Chapter Twenty-Five: An Unexpected Discovery—A Spiritual Stone Mine

Su Yizhao remained absolutely still in the seawater.

Within his spiritual perception, the source of that ripple lay hidden in a shadowy cavern below.

The cave plunged straight down, its depth unfathomable.

After observing for over a dozen breaths, he slowly swam above the entrance.

Suddenly, his expression flickered with surprise.

Above the cave, the vital energy in the water abruptly thinned to almost nothing.

Yet an indescribable sensation of comfort spread through his entire body.

“This is definitely not vital energy,” he thought to himself. “It’s far more refined, far more potent!”

The cave stretched deep and pitch-black.

His spiritual sense could only probe a little over a hundred yards.

Pressing himself tight against the cave wall, he began to glide downward, inch by inch.

The deeper he went, the more intense the comfort in his body grew, and the mark on his chest began to tremble.

After descending for an hour and a half, exhaustion began to claim him.

He had gone four or five hundred yards deep; the pressure of the sea squeezed his heart to a pounding frenzy.

Luckily, the cave floor finally appeared in his perception.

A hundred yards below, a cultivator in purple robes stood motionless on the bottom.

In a corner against the cave wall, another cultivator sat cross-legged, his face pale as death.

Clearly wounded—this was the very target of his mission: Wang Anzhi.

Su Yizhao had never imagined another cultivator would be here. He dared not act rashly now, pressing himself as close to the cave wall as possible, waiting to see how the situation unfolded.

Without warning, the standing cultivator suddenly spoke. “Since you’ve found this place, why haven’t you made your move?”

Su Yizhao’s eyes widened, his hands clenching so tight he nearly gouged the stone. Was this man... waiting for him?

He had spent years on assassination missions; his stealth was second to none. Yet now he’d been discovered?

In a split second, he prepared to strike, but then heard the man below say, “Or is it that your injuries haven’t healed?”

He wasn’t speaking to him.

Su Yizhao silently exhaled in relief.

“I betrayed my sect just to find this place, and you still make light of it?” came a voice from the shadows.

Su Yizhao’s body trembled slightly.

What could be here, that would drive someone to betray their own sect?

On this continent, survival was nearly impossible for a rogue cultivator not aligned with a sect.

“That’s only because I gave you the clue. Otherwise, how would you have known it was on him?”

“Enough! After everything I’ve endured—all those attempts on my life—I didn’t come here to listen to your nonsense. So, what’s next? Surely you don’t expect the two of us to dig on our own?”

Dig?

Dig for what?

Could this be the lair of some long-dead mighty cultivator?

It was entirely possible.

The vital energy here was so insubstantial it could be ignored, yet what flooded into his body was something far superior.

“How much could we possibly dig? This is a spirit stone mine. If we draw the attention of demon cultivators, it’ll cost us our lives.”

Su Yizhao’s heart skipped a beat.

A spirit stone mine!

The legendary spirit stone mine that had not appeared on the continent for five millennia!

If it was true, even if he failed his mission, simply bringing word of this back to his sect would earn him undying merit.

“So what do you suggest?”

“We sell the information to a sect!”

Su Yizhao’s heartbeat quickened. Below, silence fell.

Five thousand years ago, cultivators of the Central Continent cultivated by absorbing spiritual energy, making progress easy. The land abounded with powerful experts.

But then came a four-thousand-year war of survival—a war that exhausted every spirit stone mine on the continent.

That war began with the invasion of the Devourer Clan.

They poured in from beyond the heavens—endless, insatiable. Wherever they went, nothing was left alive. Any object containing spiritual energy was their favorite meal, including cultivators themselves.

All human and demon cultivators united against them.

Victory meant survival; defeat meant extinction.

Ancient records claimed that this southwest sea was once a land of towering mountains. That battle shattered ranges, sank peaks, and turned the southwest into an endless ocean.

Such ferocity—the war raged for four thousand years. Billions fell, countless mighty ones became food for the Devourer Clan.

The entire continent was blanketed by their endless numbers. Every spirit stone mine was consumed.

With extinction looming, a human cultivator descended from the heavens and, single-handed, annihilated the Devourer Clan, burying their corpses across the land.

A thousand years later, vital energy seeped from the Devourer remains, and once more the continent could turn to vital energy cultivation.

Memories flashed through Su Yizhao’s mind.

He could scarcely believe that here, within reach, a spirit stone mine truly existed.

“Which sect should we sell it to? The Vital Energy Sect?”

“Ha! Which sect? Perhaps our guest here would care to offer his opinion?”

Su Yizhao tensed. As the cultivator’s words fell, a shadowy light cut through the water toward him.

He’d been discovered.

In that critical instant, his figure flickered, shooting upward along the current.

“Trying to escape? Leave your life behind!” bellowed the cultivator below, bending his knees and soaring after him through the water.

In the corner, the wounded cultivator stared fixedly upward.

Just then, agony lanced through his body—his face contorted, hands flying to shield his face.

Suddenly, the still depths erupted with a whirring sound—hundreds of silver streaks pierced the water, enveloping him.

A chopping, grinding clamor rang out.

Su Yizhao’s heart sank.

His decoy had drawn the other cultivator away, but it would last mere moments—four or five breaths at most.

If he couldn’t finish his foe in that fleeting instant, it would be his own life forfeit.

Yet he had underestimated his opponent.

The wounded man possessed a defensive artifact of considerable grade.

At once, Su Yizhao summoned every ounce of energy from his core, unleashing all six of his flying swords.

“Courting death!” the wounded cultivator roared, springing to his feet, hands weaving complex signs.

Explosive energy churned the depths into chaos.

Su Yizhao cursed inwardly: “Who said he was at the fourth realm? He’s clearly at the Fifth Spirit Realm!”

“You wretch, you dared deceive me!”

A furious shout echoed from above—the cultivator had doubled back.

Sparks and jets of water flashed as hundreds of flying swords clashed in the depths.

Su Yizhao dared not hold back. Instantly, he unleashed his perfected movement technique—his shadow flickered everywhere through the cavern.

But each illusion was instantly shredded by the enemy’s blades.

A Fifth Spirit Realm cultivator had already transcended the mundane; usually, they could obliterate a Fourth Realm cultivator in a blink.

Fortunately, his opponent must have just broken through and not yet mastered his new power, unable to wield such immense energy freely.

“Overlord Sword Technique!”

Wang Zhian’s voice rang out, and nine swords before him instantly split into thousands of beams, raining down upon Su Yizhao.

Su Yizhao’s face was grim. He knew this was the moment between life and death—he did not hesitate, hands flying through a flurry of signs.

And just then, the sounds of battle erupted above.