Chapter 134: The Secret of the Sacrifice

At that time, Ou Yi had just ascended to the rank of Saint. Brimming with the arrogance of one who believed himself invincible, he was not about to let matters rest easily. He ventured alone into the heart of the Tidi tribe, arriving at their very stronghold.

During their duel, Ou Yi found that the gray aura surrounding the tribe’s priest seemed to suppress his own toxic miasma. The battle ultimately ended with Ou Yi’s defeat. Upon returning to the Prince Beichang’s estate in the Northern Frontier, Ou Yi pondered for a long time, unable to fathom the means the priest had employed. He could understand why Kong Mo’s aura countered his own—the "noble energy" was the most masculine force in the world, capable of repelling all poisons and evil spirits. But the Tidi priest’s aura was chilling, yet strangely tranquil.

Unable to solve the mystery, Ou Yi decided to investigate again. Concealing his presence, he skulked near the priest’s tent and waited in silence. Having reached the Saint realm, he needed neither food nor drink and could endure the harshest elements. After a month of patient waiting through wind and snow, he finally uncovered the truth.

That day marked the Tidi tribe’s monthly sacrificial ceremony. As the various tribal chieftains arrived, the priest waved his staff and chanted incantations. Suddenly, the snow ceased, and a blood-red hue stained every cloud in the sky. The mysterious rites lasted until nightfall.

It was the first time Ou Yi had witnessed such a spectacle. While Saints could manipulate the energies of heaven and earth, such a massive shift—halting the very snow—defied the laws of nature. Even a Saint of his caliber could not achieve this. As he watched in curiosity, the ceremony concluded, and the chieftains began to present the ordinary humans they had captured over the past month, most of them citizens of the Ye Dynasty.

Ou Yi cared little for the lives of others; he sought only the secret of the old priest. Seeing hundreds, perhaps nearly a thousand people driven into the center of the Tidi camp, he furrowed his brow, a sense of foreboding washing over him. As expected, the old priest gazed coldly at the oblivious captives and shouted a command in the Tidi tongue. The warriors roared as they lunged into the crowd, tearing, slaughtering, and devouring them.

The air was filled with the cacophony of beasts and the wails of the dying. Even Ou Yi, who prided himself on having a heart of stone, found the scene unbearable. As the screams faded into silence, the center of the camp was devoid of life, and the warriors had had their fill.

The old priest began to chant, and Ou Yi felt it again—that same chilling, tranquil sensation. He watched intently as all the Tidi tribesmen knelt in reverence, leaving only the priest standing, head tilted toward the heavens, chanting an ancient spell. Gradually, from the carnage in the center, skeletons began to rise with a rhythmic clicking, as if endowed with life. Though their movements were slow, they were perfectly orderly.

"This..." Ou Yi was struck with shock. Could it be resurrection? This was not the power of a Saint; this was the power of a god!

However, upon closer observation, he realized something was amiss. The skeletons were mere puppets. They stood in place, emitting faint gray specks of light that drifted toward the sky, only to be inhaled by the old priest.

Ou Yi finally understood why that aura felt so cold and peaceful. The priest was drawing power from the essence of death. The defining characteristics of death’s aura were precisely that chill and that tranquility. And the reason it could suppress his toxins was that the hierarchy of death far exceeded that of his poison.

...

In the Xiyue Prince’s estate, south of the Ye Dynasty, an old man walked in with a chuckle, draped in a cloak and carrying two large bamboo baskets filled with fat, live fish.

"Oh, Father, what are you doing? It’s so cold out! Why would you go out to sea to fish?" the Princess of Xiyue asked, her face etched with worry as she sighed helplessly.

Winter was approaching, and the Xiyue Prince’s fief bordered the endless sea. The sea winds were bitingly cold, and most fishermen had already pulled in their nets to wait for spring.

"Heh heh heh, it’s fine, it’s fine! Quickly, have Jingxi come out and see these! Look how big they are, hahahaha!" The old man was the Princess’s father. His face was glowing, his dark skin radiated vitality, and he laughed, clearly satisfied with his catch.

Hearing her father mention the Prince of Xiyue, Qian Jingxi, the Princess sighed again. Glancing toward the study in the distance, she whispered, "News has come from the Northern Frontier that the Tidi tribe has seized eleven cities. The Prince is busy reviewing dispatches from the capital; I fear he has no time to look at your catch."

"Eleven cities lost to the Tidi? Aren't those two brats, Wei Siyuan and Chen Sinian, stationed up there? How could such a thing happen?" The old man flew into a rage upon hearing his daughter’s words, his voice booming with indignation.

The Princess looked at her father, torn between laughter and tears, and said softly, "Father, they are Princes now. It looks bad for you to keep calling them by their names like that."

The Princess’s father was none other than the Ye Dynasty’s third Saint, the Sea Saint. It was no wonder he dared to venture alone into the deep sea to fish; anyone else would have long been swallowed by the giant waves.

"So what? What does being a Prince matter? I watched them grow up with my own two eyes!" The Sea Saint grumbled in defiance before tossing the baskets to a servant and striding toward the study. "Qian Jingxi? Qian Jingxi, where are you?"

The Princess watched in bewilderment as her father shouted, but she was powerless to stop him.

Inside the study, Qian Jingxi was discussing countermeasures with his subordinates, the secret letter from the Prince of Beichang lying before him. Hearing his father-in-law bellowing his name, he rubbed his temples in resignation; he already guessed that his wife must have told the Sea Saint about the situation in the North.

"Um... Your Highness, we shall take our leave now." His subordinates, long accustomed to the old man’s boisterous nature, shook their heads and retreated.

Qian Jingxi tucked away the secret letter just as the old man stormed to the door.

"Greetings, Father-in-law." Qian Jingxi bowed respectfully.

"Forget it, forget it. You’re a Prince; an old man like me can’t afford such formalities." The Sea Saint brushed past him, pushed open the door, and sat squarely in the grand armchair in the center of the room, pouting.

Qian Jingxi sighed, knowing his father-in-law was looking to vent his frustration. He exchanged a wry glance with the Princess, and they both entered the study.

"Father, the fall of the Northern Frontier has nothing to do with the Prince. Why must you take it out on him?" The Princess hurried to the Sea Saint’s side, trying to smooth things over with a playful, coaxing tone.