Chapter 84: The Blood Bat

"Old man, you’re quite skilled."

The speaker was a young man dressed in purple robes, mysterious in demeanor, flanked by two attendants—clearly of distinguished origin. His strength was formidable, and based on Lin Fan’s assessment, he was at least at the sixth tier of the Vein Condensation Realm.

"So, it’s Ziming, the young master of the Purple Robe Pavilion. What’s this? Your father finally let you out?" The old blacksmith glanced at him, immediately recognizing the inheritor of a powerful faction.

Lin Fan was startled at the mention. The Purple Robe Pavilion was a major force, with an ancestor at the Void Shattering Realm whose reputation reverberated throughout Sealed Heaven City. As the young master, Ziming’s status was extraordinary.

"Hmph." Ziming snorted coldly but said nothing more, evidently recognizing the old blacksmith was not ordinary.

"Very well, ten thousand Yin-Yang Pills is hardly a concern for us. But I have a demand—we must take the safest route," spoke another. This man radiated elegance, wielding a feathered fan and dressed like a refined noble. A maid remained at his side, yet none present would mistake him for an ordinary man, for only the Flowerfall Lord was known to always have a lady in attendance.

"All prodigies of the younger generation… I suppose now Mount Wangwu is gathering all the renowned youths of the Ancient Buddha Domain," Lin Fan mused. He had long since learned about these formidable factions and cultivators, focusing on the younger elites.

Before him, the Flowerfall Lord was one such figure—debonair by reputation, but upright and honorable in conduct.

Over ten thousand Yin-Yang Pills amassed together was a spectacular sight, resembling a river of stars pouring forth.

"Exactly twenty thousand," the old blacksmith nodded after counting, satisfied with the total.

With the Flowerfall Lord leading by example, the others handed over their Yin-Yang Pills in succession. The mingling alchemical energy was a magnificent spectacle.

Even those who felt disgruntled dared not stir trouble now and surrendered their pills obediently.

Lin Fan smiled slightly. With a wave of his hand, thirty thousand Yin-Yang Pills soared toward the old blacksmith—an intentional test of the latter’s strength.

The old blacksmith’s expression didn’t change; he raised a hand and calmly collected all thirty thousand pills with effortless poise.

By now, Lin Fan had deduced the blacksmith’s true strength—likely at the sixth tier of the Vein Condensation Realm, with such unfathomable means that even the seventh tier might not defeat him.

After some arrangements, the group of twelve set out that very day, for time was pressing. Many formidable cultivators had already entered Mount Wangwu; if they were too late, all opportunities might be snatched away.

This decision found favor with all—no one objected.

They took a secluded path beyond Green Lake Town, entering Mount Wangwu without causing the slightest disturbance—no one noticed their passage.

"I must warn you all: Mount Wangwu is fraught with perils and horrors. A single misstep can bring ominous doom—death could come in an instant. Throughout, you must follow me closely, not deviating by so much as a hair," the old blacksmith said gravely, asserting his authority for the good of all. If they encountered any of those dreadful calamities, not only would the unfortunate soul die, but they might drag everyone else down as well.

Everyone nodded solemnly. The sinister reputation of Mount Wangwu was no rumor—it had already spread throughout the Ancient Buddha Domain, a deadly land paved with the lives of countless predecessors.

"Miss Xiaoxian, what kind of place is Mount Wangwu, truly? It seems most unusual," Lin Fan asked, using the secret transmission technique he’d mastered after reaching the Vein Condensation Realm to communicate with Yi Xiaoxian.

"Mount Wangwu was once the stronghold of a mighty sect, but it was destroyed by a supreme being because of a fallen immortal," Yi Xiaoxian replied succinctly, explaining its origins.

"If I’m not mistaken, this old blacksmith is likely a descendant of that ancient power. His ancestors have always sought to discover what truly happened back then." Her deductions were logical and complete; Yi Xiaoxian’s wisdom and depth far surpassed Lin Fan’s.

"So that’s how it is. It seems the old blacksmith harbors many secrets," Lin Fan nodded, falling silent as they stepped into Mount Wangwu.

The land was desolate and withered, a barren expanse littered with bleached bones—whether human or beast, it was impossible to tell.

Crunch.

Someone stepped on a skeleton, the sharp snap startling everyone.

Caw!

A harsh screech split the air as a blood-red cloud approached from the distance, wind howling fiercely.

"Down! Quickly—those are blood bats. Don’t let them see you!" the old blacksmith cried out in alarm, urging the group to react. After half a quarter hour, the blood-red cloud finally dissipated.

"What were those things? I sensed an overwhelming stench of blood," Ziming asked, his face ashen—he’d barely avoided being swept away by the blood bats’ gale.

"Blood bats are the most common creatures in Mount Wangwu, apart from savage beasts. Individually, they’re weak, but together, even a dominant overlord would be devoured in an instant. That bloody smell you noticed—they must have just feasted on a group of humans," the old blacksmith explained, still shaken. He knew all too well the terror of blood bats; discovery meant certain death.

Caw!

Another screech—this time, around twenty blood bats, likely stragglers from the previous swarm.

"Die!" Ziming sneered, striking suddenly. A purple arc of energy shot skyward, reducing the remaining blood bats to a bloody mist.

"What are you creatures, daring to bare your fangs before the Pavilion?" Ziming exulted, arrogant and spirited—entirely in keeping with his nature and status as the Purple Robe Pavilion’s young master.

"You absolute fool!" The old blacksmith’s face turned ashen—this was no mere panic, but genuine fear.

"Your father’s renowned—how did he sire such a beast as you? He should have spilled you against the wall!" The old man spat a string of curses, so enraged he could have struck Ziming dead with a slap.

"What’s going on?" Lin Fan asked, tense—he sensed something was wrong.

"Blood bats are highly united, and extremely sensitive to the deaths of their kind. Without a doubt, that earlier swarm will return here soon," the old blacksmith said, too pressed for time to scold Ziming further. "There’s an ancient mine ahead—we can use it to avoid the blood bats and go straight to the heart of Mount Wangwu."

He shot Ziming a fierce glare, urging haste, just as another piercing screech echoed from afar. The blood-red clouds had indeed returned—the blood bats were back!