Desolate Devouring Art - Chapter 1232 - Confused
Chapter 1232 – Confused
Liu Wuxie had no room to dodge in this valley brimming with lethal threats. A single misstep meant certain death. Threadworms, Cannibal Flowers, and strangling vines—each one spelled disaster for any cultivator who wandered in. Anyone who entered the Cannibal Valley had barely a one-in-ten-thousand chance of escaping alive.
He dropped from above just as a massive Cannibal Flower spread open beneath him. Its gaping maw threatened to consume him whole, leaving not even his bones behind.
The petals were harder than iron, nearly impervious to ordinary blades, and they secreted a corrosive sap that could eat through flesh and bone alike. Worse still, the flower could dissolve true essence itself. If the flower swallowed a cultivator, they would find their power useless against the enclosing petals.
When the petals opened wide, Liu Wuxie caught a glimpse of half-digested bones piled within, grim trophies of those who had perished before him. Time was tight, and for the first time, Elder Long’s eyes flickered with worry.
Just when the flower was about to devour him, Liu Wuxie twisted in mid-air. He executed a sharp somersault, planted his foot lightly on the edge of a petal, and pushed himself upward. He shot back into the sky as the Cannibal Flower’s bite snapped shut beneath him.
“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” the four elders exclaimed, fists clenched in excitement. None of them could comprehend how Liu Wuxie had managed to pivot so quickly.
“Wait—how could he somersault with no footing to change direction?” the three elders muttered, baffled. In their own positions, they could have survived such a crisis, but it was only because their Primal Origin Realm cultivation granted them flight.
Liu Wuxie was only at the Transcendent Realm, so flight was beyond him. His brief hovers usually relied on the Nine Heavenly Dragon Forms, but this time, he had not even had the chance to call upon them.
Before he could steady himself, countless branches whipped through the air toward him.
“A Tree Demon!” Liu Wuxie cried. This place swarmed with the banes of cultivators.
Tree Demons were grotesque plants that thrived on human blood essence. Once their tendrils pierced flesh, escape was almost impossible. In the next heartbeat, they would drain their prey dry, leaving nothing but an empty husk.
Only moments earlier, Liu Wuxie had used Ghost Eye to trigger the Spatial Dao Art, shifting his position within a one-meter radius to evade the Cannibal Flower’s strike. But through the crystal wall, the elders could not have known he had drawn on such an art.
Escaping one peril had thrown him into another. The branches lashed at him with the hunger of wolves, relentless in their pursuit.
While he hung in mid-air, he felt his true essence falter for an instant—not from depletion, but because his rapid shifts pushed it beyond its natural flow.
“Damn it!” he snarled. From the moment he had entered this valley, every step pushed him teetering on the edge of death. One mistake and he would lose his life.
“Origin Blade!” With no other option, Liu Wuxie unleashed the Origin Blade. A violent shockwave erupted, blasting the branches away. He seized the opening, slipped free, and strung together a chain of fluid movements to retreat.
The performance wasn’t the flashiest, but its precision dazzled. In a single sequence, he had dodged the lethal strike of the Cannibal Flower, shattered strangling vines, evaded the Tree Demon’s grasp, and destroyed the hidden Threadworms.
He calculated every movement to perfection, and he had honed his adaptability and footwork to a level that defied description.
“I’m starting to suspect he’s an old monster in disguise. He can’t possibly be just a Transcendent,” one elder muttered. Even they could not match such exquisite adaptability.
For a brief moment, Elder Long regretted opening the Cannibal Valley. Cold sweat streamed down his back as he watched Liu Wuxie survive one lethal crisis after another.
Their hearts tightened at every close call, each elder itching to intervene. However, the distance and restrictions left them powerless to help.
“That was far too close. What kind of monster survives this?” the three elders whispered, their clothes clinging with cold sweat. This trial was meant to train an outer disciple, yet their pulses raced as if their own lives were on the line.
“He’s no ordinary disciple,” Elder Long muttered. “If he walks out alive, his adaptability will soar. The Cannibal Valley is the sharpest grindstone for the spirit.”
The elders quickly changed into dry robes and returned to their seats before the crystal wall, eager to witness more.
