Primordial Era: Starting with slaughtering all the gods and Buddhas in the sky

Huang Chen sped along the ground.

Black water trickled beneath my feet, frozen into a thin layer of ice. Stepping on it produced a faint cracking sound, which was then pressed down by the wind. In the distance, the low shadows of trees grew clearer. They weren't a forest, but rows of crooked wooden stakes driven into the frozen ground. Between the stakes were broken bone bells and black ropes, which jingled and clanged in the wind, like someone gently tapping a bowl with their teeth.

The Cold Soul Ferry has arrived.

Huang Chen did not approach immediately.

He lay prone behind a cracked black rock, first slowing his breathing, then gradually lowering his concentration using a breath-concealing technique, even suppressing his internal energy to a very low level. The night wind, carrying a damp, fishy smell and a faint, acrid odor, swirled in from the direction of the ferry crossing.

He was familiar with that taste.

Ashes.

Soulfire. Mixed with the stench of aged black cement.

The waterway ahead was wider than Xin He had drawn, resembling a frostbitten black snake emerging from the depths of the wasteland, and suddenly split into three branches at the ferry crossing. A pontoon bridge spanned the outermost branch, with seven small bone boats moored beside it: two loaded with cargo, one empty, and the rest covered with black awnings.

Ice lanterns stood at the four corners of the ferry crossing, their blue-white flames swaying in the wind. The flames were low, but the shadows they cast were frighteningly long.

Not all those on patrol are demons.

There were soldiers and vassals of the Gonggong tribe clad in animal hide armor, and shamanic slaves with black markings on their cheeks, bone whistles hanging from their waists and short forks in their hands. They changed shifts every half incense stick's time.

The outer layer was checked loosely, but the real trouble was around the central warehouse. There stood two ice cellar warehouses, half-buried in the frozen ground, with an iron frame at each entrance displaying dominoes. Everyone entering or leaving had to press their waist tag against it for verification.

Huang Chen stared at it for a full quarter of an hour.

I watched for another fifteen minutes.

He also memorized the ebb and flow of the tides. This wasn't the sea, but there were "tides."

The underground black water rises by half a foot every two quarters of an hour, causing the pontoon bridge to rise and fall accordingly. Cargo ships can unload their cargo most steadily during these times. Patrol rotations, cargo ships docking, and the opening and closing of the ice cellars are always staggered and never happen at the same time.

The arrangements were meticulous.

This also indicates that the goods transported here cannot be brought to light.

Another group of porters came down the western slope, carrying long wooden crates on their shoulders. They walked in disarray, puffing out white breath. The leader was a one-eyed sorcerer who swung a bone whip, occasionally striking the ground with it.

"Hurry up! If we miss the night tide, I won't be the one getting stripped!"

'

A soldier behind him slipped and nearly tipped the box over. The one-eyed sorcerer lashed out with his whip, cracking the leather armor on the soldier's shoulder.

Huang Chen's eyes flashed.

He didn't look at the whip, but first looked at the verification item hanging on the soldier's waist.

A gray-white domino, one side engraved with ice bone patterns, the other side inlaid with tiny black nails.

It shares the same origin as the Ice Bone Token in his hand.

The items they found at the Broken Pulse Camp actually came in handy here.

Huang Chen lay prone behind the black rock, patiently waiting for another half hour. Until the patrol on the east side briefly crossed paths, a lone porter was spotted in the shadows of the slope.

He silently crept along the crack, his movements as swift as a gust of cold wind brushing the ground.

The soldier had just unbuckled his belt when he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck.

He didn't even let out a muffled groan.

Huang Chen helped the person up, dragged the body into the frozen and cracked pit, and quickly peeled off the outer layer of armor and shoulder cloth, removing the dominoes along with it.

The other person was about the same height as him, and was covered in sweat and the smell of stale wine, with grayish-white powder clinging to their clothes. Huang Chen frowned, pulled his black windproof cap over his head, and smeared mud on his face, leaving only his chin and the corners of his mouth exposed.

He compared the man's dominoes with his own ice bone token.

The design is similar, but the energy flow is deeper.

