Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Valley of Heavenly Ice

“Is there something wrong?” Qin Shuang looked around in surprise, her piercing eyes radiating an overwhelming pressure that made those nearby struggle to breathe.

The innkeeper, noting Qin Shuang’s expression, was puzzled as to why he seemed unaware of news that had already swept across the Infinite Continent. Yet, sensing no deceit, he steadied himself and explained with a gentle laugh, “Thirty years ago, the twelve spirit beasts arrived on the Infinite Continent, each carrying a divine artifact. It’s rumored that these spirit beasts are the guides who will lead us to the Path to Heaven. If we can gain their approval, we may break through our current cultivation and become true divine beings…”

The crowd nearby fell silent, listening intently as the innkeeper eloquently recounted the tales that had spread throughout the Infinite Continent over the past three decades. For a time, they seemed to forget the pressure that Qin Shuang’s presence brought, each sitting with a look of longing on their faces.

Twelve spirit beasts, the Path to Heaven… Ascension… As Qin Shuang listened quietly to the innkeeper’s tale, the strange puzzle of Ruan Lingyu’s appearance, her guidance to the teleportation array, and her entry into the Infinite Continent—all these mysteries suddenly dawned on him.

Yes, it was suddenly clear! Ruan Lingyu’s role was much like that of the Heavenly Ascension Map his father possessed back on the Hidden Dragon Continent, except this time, an ancient teleportation array allowed people from countless worlds to participate.

A thought stirred in Qin Shuang’s heart: to become a divine being—did that mean one could enter an even higher realm? Did ascension mean soaring to the Divine Realm?

Qin Shuang poured himself another glass of wine. By now, the innkeeper had finished his explanation with a smile and a bow to those around. The other cultivators wore expressions full of yearning. Ma Gui, the man who had earlier tried to start a conversation, snapped out of his own reverie about the twelve spirit beasts as he took in Qin Shuang’s serene composure. With a half-smile, he asked in a low voice, “Brother, do you truly not know of the twelve spirit beasts?”

Qin Shuang froze with his cup in hand, a flash of anger passing through his eyes. A sudden surge of pressure washed over Ma Gui, turning his face ashen and filling him with terror.

Ma Gui paled, his heart gripped by fear. He shrieked, “Wait! My master is a fourth-level Golden Immortal! If you harm me, my master will surely seek revenge!”

The innkeeper hadn’t expected Ma Gui to provoke Qin Shuang further. He only saw a blur, then heard two sharp slaps as Ma Gui’s face swelled instantly. Startled, the innkeeper wanted to intervene, but at that moment, Qin Shuang raised his head, his gaze so cold and commanding that none dared meet his eyes.

“A fourth-level Golden Immortal? And what of it? You provoke me again and again—do you take my patience for weakness?” Qin Shuang’s indifferent gaze swept over the other cultivators, many of whom bore schadenfreude on their faces. He understood at once: Ma Gui must have offended many people with his foul mouth, relying only on his master’s status to avoid retribution.

A strange smile crossed Qin Shuang’s lips. A fourth-level Golden Immortal was nothing to him now—at his current eighth-level Immortal Emperor cultivation, crushing them would be like crushing ants.

With the strength of an eighth-level Immortal Emperor, at the pinnacle of the ninth-level soul realm, Qin Shuang could have killed Ma Gui with a mere thought. He refrained, not out of fear or hesitation, but out of disdain.

Ma Gui’s eyes flickered with hatred. The innkeeper, panic-stricken, hurried to intercede beside Qin Shuang. Qin Shuang had no intention of killing Ma Gui, only of teaching him a lesson. Seeing the innkeeper’s fearful expression, he withdrew his oppressive aura, then raised his wine bottle and drained it in one swallow.

Ma Gui’s expression was a tangled mess, shifting from one emotion to another. At length, he fixed Qin Shuang with a cold glare. “Five days from now, in the Heavenly Ice Valley, one of the twelve spirit beasts—the Five-Clawed Purple-Scaled Dragon—will appear. In return for your gift of wine, my master will be there to settle today’s humiliation!”

With that, Ma Gui snorted, stood, and strode out.

The innkeeper stood awkwardly to the side, his eyes glittering with calculation. The other cultivators, shocked but excited, hadn’t expected Ma Gui to reveal such news—a boon indeed!

