Chapter Twenty: Young Song, Recklessly Bold

When the five denizens of the secret realm each formed their hand seals to part the thick grass and saw Song Yue lying sprawled on the ground, their tension instantly eased. This ferocious warrior had finally been brought down by their combined effort!

A mere martial artist, after all, possessed only brute courage. When faced with cultivators’ techniques, he was fragile and easily destroyed. Even so, the five were still prepared to unleash their spells and finish Song Yue off completely. Even in death, they would desecrate his corpse, for only then could their burning hatred be soothed.

Yet, they hardly knew how they would explain this to their elders. In the eyes of secret realm folk, talent was the most precious resource; the total population lingering in the realm through generations was never large. After years of propagation, they had barely formed a closed, small society, making each newborn a matter of great importance to them.

Now, one among them had been slain by outsiders. The hatred in their hearts was boundless.

The five approached, and from the moment they saw Song Yue motionless on the earth to the instant they prepared to attack, it was but a fleeting thought. Yet, at the very moment they revealed themselves—Song Yue leapt up!

He struck instantly! The alien alloy spear in his hand let out a deep, muffled whine as it swept like a blade, slashing across, tracing a perfect semicircle through the air.

The expressions of the five froze in place; the next moment, a thin red line appeared across each of their necks, and blood gushed forth.

Their hand seals dispersed, their spiritual power drained, and they clutched their throats in disbelief that their lives could be ended in such a way. Not long before, they had worn cruel, cold smiles as they shot arrow after arrow to kill those damned outsiders.

Even though their elders had warned them: when the secret realm gate opened, stay away from the altar. Those people would not venture far, only gathering weeds and low-level resources—there was no need to interfere. As long as they did not enter the living areas of the secret realm folk, avoid conflict as much as possible.

But these young ones, full of arrogance, paid no heed. In their eyes, the entire Kunlun Secret Realm was their domain—private, inviolable territory! Even though most of its vast expanse was too dangerous for them to explore, it was still considered theirs.

Even now, none of them had expected their lives to end so abruptly.

One youth desperately pressed his hand to the deep wound on his neck, tears streaming down his face, unwilling to die so easily. Yet his eyelids grew heavier, and in the end, he could only stare, unable to close his eyes in death.

Song Yue’s own legs were weak; he used the alloy spear as a crutch, gasping for breath. That sudden attack had nearly exhausted all of his vitality. He had only this one chance. If he failed to severely injure his foes and deliver a fatal blow, their spells would soon fall upon him, and his recently cultivated protective aura might not withstand it.

Then he would become prey.

Looking at the five young men, their eyes wide open in death, Song Yue could no longer suppress the nauseous feeling that had been simmering within him. He squatted and retched, spitting several times onto the ground.

Steeling himself, he stood upright, took a deep breath, and gradually calmed. He did not wish to be the one to stand out, but these men had gone too far!

Each time the secret realm gate opened, it was only for half a month. Most people dared not stray far from the altar, fearing they would be trapped here for sixty years, becoming new denizens of the realm. No matter how alluring the place, people always had attachments. Few could bear to stay.

Thus, Song Yue saw no reason for the secret realm folk to react so violently. Furthermore, though no one spoke openly, he suspected that among the thousand who entered the realm, many were official agents or members of major factions, seeking to trade directly with the secret realm folk—exchanging modern resources for the abundant cultivation materials within.

This was only natural; the secret realm folk had once been outsiders themselves. They spoke the same language, shared habits, bore no deep hatred—conflict was not inevitable.

Sadly, a peaceful matter had been forced into disaster!

Song Yue glanced one last time at the dead, thought for a moment, then used the alloy spear as a shovel to dig a deep pit. He dragged the first man he had killed and buried him with the other five. Apart from bows and arrows, they carried only some spirit fruits for sustenance, which Song Yue unceremoniously packed away.

He transplanted some grass over the site, carefully erasing all traces. In the wild, tangled forest, unless one deliberately searched, it would be difficult to tell a battle had taken place.

Having finished, Song Yue felt exhausted. He ate a few spirit fruits; they melted in his mouth, cool and sweet, delightfully flavored.

From afar came shouts.

“Song Yue! Are you there?” It was Qian.

“Little Song, give a shout if you hear us!” This was Meng.

Shout your head! Song Yue, spear in hand, walked out of the forest, relaxing himself as he went. He circulated the Taiyi Body-Refining Sutra to dispel his murderous aura. He did not want anyone to know what had happened in the forest. The trouble with Zhang Zixing was still unresolved.

As he neared the edge of the forest, he saw Qian and Meng, along with a dozen others, had ventured hundreds of meters deep. His heart warmed slightly.

A few hundred meters might not seem much in open terrain, but in the dense secret realm forest, it was fraught with danger.

He called out, “I’m here!”

Hearing his voice, Qian and Meng visibly relaxed.

Meng wiped sweat from his brow, scolding, “Little Song, you were too reckless! How could you go in alone? Haven’t you heard ‘never enter a forest alone’?”

Qian stepped in front of Song Yue, scanning him up and down. “Are you alright?”

Song Yue grinned and tossed her the cloth bag. “Here, share these with everyone.”

Qian took it, opened it, and exclaimed, “So many spirit fruits?”