They are not on the same level.

Huang Chen lowered his eyelids slightly, pressed the Ice Bone Token into the most convenient spot in his sleeve, and actually took the lowest-grade transport domino to verify.

Let's sneak in first.

When we reached the outer fence, two guards were squatting by a brazier, warming their hands.

The fire pit wasn't burning charcoal, but some kind of grayish-white grease that smelled nauseatingly foul.

One of them looked up and cursed, "Which team are you on?"

Why is one missing?

Huang Chen lowered his voice and mumbled, "The west slope slipped and I fell into the ditch. One-Eyed told me to go in first."

'

Without thinking much, the guard held out his hand: "Cards."

Huang Chen threw the dominoes over.

The guard tapped a domino on the iron hook, heard a crisp sound, and waved for the man to leave: "Don't look around the central warehouse after you go in. We've seen people gouge out eyes before."

Huang Chen nodded in response, picked up an empty box from the side, and walked inside without looking up.

The inside of Hanpo Ferry is even more gloomy than the outside.

Wooden frames, ropes, freezing barrels, and iron hooks were stacked on top of each other.

Black ice covered the ground, beneath which seemed to be shrouded in a layer of gray mist. Stepping on it produced a faint, mournful sound that sent chills down one's spine. The sorcerers, however, seemed accustomed to it, moving back and forth, preoccupied only with carrying goods.

Huang Chen followed the flow of people into the outer warehouse and quickly got a general idea of ​​what was going on.

The pile in the east warehouse contained black chains and fragments of sacrificial artifacts.

The West Warehouse contains the ash box for releasing souls and the cold-sealed jar.

The largest ice cellar warehouse in the middle has a water pattern engraved on the door of the Gonggong Department, but a faded bronze talisman is nailed to the lintel.

Huang Chen's gaze swept over the area, and his heart sank immediately.

The techniques of the Xuantian Sect.

The engravings on the talisman are common spirit-sealing patterns from the ancestral mountain area. Although they are damaged, they are still recognizable.

As he carried the box closer to the central warehouse, the tall, thin sorcerer at the door, who was checking documents, raised his hand to stop him, his eyes as cold as a snake's.

"Which class do you think you are, daring to show your face here?"

Huang Chen paused, deliberately put down the box on his shoulder, and pretended to be panting heavily, but his fingers were already gripping the Ice Bone Token in his sleeve.

"The one-eyed man ordered it to be delivered, saying this batch needs to be put into the cold storage first."

The tall, thin sorcerer sneered: "What's a one-eyed thing?"

'

He said this while reaching out for the cards.

Huang Chen handed over the low-grade dominoes, but the other party only glanced at them before throwing them back on the ground, about to retaliate.

Huang Chen flipped the Ice Bone Token in his sleeve, revealing half of it.

The tall, thin sorcerer's eyelids twitched suddenly.

Huang Chen didn't let him see the whole thing, but lowered his voice and said, "The higher-ups added an extra test at the last minute, so I'll only go once. Whether you want to stop me or not is up to you."

'

The tall, thin sorcerer stared at his cuffs, his expression changing twice, before finally stepping aside half a step.

"Go in if you want."

Keep quiet. If you break something, we'll pull your bones out and put them in a jar.

'

Huang Chen bent down to pick up the low-grade dominoes, carried the box inside.

The cold was even more intense in the ice cellar warehouse, as if countless fine needles were drilling into the bones.

The walls were entirely made of translucent ice, with black lines sealed inside, like still water veins. The shelves were arranged in three rows, with a dozen or so half-person-high jade jars standing at the back, their mouths wrapped with black talismans and their bodies labeled with white paper tags.

Huang Chen had just approached when he heard it.

It wasn't the wind.

It is crying.

Thin, sharp, and intermittent.

Like a child desperately slapping something across the water, crying for too long will make their voice hoarse.

His fingers tightened slightly, but he didn't show it on his face. He first made a mental note of his surroundings.

There were twenty-six Soul Ash Boxes piled up on the left shelf, their numbers not consecutive, indicating that they were just in transit.

