The Purgatory Calamity

Solitude Mountain Range.

The shrill and ghostly howling winds that usually plagued the valley all year had miraculously ceased, leaving the entire canyon eerily silent.

Pang Jian, who had been here countless times before, suddenly felt an inexplicable sense of unfamiliarity as he rode his horse into the valley this time.

He listened carefully and realized there were no sounds of birds flapping their wings in the mountains on both sides, nor were there any insects humming in the night.

Even the restless chestnut warhorse under him quieted down the moment they entered the canyon, as if instinctively sensing that something was amiss.

Brought up since childhood by his father with the knowledge of hunting, Pang Jian, now a mature hunter, was well aware that an unusual quiet often spelled danger and crisis.

Remaining vigilant in secret, he took out his bow and arrows from behind and rode slowly forward, all the while keeping a close eye on the movements around him.

The canyon was still the same canyon; the mountains were still those mountains.

But as Pang Jian advanced through them, he felt that something had changed, although he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

A moment later, the warhorse Pang Jian straddled came to a sudden halt, and he saw several bizarrely positioned corpses among the stones ahead.

All the bodies were dressed in the same style of black clothes, with a crimson crescent moon symbol on their chests – crescents that seemed to float and sink in a mysterious dark world, with a charm that was both eerie and blood-stained.

With just one glance, Pang Jian thought of the ship that had fallen from the Upper Realm a few days ago.

The crescent moon symbol on the chests of the corpses matched exactly the blood-colored crescent on the black banner of the ship.

The young-looking corpses in the jagged rocks were either clutching bright silver bells, holding white paper fans, or gripping large copper hammers, all frozen in the stance of desperate sprinting.

Some even turned their heads to look behind, as if a great horror was chasing after them, stirring their deepest fears.

What was strange was that these bodies didn't have any wounds that appeared to be fatal, nor signs of being smashed by the chaotic stones.

The run-posed corpses gave Pang Jian the impression that they had died instantly, and after death, had remained in their original postures.

It was as if a gust of wind could've swept away their souls, and some Alien Power had fixed them in time just as they were.

And yet, the valley that was usually full of howling winds was now silence that was terrifying, without the monstrous winds that Pang Jian imagined in his mind.

Even stranger was that the corpses in the stone heaps had not been torn apart and devoured in this valley, which was often frequented by wild beasts.

The scene before him was filled with inconsistencies, naturally leading Pang Jian to avoid rashly approaching.

He chose to stay put and wait for others.

"Clip-clop!"

Soon, from behind Pang Jian, the sound of hooves pounding the ground could be heard.

Turning around, Pang Jian saw a valiant young girl on a snow-white warhorse, merging with her steed as one, a dazzling white rainbow shooting toward him.

Her skilled horsemanship and meticulous control of the horse revealed that she was no novice on the battlefield.

As she nearly reached where Pang Jian was, those men and horses trailing behind her began to emerge one after another.

"What's this?"

She abruptly reined in her horse, making the snow-white warhorse come to a halt, then surveyed the corpses in the rock pile with bright eyes.

Her thick eyebrows, much bushier than those of most women, slowly furrowed, her eyes suddenly sharp, making her appear both gallant and commanding.

"They're from the Blood Moon!"

Ning Yuanshan, with his goatee beard, arrived next, his face clouded over, and he said in a grave tone, "Those Blood Moon people from the Upper Realm have always been brutal and bloodthirsty. What exactly happened to them in these rocks for their deaths to be so bizarre?"

Seeing no fatal wounds on the bodies, Ning Yuanshan felt something was off and told everyone to be cautious.

"I'll go take a look."

Yao Qi, who reluctantly handed over his chestnut warhorse to Pang Jian, dismounted from his companion's horse.

With a slight nod from Ning Yuanshan indicating permission, Yao Qi headed toward the rubble. He paused momentarily as he passed Pang Jian, then drew out a spear from under his warhorse's belly before striding into the pile of stones.

"The rest of you, do not go over there!" Ning Yuanshan called back coldly.

Behind him, a few men whose eyes gleamed at the sight of the items in the hands of the corpses tightened their reins reluctantly.

Had it not been for his rebuke, they would have followed Yao Qi's example and rushed into the stone pile.

The artifacts carried by the Upper Realm's Blood Moon Cultivators were certainly extraordinary. Obtaining any one of them would make the trip worthwhile, so they were all driven by greed, almost rushing in.

Those who had stopped envied Yao Qi as they watched him approach the first corpse.

It was a young man of short stature, his hair tied into a topknot, his left hand holding up a white paper fan.

In his right hand, he was still forming a spell, seemingly about to activate some Secret Skill to escape from the dreadful rubble.

On the open white paper fan, several stalks of blue-green bamboo were painted, accompanied by a line of poetry.

"Pines and bamboos are green in the cold; the day wanes as the mountains darken at dusk."

Yao Qi bent closer, reciting the line of poetry silently, and used the tip of his spear to tear open the dead young man's robe, wanting to see if there were any fatal wounds beneath his clothing.

Suddenly, the blue-green bamboo stalks on the raised paper fan began to be surrounded by bloodlight.

A blood-colored bamboo painted on the fan suddenly flew out and pierced right through Yao Qi's forehead.

Yao Qi fell to the ground, blood gushing from his forehead, dead.