Meng leaned over. “Let me see!” He then looked at Song Yue, puzzled. “Where are the secret realm folk? They didn’t attack you? We just heard a short, sharp scream…”

Song Yue answered with pride, “I drove them off! Wounded one—they fled in panic!” He displayed the bloodstained alloy spear.

Indeed, this high-tech enhanced weapon was formidable; though it had pierced a man’s chest, it bore only faint traces of blood.

Meng wiped the blood off with a tissue and looked at Song Yue. “You’re amazing!”

The other academy students gathered round, admiring Song Yue. They had braved their fears to follow him in. Seeing Song Yue’s willingness to protect them by venturing into the forest, they, as advanced cultivators, felt it would be shameful not to do the same. They had never dared raise their heads before him, and if they waited for his return, he would surely mock them—both for being weak and cowardly.

Qian distributed two fruits each, keeping the rest for herself. She had no intention of saving any for those outside.

She had anxiously called everyone in, even asking others to help. In the crisis, she overcame her mild social anxiety, urging everyone to enter the forest and drive out the secret realm folk. This was not just Song Yue’s affair.

Yet most people were indifferent; only a dozen close friends joined her in search.

So, she had no qualms about sharing the spirit fruits with them.

What surprised Qian most, however, was that Meng had dared to come along; she hadn’t expected it, and found him not quite so annoying anymore.

“Wow, this stuff is delicious!” Meng exclaimed, loudly and without restraint.

“You’ve never eaten one?” Song Yue glanced at him.

“I have, but never this tasty! Fruits from the secret realm are sweeter!” Meng swallowed his saliva. With only two, he was unsatisfied. He eyed Song Yue. “Where did you pick them? Are there more?”

Song Yue looked at him as if he were foolish. “Meng, do you think I’d leave any fruit on the tree?”

Meng was speechless. Once everyone had finished the fruits, they left the forest together.

Fortunately, the group of academy students who hadn’t dared enter were waiting outside, forming a defensive array.

Some had set up foldable alloy shields—also of alien origin—to guard against sneak attacks.

Seeing Song Yue and his companions emerge, the others sighed in relief. A few sentimental girls had reddened eyes, nearly in tears.

Outside, there was no sense of danger, but every moment had been agonizing. For the first time, these young prodigies stepped out of their ivory towers, experiencing joy and sorrow, witnessing death firsthand in less than a day.

This brief time would have immeasurable impact in toughening these hothouse flowers.

Song Yue, upon emerging, did not mock those who had stayed outside, but smiled gently at them. “Chickens, it’s safe now—we can move on!”

The students, full of emotion, were jolted by the word “chickens,” immediately pulled from their moods.

“You’re the chicken!”

“If advanced cultivators could act freely, you’d have been burned to ash!”

“Martial artists can only bully low-level cultivators!”

Song Yue could not be bothered with these peers whose mental age was at least ten years behind; he waved them off. “Fine, fine, you’re all big shots—you’re always right!”

The girls blushed and spat at him, but their gazes had changed—less fearful, more complex.

Even the boys, though they teased him, felt the same. Song Yue was their backbone. As long as this martial artist who had tormented them for years was present, they felt secure.

Just as Song Yue was about to lead them toward their target mountain, a student suddenly cried out and collapsed, clutching his head in pain.

“It hurts! My head’s going to explode!”

Song Yue was shocked; he had kept his protective aura active, but had not expected an attack on his companion.

A feathered arrow, tied with a note, landed in a tree nearby.

“Protect him!” Song Yue ordered, then strode over, yanked out the arrow—clearly a product of modern technology—and opened the note, which read:

If you don’t want the academy students’ minds to be destroyed one by one, leave them and go to the three o’clock area ahead. We are waiting for you there!

Qian came over, worry in her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Meng followed, whispering, “Is it them?”

Song Yue crumpled the note in his hand, furious. He knew Zhang Zixing’s group would not let him go, but he hadn’t expected them to target the academy students so brazenly.

Though he called them chickens, to outsiders, any advanced cultivator from the academy was truly a national treasure. They lacked experience, but their futures were bright. It was no exaggeration: as long as they survived, in decades they would become prominent figures.

Yet Zhang Zixing’s group dared to act so recklessly? They wanted to force him away from the students and ambush him alone?

Well, it happened that Song Yue wanted to settle this matter quickly.

He looked at Qian. “Qian, be brave! You’ve got this!”

Then to Meng: “It’s those secret realm folk!”

“Meng, I’m giving you a task—take care of these chickens for me. Stay here, and look for good medicinal herbs nearby.”

“Remember: if I don’t return, don’t wander. But if I’m gone for a day or two, head back to the altar!”

“Nothing is more important than life. There’s not much to be found near the altar, but you won’t leave empty-handed.”

Without giving them a chance for questions, Song Yue launched himself toward the three o’clock direction, feet pounding the earth.

The forest thickened, wild grass grew rampant, and in a blink, he vanished from sight.

Qian tried to say something, but it was too late. Watching Song Yue’s figure disappear into the depths, she murmured, “Be careful…”

Meng frowned, glanced at the feathered arrow Song Yue had left behind, and grumbled, “Damn secret realm folk. Little Song is too reckless!”