Shrouding the Heavens

Chapter 289 - Terrifying Old Daoist

Who exactly was this Old Daoist? His entire robe was ancient and worn, clearly not attire from this age, it looked extremely archaic.

“This stone mill has been passed down from our ancestors, and I don’t intend to sell it,” Grandpa Zhang declined politely.

The Old Daoist had bronze-colored skin, white hair draping over his shoulders, his frame thin and wiry, yet his vitality was overflowing. His voice rang like a great bronze bell, resonant and forceful.

“This poor Daoist won’t take advantage of you. I’ll pay you fifty catties of source stones as a base price. And if, once opened, anything is found inside that millstone, whatever it would fetch on the market, I will pay you the same amount again.”

Grandpa Zhang hesitated. He had already realized this Daoist was no ordinary man. To refuse again might be unwise. He frowned and muttered, “This…”

Boom!

At that moment, from the distant horizon came a resounding crash. Smoke and dust billowed into the sky, and an overwhelming surge of energy spread outward.

The Purple Mountain!

The shockwave came from that sacred mountain, surrounded by nine dragon veins. Even at such a distance, one could feel the very ground trembling there.

The Old Daoist instantly turned, staring toward the horizon. His eyes gleamed like twin golden orbs, and from his wiry body erupted a suffocating aura that made onlookers tremble.

In that instant, he no longer seemed like a mere man, but rather a colossal beast, like some ancient slumbering dragon awakening from ages past. The people nearby nearly collapsed under the pressure.

Whoosh!

The Daoist soared into the sky. With a single sweep of his robe, he nearly tore the entire Stone Village from its foundations. Only after he lightly tapped his finger did the settlement stabilize again.

Ye Fan’s scalp prickled with numbness. The Old Daoist’s strength was terrifying. That casual flick of his robe had been nothing more than an unconscious motion, yet it carried such devastating power.

The Daoist transformed into a wisp of gray mist, streaking toward Purple Mountain. The very heavens seemed to quake as if a true dragon was crossing the skies.

“The Eastern Wilderness is simply too vast. Experts arise everywhere, not only within the sacred grounds. Countless recluses wander its great wilderness and untamed forests,” Ye Fan murmured to himself.

The Eastern Wasteland stretched boundlessly. To fly from one end to the other would take years. For an ordinary person traveling on foot, even a hundred lifetimes would not be enough to traverse half its expanse.

Across this immeasurable land lay countless wonders: the mysterious Grand Desolation, stretching for billions of miles; endless inland seas, vast as oceans; ancient palaces eternally suspended in the firmament; even primordial herb gardens, relics of the Desolate Era, capable of reviving the dead…

Thus, it was no surprise that many Sacred Lords, in their twilight years, would leave their holy sects and wander into the great wilds. Encountering peerless figures, or even people from eras long past, was entirely possible.

“What has happened at Purple Mountain?” Many in the stone village were trembling with unease.

“Hurry and pack your things. Be ready to leave at any time,” Ye Fan urged. After hesitating briefly, he too lifted into the air, flying toward Purple Mountain.

The Purple Mountain was awe-inspiring, majestic and towering, like a colossal violet sword piercing the heavens. Its cliffs bore countless axe and blade marks, etched deep with the passage of ages.

At its summit coiled an immense black flood dragon, hundreds of meters long. Whether this was its true body, or whether it had stretched itself deliberately, it was terrifying beyond measure.

It wrapped itself tightly around the mountain’s peak, its body like a black iron fortress hammered by ten thousand strikes. Its massive coils bound the mountain, immovable and unyielding.

Each scale was half a meter across, gleaming with dark light, radiating brute power.

The beast was attempting to tear down the Purple Mountain, trying to wrench it apart with sheer force, to open up whatever lay hidden within. The earlier tremors had been caused by its struggle.

“This black flood dragon must have studied the ancient scroll, it’s tracked its way here…” Ye Fan frowned. The sacred grounds had not yet moved, but already such terrifying beings were making their move.

The Old Daoist let out a low cry. His voice was like a tolling bronze bell, shaking the very void until it hummed and shivered.

The black flood dragon convulsed violently. Its massive body quaked as though struck by a giant hammer. It writhed and twisted, shaking even the mountain’s summit.

Though dry and thin, the Old Daoist stood in the void exuding suffocating pressure. He seemed like a true dragon lying dormant.

On the purple peak, the monstrous black flood dragon let out a low whimper. It trembled like a mouse before a cat, curling in on itself. Without daring another sound, it fled down the far slope of the mountain.

In that moment, the massive beast, once hundreds of meters long, seemed more like a slimy loach, slipping away in disgrace.

“Those hiding in the shadows, come out,” the Old Daoist said calmly. His voice was not loud, yet it carried an irresistible authority.

Three old men emerged, each with blood and energy blazing, like great blazing furnaces. Their life force was terrifyingly robust.

Ye Fan’s heart shook. Before the sacred grounds even arrived, anyone who had glimpsed the ancient scroll was bound to be an extraordinary powerhouse.

“Fellow Daoist, who might you be?” one elder asked. He was white-haired yet child-faced, his aura carrying a profound Daoist charm, immeasurable and unfathomable.

“My name was forgotten long ago. You should leave. This place is beyond your reach.” The Daoist’s tone was calm, but he radiated majesty. Though he was a man of the Dao, he inspired deep fear.

“You are being unreasonable. This place belongs to no one. By what right do you drive us away?” another elder retorted, his presence as unfathomable as the depths of the Grand Dao itself.

The Old Daoist did not argue. With a flick of his wide sleeve, a violent gale erupted. In an instant, the three white-haired elders were hurled away like leaves, vanishing into the far horizon.

“Could this be an old Sacred Lord, whose lifespan had nearly ended, wandering into the great wilderness, only to reemerge again?” Ye Fan thought with shock. The possibility chilled him to the core.