At the entrance of Soul Return Valley, mist and clouds perpetually linger, never dissipating. Today, however, it seemed as if an invisible giant hand had violently torn a gap through them. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

Two ancient stone beasts, each towering ten zhang high, stood guard on either side of the valley mouth. Their stone bodies, eroded by time, were covered in moss and deep brown cracks. Only their eyes, inlaid with top-grade dark blue spirit stones, shone with a soul-shaking, icy light through the fog. Every sweep of their gaze felt like a physical drenching of cold water, a scrutiny directed at one's very soul.

Su Ming, clad in a plain white Daoist robe, moved slowly forward amidst the Formation Peak contingent.

He kept his head slightly lowered, his gaze fixed only on the worn, whitened heels of Senior Brother Luo Feng's cloth shoes ahead of him. Within his sleeve, his fingers gently rubbed the cool jade slip, his pass to enter the valley.

As he reached the valley mouth, those two dark blue gazes indeed lingered on him for an extra breath.

Su Ming felt a chill on the back of his neck, as if something wet, slippery, and cold had licked him. At that very moment, a faint commotion arose from the Discipline Hall contingent to the left.

A spirit dog, its entire body snow-white and wearing a small black crown on its head, had been crouching listlessly by the foot of a law enforcement disciple, ears drooping. As Su Ming passed by, its large ears suddenly pricked up straight. Its nose twitched violently. Its tail, which usually remained motionless no matter who it saw, uncontrollably wagged twice in quick succession. A low whimper rumbled in its throat, and its front paws even scratched anxiously at the green bricks of the ground.

"Blackie, silence!" the law enforcement disciple holding the leash barked in a low voice, making a hand seal. The spirit leash tightened.

The spirit dog, choked, pulled its neck in but still tilted its head, its moist eyes staring fixedly at Su Ming's retreating back until he disappeared into the thick mist at the valley mouth.

"That was close," Lin Yu's voice held a trace of self-mockery. "That dog's nose is sharper than a Golden Core cultivator's divine sense."

Passing through the iron wall of mist, the world before his eyes instantly lost its color.

There was no sky, no earth, only an eternally flowing expanse of bluish-gray mist. Inhaling this mist into his lungs, it didn't feel damp or cold. Instead, it carried a strange, warm smoothness, as if a pair of gentle hands were softly smoothing out the restlessness within his soul.

Beneath his feet was a smooth, mirror-like black soul stone, reflecting the white specks of light slowly drifting down from above. These were "Soul Fireflies" formed from the spiritual mist. They danced silently, like an endless, ceaseless snowfall.

Thousands of Cloud Hidden Sect disciples, all dressed in plain white, stood in orderly rows. Within the vast valley, apart from the faint rustling of robes brushing together, there was only the heavy, unified current of breath from thousands of people.

Su Ming stood at the position reserved for the True Disciples of Formation Peak and slightly raised his eyes.

At the center of his vision stood a massive circular altar—the Torch Platform.

It was constructed entirely of pale white Soul-Calming Jade, without a single trace of impurity. At the very center of the altar, a cluster of pale white flame burned quietly. The flame was strange; it gave off no sense of heat whatsoever, yet it caused the blood flow within Su Ming's body to involuntarily accelerate. It emanated a vast, sorrowful, yet tenaciously unyielding wave of willpower that made one's heart tremble.

Around the flame, densely packed jade name tablets floated suspended in the void.

Su Ming's gaze swept over those names, stopping at the newest layer.

"Formation Peak Steward Wu Miao."

"Zhao Tiji."

"Chen Chuan's Friend, Old Zhou."

...

One by one, familiar or unfamiliar names had now all turned into cold jade tablets, glowing with a warm, lustrous sheen under the illumination of the pale flame.

Su Ming felt a chill in his fingertips.

He still remembered Zhao Tiji slapping his chest at the wine table, boasting about saving up for his son's wedding expenses. He remembered the frowning, worried face of Steward Wu Miao when he couldn't find suitable formation materials.

Now, they were all here.

A hand reached from behind and to the side, gently patting his back.

Su Ming turned. It was Second Senior Brother Qin Yi. His face, usually always wearing a gentle, unhurried smile, was now a few degrees more solemn.

"Those of us still alive must look upon this mortal world a few more times on their behalf," Qin Yi's voice was very soft, yet steady.

Beside him, Third Senior Brother Luo Feng silently handed over a blade of grass emitting a faint, clear fragrance. "Heart-Calming Grass. Place it under your tongue. In occasions like these, excessive emotional fluctuations can easily harm the spirit."

Su Ming took it and placed it in his mouth. The bitter juice spread over his tongue, slightly calming the surging emotions in his heart.

He looked ahead. Eldest Senior Sister Ling Shuang stood with her hand on her sword, her back straight as a pine tree. She resembled a sword ready to be drawn at any moment, holding up a piece of Formation Peak's unyielding backbone within this sorrowful atmosphere.

"The Sect Leader has arrived."

A deep, resonant bell toll seemed to ring directly within the depths of everyone's soul.

Sect Leader Yun Miao's figure appeared out of thin air before the Torch Platform. He was still dressed in simple, unadorned Daoist robes, his complexion pale as if recovering from a serious illness. But his eyes were brighter than the flame upon the altar.

He did not use any sound amplification technique, yet his voice clearly resonated in every inch of space, penetrating directly into the soul.

"Three thousand seven hundred and forty-two from Iron Wall Pass have sacrificed themselves, protecting our land. Their souls have returned to the sea of stars."

"Their will is immortal, their spirits burn eternal."

"Today, new fuel is added to the torch, may the heroic spirits bless our sect!"

As his words fell, Sect Leader Yun Miao pointed with two fingers together.

An ancient, unadorned "Soul-Guiding Jade Slip," containing a wisp of aura from every sacrifice of this campaign, transformed into a stream of light and flew into that pale white flame.

Whoosh—!

The previously tranquil flame suddenly surged upwards by three zhang, transforming into a pale white fire dragon that shot straight up into the gray misty sky.

All the floating name tablets simultaneously lit up with a warm white light. They trembled gently, emitting a low, resonant hum, as if thousands of heroic souls were chanting an ancient sect-protecting scripture in unison.

The "Soul Fireflies" dancing throughout the sky seemed to be summoned, converging into streams of white light that swirled and circled around the Torch Platform. An immense, pure power of collective will instantly permeated the air.

The eyes of many young disciples instantly reddened. Su Ming felt the surrounding air become thick and heavy, the collective will of thousands, united in shared hatred, surging and clashing.

At his chest, the "Border Defense True Seal" hidden beneath his skin grew slightly warm without any warning, as if responding to the flame upon the altar.

"Don't move," Lin Yu cautioned. "Don't try to suppress it. Breathe in sync with its rhythm. This is a resonance with the will of the heroic spirits. It's greatly beneficial for your soul, but it's also easy for high-level cultivators to detect anomalies."

Su Ming followed the advice, adjusting his breathing. He lowered his eyelids, concealing the flash of sharp light that had momentarily appeared in his eyes.

At that very moment, on the observation platform reserved to the right of the altar, the fabric of space rippled slightly.

Three figures quietly materialized.