Chapter 59: Legacy

The towering trees that once grew here had vanished entirely, even their roots were gone as if they had never existed at all. Autumn Cold’s gaze slowly shifted to the mountainside that had previously been concealed beneath the trees, and he began to approach it. Embedded in the stone wall was a sword, its blade almost entirely swallowed by the rock, leaving only a fiery red hilt exposed.

He reached out with his right hand to grasp the hilt, and a sensation of extreme cold pierced his palm, nearly causing him to release his hold. With a slight exertion, he tried to pull the sword free, but his brows knitted together in surprise: even with all his strength, he could not extract it. He was astonished, for with his cultivation, he could easily lift a stone weighing thousands of pounds; yet now, a sword stuck in the mountainside refused to yield to him.

“How can this be?”

Just as Autumn Cold was puzzling over this, the unicorn, who had been leaping about in excitement nearby, suddenly bounded forward. It came to the stone wall, raised its foreleg, lay against the rock, and lowered its nose so that the silvery horn at its tip aligned with the stone. With a swift thrust, the horn plunged entirely into the stone wall. To Autumn Cold’s surprise, the unicorn’s horn was so hard that it disappeared completely into the rock. Then, with a mighty pull, the unicorn withdrew its horn, and the stone wall collapsed with a thunderous crash, revealing a doorway taller than a man.

Autumn Cold quickly retrieved the sword, embraced the unicorn, and gazed into the opening.

“There’s a cave here.”

He murmured. Just then, the voice that had seemed to vanish before reappeared.

“Boom-boom, boom-boom, boom-boom…”

The sound was clearer than before, and Autumn Cold’s face flushed, his chest aching. An unusual discomfort swept through him, his heart racing as though it might leap from his chest.

He sank to one knee, supporting himself with his left hand, the veins on his forehead bulging. The sound threatened to drive him mad.

He sensed the threat of death.

“Ah!” Autumn Cold could bear it no longer and cried out in pain. The unicorn, seeing his distress, suddenly opened its mouth and let out a mighty roar toward the cave. Unlike its usual cry, this sound was full of authority.

At last, the pounding ceased, and Autumn Cold’s complexion gradually improved. After a moment to steady his breath, he looked again into the cave, uncertainty in his eyes.

“To enter, or not to enter?”

He pondered for a long time, then decided to first use his divine sense to explore within before making a decision.

Closing his eyes, he sent his consciousness gently into the cave. Scenes of what lay inside gradually formed in his mind.

Within a passage neither large nor small, the walls were all stone, silent and dusky red. If viewed with the naked eye, vision would surely be blurred, but through his divine sense, Autumn Cold could clearly see the carvings etched into the surrounding stone.

The carvings were strange: some depicted humans in varying attire, others showed bizarre beasts, and some portrayed creatures shaped like humans but with wings—an odd and mysterious race…

Autumn Cold’s divine sense slowly penetrated deeper into the winding, narrow passage. Half an hour passed before his consciousness reached its end.

There lay a vast cavern, a sea of fire raging within, waves of flame surging endlessly, the stone walls glowing crimson. At the heart of this inferno stood two small peaks, their bases plunged into the fire, their middle sections arching upward. As Autumn Cold’s consciousness entered, the previously motionless peaks suddenly began to move toward him.

At that moment, flames from the fire sea burst forth into the passage, and Autumn Cold, who was outside, hastily withdrew his divine sense. An immense pressure surged from the center of the fire, pressing toward the cave entrance. Autumn Cold shuddered, staggering so violently he nearly collapsed.

That pressure seemed to possess a will of its own; all who faced it were compelled to kneel in submission. Autumn Cold’s legs weakened, his left knee hitting the ground. Under its weight, he felt as insignificant as an ant, powerless to resist.

With his right hand braced against the earth, he struggled to keep himself from kneeling entirely. The incense stick’s length passed; sweat poured from him, the pressure unrelenting. Finally, after some time, he licked his throat and spat out a mouthful of blood, his face flushed.

Then, in his mind, a blurred voice echoed: “I am the Spirit of the Wild. All mortals who behold me shall kneel! Why do you not bow?”

The voice carried with it the weight of ages, yet held an indescribable majesty, as if it were a command, reverberating in Autumn Cold’s mind, nearly forcing him to his knees.

“I, Autumn Cold, have studied the sages since the age of seven. At fourteen, through a stroke of fortune, I entered a sect to cultivate immortality. I have practiced the Way for seven years. Though I am neither a noble man nor a scoundrel, throughout my life I have never bowed to heaven or feared ghosts and gods. I kneel only to my parents, and honor only my master!”

“My cultivation may be short and my power less than yours. Though you could kill me, I will not kneel to you!”

Enduring the crushing pressure, Autumn Cold bit out each word. Though young in years, his determination was as strong as any.

After he finished speaking, the voice fell silent, but the pressure did not ease. Then, after a moment, the voice returned.

“You are of the later generations of my Way, but your cultivation is too low to inherit my legacy. When your power increases, you may return here to accept my inheritance. But those who would receive it must first face my trial. Survive, and you will receive fortune. You may leave for now, but remember: reveal this place and you shall be destroyed!”

With those words, the voice faded into silence. The pressure vanished. Gradually, Autumn Cold stood, recalling the words he had just heard. After a long time, he finally departed.

Returning to the broad mountainside where he had previously rested, Autumn Cold once again entered the space within the Immortal Compass in his consciousness. It was his second visit.

Inside the Immortal Compass, Autumn Cold flew toward the place where he had once meditated beside a fire orb. Soon, he arrived again; the fire orb still floated quietly in the same spot. Not far away, the transparent soul of Nangong Li hovered nearby.

Autumn Cold gazed at him. Nangong Li’s eyes were tightly closed, a faint black aura swirling around him, enveloping his soul. Autumn Cold withdrew his gaze, pondered for a while, and took something from his storage pouch.