The Red Sea loomed beneath her, swelling larger and louder with every heartbeat as Mingyao plunged toward it. She tried to activate her spirit treasure to slow the fall, but only a thin thread of its power answered her call. Her descent weakened, but didn't stop. Panic pressed in as she scanned the world below for anything—an island, a jagged rock, even drifting wreckage—but there was nothing. Only the endless red expanse, churning like a living beast waiting to swallow her whole.
Think. Think
Her mind clawed for solutions as the wind screamed past her. There had to be a way to survive. She was already at Tier Four of Qi Refining; she could at least mobilize her qi for simple techniques.
What if I adapted the Supreme Yin martial forms into their immortal counterparts? The thought bloomed as the wind grew in intensity.
If she could channel her ice affinity properly, she might be able to forge a platform of ice beneath her—something to keep her afloat and give her a foothold in the raging sea.
It was a flimsy idea… but it was the only one she had.
She immediately sprang into action, drawing qi from her dantian as she worked to generate ice beneath her. At first, the flow of energy met with resistance, but soon enough she felt her body grow colder, the chill spreading through her limbs. Yet momentum, though greatly reduced, remained a problem.
The more she channeled her energy, the more it clashed with her spirit treasure. Her body could not maintain both the spirit treasure and the mobilization of her Yin technique simultaneously. She needed to find a way to harmonize them—both flowing together without resistance—before it was too late.
Her mind raced, blocked at every turn—then another idea struck. What if she mobilized her energy to perform Duskfall and Frozen Empress in a single swing? If it worked, she could solve the problem of trying to do both at once. She wasn't a martial cultivator anymore; she was an immortal one now, and she had no idea how it would hold—but it was her only option.
She stopped channeling the floating mechanism and quickly materialized a jagged sword of ice to coordinate her qi and movements. As she plummeted, she positioned herself to channel the momentum, arcing in a way that let her execute a crescent descent from the Supreme Yin technique of Frozen Moon Empress while unleashing the Silent Horizon Slash from Duskfall.
Swing. Splash.
The energy cut through the air, scattering everything beneath her. Combining the two techniques drained every ounce of energy from Mingyao—but when she swung, the results were… impressive.
Her strike had single-handedly split the crimson ocean below her, carving a stretch of bare ground framed by a frozen boundary of red. Just in time, two ice slides formed beneath her legs, guiding her safely to the newly exposed land.
She touched down and didn't waste a second. Immediately, she began sculpting a vessel from ice—at least now, she could make it.
The ice barrier around her groaned and creaked, teetering on the edge of collapse, but instead of fear, it spurred her on. She ignored the immense toll now wracking her body. Just as she finished her creation, the boundary finally gave way, and the Crimson Ocean surged back with crushing force—only to find her ready.
The red sea, smelling of something abstract and intangible, yet undeniably tied to blood, death, and carnage, filled Mingyao's lungs as the cold waters rocked her vessel. Exhaustion weighed on her, but there was still much to be done. Her vessel was forged from ice and cold; the chill grazed her skin, yet she felt immune to it. Still, as she floated in the roiling sea, it was like sitting on a razor-thin ledge—one wrong move, and she could die at any moment.
She decided to test her luck with the crimson waters—avoidance wasn't an option, especially with her low qi and the vastness of the sea. First, she needed to know if this water carried side effects, like the purple one that had burned her with overwhelming energy.
She summoned an icicle and, with careful precision, sliced a bit of her flesh. She needed to see how the water would react—would it burn her, poison her, or harbor some hidden, hungry creature beneath the surface?
She looked out over the vast red sea, then gently placed the sliced piece of skin into the water and watched. Once it touched the crimson liquid, nothing happened—just the faint sound of flesh breaking the surface. No surge of energy, no bubbling, no reaction at all.
That told her the water wasn't like the purple sea—at least, not openly poisonous. But Mingyao knew better than to trust that. Just because it didn't react didn't mean it wasn't dangerous in a different way.
She kept observing, straining her eyes and ears for any hint of movement. All she heard was the slow slosh of the waves as her ice vessel drifted away from the spot, inch by inch. No monsters surfaced. No shadows moved.
Satisfied—for now—she moved on to her next step. It was dangerous, reckless even, and could easily get her killed. But she had no other choice. She would either die waiting… or die trying to save herself from whatever this place truly was.
She stretched out her index finger, staring at the water, hesitating for a moment before slowly dipping it in. The moment her skin touched the crimson liquid, a strange sensation washed over her—like the water was heating up, but without any warmth. The temperature didn't change, yet the liquid slowly began turning into mist.
