C18 The Poison of the Miasma

The final scene that unfolded before Ye Mo felt surreal. He couldn't discern whether it was reality or illusion. If only Ye Mo could open his eyes at this moment, he would be astounded by the sight of the vast and majestic mountains stretching endlessly before him.

"What has transpired in the Forest of Nine Illusions? Such a formidable presence... Is someone vying for the title of supreme ruler again?"

From a distance, the enormous bird revealed itself to be a Golden-winged Roc. An old man dressed in a simple grey robe stood firmly on the broad back of the Roc, exuding an air of ease and transcendence. He stood tall and proud, unaffected by the biting wind that failed to stir even a fold of his garment.

The Roc's cry echoed across the heavens, sending low-level Soul Beasts scurrying in terror, as if facing an imminent threat.

"Pigeon, have you also noticed something extraordinary about this young man?" The white-haired elder observed the Roc's mournful cry and spoke to it in a measured tone.

"Indeed, he possesses a Soul Beast's inner core that's at least at the eighth level. As you know, such a core cannot coexist with a human unless the Soul Beast willingly offers it..." The Golden-winged Roc, addressed as Pigeon, responded with a tone laden with astonishment, casting another glance at the unconscious Ye Mo in its grasp.

"He possesses a soul yet lacks a spirit. Now an adult, he was destined to perish, but instead, he has acquired Soul Power and has become a Soul Cultivator—all thanks to the advanced inner core within him. Which Soul Beast would be foolish enough to entrust its core to a human..." The old man, whose eyes seemed to have witnessed the passage of time, suddenly sparkled with insight and shook his head slowly.

"Only the Spiritfox lineage could do such a thing..." The Roc interjected with an odd inflection in its voice.

The elder appeared to be lost in a moment of reminiscence, then a wry smile crossed his face, and he shook his head, choosing to remain silent.

"Pigeon, toss him up here. Our meeting is a twist of fate; let's lend him a hand. Perhaps he'll find his place among those youngsters and achieve something noteworthy." The old man shifted the conversation and spoke nonchalantly to the Golden-winged Roc.

Without further words, the Roc scooped up Ye Mo and flung him into the sky. In an instant, Ye Mo became like a kite whose string had been cut, drifting with the wind.

The elder reached out and gently grasped Ye Mo, who seemed to be floating aimlessly. An invisible force suddenly took hold of Ye Mo, and as the elder lowered his hand, Ye Mo came to rest steadily at his feet.

With a compassionate look, the elder gazed down at the face beneath him, now unrecognizable from severe poisoning and swelling. He shook his head slowly. "You are quite fortunate to be alive. First, your life was extended by the inner core of a ninth-level Soul Beast, and now I, Specter, have come to heal your wounds and cure your poison... It's all fate."

The elder, standing tall atop the Roc, spoke with a calm that belied the astonishing nature of his words. It was none other than the legendary Specter, now quietly crouching before Ye Mo. If Ye Wuya were to witness this scene, he would be utterly astounded.

The Golden-winged Roc soared with Specter and the unconscious Ye Mo, breaking free from the dark green expanse of Miasma Land and ascending into the sky, leaving behind the once fiercely contested battlefield.

Now, the battlefield lay in ruins, its once mighty presence faded, with Soul Beasts wandering through the wreckage. Bloodstains and claw marks were scattered about, but not a single body lay in sight. Bai Qing'er, Duanjiu, and the lion and tiger beasts had all vanished without a trace. No one knew what had transpired after Ye Mo was flung away by the winged tiger.

At the border between the Forest of Eight Illusions and the Forest of Nine Illusions, a quaint area with green bricks, green tiles, and a cobblestone path had emerged, showing no signs of the Second Realm Forest's wildness.

People bustled about the area, looking weary and bearing the marks of their journey. Some were even riddled with wounds. Those who had braved the perilous Forest of Nine Illusions to arrive here shared one common trait: they traveled in groups, never alone. United by a shared purpose, they sought what lay beyond the sealed mountain gate. Inscribed upon the gate were the words "Heaven's Chosen." Indeed, the House of the Chosen awaited beyond that massive stone portal.

In the plaza before the gate, a diverse crowd had gathered. Despite their numbers, there was no commotion; each group sat in meditation under the harsh sun, waiting in silence.

In the vast expanse of Godfall Land, only a select few were aware of the emergence of the House of the Chosen or the Specter. Despite their immense power and deep roots, many humans found themselves unable to progress beyond the Forest of Nine Illusions. Not everyone wielded such formidable influence; some lacked the strength and foundation, relying solely on their determination and wit to reach this point.

