At night, Nandang Swamp is shrouded in dense mist, with white smoke rising everywhere, making it impossible to distinguish east, west, south, or north. The sky is pitch black, devoid of stars and the moon, and the sound of strange fish splashing about in the waters echoes ceaselessly. The exposed rocks and shoals resemble the dorsal fins of aquatic beasts.
If ordinary cultivators were to traverse the lake at night in search of an island, it would be exceedingly difficult. They would often rely on memory to judge the general direction and location of their target, possibly ending up wandering aimlessly and wasting a great deal of time.
However, this time, the disciples from the Mingcang Sect each possessed unique methods. Among them, there was Junior Qin holding a map and leading the way. He excelled at calculating routes, knowing precisely where they were, how far they had traveled, and in which direction they were headed—never making mistakes.
Ren Mingyao had a different approach. His Ten Thousand Kill Sword Plate had the unique ability to locate and trace Gold Qi. Wherever Gold Qi was abundant and weapons converged, it was undoubtedly where tribes of the Demon Race gathered. Once he confirmed the direction, he could easily pursue the destination. Moreover, his Spirit Bird, the White Feathered Kite, had a talent for navigation, making his task even easier.
Zhang Yan, however, had a distinct way of doing things. Unconcerned about direction, he departed the Spirit Core Flying Palace and traveled about ten miles before raising his hand and summoning, "Ao Tong, where are you?"
As soon as he spoke, a half-foot-long snake-like creature darted out of his sleeve. Its body shook in the wind, and in a split second, it transformed into a six-zhang-long Demon Flood Dragon with shimmering golden scales. Its body now bore a saddle, with a soft footrest in front and a silver-white ringed rope wrapped around its neck.
Zhang Yan stepped onto the soft footrest, grabbed the ringed rope, and said, "Do you recognize the way to Xishuo Island and Anma Island?"
Ao Tong twisted its body, raised its head, and replied, "Master, I grew up hunting in the Three Pools. While I may not know every corner, I can recall countless islands, hidden channels, unique peaks, strange stones, and even the secluded hideaways favored by demonesses for their clandestine pleasures. I remember them all."
Frowning and annoyed, Zhang Yan tugged on the rope and rebuked, "If you know, then lead the way! Why waste time on trivial chatter?"
Pulled by Zhang Yan, Ao Tong gritted its teeth and stretched its body, spreading its limbs as it launched into the air at an impressive speed.
Flying forward, it muttered, "Master, that Xie Zongyuan is truly no good. You wouldn’t believe how suffocating it was for me in that Taming Beast Saddle."
Zhang Yan laughed and retorted, "Stop trying to fool me! The Taming Beast Saddle keeps creatures dazed and unaware of time. Do you think I don’t know?"
Exposed on the spot, Ao Tong looked sheepish. It had let its tongue run wild, forgetting that with an Essence Blood Contract in place, Zhang Yan could monitor its thoughts at will.
Nonetheless, Ao Tong’s talkative and excitable nature was hard to curb. After a brief pause, it couldn’t hold back and resumed its chatter.
Being descended from an Ancient Mutant Flood Dragon, Ao Tong had inherited fragmented and indistinct knowledge from its tribe since childhood. Unconcerned whether what it knew was true or false, it spilled out whatever came to mind, as though unloading everything bottled up over the years.
Fortunately, Zhang Yan was patient and composed, listening with a slight smile. Had it been someone else, they might already be nursing a splitting headache, tempted to silence Ao Tong with a decisive blow. Even so, Zhang Yan eventually sighed and remarked, "Who knows whether giving you the Transformation Elixir to dissolve the bone in your throat was a blessing or a mistake."
After traveling for an hour, Ao Tong called out, "Master, look ahead—that glowing area is Xishuo Island. It’s the easiest spot to recognize."
Zhang Yan took a few glances and nodded in agreement, saying, "Indeed. It makes me wonder which disciple will be cultivating here someday—it’s quite a scenic location."
Nandang Swamp boasts eighteen Demon Islands, each with a unique landscape.
Take Xishuo Island, for instance. Though small in size, spanning no more than a thousand steps from front to back and side to side, the waters surrounding it feature semi-dark and semi-green reefs shimmering with a faint jade glow. These reefs are scattered in a ring-like formation encircling the island. Moving further inward, the rocks transition into semi-dark and semi-red hues, resembling freshly spewed magma. They, too, form a circular boundary around the island.
At the heart of the island, golden light gleams, illuminating a field covered in large rocks resembling brass. Using these stones as materials, a Cave Mansion has been constructed, its brilliance resisting even the veiling mist.
To the uninformed eye, this Cave Mansion would appear to be made entirely of pure gold.
One man and one flood dragon soon reached the vicinity. Zhang Yan glanced around, slightly puzzled. The Cave Mansions they had seized in broad daylight had all been guarded by demon soldiers, with at least a hundred demon troops providing support. Yet this island was eerily deserted. It was unclear whether this particular Demon Cultivator had an eccentric personality or possessed some extraordinary abilities.