After ten days of traveling northeast from Chier County City, the terrain began to grow rugged.
The mountains rose higher and the roads narrowed. Sometimes there was no road at all, and they had to pick their way through rocks and shrubs. The air grew damp, and fog often rolled up from the valleys, shrouding everything in white and reducing visibility to less than ten zhang.
Sessler walked in front, his gaunt figure appearing and disappearing in the fog like a drifting ghost. He leaned on a walking stick carved from a branch, yet his footing was steadier than Linley's or Wharton's-necromancers had constitutions unlike ordinary people, aging more slowly and possessing greater endurance.
"How much farther?" Wharton asked. He carried the heavy sword Mountain Suppressor on his back, along with two large leather bags filled with dried rations and spoils. Linley had repeatedly offered to put them in his interspatial ring, but Wharton said carrying weight was training too.
"Not far." Sessler didn't look back. "See that red pine forest ahead? The entrance to Mist Valley is on the other side."
Linley looked in the direction he indicated. The fog was too thick; he could make out only a dark outline, like a crouching beast.
Bebe perched on Linley's shoulder, his little nose twitching, and squeaked twice.
"What did he say?" Sessler asked.
Linley translated. "Bebe says there's something in the forest, a lot of them, but they aren't alive."
Sessler laughed. "The little fellow has a sharp nose. Those are Graveguard Tree Demons, guards necromancers made by transforming dead tree spirits. Anyone who enters without a passage mark will be bound by their roots and dragged underground for fertilizer."
Wharton tightened his grip on his sword hilt. "Then how do we get in?"
"Just follow me." Sessler pulled a palm-sized black wooden token from his robes, its surface carved with twisted runes. "This is a Mist Token. Every full member has one. When the tree demons sense it, they won't attack."
The three entered the red pine forest.
It was darker inside than out. Towering pines blotted out the sky, and dark green moss covered their trunks. A thick layer of pine needles carpeted the ground, soft and nearly silent underfoot.
After a short walk, Linley sensed it-the trees around them were "watching" them. Not with eyes, but with some invisible sense. The outlines of human faces were faintly visible on several particularly thick pine trunks, two dark holes where their eyes should have been staring eerily at the passersby.
The hair rose on Wharton's back, and he lifted his heavy sword slightly.
"Relax," Sessler said. "As long as they don't attack, they're only watching."
After another quarter of an hour, the view ahead suddenly opened up.
The fog thinned here, revealing the entrance to a valley. A stone statue stood on either side-not the usual lions or divine beasts, but two cloaked skeletons holding scythes, eerie green flames flickering in their eye sockets.
"Welcome to Mist Valley," Sessler said.
After passing through the entrance, Linley and Wharton both froze at the sight before them.
Instead of the gloomy, terrifying lair of the undead they had imagined, it looked more like a small village. The valley floor was broad, with a stream running through its center. Dozens of wooden houses stood along its banks, some two stories high, others three. Their styles varied, but all were neat and tidy. Flowers and plants grew in front of and behind the houses, and there were even a few vegetable plots.
People walked along the road. Most were black-robed necromancers, but there were ordinary people too-women and children, elderly people, even children. When they saw Sessler, they stopped. Some nodded in greeting, while others called out:
"Old Sessler? You're still alive?"
"I thought the Church had burned you!"
"Oh, you brought newcomers? That's rare."
Sessler answered them one by one, a rare smile on his face. He was clearly well liked here.
"This place..." Wharton looked around. "It doesn't look like somewhere necromancers would live."
"You think necromancers all live in graveyards and spend every day dealing with corpses?" Sessler scoffed. "That's the Church slandering us. We study death, but we respect life even more-because we know death isn't the end. Mist Valley is a refuge. Necromancers aren't the only ones who live here. There are ordinary people persecuted by the Church, members of other races, even... former Church members."
He pointed to a burly man chopping firewood in the distance. "See him? His name is Barton. He used to be a deacon of the Tribunal. He was hunted for opposing sacrifice and fled here."
He pointed to a woman washing clothes by the stream. "That's Marianne, half-elf. The Church called elves 'heretics' and wanted to purify her whole family. Her husband died, and she escaped with her daughter. She's lived here for eight years."