On the right is a black chain of lock veins, varying in length, with several sections clearly showing breaks and scorch marks, as if it had just been removed from elsewhere.

Further inside, a sealed jade box sat alone on a black wooden tray, next to which rested a half-broken Xuantian Sect receiving mark. The jade box was covered with a secret-patterned seal, on which were written two characters—Zhao Wuji.

Huang Chen's eyes twitched slightly.

He didn't touch it.

Touching it at this time would be too much of a commotion and too foolish.

First, memorize the seal.

Also note the tray's hidden latch. Also note how often the guard comes to check on it.

He carried the empty box and walked around halfway around the warehouse, seemingly looking for a place to put it, but in reality, he was examining all the items. There was a thin tear in the lower right corner of the envelope, indicating that the sealed letter wasn't freshly sealed but had been repaired midway through its journey.

The remnants of the Xuantian Sect are still operating, and they have made contact with the Beiming.

Zhao Wuji did not die.

At least, his connection hasn't completely broken down.

Just then, footsteps came from outside the door.

Huang Chen immediately sidestepped, wedged the empty box into the corner, and hid himself among a row of large vats and jade jars. The ice wall reflected his shadow; the tall, thin sorcerer entered first, followed by a man wearing a black water-leather cloak.

The man was short, with narrow shoulders, a pale complexion, and lips as thin as paper. A thin chain made of fishbone hung from the bridge of his nose. He had deep-set eyes with bluish-white sclera, and his boots made almost no sound when he walked.

What's most striking is that all ten of his fingers are covered in black and gold rings, each with a speck of white powder resembling bone ash embedded in its face.

Huang Chen glanced at him and knew that this was the person in charge.

Blackwater witch traffickers.

The tall, thin sorcerer bent over and lowered his voice: "My lord, are all the people in the central warehouse really going to leave tonight?"

Didn't they just collect a ship's worth of goods from the northern foothills?

Blackwater sorcerer casually touched a cold jade jar, as if he were touching a wine jug.

"The higher-ups are pressuring us. Why are you worrying about so much?"

'

His voice was hoarse, with a strange, sticky quality.

"The ancestral mountain of the Xuantian Sect collapsed, and the remaining people are panicked, most afraid of the supply being cut off."

The Black Chains of Locked Veins, Soul Ashes, and the Human Child—if any one of them is missing, there will be trouble. And if there's trouble, in the end, it'll be our heads that get chopped off.

'

The tall, thin shaman smiled obsequiously, "I was being nosy."

The Blackwater sorcerer snorted, walked to the black wooden tray inside, and wiped it with his hand.

Suddenly, a palm-sized black mirror appeared on the tray.

The mirror surface wasn't shiny; it looked like a layer of stagnant, deep sea water.

The surrounding temperature suddenly dropped again, and even the black talisman on the mouth of the jar trembled slightly.

Beiming Tide Mirror.

Huang Chen held his breath.

The mirror rippled, expanding in concentric circles until only a section of an arm was reflected.

The arm was draped in a black scale cloak, the cuffs damp as if just pulled from the seabed. The fingers were long and slender, the nails bluish, resting lightly on the armrest of a bone chair. The face was not visible, and even the voice seemed to come from a thousand feet deep.

"Is everything ready?"

The Blackwater sorcerer immediately bowed his head: "All done."

Thirty-six jade jars, twenty-six ash boxes, seven chains that lock the veins, and four pairs of human children. Also included is a secret letter from the Xuan Tian Sect, to be sealed and sent as before.

'

The person in the mirror remained silent for a moment.

"Tonight, we will send it to the northern foot of Buzhou Mountain."

'

The Blackwater sorcerer hurriedly replied, "Yes."

The voice continued, "After the incident at the Broken Pulse Camp, keep a close eye on the roads."

Don't bring any more dirty stuff onto the ship.

Huang Chen's eyes narrowed slightly.

Dirty stuff.

The other party was referring to the traces left by the backlash from the Severed Meridian Camp?

Sweat beaded on the forehead of the Blackwater witch trader, who quickly replied, "It's been checked, nothing has been missed."

