A magical journey of a sharp-tongued woman and a goofy man

The bronze compass throbbed and burned in Ye Shuli's palm.

She pulled Jiang Ye back half a step, her boot crushing a dry branch.

From the depths of the thick fog came a fine, whistling sound, like countless blades scraping against the bark of an old tree.

“Thirty-seven.” Jiang Ye’s Adam’s apple bobbed twice, and he tapped a code on the edge of the compass with his index finger.

The wound on his back, which had just stopped bleeding, started to ooze dark red again, but he deliberately tilted his head and rubbed against Ye Shuli's shoulder: "Let's bet on who will be exhausted first this time?"

The moment the dark purple energy shield exploded, Ye Shuli spun around and flung out three golden threads.

As the threads wrapped around the ankles of the three closest individuals, she noticed that these psychics all wore bronze collars around their necks, with a dark red crystal core the size of a fingernail embedded in the center of each collar.

"The collar chain is half an inch loose." She suddenly raised her voice, and the gold thread precisely snapped off the collar clasp of a girl in the second row. "Your leader can't even spare a couple more stitches to cover his shame?" The collar that fell to the ground suddenly burst open, revealing charred burns behind the girl's ear.

The psionicists' offensive faltered slightly, and some people in the back row instinctively covered their necks.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Ye Shuli climbed onto a tree branch and plucked out hundreds of golden threads with her nimble fingers.

These silk threads wove into a giant spider web under the moonlight, each thread reflecting the number engraved on the inside of the collar—C-017 to C-053.

“Does a mass-produced slave deserve to be called a psionicist?” She hooked a spiderweb with the tip of her boot, and the numbered projections filled the sky above the entire forest. “The third level of the cultivation technique he instilled in you requires severing your own heart meridians, right?”

A short, sharp gasp came from the bushes.

Suddenly, a burly man wielding two blades turned his blades and parried the spear that his companion was slashing at him.

The dark red crystal core vibrated and hummed inside his collar, causing blood to gush from his temples.

The thick fog was suddenly torn open.

The man, draped in a dark gold cloak, descended the steps formed from crystal cores, shattering several numbered projections with each step.

The bronze bell hanging from his waist resonated with the lines on the back of Ye Shuli's neck, causing the golden threads of the spiderweb to snap.

"Sharp-tongued." The leader flicked away the broken gold thread with his finger, the fragments coalescing into a cage in the air. "You think they dare to resist?" As the cage contracted, the girl whose collar had come off earlier suddenly screamed—the burns behind her ears were rapidly festering.

Ye Shuli flung a porcelain bottle from her sleeve, smashing it at the girl's feet. The powder sizzled as it touched the festering wound: "Control-type crystal core with Corrupting Heart Grass, no wonder she has to take the antidote every month." She suddenly ripped open her collar, revealing similar burn marks below her collarbone. "The evening primrose you sent last month, wasn't it mixed with three qian of Soul-Severing Powder?"

The psionicists, who had been pressing forward relentlessly, all stopped in their tracks.

A woman wearing an eye patch in the back row suddenly ripped open her clothes, revealing a similar burn mark magnified ten times on her collarbone.

The crystal core in her collar began to flash red light abnormally, while the longbow in her hand slowly drooped.

Jiang Ye suddenly groaned and knelt down on one knee.

The miniature compass formed from blood beads in his palm was spinning wildly, each rotation creating a bronze-colored vortex.

These cyclones silently wrapped around the ankles of the five nearest psychics, draining most of the energy from the crystal cores in their collars.

"Don't move." Ye Shuli mouthed a warning to him, flicking out the last three golden threads from her fingertips.

The golden thread burrowed into the gaps in the collars of the three psychics and shredded the crystal cores in front of everyone.

The moment the dark red energy leaked, she suddenly grabbed Jiang Ye's bleeding hand and flung the blood droplets mixed together between the two into the air.