Indeed, the House of the Chosen held little allure for the three sects and six halls. Each of these groups, too proud to accept a subordinate position, was not easily swayed by its charm.

As the day progressed, the sun reached its zenith. Some had been waiting there for an extended period, yet the mountain gate had never been witnessed opening. Suddenly, a deep rumbling echoed across the plaza, instantly invigorating everyone. They gazed ahead with intense, eager eyes.

The rumbling resonated from all around as the enormous stone gate inscribed with 'Heaven's Pride' gradually swung open, revealing its inner sanctum.

In that instant, everyone gazed inside with longing, and the once-peaceful plaza erupted into a cacophony of voices.

"Everyone, please be quiet!" boomed a voice, rich with Soul Power, from behind the gate. It reverberated across the land, silencing the crowd and restoring calm.

"You have all traveled great distances to be here, which speaks to your remarkable perseverance and fortune. Each of you is a proud child of heaven!"

After the plaza fell silent, a middle-aged man appeared before the gate. With an authoritative yet welcoming demeanor, he addressed the crowd with a smile.

"What does he mean by that?"

"Have we all been accepted?"

"That's impossible, this is the House of the Chosen!"

"But what was his intention with those words?"

The plaza buzzed with renewed energy as the middle-aged man concluded, prompting a flurry of whispers and speculation among the crowd.

"Silence!" he commanded, his face stern as he channeled his Soul Power into his voice. The call for quietude spread, leaving a palpable hum in the air that made heads throb and ears ring.

Finally, the noise dissipated, and tranquility was restored. The middle-aged man standing before the mountain gate exhaled softly. With a smile, he announced, "That's right, you've all been accepted. Everyone who has come here, from those over eight to those under twenty, regardless of their Soul Seed, has been recruited!" After finishing his announcement, the middle-aged man couldn't help but let out a wry laugh.

A collective shiver ran through the crowd, and in that moment, everyone was struck dumb, unable to utter a word in the eerie silence that followed, with only the sound of the wind rustling through the air.

Time passed slowly, and after several long moments, the eerie quiet persisted. No one stepped forward to break the silence. The middle-aged man, seeing this, spoke up with a hint of awkwardness, "Come on, speak up. Is there something you're still not satisfied with?" His tone was gentle, and though he didn't amplify his voice with Soul Power, it carried clearly to all.

Feeling the weight of the silence, the middle-aged man's own discomfort grew. He had just asked for quiet, and now, when he wanted a response, he was met with indifference, which set him on edge.

The silence was due to the fact that both Specter and the House of the Chosen were the stuff of legends. That's why they had braved countless dangers to vie for the few coveted spots. But now, they were grappling with disbelief at what they had heard and wondering if they had been misled by external rumors. They questioned whether the House of the Chosen was as formidable as the stories suggested, or perhaps it was even less impressive than their own families, nothing more than a sham. This frightening realization had many contemplating retreat.

Embarrassment and unease slowly crept onto the middle-aged man's once imposing face. He internally berated himself, "If I had known this would make them hesitate, I would have had them prove themselves in combat. It's true what they say: what is freely given is never valued as much as what is fought for... It's a shame that all the disciples of the House of the Chosen have left. After being closed off for so long and located in the Second Realm Forest, who would come here? I have the skills but no disciples to teach..." Little did anyone know that the authoritative middle-aged man was internally falling apart, on the verge of crying out in despair.

Finally, murmurs began to rise from the crowd below.

"Young Master, I think we should leave. The House of the Chosen isn't reliable. They'll take anyone. You, as the young master of Stargazer's Tower, ignored the pavilion master's advice to cultivate in peace within the tower. You insisted on coming here. It's not too late to turn back now..."

"Hey, do you think we took a wrong turn? This doesn't look anything like the legendary academy. It's clearly a third-rate institution..."

"Wow, this is fantastic... Um... Boss, this place isn't right for you. You come from a wealthy family; this place suits me better. I'm just a person of four souls. I can't serve you anymore. You should head back. I'm staying right here..."

"Get lost! Who's been accompanying whom all this way?"

...

The crowd was abuzz with mixed emotions. Some rejoiced, some fretted... Those with influential families and deep roots were considering leaving, yet their attendants' eyes sparkled with excitement, many of them itching to dash over immediately.

Suddenly, amidst the uncertainty, a mournful cry pierced the sky, startling everyone. "Didn't they say there were no high-level Soul Beasts within twenty miles of the House of the Chosen? Why does this cry make my head spin? They must be swindlers!"

In unison, everyone's gaze shot upwards. What they saw was astonishing—a creature so massive that just one of its wings could blot out the sun. Yet, no one felt thankful for the fleeting shade.