"Can I walk that path and enter the Ancient Sacred Academy within the Chaos?" Little Point muttered to himself, but soon shook his head. From his recent understanding, he knew that the Sacred Academy was not easily accessible; it might only open once every several decades or even centuries.
This time, the Heavenly Sky Pavilion had chosen Shi Yi, and no one else would get the chance. Although the Elder of the Pure Land had mentioned that exceptional talent might have a chance, it was merely encouragement.
"Ancient Sacred Academy," Little Point murmured and resolutely turned away.
On that path, a youth was advancing, said to be a near-divine presence among his peers, merging with heaven and earth, with the sound of grand principles resonating, as if ancient gods were chanting.
Little Point did not let himself be troubled. He soon dismissed the matter, gripping the tail of the furball, and sneaking along, entered a mysterious area.
Though it was deep night, the surroundings were still visible.
It was an expansive garden, filled with various plants, small bridges, flowing water, pavilions, and palaces. However, a notable feature was their age—bridges and pavilions looked as though they might collapse at any moment, as if they hadn't been maintained for thousands of years.
The vegetation was still present, but arches and other structures seemed like remnants from ancient times, nearly ruined. He tiptoed in, holding the furball’s tail.
The furball’s big eyes twirled around curiously, unaffected by being held by the tail, exploring the area with Little Point.
This was the most mysterious place of the Heavenly Sky Pavilion, where the Spirit of the Sacrificial Realm dwelled, covering dozens or even hundreds of miles. It was a vast ancient garden, rarely approached by anyone.
Because everyone had been warned.
There was no need for guards here, as the Sacred Spirit itself protected the ancient Pure Land.
"Great Spirit, I come with a pilgrim’s heart. Isn't it said that some disciples might receive your guidance if they are fortunate? I come to seek advice with sincerity."
Little Point mumbled as he scanned the ground with his large eyes, looking for spiritual herbs, while the furball's little nose twitched continuously, its eyes shining as it observed its surroundings.
"Why is the Spirit’s dwelling so desolate?" They moved further in, growing increasingly astonished. The vegetation dwindled, the earth became barren, until there was not a single blade of grass left.
Upon reaching this area, Little Point felt a burst of divine light within him, shimmering, with streams of energy seeming to leave his body, various patterns covering his surface.
The furball also let out a startled cry, escaping from Little Point’s grip and scrambling onto his shoulder, showing a look of surprise.
Little Point took a deep breath, finally understanding why this place was so desolate; a demonic force had drained the earth's energy.
Curiously, this only occurred upon entering this area; retreating slightly, the force seemed to disappear.
"What happened to the beings of the Heavenly Sky Pavilion? Is there some problem?" Little Point wondered anxiously, cautiously stepping forward.
Ahead lay a desolate, barren land, resembling a vast desert with only gravel and rocks. The silence was profound, with footsteps echoing far and wide.
"Great Spirit, I am here to pay my respects. Isn’t there a chance for every disciple? Please don’t mistake me for someone else," Little Point muttered, genuinely curious, continuing his journey.
The silent, ancient land was vast and remote. He walked for miles, radiating like a small sun, covered in runes, continuously resisting the demonic force.
"So powerful. After absorbing the earth's energy, is the Spirit practicing some secret technique?" he mused.
Looking up, the sky was filled with divine light, with starlight and moonlight shining down like silver raindrops falling into the desert.
Finally, he arrived, and grass began to appear. Little Point reached an ancient garden.
This was a garden within a garden, with old walls marked by the passage of time, bearing many traces of history.
The gate was long decayed, and the walls were covered with common plants—no spiritual herbs or rare trees, just ordinary vegetation.
"Why hasn’t the energy been drained from here?"
Little Point was surprised. This garden was indeed ancient, with only stones remaining, the once grand structures collapsed and overgrown with vines.
Light rain fell into the courtyard, and these ordinary plants received some benefit, thus growing vigorously and not turning into a desert.
"This seems like the courtyard of an ancient family," Little Point noticed something unusual upon entering, his expression changing.
The courtyard had three layers, with the rear courtyard being the most illuminated by the moonlight, where the Spirit was clearly present.
Little Point crossed the area, discovering the buildings had collapsed, buried under wild grass, and even the small stone arch bridges were broken and covered with vines.
He increasingly felt that this was indeed an ancient family residence.
Finally, he reached the rear courtyard, feeling nervous. Here, the energy no longer drained away, but he felt a sense of inexplicable awe.
"Paying respects to the Spirit," he began from a distance and then carefully entered the rear courtyard.
"This is..." Little Point’s eyes revealed astonishment as he saw something incredible.
Endless light rain fell, making the area glow with a silver sheen, peaceful and sacred. There was a plant, the Sacred Spirit of the Heavenly Sky Pavilion. Contrary to what he had imagined, it was not radiant or verdant but rather yellowed and sickly, as if it were withering.
It was a gourd vine, climbing over a pile of stones, lacking luster and divine light, only showing withered yellow. It was not very large, only about five or six meters long, with sparse leaves, like autumn had arrived, robbing it of vitality.
A withered vine, with only a hint of vitality, its yellow leaves failing to be revived even by the falling light rain.