The hand in the mirror slowly rose, as if to sever the connection, then suddenly stopped.

"Zhao Wuji's letter must not be soaked in water or exposed to fire. If it is damaged, you will have to replace it with your own soul."

'

As soon as he finished speaking, the mirror went dark.

The warehouse returned to deathly silence.

The tall, thin shaman finally dared to breathe, and asked in a low voice, "My lord, what exactly are they refining on the northern slopes? They need so much—"

"Shut up if you want to live."

'

The Blackwater witch trader slapped him across the face.

It made a crisp snap.

"Just remember, load the children onto the ship before midnight tonight. Put them in the wooden box first, then seal it with cold salt. If the crying can't be suppressed, force-feed them medicine."

Anyone who dares to delay, I'll nail their tongue to a dock post.

The tall, thin sorcerer covered his face and nodded repeatedly.

The two checked the warehouse one last time before turning and leaving.

Only after the door closed did Huang Chen slowly exhale.

The northern foot of Buzhou Mountain.

It has finally come to fruition.

He emerged from behind the array of jars and walked first to the row of cold jade jars. The closer he got, the clearer the crying became.

It wasn't a hallucination; there really was a remnant soul sealed inside. Besides the white paper label, the jar was also engraved with tiny Xuan Tian Sect soul-sealing patterns, which contained traces of Bei Ming cold salt. No wonder it had been sealed for so long without dissipating.

Huang Chen stared at them for a couple of breaths, but didn't touch the jars.

If we release it now, the noise will shatter the entire ferry crossing.

He turned and walked towards the back of the cart, his gaze falling on two long wooden crates in the corner. The crates were stuffed with sound-absorbing grass, and gray labels reading "Frozen Bone Material" were affixed to the outside.

If it weren't for his keen sense of qi and blood, he wouldn't have been able to detect that faint trace of vitality at all.

There are people inside.

And they are young children.

Huang Chen pulled out a bone blade about the width of a fingernail and gently pried along the corner of the box.

One of the wooden nails came loose, and he lifted it up a crack, first seeing a pair of reddened eyes.

Small, dark, and filled with terror.

Inside, two children had their mouths gagged with black cloth, their hands and feet bound, and their bodies wrapped in wet, cold animal hides; their faces were blue from the cold. They were only five or six years old, and they didn't dare to cry out, only desperately shrinking back.

Huang Chen raised his hand and pressed down, signaling not to move.

One of the children trembled even more violently when he saw his tattered armor.

Huang Chen frowned, slightly lifted the black veil covering his face to reveal his true features, and said in a low voice, "Don't be afraid."

Without saying much, he quickly cut the rope, tore off the black cloth blocking his mouth, and took out a small pill from his sleeve, broke it into two smaller pieces, and stuffed them in.

Hold it in your mouth. Don't chew it.

Don't cough.

Tears welled up in the other child's eyes, but he bit his lip tightly, not daring to make a sound.

Huang Chen tore off a corner of the gray label from the box, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it back into the gap to make it look like it hadn't been opened yet. Then he led the two children to hide behind the shelves. He had already spotted an abandoned drain hole, half-blocked by ice, leading to a sewer in the back warehouse. The children could barely squeeze through it.

"Climb along the ditch. When you see a wooden stake, turn left."

There are piles of cracked rocks outside; take shelter inside.

The older one asked in a trembling voice, "Aren't you...aren't you leaving?"

'

Huang Chen shoved the bone whistle into his hand. It wasn't the one Lan Gu had given him; it was a piece of junk that he'd casually picked up from a ragtag soldier.

"After you go out, wait for half a moment."

If you hear a commotion, blow a short whistle again. Only blow once.

'

The two children nodded repeatedly.

Huang Chen first shook open a crack in the ice blockage, then stuffed them in one by one.

The water in the ditch was icy cold, and the child's teeth chattered from the cold, but he still persevered and crawled forward. Finally, the child turned back and looked at him, his eyes shining with tears.

Huang Chen closed the hole again.

The next instant, a system notification flashed in my mind.

