Chapter 55: The Veins of Aspiration

The two of them pressed on in silence, heads lowered as they hurried along the path, but they did not split up. Under these circumstances, only by joining forces did they stand a chance to escape.

They crossed several mountain peaks in succession.

Suddenly, the cries of birds drifted from ahead.

In weather like this, with rain pouring down, how could there possibly be birds singing?

Lu Yan’s expression grew grim. “That’s the signaling call of the Liu and Wu clans. They’re closing in from the depths of the Forbidden Land.”

The Liu and Wu clans hadn’t just sealed off one side of the Forbidden Land—they’d encircled it completely, forming a ring. That meant the depths were also guarded by their experts. No matter which direction they chose, they would encounter pursuers.

“It seems we’ll have to force our way through,” said the girl with the iron pot, raising her pot in one hand and brandishing the spatula with the other.

“Not necessarily,” Lu Yan replied, shaking his head.

“Oh? You have an idea?” The girl looked at him curiously.

“Follow me,” Lu Yan said, continuing forward.

Soon, they reached the base of a massive mountain. Sheer cliffs rose all around.

Lu Yan had originally intended to venture into the depths of the Forbidden Land, for the Dao Book had reacted to something within. The source of its reaction was this very mountain.

But the mountain had not collapsed. It stood tall and imposing. As for the Dao Food, where could it be?

Lu Yan carefully sensed the surroundings at the cliff’s base, finally confirming that the Dao Food was hidden within the mountain itself. This was akin to the other collapsed peaks, where ancient structures had been concealed inside, only revealed after an earthquake and landslide.

“So this is the way out you spoke of?” The girl eyed Lu Yan as if he were a fool.

“Haven’t you seen those collapsed peaks? Their interiors are hollow, with ancient buildings inside—just like this one,” Lu Yan explained. “If people in ancient times built within the mountain, there must be a door. If we find and enter it, we can avoid the clans’ pursuit and look for another chance to escape.”

“How do you know there’s a structure inside?” she asked, full of suspicion.

“The mountain spirit told me,” Lu Yan replied, making it up on the spot.

She rolled her eyes at him.

“Let’s start searching for the entrance. We don’t have much time,” Lu Yan said.

He began investigating the cliff, relying on the Dao Book’s subtle guidance. Generally, where there’s a gate, there’s a mechanism, often designed in a special way.

The girl also searched carefully. She didn’t believe Lu Yan’s nonsense about mountain spirits, but she did believe his claim about a building inside. No one would joke with their own life.

But after so many years, all traces had been worn away. After a while, neither found any sign of a switch.

They grew anxious. If they delayed any longer, the clans’ experts would catch up. Once discovered and surrounded by warriors, escape would be impossible.

Suppressing their anxiety, they continued their search.

Suddenly, Lu Yan noticed something odd in a patch of grass. There, a slightly raised stone showed faint patterns, blurred by wind, rain, and the passage of time—hard to spot unless one looked closely.

Lu Yan pressed down on the stone. It sank beneath his hand.

A faint grinding sound came from the cliff; a slab of stone slid aside, revealing a pitch-black entrance.

They had succeeded.

Both faces brightened with joy. As expected, the mountain concealed another world within.

Inside lay a dark tunnel, cold and foreboding.

Yet neither stepped in immediately.

Wang Shun’s warning still echoed in their minds—ancient ruins were rife with deadly traps, enough that even the powerful clans needed expendable lives to forge a path.

Lu Yan had another concern: who knew how many years had passed since this tunnel last opened? Wouldn’t they suffocate if they rushed in blindly?

“I’ll catch a rabbit to test the path,” Lu Yan said, dashing into the woods.

With his hunting skills, in no time he returned with a plump gray rabbit and drove it into the tunnel.

The rabbit hopped along the passageway; nothing happened.

No danger.

“Once inside, we might not be able to open the door again,” the girl cautioned. “Let’s leave one of us outside and one inside. If the one inside can’t find the mechanism, the one outside can still let them out.”

Lu Yan stood firm.

“Don’t tell me you don’t trust me?” The girl’s lips curved into a slight pout, their rosy color like the petals of a rose in bloom.