Qin Shuang was momentarily taken aback, then broke into a quiet laugh. Ma Gui was quite a character—repaying the favor of wine with news of the spirit beast, then issuing a challenge, perhaps for fear Qin Shuang wouldn’t dare show up.

Under the watchful eyes of the innkeeper and the other cultivators, Qin Shuang rose to his full height and left the Worldly Tavern, wandering into the city. Since he couldn’t find a way to leave this place, now that he’d learned of the spirit beast’s appearance, how could he not go?

Late at night, beneath a gray, dusky sky where the stars shone dimly, Qin Shuang sat cross-legged on his bed. He opened his eyes slowly, his soul brimming with a quiet joy. Ever since reaching the ninth level of soul cultivation, his understanding of his body and its connection to the world had grown stronger.

Yet, something in his mind seemed on the verge of breaking through, a fleeting inspiration he could never quite grasp, which made him furrow his brows in frustration.

With a sigh, Qin Shuang accepted that such insights required fate or opportunity. No amount of pondering would force them to surface. Resigned, he stood, and his vast spiritual sense blanketed the entire city of Tianfeng.

Despite his cultivation, Qin Shuang had yet to find a technique perfectly suited to his body. Unlike Qin Si, who had trained in the most advanced divine techniques from childhood, this remained his greatest regret—his own aptitude seemed so inferior!

Beams of light whirled across the night sky above Tianfeng, falling to earth as dazzling treasures illuminated the city, making the pitch-black night as bright as day.

Tomorrow, the Five-Clawed Purple-Scaled Dragon, one of the twelve spirit beasts, would appear. For days now, as if all the cultivators of the Infinite Continent had been summoned, they had flocked to Tianfeng, filling the city to the brim.

What did it mean to be recognized by a spirit beast? Qin Shuang gazed out the window, pondering what the Path to Heaven might truly look like, and what treasures or dangers might await.

Meanwhile, three hundred miles east of Tianfeng, atop a solitary mountain, a burly man whose eyes gleamed with an intimidating sharpness stood with hands clasped behind his back, facing the city. Behind him, a rotund, corpulent man bowed deeply. Their mere presence hinted at powerful cultivation.

“Sir, in recent days, over ten thousand cultivators have poured into Tianfeng. The city is on high alert—so far, no one on par with myself has appeared,” the fat man said, his double chin quivering in stark contrast to his grave expression. After a moment’s hesitation, he continued, “However… there is a young cultivator whose true strength I have yet to discern. Outwardly, he appears to be at the Great Ascension stage, but I sense something unfathomable about him.”

The burly man slowly turned, a scar running from his left brow to his ear, lending a fierce cast to his already imposing features. “A young man? Pay him no mind. Discovering the whereabouts of the Five-Clawed Purple-Scaled Dragon cost us dearly. Tomorrow at dawn, in the Heavenly Ice Valley, we must do whatever it takes to gain the spirit beast’s recognition. Everything else is secondary!”

A flicker of unwillingness crossed the fat man’s face. “But, sir… my disciple, Ma Gui, was humiliated by him…”

“Enough! The spirit beast’s recognition takes precedence over all else. Minor matters can wait until after tomorrow!” The burly man’s eyes were cold and grim. “Bao Zhongxiong, if anything goes wrong tomorrow, you need not serve as deputy city lord any longer!”

Bao Zhongxiong fell silent, nodding repeatedly, not daring to utter another word.

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Before dawn even broke, Tianfeng was already in an uproar. News of the spirit beast’s appearance at Heavenly Ice Valley had spread like wildfire, and thousands of cultivators, each riding their own magical treasures, surged south toward the valley, ten miles from the city.

Qin Shuang stood silently at his window, watching the frenzied crowd of cultivators. His heart was calm—this so-called Path to Heaven held little allure for him, but if becoming a god meant leaving this place, perhaps that was for the best.

Heavenly Ice Valley was ringed on three sides by mountains, with only a single narrow entrance. At its center, a massive ice blade towered a thousand meters high, shining with a dazzling blue light in the sun. Like a slender arrow of pure ice, it stood upright, a magnificent sight. What was truly astonishing was that, despite the blazing sunlight, the ice blade showed no sign of melting. If anything, it shone even more brilliantly.

Moving in a flash from his window, Qin Shuang appeared above the Heavenly Ice Valley. Below, the valley teemed with people and echoed with noise—a scene of bustling excitement.