Zhang Chong's explanation made sense—this barren mining outpost was a source collection point for the Holy Land, not their final destination. Li Yao followed him across the crimson earth, his pace easily matching the Elder's intentionally brisk speed.
The scenery soon shifted. Crude stone houses and the gaping mouths of mine shafts appeared, all enclosed within a shimmering barrier of protective Dao patterns. This was the Yao Guang Holy Land's secure zone.
Cultivators stationed here hurried forward upon seeing Zhang Chong, bowing deeply with clear respect. "Greetings, Supreme Elder!"
Their eyes flicked to Li Yao with curiosity, but seeing him beside Zhang Chong, they offered polite, if slightly guarded, bows. "Senior Brother."
Zhang Chong gave a curt nod and led Li Yao past them without ceremony. As they walked, he provided context in a low voice. "The real wealth is near the Primordial Ancient Mine, hundreds of thousands of li from here. It's also where the danger is."
Li Yao knew the history. The Northern Region's desolation was not natural, but the aftermath of a failed celestial transformation by the ancient Fighting Saint Emperor. Over millions of years, life slowly returned in scattered oases. The true peril came not from the land, but from its inhabitants.
"Bandits are the main threat here," Zhang Chong continued, his voice grim. "They flock from all corners of the world, forming ruthless gangs. Some are powerful enough to give even the Holy Lands pause. The worst are the Thirteen Great Bandits of the Northern Region. They are…"
"KILL!"
A thunderous roar, thick with bloodlust, shattered the air. The very ground trembled.
Li Yao spun around. Beyond the barrier, the sky darkened as a formation of seventy or eighty riders charged on monstrous beasts. They were few in number, but the killing intent radiating from them was a palpable, chilling force, coalescing into a crimson cloud that smothered the light.
At their center rode a man in his thirties astride a mythical Suanni lion, clad in gleaming iron armor. With a deafening clang, he hurled three blood-red banners into the earth before the protective barrier. The banners flared, and the complex Dao patterns maintaining the Holy Land's shield flickered and dimmed, their connection to heaven and earth severed.
The cultivators around them cried out in alarm and terror. "Bandits! They're breaking through!"
Zhang Chong's face paled. He recognized the man on the Suanni. In a flash of movement born of pure instinct, he didn't hesitate. Before Li Yao could fully process the breach, Zhang Chong's palm struck his back—not with force, but with a surge of intricate Dao patterns that enveloped him like a cocoon.
"Live well, kid," Zhang Chong gritted out, his usual composure gone, replaced by the stark urgency of a protector facing a superior foe.
Li Yao's world blurred into streaks of light and color as the spatial transfer spell hurled him away from the outpost. As he shot through the air, a final, earth-shaking shout echoed across the distance, filled with arrogance and overwhelming power:
"I, Jiang Yi, have come here! Who dares to stop me?!"
Jiang Yi. The name registered in Li Yao's mind with cold clarity. One of the Thirteen Great Bandits. A genuine Great Power. Zhang Chong, a half-step into that realm himself, had judged the situation untenable. His action wasn't a strategic calculation in that moment—it was the reflexive act of a senior saving a junior from certain death.
The escape spell was rough and disorienting. Li Yao closed his eyes against the nauseating swirl, analyzing the sensation. It was a brute-force spatial transfer, inefficient and jarring, likely because Zhang Chong had cast it in immense haste.
After an indeterminate time of weightless tumbling, the energy around him dissipated.
Thump!
He hit the hard, crimson earth back-first, the impact driving the air from his lungs and carving a shallow crater into the ground. For a moment, he simply lay there, staring up at the pale, barren sky, listening to the absolute silence.
He was alone. The protective barrier, Zhang Chong, the roaring bandits—all were gone. He was in an unknown part of the Northern Region wasteland, his only link to the Holy Land severed by the attack of a legendary bandit chief.
Slowly, he sat up, assessing the situation with detached focus. Primary objective shifted. Survival and orientation are now paramount. The Holy City, resources, and his plans were secondary variables. The environment was the new primary equation to solve.