Curious, she plunged her whole hand in. Red mist curled around her, clinging to the boat and her skin. Then, without warning, a suction ripped through the mist, yanking her into the water as if an invisible hand had grabbed her and dragged her under.
Her body was completely submerged at first. It felt as if she were drowning, struggling through water, but gradually the liquid transformed into a thick fog that gently caressed her. Then the fog thinned into a mist and finally dispersed entirely.
Suddenly, Mingyao felt her legs touch solid ground. Her body was dry, free from any trace of water, and the air was breathable—though there was something choking about it, like the metallic tang of a bloodied battlefield.
She looked around. She was deep in a forest.
Hoot! Hoot!
An owl broke the silence, making Mingyao turn her gaze toward it. It was enormous—two to three times the size of a normal owl—but apart from its abnormal size, it appeared ordinary. The owl studied her for a moment, hooted again, and then flew off.
Mingyao wasn't entirely sure what kind of situation she was in. The owl was likely a spirit of this realm, though it was hard to distinguish the creatures here. All she could do was try to find her way out of the forest. She first checked her body to make sure everything was intact. She was fine, apart from a slight nick on her arm.
She feared she might be trapped in an illusion, dying in the red sea. To test it, she pinched her skin—and felt the pain. She choked up the sudden shift from sea to forest as one of the strange traits of the Nether Realm. It wasn't her first encounter with such phenomena; the sudden change from the desert to the Ash Tree Forest had been proof enough.
Mingyao looked around the forest, awash with colors brighter than anything she had ever seen. The light from the three moons above created an almost hypnotic visual aesthetic, utterly alluring. Yet the air was thick with the scent of blood and death—a stark, unsettling contrast to the beauty her eyes beheld.
Mingyao walked forward, trying to rely on her tracking skills to find signs of civilization, but they proved useless in this strange realm. Weakened from the exhaustive expenditure of her qi, she longed for a place to rest, to let her energy replenish. Yet all around her stretched an endless jungle, dense with vegetation—from bushes of purple, blue, and green to towering trees that filled the forest.
Then, as she wandered through the vibrant wilderness, her eyes fell upon a familiar figure. The owl from before was perched atop a tree, seemingly focused on something else. Mingyao wasn't sure what it was, but whatever it was had captured the owl's full attention, leaving her unnoticed.
The ground began to rumble, branches snapping loudly as the forest trembled. The owl flapped its wings and flew toward the source of the disturbance.
Mingyao knew the rumbling probably came from a massive creature. Her first instinct was to move in the opposite direction—but the owl's boldness made her hesitate. Against her mortal instincts, she found herself following it. Maybe the Nether Realm had its own kind of logic. The choice felt reckless, but it was better than wandering endlessly through this forest.
Mingyao crept closer and closer to the source of the commotion—the area where the rumbling, snapping, and low grunts were most intense. She pressed herself against a tree, hoping to observe without being noticed. Her nose detected nothing beyond the metallic tang of blood in the air, and she hoped the creature ahead couldn't smell her through the strange haze. She crouched low, trying to make herself as inconspicuous as possible.
Finally, she reached a distance close enough to see the situation clearly. The owl was right there with her.
The forest of multicolored trees shook as a man tightened his grip on his spear. He looked young—mid-twenties— his muscles were tense and ready. The runes on his steel spear glowed with a golden light.
Across from him, the massive blue-furred bear paced in a slow circle. Frost leaked from its mouth. Despite its size, its steps were light and quick.
They moved at the same time.
The bear slammed its paws into the ground, sending a wave of ice racing outward. The soil froze solid in seconds. Crystals spread across roots, trunks and stones like fast-growing vines.
The cultivator burst forward, feet leaving streaks of heat on the frozen ground. Fire gathered along his spear. He swung it up and launched several burning projectiles that tore through the air toward the bear.
The bear dodged with incredible speed, each movement kicking up bursts of snow and shattered ice. It countered by ripping up the ground with its claws, hurling jagged chunks of ice toward the cultivator.
He spun his spear, knocking them aside. The impacts rang out sharply.
The bear charged.
The cultivator met it head-on, thrusting his spear toward its chest. The bear twisted its body, narrowly avoiding the strike, then swiped with a paw the size of a shield.
The blow hit him squarely.
He flew back, crashed through a pair of glowing trees, and rolled to his feet just in time to avoid a second attack. The bear leapt after him, smashing into the spot he had just vacated and blasting frost in all directions.
The cultivator slammed his spear into the ground. Flames burst outward in a circular wave, melting the ice around him long enough to create space. He dashed forward again and drove his spear upward, clipping the bear's shoulder and burning a deep mark into its fur.
