630 Secret Realm’s Limited Time

Blood-red clouds darkened the secret realm. While some were filled with anxiety, others eagerly awaited the unfolding events.

On a spiritually-rich mountain peak sat disciples of the True Path Sect, adorned in grayish-blue Daoist robes. A flag, showcasing the word ‘Dao’, fluttered above, radiating a mysterious power and a gentle scent of chrysanthemums, marking the territory as their domain.

The True Path Sect’s leaders occupied the center while core and inner disciples surrounded them. Even the newest outer sect disciples eagerly ventured into the secret realm, lured by the versatility of spirit stones.

At the mountain’s fringe, seemingly distanced from the rest, Zhang Youji perched on a hundred-meter-tall tree. Gazing at the blood-red cloud canopy, he mused, “Looks like Brother Qin has arrived. Is he recreating the legendary one-man battle at the King Bone Holy Altar?”

Although he had missed the grand spirit world battle, he was determined to witness the unfolding drama this time. Despite having fought alongside Qin Huai, Zhang Youji felt that the man concealed much. To him, Qin Huai was like a mysterious abyss, hiding untold power.

Suddenly, the tree branch trembled as a portly, bearded middle-aged man, Uncle Master Fei, landed next to him.

“Uncle Master, maybe consider shedding some weight?” quipped Zhang Youji.

“It’s time for you to learn lightning techniques. I haven’t seen you use it in so many years,” Uncle-Master Fei retorted, unwilling to be outdone.

“My lightning technique is very good.” Zhang Youji smirked and extended his hand, and a lightning arc flashed across his palm.

Uncle Fei, unperturbed, passed on a message from Zhang Youji’s master. They would guard and lead for the first half of the year while Elder Sun and others cultivated. The roles would reverse for the second half.

Curious, Zhang Youji inquired, “Isn’t the secret realm open for two years?”

“The secret realm opens once every three hundred years, and every time it opens, it’s always one year shorter than the previous one.” Uncle Master Fei revealed the secret, “This time, it will be a year, or even shorter.”

Intrigued, Zhang Youji probed further. Uncle Fei explained that to sustain his world of equality eternally, the governor of Pingwang had chosen the Great You’s spirit vein, which held nearly eighty percent of the spirit stone reserves.

“Then why didn’t you harvest them all at once?” Zhang Youji, due to his age and the realm’s lengthy opening intervals, was unfamiliar with many details about the secret realm of Pingwang county. His curiosity was ever-growing.

“There was once another sect that tried, but in the end, the secret realm suddenly closed early, causing all the martial artists who were originally inside to be trapped and killed,” Uncle Master Fei said.

He continued, “Through such tragedies, the various powerful sects established limits on the number of spirit stones to mine. This precaution eventually evolved into a universally accepted rule. Each faction had a predetermined quota of spirit stones to extract.”

“Although I’m not fond of you,” Uncle Master Fei said earnestly, “remember you represent the True Path Sect. We can’t afford to lose face.”

Zhang Youji replied with feigned innocence, “I always follow the rules.”

Uncle Master Fei further warned, “The blood clouds above might be the handiwork of the Sacred Heart Sect. Investigate them when you can.”

“Understood,” Zhang Youji acknowledged. He chose not to disclose all he knew. It was wiser to conceal information about Qingzhou.

Additionally, he was eager to gauge Qin Huai’s capabilities firsthand. Given how Qin Huai had orchestrated the blood sea array, he believed its presence could be concealed for some time.

“If that’s all, I’ll take my leave.”

“Okay, be careful,” Uncle Master Fei cautioned, patting where he believed Zhang Youji stood. To his surprise, his hand passed through only an illusion. Stabilizing himself on the tree, he muttered, “This brat’s unorthodox ways are becoming more and more evil…”

A short distance away, the real Zhang Youji played with a handful of talismans. As he chanted, the talismans formed a protective barrier around him. In no time, a mist rose, enveloping him.

With a pointed gesture, he dissipated the mist, directing it towards the blood-red canopy above. Though his mist seemed insignificant against the vastness of the blood sea, it dispersed upon reaching the sky.

“This should buy Brother Qin some time,” Zhang Youji thought.