Cultivation through Skin Making novel Chapter 481

Chapter 481: 195. The Terrifying "Transformation," Ten Years Have Passed (8.3K Words - Major Chapter Subscription Requested)_2

Suddenly, she pounced on the cave wall, her sharp fingertips allowing her to easily and rapidly climb along it.

Soon, a peculiar black cloud spread around her, its ominous presence made of Netherworld’s Qi.

She sat upon this black cloud, like a playful child, flying back and forth in the narrow cave mansion, making "woo woo" sounds.

If the heaven and earth could sense this embrace of Netherworld’s Qi, it’s feared that the Celestial Calamity Earth and Water Beasts under Dust Light Sect would all crawl out, heralding the coming of dark disasters.

However, Po Xu Yuzhuang’s mastery over Netherworld’s Qi was immensely powerful, and she could conceal the heavens with two leaves, now she already had three.

"Huff... Huff..."

Song Yan slightly clapped his hands together, breathing out warm air.

Even in the state of extremely restraining his realm, he could still feel the chill of deep winter.

At this time, there were only a few scattered people before the various cave mansions of Seeking Immortal Valley, each harboring a kind of vigilance. Even when they exchanged smiles, there was always a strong sense of distance.

Song Yan immersed himself in this identity and environment belonging to the "Ninth Layer of Refining Profound loose cultivator Shi Huangzi."

With the approach of the dark disaster, a large number of cultivators came from outside, making the surrounding environment increasingly unstable. With no partner or friends, staying here brought no money and even less opportunity. The only path was to quickly procure the simplest Crimson Palace Pill from the Dust Light Sect steward, seeking a breakthrough.

As for the future, it was completely unclear, but it was foreseeable that it would not develop for the better. A growing uneasy emotion loomed over him like a cloud.

This was truly the heavens locking him in.

Yet what could he do?

He could do nothing.

But... if only he were someone else.

The saying goes, "The fleshpots stink in rich households, while frozen bones lie on the road." Which "frozen bones" in the world do not resent the "stench of fleshpots," and which "frozen bones" wouldn’t want to become the one in the "fleshpots stench"?

In an instant, Song Yan was thoroughly absorbed in his present state.

And within his Lifebound Secret Treasure, the Profound Yellow Material once again overflowed with specks of gold, these gold reflecting back into his Divine Soul...

No one knew how much time passed before Song Yan awoke from this insight.

He glanced at his panel.

On it, a new line of information appeared: [Talent 4: Transformation].

Insight didn’t require some "brush with death" or "grief over the loss of dear ones," it emphasized "when the water overflows, a channel is formed, accumulation leads to an outburst."

There wasn’t any grand battle, just in this silent winter day, Song Yan suddenly realized.

What he realized wasn’t any life-or-death combat path, but simply the "Freedom in Transformation Realm."

People living in luxurious and peaceful places can never imagine such tragic scenes. Peace makes them lack reverence for death and disaster, exclaiming "How can so many people die," and wondering "Is it possible for the dead to refresh?" But really... how is this any different from asking "How is it possible they have no food, is it possible they don’t eat minced meat?"

...

At this moment, a handsome male cultivator, wrapped in a white plush cloak, was standing on a gray barren solitary cliff, overlooking the long line of refugees trudging through the snow below.

People in this team were dying, but the line wouldn’t stop for the dead; they would continue forward until reaching the next city...

Fang Tiancheng clenched his fists. Though his nails didn’t pierce the skin, they left deep marks.

A charming female cultivator, noticing her partner’s action, let out a soft sigh.

Fang Tiancheng had a somber expression.

Fairy Huan suddenly said, "Let me go."

Fang Tiancheng nodded.

Fairy Huan changed her expression, her hands gently clasped behind her, gently descending from mid-air. Her black hair flowed like dark ink and a floral mark adorned her forehead, lending her the aura of a cloud at the end of the sky as she stopped before the refugee line.

The refugees, moving along, saw the celestial beauty descending from the heavens, and held still where they stood, as if petrified; they neither spoke nor questioned, only gazed numbly at Fairy Huan.

Fairy Huan raised her hand and waved, producing twenty bottles of elixir, then said in a loud voice, "I am a cultivator of Dust Light Sect. The sect couldn’t bear to see the suffering of the common people, so they sent me here. You must boil these elixirs with water, a bottle at a time, and take a sip each. It will sustain you for a day. Here are twenty bottles, enough to see you to the next city."