Linley listened in silence.
So behind the Radiant Church's "holiness" lay so much bloody persecution.
"Come on, let me introduce you to an old friend." Sessler headed for the largest wooden house deeper in the valley.
A sign hung outside the house, bearing the words "Old Bones Tavern" in the common tongue. They pushed open the door and went inside. The interior was spacious, with more than a dozen wooden tables. Seven or eight people were sitting there, drinking and chatting.
An old man stood behind the bar, polishing a glass. He was bald and deeply wrinkled, with a crystal prosthetic for his left eye. When he saw Sessler, the crystal eye flashed.
"Well, you old undying bastard, you really came back?" the old man said hoarsely. "I thought the Church had ground your bones to powder by now."
Sessler walked over and sat at the bar. "Give me an Undead's Sigh, and two ales for these boys. They're not adults yet; they can't drink the strong stuff."
The old man glanced at Linley and Wharton, and his crystal eye flashed again when he noticed the weapons at their waists. "Warriors? That's rare. Where did you lure them from?"
"Picked them up on the road." Sessler took his glass, sipped, and sighed in satisfaction. "Your liquor still has the best flavor. Let me introduce them: Linley and Wharton, of the Baruch Clan. This is Old Bones, the tavern keeper and the 'gatekeeper' of Mist Valley."
Old Bones poured drinks for Linley and Wharton. "Baruch... sounds familiar."
"The Dragonblood Warrior Clan," Sessler said. "Five thousand years of history, but it's fallen into decline. Only these two brothers are left. They killed Clayde and also slaughtered Lampson."
The tavern fell silent in an instant.
Everyone looked at Linley and Wharton with complicated expressions-some surprised, some admiring, and some worried.
Old Bones set down his glass. "Lampson... that Cardinal?"
"Mm." Sessler nodded. "Six warriors of the ninth rank, including him. They killed them all."
There was silence for a few seconds, then someone applauded.
It was a red-haired woman in the corner, around thirty, with a scar on her face and a hearty smile. "Well done! That hypocrite Lampson killed my older brother ten years ago. This one's to you!"
She raised her glass and drained it.
The others raised their glasses too.
Linley was a little surprised. He had thought necromancers were all gloomy and solitary; he hadn't expected them to be so... openhearted.
"All right, all right, don't scare the children." Old Bones waved a hand and said to Sessler, "You didn't bring them here just for a drink, did you?"
"Mm." Sessler set down his glass. "I need the Soul Purification Pool to check them for any marks the Church might have left on them. I also need to see the Council of Elders."
Old Bones stared at Linley and Wharton with his crystal eye for a long time. "Follow me."
He came out from behind the bar and pushed open the back door. Beyond it was a small courtyard planted with a few dead trees-truly dead, without a single leaf, their branches twisted like struggling arms. A well stood in the center, faint black vapor rising from its mouth.
"Jump in," Old Bones said.
Wharton looked into the well, unable to see the bottom. "This is..."
"The Soul Purification Pool is below," Sessler explained. "Don't worry, the fall won't kill you."
He jumped in first, disappearing into the black vapor. Linley and Wharton exchanged a glance, then jumped in after him.
It wasn't a fall, but a slide. The well wall was smooth, like some kind of jade. Their bodies slid swiftly along it, but steadily. After sliding for about a dozen seconds, they found nothing beneath their feet, then landed on soft ground.
A vast underground cavern lay before them.
Luminous crystals were embedded in the cavern ceiling, their soft white light illuminating the entire space. A circular pool stood in the center, its milky-white water steaming like boiling milk. Seven stone pillars stood around the pool, each carved with different runes and emitting faint magical fluctuations.
"The Soul Purification Pool." Sessler walked to its edge. "Take off your clothes and soak in it. The water can purify impurities on the level of the soul, including tracking marks placed by the Church."
Linley and Wharton took off their shirts, leaving only their shorts, and entered the pool. The water was just right, neither hot nor cold. Once they were immersed, every pore opened, and they felt an indescribable comfort.
