SpaceMage
Chapter 42 42 - Qi Lord

Ximen Wei's heart raced as he gazed out over the damp, murky swamp before him. The pungent smell that hung heavily in the air was nearly overpowering, causing his head to spin and his stomach to churn with nausea.

As he cautiously stepped forward, Ximen's eyes scanned the surface of the swamp, taking in the eerie sight of what appeared to be faces - faces frozen in expressions of pure terror. With a shudder, he realized that these faces were not only just human, but the skins of long-dead creatures.

The thought of what horrors must have lurked in these murky depths made Ximen's skin crawl, and he felt a cold sweat break out on his brow. He forced himself to take a deep breath and steel his nerves. He knew that he could not let fear get the better of him.

Ximen Wei's stomach turned as he took another step forward, the revolting sound of his foot sinking into the sludge sending waves of nausea through his body. He struggled to hold back the bile rising in his throat, his face turning a ghastly shade of white as he willed himself to keep moving forward.

The muck and gore that engulfed him were like nothing he had ever experienced before. It reached up to his knees, an abhorrent mixture of decaying flesh and stagnant water that clung to his skin like a second layer. As he trudged forward, it felt as if he were wading through a snowdrift, each step a battle against the repugnant, slimy mass.

The putrid stench that filled the air was almost suffocating, and Ximen's eyes began to water from the sheer disgust of it all. The warmth that radiated up from the swamp was sickening, sending shivers up his spine and causing goosebumps to break out all over his body.

He had to remind himself to breathe, to take slow, measured breaths and not let the horror of this place overwhelm him. Each step forward was a triumph, a testament to his resilience in the face of such revolting circumstances.

Flies swarmed relentlessly in the stagnant air of the swamp, their incessant buzzing filling Ximen Wei's ears. He was acutely aware of the danger they posed, their insatiable hunger for flesh a constant threat to his safety. Without the small protective shield of Qi he had cast around his body, he knew that he would already be consumed by their ravenous appetite.

The thought of drowning in a sea of insects sent shivers down Ximen's spine, and he could feel his muscles tensing with the effort of maintaining his protective barrier. The energy it took to maintain the shield was draining, but he knew that it was the only thing keeping him alive in this accursed place.

As he trudged forward, the flies seemed to grow more and more aggressive, their frenzied attacks battering against his shield like waves against a cliff face. Ximen gritted his teeth, determined not to let them break through his defenses.

The sound of their wings was deafening, and Ximen could feel their tiny, wriggling bodies crawling across the surface of his shield. It was a horrific sensation, one that he hoped never to experience again.

Shortly after Ximen Wei had departed, four men arrived at the spot where he had previously stood. Among them was a red-haired young man who carried a bronze lantern in his hand. His fiery locks seemed to blaze in the dim light of the lantern, his sharp features betraying a sense of cunning intelligence.

As the group surveyed their surroundings, the air around them seemed to grow thick with tension. Each of the men exuded a sense of quiet confidence, their movements precise and calculated.

Shortly after Ximen Wei's departure, a group of four men arrived at the same spot, their footsteps muffled by the thick mire beneath their feet. Among them was a red-haired young man, who carried a bronze lantern in his hand, the flickering light casting eerie shadows across his face.

As they arrived at the edge of the swamp, the men quickly donned masks, their faces contorting in disgust at the abominable sight before them. The stench that wafted up from the swamp was enough to make even the strongest of stomachs turn.

Dongfang, the leader of the group, wiped the sweat from his forehead and began to explain the history of this cursed place to his companions. "This swamp is known as the Devil's Gut," he said, his voice hushed and serious. "Its origins are shrouded in mystery, but the family patriarch once told me that in ancient times, a powerful cultivator slaughtered countless others here. Their resentment and hatred lingered, cursing this place and turning it into the sole restricted area of the Desolate Astral Forest."

The red-haired young man's face paled as he heard the story, his body shuddering involuntarily. And yet, in his eyes burned a fierce, ambitious light, a longing to conquer.

The red-haired young man's eyes were wide with incredulity as he surveyed the vast expanse of the swamp, the putrid stench filling his nostrils. It was impossible to fathom just how many lives had been lost in this place, the swamp serving as a macabre monument to the slaughter that had occurred here.

"What kind of cultivation base would it take to kill so many cultivators?" he wondered aloud, his mind reeling at the thought.

Dongfang, the group's leader, looked at him with a solemn expression. "I cannot say for certain," he replied, his voice laced with reverence. "But the expert who committed this heinous act would have had to possess at least a cultivation base of legendary Rank 4 Qi Lord. It takes a level of power beyond our wildest imagination to have perpetrated such a massacre."

The young man's face went pale at the thought, a shiver running down his spine.

The red-haired young man was left speechless at Dongfang's words, his mind struggling to grasp the magnitude of what he had just heard.

"A Qi Lord," he gasped, his voice barely above a whisper.

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