Starry light and moonshine cascaded, making the entire rear courtyard a sea of white, immersed in vines, yet it remained dispirited and lacking in life.
This was the Sacred Spirit of the Heavenly Sky Pavilion, an ancient vine that had lived through countless ages, evoking a shiver, even though it was sickly and seemed old, it still carried an inexplicable dignity, like a deity.
Could it really be a deity? Little Point thought to himself but kept his mouth shut.
He didn’t know how long it was before he repeated his earlier words aloud, peeking with his big eyes, observing the gourd vine’s reaction.
The silent, ancient vine seemed to have lost its spirit.
"Ah, there’s another gourd."
Beneath the yellow leaves was another green gourd, similar in size to the golden gourd held by the elder of the Heavenly Sky Pavilion, both palm-sized but of different colors.
Little Point’s eyes widened in amazement. He found this gourd very peculiar, increasingly feeling its terrifying presence, as if it contained a world, vaguely trying to suppress him.
Moreover, wisps of chaotic energy surrounded the green gourd.
On his shoulder, the furball sat quietly, unusually not daring to move. In fact, it, like Little Point, wanted to take the gourd, but instinct told it not to.
"It seems good to practice here," Little Point murmured as he sat down, letting the light rain fall. He received some of it, feeling comfortable, with the runes resonating with him.
He stole a glance at the Spirit, which remained unmoving; the vine was still, and the leaves were silent, showing no reaction.
"Uncle Spirit, you don’t mind me practicing here, do you?" Little Point asked, then quickly added, "Are you sick? I know of a willow tree that was even sicker than you, completely bare except for a single branch, and it eventually came back to life."
Little Point attempted to ingratiate himself, speaking to himself as the gourd vine remained unmoved. It wasn't that the vine had suffered external damage, but that it had lived for so long that its vitality had been nearly exhausted.
"As long as there’s hope in your heart, even if you lose the whole world, you can still live wonderfully. Hang in there, Uncle!" Little Point said, shaking his small fist.
He peeked with his big eyes and noticed that the Spirit still showed no reaction. He sighed with relief and murmured, "If you’re in a deep sleep, I’ll take advantage of it and practice here."
Little Point focused on the Primordial Truth and carefully studied the runes recorded in it, sitting in meditation beneath the gourd vine, appearing solemn and soon entering a state of deep concentration.
A gentle breeze blew, causing the yellow leaves to sway, and the gourd vine moved slightly. Silver light rain fell, making the place particularly sacred and serene.
It was unclear how much time passed, but as Little Point was contemplating the Primordial Truth, he vaguely heard the sounds of the Great Way. He suddenly opened his eyes and noticed that the green gourd on the vine was moving, with an ancient rune flickering, surrounded by chaotic energy, appearing exceptionally mysterious.
He was startled and wanted to see the rune clearly, but despite several attempts, he couldn’t discern it.
When he calmed his mind again, he found that while the rune flickered, the sounds of heaven and earth resonated, and understanding the Primordial Truth seemed to become much easier.
Little Point was moved; this place was indeed extraordinary.
As night deepened and all was silent, Little Point awakened from his meditation, realizing it was time to leave. He couldn’t stay overnight.
Upon exiting, he was stunned. This really was an ancient family residence. Was this gourd vine planted by someone? Had it never left?
Looking at the dilapidated courtyard and desolate surroundings, he felt a peculiar emotion. The area within dozens of miles had turned into a desert, but this ruined courtyard remained, with even ordinary grass able to survive. Was this the Spirit’s intention to preserve something, resembling the ancient times?
Was it reminiscing or commemorating something? Little Point felt that this Spirit had its own “story.”
Finally, he bowed once more to the rear courtyard, turned, and decided to return the next night.
As he stepped out of the courtyard, Little Point suddenly felt a chill, stumbling back a few steps, while the furball also squeaked in fear, its fur standing on end.
Little Point’s eyes widened as he looked forward. Outside the courtyard gate stood an old man with gray hair and hollow eyes, with an ancient sword protruding through his head, rusted and weathered.
His arms hung limply, and the nails on his fingers were black and half a foot long, terrifyingly so.
His clothes were incredibly old-fashioned, exactly like the ancient styles recorded in old books, giving a frightening impression. Was this an ancient person?
He had no breath, no heartbeat, and no sign of life, standing there with hollow, frightening eyes like two black holes.
"Senior, you’re blocking my way," Little Point spoke.
Silent and invisible, the old man vanished as if he had never been there. However, Little Point felt a chill on his back and turned abruptly, his scalp prickling.
The furball, even more terrified, jumped off Little Point’s shoulder, because the gray-haired old man was right behind him, almost pressed against him.
Little Point's hair stood on end, and he instinctively backed away.
"Swish."
The old man disappeared silently again, this time not behind him but instantly reappearing among the ruins in the courtyard, emitting a mournful sound, as if crying.
It was so fast, almost as if materializing out of thin air, creating a frightening effect.
"He has no life, his vitality is gone; how can he still do this?" Little Point retreated.
"Uuu."
The old man with his head pierced by the ancient sword and disheveled hair moved erratically, even going to the rear courtyard, standing near the Spirit, wailing continuously, and finally came close to Little Point again, blocking his way.
To be continued.
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