72 To Cultivate, One Should... 6 (1/2)

The region of death within the Shattered Star Continent could be described within four sentences.

Hell of the ocean, Blackwater Crags.

Hell of fire, Volatile Mountain Biao.

Hell of wind, Pass of Agony.

Hell of the earth, Plains of Death.

The region of death was scattered amongst the continent, with passages leading to the various zones of absolute danger existing in every region. If one dared to venture into the fringes of explored territory, ample preparation was required to not succumb instantly within the danger zone.

There were rumors that the region of death was actually the entrance to a world underground of a far larger scale than that of the surface of the Shattered Star Continent. Similarly, others claimed that they were instead gateways to secret pockets of space hidden from the world, though not a single person had lived to verify either rumor.

At least, nobody had confessed that they had survived the region of death.

At the extreme north of Great Yong, was a snowy field barren of life that led directly into a range of mountains. The howling gales and fearsome temperatures were far below unbearable temperatures, with the night providing a dangerous and bone-chilling surprise.

The plains were several times the size of the Feng Bi Prefecture, and if one were to step onto the plateau, the only visible environment would be snow, mounds of snow, and even mountains of snow.

The reduced visibility by the low temperatures and fierce winds created an impossibly difficult maze, with danger at every step and turn, and death creeping from behind.

The northern plains did not require any fierce beasts or traps; an avalanche of supercooled snow and hypothermia were sufficient as guardians and killers of the snowy maze. Not even Nascent Soul Realm cultivators dared to venture far in the plains, for the biting cold was capable of penetrating all defensive barriers of spiritual essence, and thicker clothes were simply not an effective solution.

Not to mention the howling wind that was as sharp as nails, capable of shredding any existence into miserable strips of frozen flesh.

Beyond the snowy plains of the north was indeed, a pathway leading to the Pass of Agony. If one could pass through the fate of freezing to death, they would be exposed to a large range of mountains. The ground was sloped that several pathways were constructed, winding around the mountains, some even coiling up the mountain's height.

Where they evidently guided was a mystery not a single person dared to ask.

The freezing temperature and fierce rains did not extend beyond the snowy plains, but the peaks of each mountain were surrounded by a dense, black cloud, with massive bolts of lightning striking the ground at random intervals. The ground was not affected by the impact of lightning, but not a single living creature could be found in the entire Pass of Agony; not even the most resilient of plant life could be discovered.

Furthermore, the expected sound of thunder did not manifest with each bolt of lightning. Instead, a dull sound akin to the hammering of metal onto soil rang out with each impact, causing great shockwaves to ripple outwards and decimate the air.

Fifty meters into one of the major pathways in the Pass of Agony, an odd phenomenon occurred, an unusual sighting for the region of death itself.

For a man, a human being, was standing on the peak of one of the lower mountains, encased in a net of lightning.

The man wore a loose scholar's robe, standing tall with an reserved but indomitable aura emanating from his body. Underneath the grey robe was a toned, muscular frame of excellent proportions, displaying elegance without lacking strength.

The man's handsome features could be considered perfect and captivating, appearing to be no more than his mid-twenties of age.

”Come!” the man boldly shouted towards the hazed sky, spreading his arms wide.

”Show me the fifth tribulation the Heavens have in store for this scholar!”

The sky rumbled in response, numerous dots of light appearing over the peak of the mountain the man stood on. After a few moments, the dots gradually began to converge into a single point, the light growing in intensity until it became blinding to the eye.

The man laughed, slapping his chest with his right palm, before pressing onto the ground with his left. With a quick exhale of air, a resplendent blue light burst from his body, evaporating the net of lightning upon mere contact.

Retaining the blue light around his body, the man maintained his posture as he closed his eyes, the reserves of spiritual essence within his dantian roiling and seething with agitation. Both the sky and man fought for time, one converging the atmospheric essence for a single, mighty attack; the other ignited his entire reserves of spiritual essence for a powerful array.