Ancient Good and Evil Battlefield

Chapter 74 Ancient Good and Evil Battlefield

Today happened to be the day monthly stipends were distributed. After handing over his dismembered corpses to Yuan Cheng, Song Wen received his allowance of thirty Spirit Stones.

Over the past year and a half, Song Wen had not dared to slacken his cultivation in the slightest. Two months ago, he successfully broke through to the sixth layer of Qi Condensation. It was precisely after this advancement that his corpse transformation began to grow progressively more severe.

Upon entering the sixth layer of Qi Condensation, Song Wen deliberately suppressed his external aura, masking it to appear as though he were only at the fourth layer.

Reaching the mid-stage of Qi Condensation in roughly two and a half years was considered an upper-middle tier achievement among the outer disciples of the Corpse Demon Sect. With a bit of luck, he stood a decent chance of advancing to the late-stage of Qi Condensation within six years of entering the sect, which would elevate him to an inner disciple.

Now that he had broken through to the mid-stage of Qi Condensation, his benefits had risen accordingly, granting him an additional ten Spirit Stones each month.

As he prepared to leave the Corpse Dismemberment Cave, Song Wen requested a one-month leave from Yuan Cheng. He desperately needed time to address his worsening corpse transformation.

Yuan Cheng granted the request without hesitation. In his heart, however, he seriously doubted Song Wen would ever return to the Corpse Dismemberment Cave alive. The youth would most likely vanish forever.

In the past, when the minds of the corpse dismemberers began to fracture from the maddening corruption, most would venture outside the sect in a desperate bid to seek a fated chance. Yet, less than one in ten ever returned alive with their sanity restored.

Most perished amidst the myriad perils of the outside world. Others lost their minds entirely, sinking into mindless walking corpses. Worse still, some were slaughtered by their closest kin or fellow disciples, their meager belongings turning into someone else's fated chance.

Song Wen returned to his cave dwelling. After thoroughly altering his appearance, he packed a few essential items and headed straight for the market.

Along the way, he found an abandoned, secluded corner. Song Wen released the physical suppression on his cultivation, allowing his full aura as a cultivator of the sixth layer of Qi Condensation to surge forth.

By now, he had transformed his likeness into that of a pale-faced, youthful rogue cultivator.

Inspecting himself from top to bottom, he still felt exposed. To be safe, Song Wen pulled on a thick cloak to shroud his frame, then donned a demonic mask featuring crimson brows and bared tusks. Only then did he nod in satisfaction.

Upon entering the market, Song Wen walked into a bustling inn. He cut straight through the main hall and made his way to a solitary thatched hut situated in the rear courtyard.

He presented a wooden token to the guard stationed outside the hut, who promptly stepped aside to let him pass.

Stepping inside the hut, he was met with a narrow, cramped staircase descending into the earth. After tracking downward for several dozen meters, the tight passage suddenly gave way to an expansive view.

A massive subterranean hall spanning several acres lay before him, its perimeter lined with numerous smaller caves.

Cultivators drifted back and forth across the hall, a mixed crowd of rogue cultivators and disciples from the Corpse Demon Sect. Most had taken measures to conceal their identities. Even with his heavy cloak and demonic mask, Song Wen did not look the least bit out of place.

This was an underground ghost market, established under the authority of a certain Golden Core Ancestor of the Corpse Demon Sect.

Here, cultivators could trade for desired cultivation resources or purchase intelligence.

However, in a black market where transactions occurred directly between individual cultivators, there was absolutely no guarantee regarding the authenticity of goods or information. Distinguishing truth from falsehood relied entirely on a cultivator's own judgment.

In the center of the hall stood a circular counter, behind which sat several elderly men. They functioned as the overseers of the ghost market, primarily serving to broker deals and facilitate the exchange of information-acting much like secular middlemen.

Song Wen approached one of the old men and held up his wooden token once more.

The old man glanced at the number carved into the wood, stepped out from behind the counter, and silently gestured for Song Wen to follow. He led him toward one of the caves lining the edge of the hall.

A little over a month ago, Song Wen had gained entry to this underground ghost market through an introduction from Senior Brother Xu, the stall vendor.

He had spent a hundred Spirit Stones to buy intelligence regarding Empty Cicada Wood from this very old man.