The bear roared—loud enough to shake leaves from branches—and the temperature dropped instantly.
Ice surged from beneath the ground in a towering spike.
The cultivator jumped, barely escaping as it burst upward. He climbed the air with bursts of fire qi and descended in a tight spin, spear aimed straight down toward the bear.
The bear opened its jaws and fired a concentrated blast of frost.
Fire and ice collided midair, exploding in a violent shockwave that threw both fighters in opposite directions. The forest floor cracked. Trees toppled. Snow and ash mixed on the ground.
Both slowly stood.
The bear's breaths came out in heavy, frosty bursts. The cultivator's arms trembled from exhaustion. His spear's glow flickered.
For a moment, they stared at each other—both too drained to continue.
The bear stepped back, then turned and sprinted toward the distant mountains. Its enormous figure disappeared between the brightly colored trees.
The cultivator tried to take one step after it.
His legs gave out.
He collapsed to his knees, then onto his side, his body marked with bruises and frostburn. Despite the injuries covering his arms, chest, and legs, he felt nothing—numb to the pain. The owl, having witnessed the end of the fight, hooted once more before taking flight.
Mingyao, seeing the man wounded, approached cautiously. There was no one else around, and perhaps he might know a way out of the forest. She was also curious about what she had just witnessed. She wasn't entirely certain, but the techniques she had seen between the man and the bear resembled the Supreme Yin and Yang forms: the bear had used the Supreme Yin technique, Frozen Moon Empress, while the man had employed the Supreme Yang technique, Scarlet Dragon Sun.
Of course, they weren't exactly like the ones her master had taught her or Yue Ying. These felt different—less like martial techniques and more like something else entirely. Still, she couldn't help but wonder: did this man—and perhaps that bear—have some connection to her master?
Mingyao helped the man up and leaned him against the trunk of a tree, giving him a moment to catch his breath. Up close, his face seemed vaguely familiar—jet-black hair framing a symmetrical face that was at once soft and rugged, delicate and masculine, with deep brown eyes. She studied him, trying to place him, but couldn't recall where she had seen him before.
The man noticed her scrutiny and spoke first.
"You look familiar. Have we met?"
The question caught Mingyao off guard, but she kept her composure. She studied him once more, then shook her head.
"No, I don't think so. I was walking through this forest when I stumbled upon you. To my knowledge, we're strangers."
He narrowed his eyes, scanning her face. "Strangers…? I must have mistaken you for someone else. So… what are you doing here? Are you looking for the Oasis?"
Oasis? The word pricked at her mind. She hesitated, unsure whether to pretend that was her goal. After a brief moment, she decided honesty was safer—it might even be a test to see if she was trustworthy.
"Oasis? What is an oasis?" she asked, genuinely confused.
The man, still exhausted, studied her carefully. His face shifted with a mix of emotions, contorting subtly as he processed her reply.
"If you're not familiar with the Oasis, then what are you doing in the Chaos Sea? This is one of the most dangerous places on the Nether Continent."
Chaos Sea? Another unknown term. Was he referring to the crimson expanse she had fallen into? But now they were standing in a forest with breathable air. A sea? She calmed her racing thoughts—common sense in the Nether Realm did not follow mortal logic.
"I… I'm lost," she finally admitted.
"I see…" He exhaled heavily and forced himself upright. "We need to get out of here before the Purple Moon rises. Otherwise…"
Mingyao glanced at the sky. The three moons were slowly converging into one.
"Otherwise what?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately, gathering his balance.
"You don't want to find out," he said at last. "Follow me."
She watched him carefully. "And the Oasis…?"
He shot her a tired glance. "Not everyone knows about it. And it's dangerous. But I think I found a ghost village that might point the way. The spiritual energy there could help you, even if you never reach the Oasis."
She considered this, then nodded. "You're a cultivator?"
"I thought that was obvious." He wiped blood from his lip. "Qi Refining Tier 13. You're Tier 4. A night in the ghost village should boost your cultivation a few levels."
He started walking Mingyao following behind.
"So… are you here to search for the Oasis?" she asked, fishing for more information.
"Not yet. I'm here for my sister."
"Did something happen to her?"
His jaw tightened, fists clenching. "She's still alive. That's what matters."
Mingyao wanted to steer the conversation toward his fighting techniques—where he had learned them—but the tense atmosphere told her it wasn't the right moment. She fell silent.
Soon, they came across a bustling village draped in red. Excited noise carried through the air, loud enough to suggest some kind of celebration, even from outside.
"We're here," the man said. "You should be able to cultivate well, but don't mingle with the villagers too much—they're ghosts, after all."
With that, he stepped into the village, and Mingyao followed.