zed. Qin Sang seized the opportunity and interrogated him relentlessly.Yu Hua's cultivation far surpassed his, the duration was limited, Qin Sang first asked the questions he was most eager to underst...The western frontier, a wild and desolate land.

Dangerous mountains and treacherous waters can be seen everywhere, with steep cliffs and frequent venomous miasma. There are also ferocious beasts and poisonous insects lurking about.

Even occasionally a winding and rugged mountain road, it is a perilous journey.

Although the western frontier is dangerous, its scenery is quite unique and enchanting. With its strange peaks and rocks, cascading waterfalls and springs, and layers upon layers of mountains, it presents a breathtaking spectacle.

This place is not uninhabited either.

On the contrary, there are many ordinary people in Xijiang. They are indigenous people who have lived here for generations, mostly living in villages and excelling in martial arts and insect control techniques to survive in the cracks of the world.

>

"Splash..."

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A small river flowed between the cliffs, its surface narrow but very swift. The water, hitting the stones on the riverbank, could splash up a shower of white foam.

This small river's channel, like most rivers in the western region, is exceptionally winding.

Blocked by rocks and cliffs, the river could sometimes be seen obstructed, forming small whirlpools that often trapped clumps of dead branches, weeds, and leaves, which grew larger and larger.

In some places, a thick log lay across the riverbed, scarred and broken, clearly the result of a tree falling or breaking in the mountains and rolling into the river.

However, don't worry about them rotting in the river.

In the western regions, rain is frequent. A downpour can occur within a few days, washing the mountains clean. After the rain, the river channels swell rapidly, and all debris in the river is swept away, leaving it clear.

Just as the cicadas' buzzing in the forest surpasses stillness, and birdsong makes the mountains even more secluded.

Here, the river rushes noisily, and while birds and beasts are noisy in the deep mountains on either side, it all seems to create a deeper sense of tranquility.

It was early morning, just after a light rain had passed. Tiny raindrops were still falling, and the moisture gathered into mist that shrouded the mountain peaks, like a fairyland.

This is a

tag.

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...Whoosh whoosh…

Suddenly, a sharp piercing sound came from downstream.

Mist swayed, in the distance a golden light could be seen, following the river, breaking through the fog from downstream at an extremely fast speed.

Suddenly, the golden light halted in mid-air, revealing a strange-looking middle-aged man in a robe.

The man was tall and strong, standing in mid-air. A golden light surrounded him, dancing on his side, vaguely resembling a sword shape.

He was ruggedly handsome, his face adorned with intricate patterns and three claw marks, their origin unknown, stretching from the corner of one eye to the opposite side of his mouth.

The claw marks were a deathly gray, as if poison lingered. The man's ferocity grew even greater.

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His robe was fashioned in a strange style, like irregular pieces of animal hide sewn together to form an odd pattern. The colors were very bright.

His neck, wrists, and even his face were covered in strange patterns made from an unknown pigment. He also wore many ornaments made of bone, fangs, and bizarre insects.

If any commoners from nearby passed by and saw the items on this person, they would certainly fall to their knees and worship him, calling him "Bimo," "Priest," or "Divine Messenger," and so on.

This person's garments of animal hides, teeth, and bones are all taken from the most vicious venomous beasts and ferocious monsters, creatures that are the most feared by ordinary people in the Western Regions.

Only the legendary witch god messengers, or the big clan's Bimo and priests have the ability to hunt.

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But if viewed through the eyes of a cultivator from the Xiao Han domain, this person would be seen as a fellow cultivator, just that their attire is too strange, very rare in the Xiao Han domain, and their cultivation level isn't high either, only at the tenth layer of the Qi Refinement stage.

The man in furs stood suspended in the air, his gaze as sharp as a hawk's, fixed on the river below. The waterway just beneath him took a sudden bend, its surface choked with a thick layer of broken branches and leaves.

In the tangle of branches, a pale arm suddenly stretched out.

In the Western Regions, commoners valued martial arts. There were often skirmishes between different villages over resources. It wasn't unusual for corpses to appear in the river. The man clad in animal hides initially didn't care about it.

Unbeknownst to him, a hasty glance revealed some unusual details that caught his eye and made him stop.

The leather-clad man flashed to the riverbank, his palm drawing towards the center of the river. He extended a wave of spiritual energy, effortlessly pulling a corpse from the water.

"Wow!"

The corpse was forcibly pulled out, the vortex churned, and the branches that had gathered in the river immediately dispersed. Some were washed away by the current, but more kept flowing downstream, including several thick logs as thick as thighs.

'Bang!'

The corpse lay on the shore, face up, revealing a rather handsome face. It was a young man who looked to be in his early twenties.

His skin had no trace of blood, apparently he had been soaking in the river for a long time.

At this time, the man's eyes were tightly shut, he had no breath and was dead. His left arm was severed at the shoulder, the blood either dried up or had been stopped somehow.

This is a body without an arm.

"Indeed, a divine envoy of the witch god!"

The man in furs' face lit up with glee, his eyes gleaming with avarice. He hadn't expected to come across such a windfall on the road.

"This robe should be pretty good! Too bad!"

The furskin man looked at the broken arm corpse and its tattered robes. He felt that the material was very good, but unfortunately, there were many holes and tears on it, so it could not be used.

Even broken like this, the robe still offers some protection in a fast-flowing river.

“Coming from above, could it be from Tiānyuèzhai Has another internal conflict erupted inside”

The fursman glanced upstream, his brow furrowing in thought. His senses swept over the corpse with the severed arm, taking in every detail, including the rusty iron ring on his finger, but found nothing amiss.

Finally, he stared intently at the two pockets on the dead man's waist.

"What are these two pockets Why are they so strange Which one is the mustard bag"

The leather-clad man mumbled to himself. He had come into contact with some high priests of the Dajie clan and foreign shaman envoys, knowing that human cultivators commonly used a storage magic artifact called a mustard seed pouch, which was more effective than their own clan's artifacts.

>

Later, the shamans of the clan were influenced by humans, and many had begun to emulate them. For example, the title "shaman" was no longer used outside the clan, and they were now called cultivators or cultivators of immortality.

Only in remote places like the western regions can you still find some traditional customs.

The pockets on the severed corpse were not even as big as mustard seed bags.

"Could they all be filled with centipedes Or... have they been looted"

The Beastskin Man's face darkened, the smile vanishing from his features. He reached out and grabbed one of them, his divine sense sweeping inward upon touching a soul mark. With ease, he opened the pocket.

“Buzz…”

The next moment, a sharp buzzing sound suddenly rang out in the river valley.

A huge cloud of blood gushed out from the pocket. The man in furs saw the grotesque, blood-winged wasps swarming within the blood cloud and was petrified. His face was paler than the corpses on the ground.

The leather-clad man cried out, a flash of green light shooting from his dantian.

Originally, a mantis the size of a finger, made of jade, was waving its double blades.

Facing the ferocious blood cloud, the emerald mantis seemed so thin and weak, instantly engulfed by the blood cloud, leaving not even a bone shard.

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The Leather-clad man had just raised his golden sword when a blood cloud instantly engulfed him.

"Ouch!"

A shrill scream echoed through the mountains, startling the birds and beasts from their slumber.survives in the altar, it's something it can't consider now.Qin Sang retreated again and again, his expression grave. The power of the demonic pill's self-destruction surpassed that of nine birds taki...