Chapter Forty-Seven: Sand Cascade

In an instant, the black spot swelled to several times its size. Jiang Feng’s expression shifted from alarm to dread, as a single word flashed into his mind, a nightmare he could not shake: Sandfall!

The Crimsonwater Tiger had once said that around the Bloodfiend Tree, there was a tightly encircling sandfall, seamless in its coverage, which had deterred countless ambitious souls from seeking the Bloodfiend Fruit for centuries. Even the enigmatic and unfathomably powerful Elder Yichen dared not venture here himself. What made Jiang Feng want to weep was that before their group set out, Elder Yichen had entrusted the life-saving talisman to Wang Yingying, leaving Jiang Feng himself utterly destitute.

“If only I’d thought to ask him for a talisman too,” Jiang Feng muttered, face gloomy, eyes vacant, as he stared dejectedly at the ever-growing black spot before him.

In almost the blink of an eye, the sandfall raged forth. All the rubble and grit were swept up into the air, blotting out the heavens and plunging the sky into darkness, as if some primeval beast was roaring and howling in fury.

“What do I do? What do I do?”

Jiang Feng ran about in panic, a headless fly in a storm. He had no confidence he could survive this sandfall; in fact, he felt that the moment it touched his face, he would be utterly obliterated. For a nether practitioner like Jiang Feng, the sandfall was a natural catastrophe—inescapable and absolute. The only hope was to prepare in advance or flee outright.

He tried to unleash the Twenty-fifth Form, but his netherforce was nearly spent from earlier exertion. There was no way to fully harness the power of Shadowstep Soulshatter now. Worse yet, the sandfall moved far faster than he’d imagined; what had seemed distant was now nearly upon him.

The force was terrifying. Jiang Feng’s face turned pale, his heart quailed. In desperation, he summoned the Nine Heavens Steelblade, merging his netherforce with the weapon’s aura to form a protective shield, hoping it would buy him a moment’s respite from the sandfall.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

The first wave of sandfall struck the shield, sending sparks flying. The sand grains were the infamous death-sands—sulphur sand, incredibly hard and heavy for their size, and hurled at terrifying speed by the storm. Each grain, though minuscule, struck with lethal force.

Jiang Feng quickly grasped the horror of the sandfall. The gale alone was manageable—he was strong enough to withstand mere wind—but it was the relentless barrage of sulphur sand that tormented him. The heavy grains pelted the shield, riddling it with holes; when they struck his body, even through the shield, the pain was excruciating, blinding.

He had not felt such agony in ages and could barely adapt. Fortunately, the shield granted him a brief reprieve. During this time, he searched the surroundings anxiously. No matter how fierce the sandfall, it could not fill every crevice—surely there must be a safe haven somewhere!

There!

His eyes lit up. Some eight hundred meters away stood a giant stone, about the height of a man, its surface an uncanny black. Stranger still, within a step of the stone, the weather remained clear and tranquil, untouched by any trace of the storm—like something out of a dream.

“That’s it!” Grasping at this lifeline, Jiang Feng guided the shield toward the stone. But the sandfall only grew fiercer; even standing upright became a struggle. He hunched over, straining against the force, as sulphur sand lashed him like rain, the pain unbearable even through the shield.

Meanwhile, the shrieking of the wind began to change—higher, sharper, with a tearing quality, as if a thousand blades were grinding against each other. The piercing, savage sound nearly burst Jiang Feng’s eardrums.

Gale-force wind!

This was the legendary gale wind! It was said that during the breakthrough to the Void Nether Realm, one would face a great tribulation of wind and fire; the wind tribulation was precisely this gale wind. Sharp as knives, its most infamous trait was that it could cut through any nether energy shield. In truth, it could shred any defense below the Void Nether level—utterly useless before such force!

Jiang Feng could no longer open his eyes; all he heard was the howling, banshee wail of the storm. Gritting his teeth, he hid his battered body behind the Nine Heavens Steelblade, not daring to relax for an instant.

But the gale only intensified. Its shrieking seemed to carry a strange, soul-seizing power, but Jiang Feng had no energy to dwell on it. Even now, if he let up for a moment, he would be torn to pieces! The gale wind, carrying sulphur sand, was like a natural meat grinder, capable of destroying all.

He looked up at the swirling sand and visible cyclones, his stomach churning with nausea. Soon, the sand blotted out the world, and Jiang Feng was plunged into utter darkness—he could not see his own hand before his face.

In the darkness, every inch of his skin felt as if it was burning. The gale, carrying sulphur sand, battered him relentlessly; each grain struck home, while the wind itself sliced at his flesh, the pain piercing to his very bones.

