The Sky City’s Glimpse and the Dark Bodhisattva’s Enigma

In the vibrant, chaotic temporal-spatial currents, various spatial fragments could be seen. Beneath a murky, dark light, these oddly colored fragments flickered, dazzling Su Han’s eyes. Bai Que, however, simply closed his own.

After an unknown expanse of time, Su Han let out a startled cry, pulling Bai Que’s arm. “Look there!” she exclaimed.

Bai Que squinted. He then discovered a castle, suspended within the turbulent currents, hurtling through the endless night like a comet striking the moon.

“Is that… the Sky City?! The very war weapon the Divine Race constructed to enslave humanity in ancient times!” Even Bai Que, with all his vast knowledge, couldn’t help but exclaim aloud.

Though it appeared close enough to touch, the immense distance created by the folded space meant it was unreachable in an instant, even at the speed of light.

As Su Han and Bai Que intently watched the Sky City, two shattered spatial fragments collided, plunging everything into immediate darkness.

A long while later, the unfamiliar brightness stung Su Han’s eyes. Propping herself up on her elbows, she slowly lifted her head. Beside her, Bai Que was already surveying the cavern they had landed in.

Stalactites of limestone adorned the cavern ceiling. Below, a cerulean lake mirrored the cavern’s peak, creating a magnificent, deep blue spectacle. A faint chill emanated from the surroundings, evoking the sensation of being at Moon-Gazing Pool, its coldness striking to the bone.

“This… surely isn’t a grotto within the Moon-Gazing Pool, is it?” Su Han asked Bai Que.

Bai Que pondered for a moment before replying, “Unlikely. How could Motis, using a legendary-grade rule power, merely send us to the bottom of the Moon-Gazing Pool?”

“Even so, that kind of rule isn’t something they could fully control, is it? The teleportation destination would be random, and perhaps even they don’t know the hidden mysteries at the bottom of this pool!”

“Why are you so certain this is the bottom of the Moon-Gazing Pool?” Bai Que asked, a smile playing on his lips, as he stood by the shore with his back to Su Han.

“Because the sensation this lake water gives me is identical to the Moon-Gazing Pool. Its sub-zero temperature, yet it remains unfrozen, and the tendrils of cold it emits pierce straight to the bone—it’s even more potent than the Moon-Gazing Pool’s waters!”

Bai Que turned, raising an eyebrow with a playful smirk. “You have a point, but what good is it?”

Su Han gently pushed him aside and slowly approached the source at the heart of the shore. The lake water enveloped the entire rock wall, filling this cavern that was neither particularly large nor small. The rocky shore connected to the cavern wall, forming a semicircle, with rounded edges along the bank, and the very center of this shore was its focal point.

“Look at this wall,” Su Han pointed to the wall at the shore’s center. “There’s a game of wei-qi etched here, clearly unfinished, only played halfway through. If we could complete this game, perhaps this rock wall holds a hidden secret!” A glint of cunning flickered in her dark pupils.

Bai Que found Su Han’s suggestion quite reasonable; it was certainly better than being trapped in the cavern. However, his usually sharp mind was puzzled. “But with these black and white pieces, which side should win?”

“In my opinion, a draw would be best. Look at the lake’s surface; despite the chilling breeze, not a single ripple disturbs it. It’s like a mirror, clearly quite peaceful!”

Bai Que nodded, and they began their game. Though they clashed fiercely across the board, their black and white pieces moving like armies, the game ultimately ended in a draw.

It wasn’t that their skill was perfectly matched; rather, Su Han had played a precarious game, nearly losing to Bai Que. In the end, Bai Que, unable to bear seeing her lose, conceded a step, allowing for the draw and fulfilling Su Han’s wish.

With a distinct ‘click,’ the seemingly impenetrable and incredibly solid rock wall receded entirely, revealing a new entrance.

“What are you gawking at? Go on in!” Bai Que said, giving Su Han a light tap on the back of her head.

“Right!” Before stepping through the opening, Su Han couldn’t resist glancing back once more.

This was a profound, deep tunnel. Stone steps, carved from the rock itself, wound their way downwards. The light within was considerably dimmer, starkly contrasting with the shimmering surface of the lake above.