Meanwhile, Liu Wuxie pressed deeper into the valley. He no longer thought of rewards or spoils; survival itself had become the greatest prize. He took every step with caution, and he knew he could not afford to close his eyes for the next two days. A single blink at the wrong moment could be fatal.
Maintaining Ghost Eye drained his soul energy, but it sharpened him in return. The longer he kept it active, the more refined his soul power grew.
As he ventured further, the valley widened. Though dangers continued to appear, he evaded them with growing ease, leaving the elders dumbfounded.
“He’s already adapted to the Cannibal Valley’s rhythm,” one elder murmured. “I didn’t expect it so soon.”
Most cultivators would collapse mentally after so many brushes with death in such a short period of time. Yet Liu Wuxie had adjusted within minutes, using the valley’s dangers to further temper himself.
At dusk, a rustling ahead made him halt.
“This is bad! The Shadow Blood Python!” cried the three elders behind Elder Long.
Shadow Blood Pythons were high-level astral beasts, their strength on par with the peak of the Origin Conversion Realm. It thrived in the valley, feeding on those unlucky enough to cross its path. They traveled in packs; to see one meant many more lurked nearby.
Their most terrifying trait was stealth. They could disguise themselves as tree trunks, boulders, or even roots, striking when prey least expected it. Shadow Blood Pythons had swallowed countless cultivators alive without ever realizing what killed them.
Ordinary sight could not reveal them, but Liu Wuxie had Ghost Eye. With it, nothing could hide, not even the sap coursing through roots underground.
Yet these pythons were unlike ordinary threats; their bodies pulsed with terrifying energy, visible even at a glance.
Liu Wuxie halted, grim-faced. He counted silently.
“One… two… three… five…” His scalp prickled. Dozens of Shadow Blood Pythons ringed him. He had likely stumbled right into their lair.
Fortunately, he had detected them before stepping into their encirclement, leaving him space to act.
“Good thing he stopped. He must have sensed them,” the middle elder said, sighing in relief and patting his chest. He had nearly shouted for Liu Wuxie to halt, even knowing the youth could not hear him.
Elder Long’s face turned grave. The Shadow Blood Pythons were infamous as nightmare adversaries. Their stealth and pack tactics made them lethal even to cultivators at the Primal Origin Realm. Any other disciple would certainly die multiple times against them.
The pythons sensed Liu Wuxie as well, but they lay still, waiting for him to blunder closer. Many cultivators had perished exactly this way, never knowing what killed them.
A faint smile curved on Liu Wuxie’s lips. Vast reserves of energy churned within the pythons’ bodies, precisely what he needed. The desolate world within him had expanded under the Thunder God’s laws, but it remained empty, starving for power.
The Shadow Blood Pythons had arrived at the perfect moment. Still, he did not rush. Instead, he drew out a set of array flags and began planting them in the ground. Since the pythons wanted to ambush him, he would flip the game and weave a net of his own.
“What’s he doing now?” the four elders muttered, baffled. Even Elder Long leaned closer to the crystal wall.
When they realized, their jaws dropped.
“Holy heavens… He’s not just a blacksmithing prodigy. He’s a prodigy in spiritual arrays, too?”
Over the past two days, Liu Wuxie had been repeatedly shocking them. Now they could no longer put their feelings into words. If someone claimed this youth had lived for millennia, they would not doubt it.
“What an exquisite technique… and he’s barely in his twenties,” one elder whispered. By bone age, Liu Wuxie was just over twenty—the age when most cultivators first left home to venture into the wider world.
Even if he had begun cultivating in the womb, how could anyone become so monstrous?
The elders exchanged uneasy glances as they watched him arrange the flags. None of them could discern what array he was setting. At their level, they had at least basic knowledge of arrays, blacksmithing, and alchemy, but this was beyond them.
“Don’t tell me… he plans to wipe out all the pythons?” one elder whispered, swaying as the thought hit.
The Shadow Blood Pythons were each equivalent to peak Origin Conversion Realm cultivators. Dozens together could make even a Primal Origin expert hesitate.
The elders guessed correctly. Liu Wuxie knew that charging head-on into so many Shadow Blood Pythons would give him barely a thirty percent chance of survival. A spiritual array was the only way forward.