The once-invincible shield began to deform under the relentless, stormlike assault.

It was suffocating. Jiang Feng had never encountered such a terrifying ordeal. Apart from enduring it head-on, he saw no way out. Not even when facing enemies far more powerful had he been so desperate.

Only now did he realize the true terror of the world’s might!

No—he had to reach that place!

That was the only thought left in Jiang Feng’s mind. He knew: if only he could reach the giant stone, there was hope of survival.

His body trembled like a sieve; both strength and netherforce drained away at a mad pace. Each moment stretched endlessly. The sandfall looked endless, despair sapping his will to live.

Slash! Slash! Slash!

Wounds opened across his chest, blood spraying out in arcs, only to be instantly shredded into mist by the gale. At the same time, a series of ear-piercing cracks rang out—the shield finally shattered!

The gale, laden with sulphur sand, tore into his wounds, churning through his meridians, muscles, and bones, inflicting a pain deeper than he had ever known.

Slash! Slash! Slash!

Dozens more wounds spurted blood. Jiang Feng’s pupils lost focus; his body stiffened.

More sulphur sand, like sharks scenting blood, shrieked toward him.

“Ten years… begin… capture… more souls…”

In his fading consciousness, this familiar nightmare phrase suddenly echoed in his mind, jolting him awake.

“Ten years! I must become King of the Nether before then!”

From the moment Jiang Feng was reborn, this goal had taken root in his heart. Now, driven by the sandfall, it surged forth again—perhaps insignificant, but it was the last thread anchoring his consciousness.

“Ahhh!”

Like a wounded beast, he roared in fury.

He lifted his battered body, raised his head, eyes burning red, hair standing on end, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. The relentless injuries had enflamed his rage.

Deep within, something broke—a torrent of heat surged out, his entire body burning, blood like molten lava in his veins.

In that instant, the gale lost all effect.

A new, strange shield formed around him, glowing with a nearly blinding white light. Though it appeared fragile, the gale could not penetrate it at all.

Far away, the stone suddenly shone with a strange brilliance.

The light condensed, slowly taking human form.

This figure was aged, but his eyes were bright with vigor. He fixed his gaze on Jiang Feng, his wrinkled face suddenly contorting in disbelief. “Nether soul force? Impossible. Think—how long has it been since I’ve seen such a thing?”

Suddenly, another cloud of mist emerged on the other side of the stone, following the same process, forming another human figure.

“Is that truly nether soul force?” the newcomer asked.

“What do you think? Little Ghost, you’ve lived for centuries, and never seen anyone with nether soul force?” the old man said with a mischievous grin, like an impish child.

The one called Little Ghost seemed annoyed, revealing her true form—a beauty of stunning grace, her skin smooth and flawless. She touched her cheek with a trace of regret and chided, “Stop calling me Little Ghost. My name is Yue.”

“Bah, the name Ghosty Yue is so dull. Little Ghost is much cooler,” the old man retorted, unyielding.

Yue ignored him, her eyes fixed on Jiang Feng battling the sand and gale, the light in her gaze growing brighter. “I remember, on East Nether, there wasn’t even a single soul force spell, much less anyone who could cultivate nether soul force, right?”

“We’ve been trapped here for so long, the outside world changes daily. How could we keep up?”

“True.” Yue nodded, then mused, “Jue, do you think he can survive the sandfall?”

At this, the old man’s face turned grave. He looked at Jiang Feng’s ever more battered form and replied, “Hard to say.”

“If he truly comprehends a layer of nether soul force, what are his chances?”

“Hard to say.”

Yue’s expression grew odd. “You call yourself a nether sage who’s lived three thousand years, and you’re this indecisive?”

“So what if I’ve lived long?” Jue retorted, glaring. “I’ve been trapped here for five centuries, tormented by the Bloodfiend Tree’s divine protection, and lost much of my memory. And you still ask me these things? Little Ghost, you’re too much!”

Yue stuck out her tongue in disgust, refusing to say another word.

As Jiang Feng roared, a surging power burst from within. The blinding white wall around him forced back the sand and gale.

But it was only a fleeting blaze; in an instant, his knees buckled and he collapsed, unable to rise.

“Oh no, Little Ghost, he can’t hold out!” Jue exclaimed.

“I see that. Too bad his soul is too weak—he’ll be shredded by the sandfall. What a pity, I thought we might finally get a playmate,” Yue said, disappointed.

But the next moment, Jue’s actions startled her.

“What are you doing?” she cried, seeing Jue flash forward. “Are you going to save him?”