Su Han and Bai Que proceeded with extreme caution. After all, this was uncharted territory; no one knew what lay within. Perhaps a legendary undead creature might suddenly leap out.

The journey thus far had been uneventful, with no surprises. Only the stone steps themselves proved quite winding.

While a few bloodthirsty spirit bats occasionally darted out along the way, fortunately, they weren’t in swarms, and Bai Que easily dispatched them.

Just as Su Han was fully alert, observing her surroundings, Bai Que announced, “We’ve arrived.”

At the end of the stone steps ahead, a faint, bright light shone. It dimly illuminated what appeared to be a large stone chamber. The two exchanged a glance, then Bai Que stepped forward, leading the way.

As they drew closer, they could clearly see the stone chamber’s layout. Illuminated by a luminous pearl on a central stone platform, the entire chamber was laid bare before them. Yet, within this chamber, there was no other exit.

“It seems there’s no way out…” Su Han’s voice carried a hint of vexation.

“Giving up so soon? Your mischievous ingenuity might just uncover something unique, wouldn’t it?” Bai Que teased, ruffling Su Han’s hair.

“Hey, what are you doing!” Su Han, being shorter than Bai Que, struggled against him. Bai Que, meanwhile, kept one hand on her head, habitually surveying the stone chamber.

“Wait, what’s this?!”

“A Magic Crystal Cannon? Hasn’t this artifact been lost for ages? It vanished with the demise of the Goblin race.”

To the left of the stone chamber stood a small cannon platform, utterly black and devoid of luster.

“The laser fired by a Magic Crystal Cannon depends on the magic power within its crystal core and the energy its own materials can withstand. And this entirely black contraption—I can’t even discern what material it’s made from! However…” Bai Que extracted the crystal core from the cannon. He held a black, crystal-like rhomboid core between his thumb and forefinger. “Though the magic power within this core is somewhat impure, it’s at least around the eighth tier. Most crucially, this crystal core… it belongs to an undead creature!”

“Then… the laser fired by this Magic Crystal Cannon would be an eighth-tier necromantic spell!”

“Precisely. In my estimation, the material and origin of this Magic Crystal Cannon are clearly not to be underestimated. However, this crystal core can only sustain three firings before its magic power is completely depleted. Only a legendary-grade crystal core, possessing infinite magic and self-recovery abilities, could support its indefinite firing.”

“Take it. It could save your life in a critical moment!” Bai Que rose and walked to another corner of the stone chamber.

“This thing… you don’t want it?” Su Han asked cautiously.

“My pursuit is self-cultivation, so this item holds little meaning for me. There’s no point in further discussion; just keep it. Why would I give you something that would harm you?”

“Alright.” Su Han stored the Magic Crystal Cannon in her storage ring, then moved to stand beside Bai Que.

At this moment, Bai Que sat cross-legged on the ground, completely still, as if lost in deep contemplation. Su Han looked up and saw a carved stone statue. From a distance, it resembled the Guanyin Bodhisattva from her previous world.

Upon closer inspection, however, it bore no resemblance to the benevolent Bodhisattva known to the world. Crafted from a flawless black jade, it was monstrous and malevolent, with a black face, demonic horns, and four heads. It possessed an uncountable number of hands—twelve upon careful count, yet in a fleeting glance, they seemed to number in the thousands. The Dark Bodhisattva smiled serenely, its carving eerily lifelike. But in the next instant, it seemed to come alive, thrashing like a malevolent ghost, sending shivers down one’s spine.

Above the Dark Bodhisattva statue, there were several tiny characters, almost imperceptible without close inspection. Observing Bai Que, who was still seated cross-legged, Su Han realized he hadn’t noticed them. The inscription read: ‘Sand buries mortal dust, head bowed in the desert of tears; though others call me mad, so be it!’

These few characters, though imbued with magnificent power, were not overtly conspicuous. The calligraphy was delicate, flowing with the grace of a dragon and phoenix, yet clearly written smaller to intentionally suppress the artist’s emotions, making it less obvious. Nevertheless, the sheer grandeur of the inscription was enough to stir the soul.

“Could this be… the Thousand-Armed Guanyin?” Su Han murmured softly.