Chapter 787: Chapter 798 Ancient Temple

Cultivators, upon breaking through to the Golden Core Stage, form a Golden Core in their bodies. Subsequently, their cultivation shifts from absorbing external spiritual energy to refining the Spiritual Power of their own Golden Core. The spiritual power generated from within themselves is essentially no different from the spiritual energy between heaven and earth, and cultivators can effortlessly achieve feats such as flying through the skies or commanding the wind and rain.

Lancelot was not yet a Golden Core Cultivator, but the Cauldron Immortal Technique, created by the unfathomably skilled Spell Han Tianzun himself, contained aspects that, although appeared minor, could effortlessly resolve difficulties that have doomed countless cultivators. At this moment, merely by flying through the sky in the form of a bird, Lancelot experienced a glimpse of the enlightenment normally reserved for Golden Core Cultivators in their understanding of nature’s spiritual energy.

Almost unconsciously, he retracted his black wings and surrendered his body to the natural winds between heaven and earth. A mysterious scene unfolded; without flapping his wings, he still remained with the rapidly flying flock of ravens, moving as effortlessly as a fish swims through water.

This state did not last for long. By the time Lancelot realized what had happened, it had already ended.

Unlike his first Qi Gathering experience, this enlightenment did not result in a noticeable increase in his cultivation level. However, Lancelot’s heart was filled with wild joy. With this slight enlightenment of a Golden Core Cultivator, his current state was akin to a cultivator who had fallen in realm for some reason and would find it much easier to attempt the Golden Core breakthrough again.

Only then did he take the time to appreciate the scenery beneath his feet. The flock of ravens flew more than a mile high, overlooking a forest shrouded in shadows below, with a desolate, yellow-brown mountain range in the distance. Further away lay a wall of fog stretching into the sky, marking the boundary of The Domain of Horror. Unless the ruler of the Demon’s Domain allowed it (or was slain), nothing could cross that mist, not even deities were capable of doing so.

In their raven forms, their mere normal flight speed was comparable to Nightmares at full sprint, and because they were flying in a straight line in the sky, there were no sudden incidents to slow them down. Roughly after an hour, they had already arrived above the desolate mountain range. The leading raven, whose claw wore a ring, slowed down, searching its memory for the place.

This area was very close to the edge of the Demon’s Domain. The mountain range and sky several miles away were submerged in the boundless Wall of Mist, while the mountains below were covered in rugged rocks and devoid of any vegetation, showing no signs of life. If there were any secrets to be hidden, this would indeed be an apt location.

After crossing a ridge, the destination they sought suddenly appeared before them. In the midst of an almost vertical cliff face protruded a skull stone statue as large as a three-story building. One eye socket of the statue was sealed, while the other was a dark abyss, unfathomably deep.

The individuals transformed into ravens flew towards the empty eye socket. Upon landing, they reverted to their original forms, and several ravens from the flock joined them, transforming back into human shapes as well.

“How was it? The sensation of flying is quite pleasant, right?” Soveris nodded to Lancelot, “We can only take you this far; from here on, you’re on your own.”

“Thank you, Soveris,” Lancelot said solemnly, giving a Knight’s salute, “I will forever remember your kindness.”

“Don’t mention it,” the brown-haired Elf sighed lightly, “If you really lift the curse from this land, that will be the best way to repay us. Good luck.”

—————-

They had walked less than thirty feet inside when the cave walls transitioned from rough, uneven mud to cut stone bricks. A cold wind blew out from the pitch-black passage ahead, carrying a rotting scent, and made it clear to everyone that the space in front was very broad.

There was no light inside the passage, and except for the human scholar, the rest of the team had night vision abilities. Even Kalalin could see in the darkness through a Second Circle spell “Dark Vision”, often even clearer than the others. However, “Dark Vision” only allowed him to see in grayscale, without the ability to discern colors, so Alamir still raised his Hammer of Dissolution. This magic weapon radiated bright light like a torch, allowing everyone to see clearly up to forty feet ahead–beyond that, the light was swallowed up by the darkness that pervaded the passage.

After moving forward a bit more, they entered a rather spacious stone hall. It was about forty feet wide and more than sixty feet long, with four robust pillars supporting the dome. At the top of each pillar were four exquisitely crafted gargoyle statues poised as if ready to attack. Across from where the group stood, on the wall, was a tightly closed gigantic stone gate with a tall statue on each side. The statues wore hooded cloaks covering their faces and held long-handled scythes, like guardians of ancient secrets.

Lancelot keenly noticed that the weapons held by the two statues reflected metal in the darkness, and there were marks on the floor and walls that looked like cuts from heavy weapons.

Just then, he felt the Dimensional Bag at his waist move, so he untied the rope that sealed the bag, and a beautiful vampire girl emerged from within.

“Yo, up at last?” he ruffled Isa’s pale golden hair, “You’ve come at just the right time…”

“Where is this? Why is it all dark around here?” The girl looked around curiously, “How long have I been asleep?”

“Not too long, it’s afternoon now, and the fight with Medusa was yesterday,” Lancelot shrugged his shoulders, “Let me quickly fill you in on what happened while you were sleeping…”

As Lancelot was bringing the newcomer up to speed, the others curiously explored the room. Kalalin and Alamir were studying the reliefs carved on the walls; Bruto was inspecting the statues holding the scythes out of a dwarf’s curiosity for stonework; and Tanya was interested in the gargoyle statues on top of the pillars, craning her neck as she walked around below them.

“Guys, I think I know where we are…”

Just as Lancelot finished talking to Isa, Kalalin’s voice came from a corner. Lancelot turned his head to see the scholar and priest walking towards them with smiles of satisfaction at having uncovered a secret.

“Do you know the identity of the tomb’s owner?” Lancelot asked curiously, “Who is he?”

“This is indeed a tomb, but its owner is someone else,” Kalalin shook his head, “This is a temple dedicated to the Lord of the Dead, Milko.”

“The former Lord of the Dead!” Isa immediately corrected.