At the northern foot of Cold Crow Island, deep within Falling Star Valley.
At the bottom of the dim rift, dense, ink-dark clouds of ashen baleful intent slowly churned as though alive, shrouding the world in deathly silence.
As the last piece of meteoric iron mother ore, as large as a millstone and radiating a deep, cold glow, was lifted by invisible spiritual power and swept into the Storage Bag at Chu Bai's waist in a streak of silver light, the chaotic magnetic field in this once merely oppressive space suddenly froze for one uncanny instant.
It was like forcibly removing the most crucial screw from a vast machine assembled from countless precision gears. In that instant, its balance was utterly shattered.
Crack...
An extremely faint yet distinctly audible cracking sound abruptly rose from deep within the basalt beneath Chu Bai's feet.
Chu Bai's movements stopped short. A flicker of warning flashed through eyes as still as an ancient well.
Although the baleful intent interfered with his Divine Sense, his keen perception of the Five Phases had already detected a presence beneath the rock: a tide of blood vitality as vast as the sea, brimming with savage violence, was rapidly approaching!
He did not hesitate, nor did he waste even a moment thinking.
Chu Bai lightly tapped his toes against the rock wall. Like a weightless falling leaf, he drew upon the conception of following shifting air currents within the Swimming Dragon Water-Splitting Art. His figure traced an afterimage through the air, drifting backward dozens of yards in an instant.
At the very moment his feet left their original position!
Rumble—!!
The black rock beneath him, once as hard as refined iron, collapsed like a brittle pastry!
This was no natural geological tremor, but a terrifying, rhythmic vibration, as though