Shrouded Sky

Chapter 220 - Flame Dragon Grave

Heeding the warning, the group swiftly retreated, distancing themselves from the blood-red lake, fearing death. Hundreds of meters back, they glanced at the lake, growing more alarmed. Blood-red mist rose like ghostly souls, the small lake, barely ten meter wide, seemed capable of devouring the heavens, its vivid hue chilling and suffocating.

“This lake… why is it so terrifying?!” one man stammered, trembling not from cowardice but from the eerie atmosphere. The blood lake made them shudder involuntarily.

Far from the Flame Dragon Grave and Dragonblood Spill, standing on higher ground, they saw the terrain clearly. The great trench and blood lake formed a striking shape. “This is a damn dragon coughing blood!” one exclaimed, sweating coldly. The terrain, almost supernatural, seemed carved deliberately, not natural.

The group shivered, fear overtaking awe. Ye Fan glanced at the sky, sunset’s glow fading, and his expression changed. “Retreat further!” he shouted. The Celestial Source Tome warned that Flame Dragon Grave and Dragonblood Spill were most perilous at day-night transitions.

Seeing Ye Fan’s urgency, the others paled and fled after him. Miles out, as the sun grazed the horizon, a chilling rumble echoed. The trench quaked, and the blood lake surged, spilling into the air. The weakest cultivator, lagging a mile behind, screamed as a mysterious force yanked him into the lake, vanishing without a ripple.

The survivors’ faces drained, terrified, they ran, chasing Ye Fan and Old Blade, barely visible at the horizon. After ten more miles, Ye Fan stopped. The others, drenched in cold sweat from fear, caught up. “If I could choose again, I’d never come here, not for a mountain of source!” one youth cried. Others, pale with regret, nodded.

“This forbidden zone’s too bizarre. So far from the mine, yet we hit this demonic terrain. If we’d rushed forward, we’d be dead,” one trembled.

“That’s a supreme peril, a true dragon coughing blood!” Old Blade said gravely.

“You’ve heard of it?” Ye Fan asked, calm despite inner shock.

“I think you know more than I do. Your warning saved us,” Old Blade said, eyeing him.

“I just sensed danger, nothing more. Tell us what you know,” Ye Fan urged.

“I know little, just fragments,” Old Blade shook his head. “Thousands, maybe tens of thousands of years ago, this terrain appeared in the Northern Region. Countless died, including Supreme Giants. A Celestial Source Master resolved it but nearly died, vanishing within half a year.”

“To break such terrain, is something hidden beneath?” a sharp cultivator asked.

“Of course, or who’d risk death?” Old Blade stopped there.

Ye Fan sighed inwardly. The Flame Dragon Grave and Dragonblood Spill held at least two godsources, just miles away, but untouchable. With earth-shaking power and full mastery of the Celestial Source Tome, he might try. For now, surviving was victory.

Night fell, the group moving cautiously, eyes scanning for deadly terrain. More such demonic lands surely existed. “Old Blade, are you sure this leads out? It feels like we’re heading to the mine,” one quavered.

Darkness cloaked the starless, moonless sky, faint mist rising from the red earth, obscuring direction. Old Blade frowned, his sense of direction fading in this maze-like realm, the silence eerie. The red sand crunched underfoot, sounds carrying far in the still night.

Wary, they hovered above ground, fearing to disturb anything, given the mine’s legends. After half an hour, they were utterly lost, trapped in a labyrinth. The sky darkened, mist thickening, nearly blinding.

“We can’t keep going,” one stopped, heart pounding. “This feels wrong.”

“I agree, it’s not the way out. We’re heading to the mine, where no one answers your cries,” another said, eyes fearful.

Lost in the forbidden zone, their lives hung by a thread. Old Blade sighed after a long silence. “We can’t stop, or worse things may happen.”

“No more forward! We might step into the mine, no regrets then!”

“Let’s wait for sunrise.”

“Stopping feels wrong, this place is oppressive!”

They argued, divided. “What do you think, brother?” someone asked Ye Fan. Old Blade looked too.

“Let me think,” Ye Fan said, uneasy. The terrain felt sinister. Looking up, no stars or moon, just a dark shroud; around, only mist, no land visible. They seemed trapped in a box.

This matched the Celestial Source Tome’s ghost mist, where sources could lock mountains or dragon veins to secure godsources, or trap people in a deadly seal. Ghost mist was a dire omen; they were likely in a demonic land, at risk of being sealed forever.

A source locking humans was a lethal trap. Ye Fan cursed, studying the Celestial Source Tome without locking a source, he was now trapped by one, risking death. Ghost mist hid killing intent; triggering it would turn them to blood.

Hell’s gate was open. He realized why only five Celestial Source Masters emerged in the Northern Region’s history, their lives too perilous, rarely ending well. “We’re in great danger. Can anyone retrace our path?” he asked.

Hearts sank, dreading such news. “This place is a maze. How do we find the way back?”

“I left markers, but they’re gone,” Old Blade sighed.

Ye Fan’s heart chilled. Trapped by an evil source, escape was near impossible, a death trap. He’d never locked a source, yet might die as the most pathetic Celestial Source Master’s disciple.

Crouching, he scratched calculations in the sand. “There’s hope. We’re not in the core, just the edge, with only ghost mist. We might escape.”

“Brother, you mean we can live?”

“Priest, we’re counting on you!”

They crowded around. Ye Fan looked at them. “Recall our path. Each draw a map of what you felt we crossed.”

Sensing the gravity, they knelt, drawing in the red sand. As expected, each map differed, as if they’d taken separate routes. Ye Fan pieced the seven maps together, studying them, pacing within a hundred meter, measuring positions.

After half an hour, he exhaled, they weren’t in a true death trap. He’d found a way out. But standing, he froze.

“Who’s that?!” he shouted.

Five figures leapt up, retreating. Whoosh. A sixth shadow, swift as a ghost, vanished into the mist, its form unclear. Everyone paled, sweat soaking their clothes. “What was that?!” one stammered, trembling. “I glimpsed it, not human, covered in beast fur…”

Chills ran through them. A furry creature had sat among them, unnoticed, terrifying all. One figure remained seated, petrified. Approaching, they recoiled, the man’s skull was opened, brain matter like tofu, half-eaten, only a little left.

Zip. Old Blade fired a rainbow beam into the mist, where a shadow fled into the dark. They found a puddle of brain matter with two black beast hairs, dropped from the creature’s mouth, belonging to the dead man.

“Let’s go. Ignore it,” Ye Fan urged, stepping forward. Escaping this maze was paramount, especially with godsources buried here, lingering meant death.