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Across the vast mountain range, endless peaks gathered like waves frozen in motion. For ten thousand li in every direction, the land lay shrouded in boundless white snow. Amid those peaks rested a small, unremarkable hill. There were no spirit veins spreading beneath it, and no plants growing above. Within the Great Snowy Mountains, it stood as one of the few barren places untouched by life.
Such places were so poor that even low-level demonic beasts couldn't be bothered to spare them a glance, yet that was precisely what made them a pocket of safety for those who did not wish to be found. In fact, this very route was the "safe path" through which five rogue cultivators had entered the Great Snowy Mountains not long ago to harvest a spirit fruit and refine some pills.
Deep within the mountain, a small man-made cave concealed a lone figure seated cross-legged in stillness. A faint aura enveloped his frail body while his spirit consciousness stretched outward to its limits. Suddenly, a subtle tremor flickered across his eyelids, and his weathered eyes opened at once.
"It's out!" he murmured.
A quiet murmur slipped from his mouth as both hands moved continuously, forming one hand seal after another. A steady surge of spirit power circulated through his body. At the center of the cave, a large compass rotated, its needle clicking sharply. Around it lay rows of mid-grade spirit stones, while three top-grade stones were embedded into it.
With each seal he formed, light from the surrounding stones gathered and merged into flowing streams of power. The compass needle trembled, then slowly stopped, pointing in one clear direction—the Myriad Pythons Grotto.
"It's coming… it's coming…"
He suppressed the excitement rising in his heart and steadied his mind, focusing fully on the formation beneath his feet. Abruptly, he raised...
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