Soul-Severing Ridge lived up to its name: a range of rolling, deathly silent mountains seventy li outside Formless City.
It had once bordered an ancient battlefield. Its rocks were dark brown, as though steeped in blood; not a blade of grass grew there, and no birds crossed its skies. Even Formless City's boldest demon-hunting teams normally dared not set half a foot inside.
Today, however, this mountain range, silent for countless years, welcomed two visitors capable of reshaping the entire world.
Gales howled, whipping dust across the sky. An invisible power stirred the gray-white clouds into ever greater turmoil. A vast black vortex spanning hundreds of li hovered directly above Soul-Severing Ridge, like a malicious, solitary eye opened by the heavens, staring fixedly down below.
Dressed in gray Daoist robes and holding an antique horsetail whisk, Xuanmingzi climbed with steady steps to the highest peak of Soul-Severing Ridge.
He went no farther. Casually tossing his whisk into the air, he let it transform into a faint ring of spiritual light that enveloped the space for a zhang around him, then sat cross-legged on the bare boulder.
Chu Bai did not remain with him on the summit. He strode onward, crossed the crest, and descended the slope, stopping only at a narrow gorge a full ten li from Xuanmingzi's peak.
This was the only route from the abyss to the summit of Soul-Severing Ridge.
Chu Bai turned, placing his back to Xuanmingzi and facing the seemingly endless dark wilderness.
He drew a deep breath, slowly raised his right hand, and pressed two fingers together like a sword.
Clang!
A piercing sword cry rang through the clouds. Geng Metal sword radiance, condensed to the utmost and wreathed in dense black-purple killing intent, surged from Chu Bai's fingertips, extending more than ten zhang.