Chapter 50: At the Heart of the Secret Realm

Seraphine felt a cold wind sweep over her body.

She shivered slightly, pressing herself against Kael. He held her waist gently, his palm warm against the chill biting through her robes.

Finally, they had reached the summit.

All around them, like the mouth of a volcano, the mountain opened up in the shape of a huge cylinder.

The smell of burnt rock and sulfur rose from deep below, mixed with something damp and ancient, as if no one had set foot in that place for centuries.

Seraphine’s eyes passed right over the black, lifeless rock and settled on a single tree.

Small, with blood-red leaves and fruits of a red so vibrant that they seemed to glow amid so much darkness.

Ten fruits hung from the branches, and both she and Kael recognized them instantly.

They were Crimson Lotus fruits, nearly five hundred years old.

Fruits of this kind were especially valuable, coveted by any cultivator.

This particular tree was very famous.

Even when the Secret Realm was closed, time inside continued to pass much faster than in the outside world. Forty-eight times faster, to be exact.

In other words, for every ten years that the Secret Realm of Divine Mist remained sealed, a total of four hundred and eighty years passed inside.

For most spiritual fruit trees, which grew in the open and were devoured by animals before they even ripened, this mattered little.

But for spiritual herbs and trees hidden far from beasts, it was an incredible thing.

So much so that many disciples from various families would even plant seeds in isolated regions, hoping that, in the future, the next generation of their families—perhaps even their own children—would find rare treasures waiting for them.

The Crimson Lotus tree was especially rare. As far as anyone knew, it was the only one successfully planted in that place.

When consumed, its fruits tempered a cultivator’s blood, increasing their ability to move Qi throughout the body and even to recover from serious injuries.

"It seems we were the first to arrive here," Seraphine whispered, walking toward the tree, her footsteps light on the dark stone.

The fruits hung low, almost touching the ground, so she had to kneel.

Using a thread of Qi, she carefully separated each fruit from its branch, taking care not to disturb the energies inside.

One by one, they came loose with an almost inaudible snap, dropping into her open palm with a soft, heavy weight.

She gathered all ten, storing them in her personal storage ring.

Honestly, she wanted to dig into that black soil.

It was common to find ginseng and other rare spiritual roots in earth like that.

Unfortunately, they were short on time, and neither she nor Kael had any treasure-hunting creatures with them.

"When we leave the Secret Realm, before we head to the Golden Alliance Sect, I want to buy a little treasure-hunting mouse at the auction in Half-Moon Jade City. We’ll sell our treasures there, right?" Seraphine asked, standing up and brushing the dirt off her hands.

She wasn’t going to stoop to sniffing around the ground for signs of spiritual ginseng, so she’d rather give up for now.

"Yes." Kael nodded.

Half-Moon Jade City was a large merchant city, located halfway between the Fallen Sword Sect and the Golden Alliance Sect.

It was the main trading hub among cultivators in the region, governed by a Void Soul Venerable who was respected even by the Golden Alliance Sect.

"How can you be so sure we’ll get the token to enter the Golden Alliance Sect?" Kael asked shortly afterward, crossing his arms.

"Woman’s intuition," Seraphine replied curtly, without even turning to face him. "Now let’s get going, you shameless pervert—I want to see what lies beyond this mist."

She turned her gaze toward the interior of what appeared to be a volcano.

Filling it was a pure, white mist, like a sea of clouds. It moved slowly, almost as if breathing, lapping at the edges of the black rock and then receding again.

If not for the color, it was very similar to the sea of mist they had crossed to enter the Secret Realm.

"All right, let’s go." Kael smiled, and without warning gave Seraphine’s luscious butt a firm slap.

His palm cracked loudly against the thin fabric, sinking deep into her full buttock as if diving into pudding. The plump cheek flattened under the blow before springing back, a slow, heavy quiver rolling through the flesh and spreading to her other cheek.

For a moment her whole backside swayed under the robe before settling.

She gave a soft little hop, shuddering slightly. A blush spread all the way to the tips of her ears.

"Idiot..." she murmured, but in the end she didn’t really complain. Standing beside Kael, she leaped toward the abyss.

The mist parted around their bodies as they sank, swallowed by an endless white.

Cool droplets clung to their skin, and the roar of the wind faded into a muffled hush.

After about ten seconds, the mist finally cleared.

Below them, they saw a gigantic black palace, beautiful and elegant even in ruins.

Its design was traditional, divided into three wings.

The left wing was destroyed. A single sword strike, powerful enough that its mark was still visible thousands of years later, had torn it in half.

The right wing was in slightly better shape, but even so, a hole clearly made by a spear thrust marked its center, the edges of the stone melted and sagging.

In the central wing, the body of a massive statue lay sprawled across the palace roof.

A spear pierced its neck, and a sword, its belly.

Although it was a statue, a glowing liquid slowly oozed from its wounds, dripping down the walls in thick, sluggish trails. It was magma.

That entire mansion had been built about five hundred meters above a gigantic sea of magma, which bubbled below with a deep, constant rumble, casting an orange glow against the black walls.

The statue, as many claimed, was the sect’s ancient guardian, left behind by the Founding Ancestor.

Of course, that had been a long time ago. Thousands and thousands of years.

The paper had turned to ashes, and the stories, passed down by word of mouth, were unreliable.

Still, one truth remained.

That was the mansion of the ancient founder of the Fallen Sword Sect.

Any treasure found there would be of sufficient quality to transform even the most wretched peasant into a worthy cultivator of the immortal path.