han family’s coming misfortunes stem from this very moment?

“Enough. You may leave,” Han Liang said weakly, waving her hand. It was too late for regrets. The urgent matter now was to find the Prophet Lingyu as quickly as possible. She could not guarantee whether, in the future, Leng Bingyan would truly obtain the Creation Jade Disc and the Crying Feather Divine Sword. If he did, he would gain power surpassing even her own innate strength. At that point, only the Prophet Lingyu could oppose him.

Besides, once she found the Prophet Lingyu, there was another, more important matter…

“We take our leave,” the thirteen Masters replied, then departed one by one.

※※※Feather※※※Emperor※※※

In a place as ancient as time itself, at the foot of soaring mountains, there existed a secluded valley cut off from the world, untouched by the turmoil of the outside and isolated from all strife. This place bore a beautiful name: the Edge of Heaven Valley.

Above it loomed the Cliff of Sentiment, the very secret realm Leng Bingyan had once visited. Only one person dwelled in the Edge of Heaven Valley, and since the ancient war, millions of years had passed with that solitary figure as its occupant. But today, the valley welcomed another master. A swirl of black mist gathered, then dissipated, revealing an old man holding a small boy in his arms.

The old man carried the boy carefully into a small hut, laying him gently on a wooden bed. He then stepped outside into the forested valley, where he chopped wood and fashioned a round wooden tub from the logs.

He filled the tub with water, placed it over a fire to heat gently, and added spices, ginseng, and other ingredients. Once everything was prepared, he returned to the hut, brought out Leng Bingyan, stripped him bare, and lowered him into the tub. He covered the tub with a lid pierced by a small hole, leaving only Leng Bingyan’s head exposed—a sight that made him resemble a meal being prepared by cannibals.

Of course, the old man was no cannibal, nor was he preparing dinner. When steam began to rise from the tub, he nodded in satisfaction, then withdrew a vial from his waist. Through the small hole in the lid, he dripped the vial’s contents, one drop at a time, into the tub. With each drop, his brows furrowed in reluctance, as if loath to part with the precious liquid. Yet, steeling himself, he continued.

His reluctance was understandable. The vial contained the sacred water of the world—Xuantan Pure Water. Born of heaven and earth’s spiritual energy, only one drop would form every ten thousand years. Its power was so immense as to inspire awe. It was said that, during the crafting of magical weapons or pills, a single drop could elevate them by an entire grade.

For mortals, a sip would render them immune to all disease and evil, doubling their lifespan. For cultivators, it could purify the soul, dispel inner demons, and strengthen the spirit.

Yet it was a divine object one could only hope to encounter by chance. The old man was expending the fruit of millions of years’ collection in this one act. Though his heart ached, he knew it was worth it.

The greatest beneficiary was, of course, Leng Bingyan, now soaking in the diluted Xuantan Pure Water. Though still unconscious, he could distinctly feel the surging energy surrounding his body—an uncontrollable force called irresistibly into him. For Leng Bingyan, weakened as he was, this was a torment. His meridians were still blocked, unable to accommodate such power. Yet the rampant energy paid no heed, relentlessly forcing its way inside, expanding and forcing entry. His entire body felt as though it was being torn apart, and his meridians threatened to rupture. Waves of pain flooded his mind.

Leng Bingyan’s face turned ashen with agony. His pale lips were bitten to the point of bleeding. Fortunately, the Xuantan Pure Water, even as it poured immense energy into him, simultaneously repaired the damaged organs and meridians, preventing him from being torn apart by the influx.

It was as if the pain was a stick, and the healing a sweet, given in alternation. Despite the suffering, the benefits were extraordinary.

Watching Leng Bingyan writhe in pain, the old man was moved to pity. He struck the boy’s neck with his palm, plunging him, just as he was about to wake, into a deeper layer of unconsciousness, sparing him further torment.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, the old man poured the remainder of the Xuantan Pure Water into the tub—a display of resolve: success or death, there would be no turning back.

With the addition of so much Xuantan Pure Water, the concentration within the tub doubled, and its effects increased exponentially. The rampant, uncontrollable energy surged with renewed force, battering the frozen clots blocking Leng Bingyan’s meridians. It was precisely these clots that had caused the obstruction. Now, bit by bit, the overwhelming energy wore them down.

Two hours passed. At last, the invading energy shattered the final clot within Leng Bingyan’s body, unblocking all his meridians. The energy, which had previously flowed only sluggishly, now rushed through him at many times its former speed. The energy in the tub followed, flooding in.

At that moment, purple clouds formed within his meridians—another kind of energy, which began to repair the damage inflicted by the onslaught. Gradually, the restored meridians shone with a faint amethyst hue, and a closer look would reveal that their resilience now surpassed that of ordinary martial artists a hundredfold.

Moreover, when the purple clouds encountered the incoming energy, they began to assimilate it, gradually transforming all external energy into more purple clouds, which then occupied only a small space within his body.

Before long, all the energy from the Xuantan Pure Water had been completely absorbed. The old man, watching, was aghast—a single vial of Xuantan Pure Water contained millions of years’ worth of spiritual energy! He himself dared only take a few drops at a time, lest he be destroyed by the excess. Yet now, this child had absorbed an entire bottle.

The purple clouds were indeed terrifying. Despite the titanic energy contained in the Xuantan Pure Water, the clouds grew only slightly, gathering throughout Leng Bingyan’s body and fusing with his organs and viscera.

As the purple clouds merged, Leng Bingyan’s Feathered Body began to awaken, and his body started to transform, little by little…