The blood droplet struck the leader's cage, and hundreds of faces emerged from the exploding bronze-colored light spots.

These people wore numbered collars around their faces and necks, but their foreheads were pierced by dark red energy.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Ye Shuli pulled Jiang Ye and crashed into the thinnest part of the light screen. When her wings swept across, they stirred up a cloud of golden dust.

"He's using you to fill the array's core!" Her sharp shout drowned out the roar of the exploding crystal core, and gold dust adhered to the collar, revealing hidden runes.

The seven psionicists suddenly knelt down, their heads in their hands. Black blood seeped from the runes on their collars, perfectly matching the burn marks Ye Shuli had shown earlier.

The leader's dark gold cloak suddenly moved without any wind.

He raised his hand and crushed the skulls of two out-of-control subordinates, but the putrid black blood splattered onto the face of the third psychic.

The freckled boy suddenly ripped off his collar and plunged the shattered crystal fragments into his own heart: "Pay for my sister's life!"

In the chaos, the blood compass in Jiang Ye's palm suddenly stood upright.

The bronze pointer suspended in the air emitted a buzzing sound, absorbing all the dark red energy that had not yet dissipated from his back.

Ye Shuli felt an astonishing burning sensation on the lines on the back of her neck, and out of the corner of her eye, she caught a fleeting glimpse of the bronze wheel in Jiang Ye's pupils.

(End of this chapter) (Continue reading)

The bronze wheel in Jiang Ye's pupils suddenly materialized, its suspended phantom image enveloping the entire battlefield.

The instant he closed his five fingers, the collars of the thirty-seven psionicists simultaneously emitted a piercing buzz, and the dark red crystal cores uncontrollably detached from the collars, piecing together a fragmented star map in mid-air.

"A return gift from the Holy Land!" Jiang Ye wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and kicked away the enemy who was rushing towards him.

The seven psionicists, shrouded in the star map, suddenly turned their weapons around, pointing their spears and arrows at their companion's throat.

The jade pendant at Ye Shuli's waist shattered with a crack, and the burst of blue light protected the defector's brow.

She turned her head to avoid the flying pebbles, and caught a glimpse of Jiang Ye's profile illuminated by the star map.

The young man's usually playful eyebrows were now sharp as if cut by a knife, and the engravings of a bronze wheel could be faintly seen through the fluttering sleeves of his clothes.

The trembling of her heart skipping a beat spread from her fingertips to behind her ears. She suddenly tore off two strands of hair and flung them towards the enemy lines.

The moment the hair disappeared into the ground, dozens of golden threads broke through the soil and wrapped around the leader's ankles.

Ye Shuli used the pulling force to flip in the air, her boots landing heavily on the leader's shoulder: "The jar for raising Gu has cracked, so the insects will naturally run away." The dark gold cloak shattered into pieces under her feet, revealing the hideous bronze tattoo on her back.

The leader's furious palm strike snapped three ancient trees in half, but Jiang Ye darted through the gaps in the broken wood like a fish.

His blood-stained fingertips traced the gap in the star map, and three out-of-control psionicists suddenly clutched their heads and roared, fragments of their collars deeply embedded in their flesh: "The old man's remote control is malfunctioning?"

The blindfolded woman suddenly snapped the bowstring.

As the blood-soaked animal sinew wrapped around the leader's right wrist, the festering burn scars behind her ears were healing at a visible speed: "Brothers from C-029 to C-035, do you still remember the claw marks on the seventh iron pillar in the dungeon?" The seven burly men sprang up at the same time, their steel blades slashing at their former comrades-in-arms.

Ye Shuli flung the porcelain bottle into the center of the melee, and the crisp sound of a collar shattering echoed from within the purple smoke.

Twenty-three psionicists staggered and fell, the numbers remaining on their necks twisting into blood-red runes in the smoke.

Taking advantage of the situation, Jiang Ye grabbed the two defecting teenagers by the back of their collars and flung them out of the fighting circle: "Run! Are your legs just decorations?"