According to the report, a cultivator had spotted traces of Empty Cicada Wood within a subterranean cavern inside the Ancient Good and Evil Battlefield. However, the wood was guarded by powerful, resentful ghosts, and no one had yet managed to retrieve it.

Legend held that tens of thousands of years ago, a catastrophic war had erupted on that battlefield between the righteous and evil paths. Finding themselves driven into a corner, the demonic cultivators had sought to turn the tide by slaughtering countless mortals. Using mortal flesh, blood, and souls, they constructed a devastating Blood God Formation, ruthlessly slaughtering a massive number of righteous cultivators on those grounds.

Tens of thousands of years had washed away the exact historical truths of what transpired.

Yet the endless mounds of skeletal remains, the drifting wraiths, the walking corpses roaming the wastes, and the perpetual shroud of corpse Qi and Yin energy all bore silent testament to the horrific brutality of that ancient war.

Dangerous as it was, the Ancient Battlefield still contained numerous buried treasures and secrets.

From time to time, cultivators stumbled upon fragments of powerful Dharma Treasures left behind from the ancient conflict, while others unearthed lost cultivation techniques. Furthermore, certain rare spiritual herbs grew exclusively within the deep caverns of the battlefield.

This drew a steady stream of cultivators seeking a fated chance, though the visitors were almost entirely at the Qi Condensation stage.

The Ancient Battlefield had been picked clean by generations of predecessors. Any truly formidable Dharma Treasures or techniques had been claimed long ago. What remained were merely the scraps others deemed unworthy of their time.

Song Wen's objective for this excursion was to join an expedition team heading toward that specific cavern, where he would bide his time to seize the Empty Cicada Wood.

This was precisely why he had chosen to expose his full cultivation level. His strength was already modest; if he hid it further, he would easily be dismissed or targeted by these hardened, desperate cutthroats who lived on the edge of a blade. That would only invite unnecessary trouble.

The old man escorted Song Wen to the entrance of the cave, then turned and departed without a word.

Song Wen stepped into the cavern alone.

Inside, three men and one woman were already waiting.

At the sight of Song Wen's entrance, a middle-aged male cultivator radiating a dense, ghostly aura spoke up.

"Are you the fellow Daoist who possesses the flying vessel?"

Song Wen gave a concise nod, remaining silent.

Receiving a positive confirmation, the middle-aged man continued, "Excellent. Now that everyone is accounted for, let us introduce ourselves."

Right then, a burly, massive cultivator nearby fixed a hostile glare on Song Wen, his tone laced with displeasure.

"Hold on. I, Niu Ding, never travel with characters who hide their heads and cover their tails. Types like him love nothing more than stabbing people in the back."

Hearing this, Song Wen's mouth twitched slightly. He mused inwardly: This Niu Ding actually has a remarkably sharp eye for character.

Without making a fuss, Song Wen unclasped his cloak and removed the mask, exposing his pale, youthful face to the group.

Seeing Song Wen comply so readily, the irritation vanished from Niu Ding's features. He grunted, "I am called Niu Ding. Seventh layer of Qi Condensation."

The middle-aged cultivator followed suit. "Xuan Ye. Seventh layer of Qi Condensation."

Song Wen calmly offered, "Guo Tao. Sixth layer of Qi Condensation."

He used the alias 'Guo Tao' without a moment's hesitation. In truth, the names provided by the others were highly unlikely to be genuine either. Among demonic cultivators, few were foolish enough to reveal their true identities.

At this point, only the remaining man and woman had yet to introduce themselves.

Unlike the others, who deliberately kept their distance from one another, these two stood in close proximity. They were clearly well-acquainted and shared a mutual level of trust.

The man possessed a thoroughly unremarkable face, the sort that would instantly blend into any crowd.

The woman, conversely, boasted a slender, elegant figure and striking features, radiating the mature allure of a young married woman. However, her expression remained thoroughly frosty, projecting a cold demeanor that firmly kept others at arm's length.

The man glanced at the woman. Seeing she had no intention of speaking, he took the initiative.

"I am Lao Chun, sixth layer of Qi Condensation."

He then gestured toward the mature woman beside him. "This is my Senior Sister, Zi Yi. Seventh layer of Qi Condensation."

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