[Host detected saving two human children, gaining +120 merit points]

Huang Chen's eyebrows twitched slightly.

not much.

enough.

Without stopping, he quickly returned to the vicinity of the Blackwood Tower and memorized again the dimensions, seal, and tray position of the secret letter bearing Zhao Wuji's name.

Looking further down, there were several travel talismans pressed at the bottom of the tray, with the ferry crossing night transport emblem and three water-shaped seals printed on the paper.

Huang Chen only looked, but didn't take anything.

Just remember the style.

As he turned to leave the warehouse, he casually reached for a small piece of black chain fragment on the bottom shelf on the right.

The object bore obvious scorch marks from the backlash, remnants left behind after the collapse of the sacrificial canal of the Broken Vein Camp. He also had similar fragments brought from the camp in his sleeve, their energy even more chaotic and conspicuous.

Just right.

When we left the warehouse, it was already nearly midnight.

The number of people loading the ship had increased significantly, and shouts and curses mingled with the sound of wooden wheels turning. Huang Chen mingled into the loading team, carrying a bucket of cold salt with his head down. When no one was looking, he gently flicked a piece of black chain, which carried the aura of the Broken Pulse Camp, from his sleeve into a pile of goods awaiting inspection, and deliberately rubbed it on the ground, leaving a half-burnt mark.

After doing all that, he continued walking outside.

Before we even reached the pontoon bridge, someone suddenly shouted from behind.

"Wait! Who moved the inspection stack in the central warehouse?"

'

Then came another flurry of footsteps.

Huang Chen didn't turn around; instead, he slowed his pace even further, like a henchman who was afraid of being scolded but dared not run.

The next moment, a witch slave squatted down and touched the piece of black chain fragment, his face changing drastically.

"Those things from the Broken Pulse Camp!"

How did I get here!

That sound was like throwing fire into a pot of oil.

The guards around them panicked simultaneously. Some cursed, some went to find the Blackwater sorcerers, and some drew their swords and scanned their surroundings. The tall, thin sorcerer in the central warehouse turned pale and roared at the inspection table, "Who touched the goods just now!"

Kneel down, all of you! We'll check you one by one!

'

Taking advantage of the chaos, Huang Chen put the cold salt bucket on the cart and then turned and crawled between the two rows of wooden frames.

Black Wind Bullet pressed down, and the Concealing Breath Technique deepened.

He disappeared silently along the rear of the warehouse, like a drop of shadow mixed into black water.

After passing through two low gates, the wind outside became even stronger.

The bone lights on the distant dock were swaying violently, and someone had already blown a short alarm whistle. Huang Chen lay prone under a frosty dock, watching several witch slaves run frantically toward the central cabin, and then saw the Blackwater witch trader wearing a leather cloak hurrying over, his face ashen as if he wanted to devour someone.

"Who brought this in!"

"check!

Investigate for me!

Stop all loading tonight!

'

The tall, thin sorcerer knelt on the ground, his voice trembling: "My lord, I truly didn't—"

Blackwater sorcerer kicked him to the ground, turned around and shouted, "Chao Jing! Go and ask Chao Jing to re-examine!"

quick!"

Hearing the chaos on the other end, Huang Chen raised his hand to press the Ice Bone Token in his sleeve, then touched the untouched Jade Slip for Communication and the Nine Netherworld Breaking Nail in his bosom, before his gaze returned to the direction of the central warehouse.

He had memorized everything: the way to the post station, the shipping schedule, the style of the travel token, the destination of the northern foothills, and the location of Zhao Wuji's secret letter.

This ferry crossing won't be peaceful for much longer tonight.

He shrank into the shadows of the slipway, using the noise and howling wind as cover, and slowly retreated along the cracked ditch. When he reached the outermost edge of the ferry crossing, a very faint whistle suddenly came from the direction of the pile of cracked rocks in the distance.

It was thin and trembling, like a small animal tentatively taking a breath.

Huang Chen didn't stop walking, only raising his eyes briefly in the darkness.

He then tightened his black windproof cape, climbed over a section of icy earthen slope, and disappeared into the wilderness night.