“To be honest, I really don’t,” Lu Yan thought to himself. But he knew someone had to take the risk—there was no time to waste.

After checking the entrance, Lu Yan stepped inside.

The girl pressed the switch; the stone door closed.

Lu Yan inspected the interior and quickly found another switch—a stone pedestal behind the door. He twisted it, and the door opened again.

The path was clear. The girl hurried inside and shut the door behind her.

They both breathed a sigh of relief. For now, they’d evaded the threat of the two clans.

But only for now.

They couldn’t hide here forever; eventually they would have to leave, or else starve.

They turned their gaze deeper into the cave.

The gray rabbit had already hopped dozens of meters in, unscathed.

“Let’s see what’s ahead,” the girl said, brandishing her iron pot as she followed the rabbit.

Lu Yan was speechless—was that pot for cooking or for defense?

He hesitated a moment, then followed. The Dao Book’s sense of hunger grew stronger the deeper he went.

Soon, they reached the end of the corridor—a vast cavern appeared before them.

It seemed the entire mountain had been hollowed out. Strange stones embedded in the walls emitted a faint glow, illuminating the dim space just enough to see.

Statues lined both sides of the cavern—each different, and none familiar to Lu Yan. In the center stood several altars.

Suddenly, the rabbit bounded in front of an altar. A flash of light burst from it, and the rabbit exploded in a spray of blood and flesh.

Both Lu Yan and the girl recoiled in shock.

Danger, as expected.

“What were those patterns?” Lu Yan asked.

When the altar had flashed, intertwining lines appeared all around, dense as a nest of writhing snakes—enough to make one’s scalp tingle.

“Could those be Willpower Patterns?” the girl whispered.

Lu Yan’s ears caught the words. “You recognize them? What are Willpower Patterns?”

“Before the Great Ancient Dynasty, there was a mysterious force called Willpower. The prayers and sacrifices of all living things would give birth to this power. Certain mighty beings could inscribe it into special patterns, unleashing deadly force—these are Willpower Patterns,” she explained.

“You seem to know a lot about the era before the Great Ancients,” Lu Yan observed. The truth was, he too was intrigued by that lost age.

“That’s what you learn from reading books. You look like someone who never reads,” she sniffed. “In the early days of the Great Ancient Dynasty, all books concerning the times before were burned. But a few survived, and besides, many ruins from that era remain—those can’t be destroyed. From them, you can uncover some clues.”

“How do we break these Willpower Patterns?” Lu Yan asked.

His attention was drawn to a particular statue, which held a square bronze block, much like the one he’d found before—but larger.

“Unless you’ve cultivated inner strength and can forcefully destroy them, you’ll have to wait for time to wear them away. With our abilities, there’s no hope of breaking them,” the girl replied, shaking her head.

Lu Yan was disappointed. After all that effort to find a piece of Dao Food, was he to lose it now?

The girl said no more, squatting down to study the patterns. Lu Yan chipped a few stones from the entrance and tossed them toward the statues and altars. Nothing happened.

“It’s useless,” the girl warned. “Willpower Patterns only react to living things. Inanimate objects won’t trigger them.”

“So what do we do? Just wait here? I think there must be another exit,” Lu Yan said.

The air in the cavern was fresh—there had to be a vent. If they could find it, maybe they could escape. Waiting here indefinitely was not an option, especially since his absence might arouse suspicion.

“In that case, I’ll need to borrow your blood,” said the girl.

Lu Yan’s brow furrowed; his blood surged as he tensed.

“No need to be so nervous. I’m not going to kill you. Humanity is the leader of all living things—human blood can activate Willpower Patterns. Just prick your finger and flick a drop where I tell you. Or do you expect me, a delicate girl, to do it instead?” She pouted, as if teasing him for cowardice.

“Hand me your knife,” Lu Yan said.

She passed him a small blade.

Lu Yan pricked his fingertip, drawing a drop of blood.

“There,” the girl instructed, indicating a spot.

Lu Yan’s arm flicked; the droplet flew and landed on the ground.

Immediately, the ground glowed, and those eerie, hair-raising patterns reappeared. A beam of light swept over the drop of blood, and it vanished in an instant.