But soon, a stinging sensation came.
It felt like countless fine needles pricking their skin, especially on their chests, backs, and foreheads. Linley looked down and saw tiny bubbles forming around his body. Some were black, bursting and vanishing as soon as they reached the surface.
"You do have a mark, just as I thought." Sessler crouched by the pool and pointed at Linley's chest. "Look, there's a Holy Light Brand here. It's well hidden; anyone below the ninth rank wouldn't be able to detect it at all. The Church uses it to track targets and can sense it from within a hundred li."
He pointed at Wharton's back. "You have one too, but it's fainter. Maybe it's because you've killed fewer people."
The stinging lasted for about the time it took an incense stick to burn, then gradually faded. The pool water returned to its milky white, and the black bubbles stopped rising.
"You can come out now," Sessler said.
The brothers stepped out of the pool, dried themselves, and dressed. They felt much lighter, as though invisible shackles had been removed.
"Thank you," Linley said.
"It was nothing." Sessler waved a hand. "Now let's go see the Council of Elders. They should be waiting already."
After they left the Soul Purification Pool cavern, Old Bones led them through a winding passage to a stone door. Seven recesses were arranged on the door in the shape of the Big Dipper.
Old Bones took seven black crystals from his robes and pressed them into the recesses one by one. The stone door slid open soundlessly, revealing the room beyond.
The room was small and circular, with a stone table in the center and seven stone chairs around it. Six people sat in the chairs; one was empty, clearly reserved for Sessler.
The six were all different in appearance. There was an old woman in magnificent robes, a burly man wrapped in animal hides, a mysterious figure shrouded in shadow, and even a... skeleton. Yes, a pristine white skeleton, draped in a black robe, with soul fire flickering in its eye sockets.
"Sessler, welcome back." The skeleton spoke, its voice hollow but clear. "I hear you've brought back two interesting young people."
"Elders." Sessler walked to the empty chair and sat down. "Linley Baruch and Wharton Baruch. Descendants of the Dragonblood Warriors. They killed Clayde and Lampson."
Six gazes focused on the brothers.
Linley felt the pressure. Every one of the six had an unfathomable aura; they were at least Saint-level. The skeleton in particular had no flesh or blood, yet it radiated a pressure that made his heart tremble.
"Dragonblood Warriors..." The old woman spoke, her voice aged but gentle. "I haven't seen one in five thousand years. Is your clan well?"
"Only my brother and I are left," Linley said truthfully.
The old woman sighed. "What a pity. When your Baruch ancestor slew the frost dragon, I once saw him from afar. Such bearing... never mind, let's not dwell on the past. Sessler, you brought them here for more than introductions, didn't you?"
"Yes," Sessler said. "First, they need information about the truth behind the Church's sacrifice of people with pure souls. Second, they need to improve their strength-quickly. Third, I'd like to ask the Council of Elders to open the Undead Temple and let them undergo its trial."
The last request moved several of the elders.
"The Undead Temple?" The burly man in animal hides frowned. "Sessler, you know the rules. Those who aren't of our kind may not enter."
"People made the rules." Sessler looked at the skeleton. "First Elder, you said that fighting the Church requires us to unite every force we can. These two young men are seventeen and twelve. One cultivates both magic and martial arts at the eighth rank, the other is a warrior of the ninth rank who can reach the Saint level after dragonforming. Give them five years-no, three-and they'll become a mainstay in the fight against the Church."
The skeleton fell silent.
The soul fire flickered in its eye sockets, as if it were thinking.
Linley spoke. "We don't need charity. If the temple has a test, we can take it. If we fail, we'll leave immediately and won't press the matter."
Wharton nodded. "Right."
The skeleton looked at the other elders. "Let's vote."
The old woman raised her hand. "I agree. The Baruch Clan's reputation is worthy of trust."
The burly man shook his head. "The rules can't be broken."
The mysterious figure in the shadows raised a hand. "Agreed. The Church has been making frequent moves lately. We need fresh blood."
Of the other three elders-a dwarf, an elderly elf, and a half-dragon-two voted in favor and one against.
Four to two.