"The cliff to the northwest!" Ye Shuli's golden threads entangled the vines hanging from the cliff, and the bronze compass left scorch marks on her palm.

Three hesitant psionicists were suddenly pushed off into a deep valley by their companions, their screams torn apart by the howling wind.

The leader's figure, cutting through the smoke, had already closed to within five zhang, and the dark red energy ball gathered in his palm illuminated the ancient totems on the cliff face.

Jiang Ye leaned back to dodge the energy ball and then slapped the fragment of the star map into the rock wall with his backhand.

The collapsing rubble cut off the pursuers' path. As he pulled Ye Shuli and leaped towards the vines, a stench-filled wind blade grazed his neck: "Did you bet their leader is afraid of heights?"

"I'm betting his bronze bell is afraid of water!" The moment Ye Shuli cut the vines, a deafening splash came from below.

Twenty-seven defectors followed suit, leaping into the deep pool, where countless fragments of bronze floated in the splashing water.

The leader's furious roar echoed through the valley, and dark gold energy shattered half of the cliff face.

The group rushed towards the underground river with the raging current, and Jiang Ye's blood-soaked sleeves spread out in the water with a bronze halo.

Ye Shuli threw the powder onto the turbulent water, and the dark red energy that had been tracking it immediately ignited upon contact with the powder.

The firelight illuminated the sacred site emblems on the cliff face, which had not appeared for a thousand years, and the burn marks on the necks of the defectors began to burn.

"Hold on tight!" Ye Shuli's golden thread wrapped around the bronze stake at the bend of the underground river, and the chain that had been submerged seventeen years ago rose up in response.

Jiang Ye coughed up the blood from his throat, and the star map on his palm and the totem on the chain fit together perfectly.

The footsteps of the pursuers were approaching the second precipice, but the dark red energy condensed into blood-red ice cones in the mist.

The freckled boy who had defected suddenly shoved his companion aside and took three ice spikes for his back.

He coughed up blood and grabbed the crack in the chain, the broken pieces of the collar cutting his palm: "After crossing the Bridge of Weeping Souls... you'll see..." His unfinished words were swallowed by the rushing water, and the boy turned into a newly carved mark on the bronze stake.

Ye Shuli nailed the last three golden threads into the rock crevice, and the roar of the sacred land's barrier opening shook down a shower of stalactites.

The moment Jiang Ye dragged her into the light barrier, the energy blade that the leader had slashed out at exploded into a rain of fire outside the barrier.

Seventeen defectors successfully rolled into the rift, while the remaining ten turned into blood blossoms blooming outside the barrier.

“He can’t get in.” Ye Shuli pressed down on Jiang Ye’s bleeding nape, the engravings of the bronze wheel were running under his skin.

The leader outside the barrier frantically bombarded the light screen, and the fragments of the dark gold cloak were reduced to ashes in the energy backlash.

The defectors knelt before the ancient stone tablet, tracing the familiar totem with their bloodied fingers.

Jiang Ye suddenly groaned and curled up, the protruding joints of his back making a metallic clanging sound.

Ye Shuli tore open his soaked clothes, her pupils shrinking sharply—the bronze wheel that appeared on the boy's chest echoed the star map on the dome of the holy land.

The roars outside the barrier suddenly disappeared, and a kind of pressure surpassing the Spirit King level was rapidly approaching.

"Run." She grabbed Jiang Ye's burning wrist, the burn marks on the necks of the defectors automatically pointing into the darkness. "The real hunt is coming."

The underground river suddenly overflowed, and the group rushed through the water toward an unknown, narrow passage.

Ye Shuli looked back at the gap in the barrier one last time and vaguely saw a blue totem, the same as the one on her collarbone, revealed beneath the leader's shattered mask.

The star map in Jiang Ye's palm suddenly shone brightly, illuminating the bronze door on the stone wall in front of him that had not been opened for thousands of years.