Chapter Three: The Crimson Mesa

The five other masters at the Grand Ascension stage watched Autumn Wind and Li Chengzhu bicker, feeling rather bewildered by their exchange.

Autumn Wind, affronted by Li Chengzhu’s disrespect, snorted coldly and stepped aside, refusing to speak further.

Gu Linglong paid them no mind, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

The atmosphere sank into a heavy silence.

It took half a day before everyone had finished replenishing their spiritual energy. Only when she saw that all had recovered did Gu Linglong call the group to move toward their destination.

The Red Cliff Plateau stretched across only five hundred miles, yet in those five hundred miles, countless cultivators had perished here, their souls dispersed to the winds.

From afar, the entire plateau seemed as if Death had painted the earth with a thick layer of crimson lacquer, so brilliant and glaring that even the sky was stained blood-red by its grim hue.

Unlike other places in the Immortal Realm, lush with spirit woods and fragrant with birdsong and flowers, the Red Cliff Plateau was barren and desolate. The wind whipped up sandstorms, obscuring vision beyond ten paces.

This was the infamous “Red Dust Storm” of the Immortal Realm.

Wherever the eye fell, there were only bizarre rocks, towering peaks, deep ravines—all the lasting scars of millennia of magical battles fought upon this ground.

The plateau lay at the westernmost edge of the Immortal Realm. Overhead, a spatial rift had mysteriously appeared, linking this land to the Western Angelic Realm.

The rift had first emerged over five thousand years ago, before the Immortal Emperor had decided how to handle it. The Western Angelic Commander, with fifty Ten-Wing Archangels, widened the rift and led their army into the Immortal Realm.

Upon hearing this, the Immortal Emperor flew into a rage, commanding every immortal to converge at the Red Cliff Plateau and halt the angelic invasion.

That war lasted two centuries. In the end, the population of the Immortal Realm was halved, countless high-level immortals destroyed, their souls obliterated. Of the thirty Immortal Lords at the time, twenty-five fell—none left even a wisp of soul behind. The Immortal Emperor himself was grievously wounded by the combined might of the Angelic Commander and forty Ten-Wing Archangels. Facing imminent defeat, he detonated his immortal infant in desperation, obliterating the forty archangels surrounding him; not even dust remained. The Angelic Commander’s body was destroyed as well, surviving only by virtue of a powerful defensive artifact that shielded his soul from annihilation. In the end, the angels were forced to retreat.

The current Immortal Emperor was one of five Immortal Lords who survived that calamity. Though the angelic army was repelled and devastated, the Immortal Realm itself was left in ruins—the greatest loss being the Emperor’s self-detonation.

Nearly five thousand years of recuperation had restored barely half of the former glory. Only ten Immortal Lords remained.

After the war, the surviving Immortal Lords attempted to close the spatial rift together. A thousand years of effort only managed to shrink it to its original size; closing it completely proved impossible.

Unable to do anything further, the new Immortal Emperor allowed the rift to remain above the Red Cliff Plateau.

Over the millennia, the angelic legions repeatedly sought to invade through the rift, but its reduced size prevented large-scale incursions. Only small detachments could harass the realm, or powerful angels could pass through alone.

Hundreds of battles, large and small, claimed countless lives, leaving the plateau a hundred miles of crimson wasteland, devoid of any vegetation.

When Gu Linglong and her companions finally arrived at the Red Cliff Plateau, Li Chengzhu was shaken.

As far as the eye could see, within a hundred miles there was neither tree nor grass—only blood-red earth, blood-red stone, and even the sky was stained red. The wind howled with its unique, chilling sound, casting a murderous pall over the scene.

Before them, the assembled cultivators stretched for dozens of miles.

Staring at the endless sea of heads, Li Chengzhu estimated there must be at least eighty or ninety thousand people.

Chaotic spiritual energies pulsed and churned in the air. Li Chengzhu had never seen so many cultivators gathered in one place, and the weakest among them was at the Spirit Severing stage.

This realization left him somewhat embarrassed. He lowered his voice and asked Xiao Ying, "Hey, am I the weakest one here?"

Xiao Ying glanced at him, covered her mouth and giggled, "No."

Li Chengzhu brightened, "Really? Who's weaker than me?"

"The Mudstone Pig," Xiao Ying pointed to the small creature perched on his shoulder, her face full of innocence.

Li Chengzhu’s lips twitched, "Damn, makes me want to hide my face."

Just then, a flash of light, and the imperial envoy—who had previously visited the city lord’s manor—stood before them, holding a jade scepter.

Gu Linglong bowed, "My lord!"

The envoy nodded, "Ah, Gu Linglong, punctual as ever."

They had arrived on the very last day of the deadline, and it was unclear whether the envoy’s words carried a hint of sarcasm. Gu Linglong, however, paid it no mind, "My lord, what are our instructions? I have brought one hundred cultivators above the Spirit Severing stage."

Sweeping his gaze across the crowd, the envoy’s eyes lingered briefly on Li Chengzhu, his brows knitting, "Hm? Why is there a Nascent Soul stage here?"

Gu Linglong replied without expression, "He came on his own, not counted among the hundred."

The envoy raised his chin, nostrils flared, "No matter how he came—if he doesn’t wish to die, he’d best leave now. At the Nascent Soul stage, he couldn’t defeat even a Two-Winged Angel. On this battlefield, he’s doomed."

Li Chengzhu felt instantly aggrieved. He stepped forward and spoke, neither humble nor arrogant, "My lord, defending against foreign threats is everyone’s responsibility. Even if I cannot fight directly, I can assist from below."

The envoy sneered, "Enough. I’ve seen plenty who ignore warnings—their fate is always the same." Then, turning away from Li Chengzhu, he addressed Gu Linglong, "Gu Linglong, have your people rest here. Orders will come tomorrow."

"Yes, my lord," Gu Linglong nodded.

"Good," the envoy replied, then vanished.

Once the envoy was gone, Li Chengzhu cursed under his breath, "Damn dog eyes, looking down on people!"

Xiao Ying frowned, "Can’t you speak without vulgarity? Never seen a cultivator like you."

Li Chengzhu grinned, "That’s what makes me unique!"

Xiao Ying rolled her eyes and ignored him.

As everyone settled down to rest, Li Chengzhu grew bored. He glanced at the sea of people behind him and decided to wander among them, hoping to gather news of his sect.

That was the real reason he had come.

Otherwise, who would willingly come to such a place of strife? Li Chengzhu thought to himself.