Chapter 267: White Sparrow Valley

Han Li's figure halted, and he quickly turned back to look.

Behind the red characters, faintly emerging was a line of pale golden small characters, written in gold seal script with six words:

“White Sparrow Valley, manifest true wheel.”

Those six characters all seemed shrouded in a blurry golden light, making them impossible to see clearly.

After staring for only a moment, Han Li felt his eyes dry and hurriedly rubbed them. When he looked again, he found that behind the red characters it was clean and empty, without a single word.

His mind stirred, and he quickly glanced around. He saw that the surrounding crowd was intently staring at the stone wall, occasionally whispering to each other. Everyone’s expression was normal, clearly not having seen that strange scene just now.

“White Sparrow Valley… what place is that?”

Those three words echoed in Han Li’s mind, but he could not recall any such place in the Candle Dragon Dao.

Thoughts churned in Han Li’s mind. He tried different angles and methods to discern something from the red characters on the stone wall, but found nothing unusual.

It seemed as if those six pale golden small characters were a figment of his imagination, not existing at all.

Yet he knew in his heart that, though it was but a fleeting glimpse, with his eyesight there was absolutely no possibility of misseeing.

But just like that, a glimmer of hope naturally arose in his heart.

Regardless, he had to go to that so-called “White Sparrow Valley” and investigate thoroughly, or he would never be reconciled.

But where exactly was this place?

After standing in place for a long while, Han Li walked to a corner on his own, flipped his hand to take out the regional map of the Bell Toll Mountains he had received upon entry, and immersed his divine sense into it, searching carefully bit by bit.

As a result, he stood there for a full hour or more.

Han Li opened his eyes, flicked his wrist to put away the map, but the look of doubt on his face grew even heavier.

He had scanned almost every place name on the map back and forth several times, confirming there was no omission, yet still he had not found any place called “White Sparrow Valley.”

“Could it be some unknown secret realm within the sect?” Han Li’s gaze flickered as he murmured to himself.

Thinking thus, he paced back to the stone wall, stared at it for a long while, then turned and walked out of the Grand Mystery Hall.

A moment later, his figure hovered in the void outside the Grand Mystery Hall, hands clasped behind his back, blue robe fluttering, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then, with a flash of遁光, he sped off in a certain direction.

…

That night. In a secret chamber within the cave dwelling at the peak of Red Cloud Peak.

On a vermilion-stained octagonal square table stood a green ancient lamp. The lamp burned some unknown oil, producing no smoke but emitting wisps of faint fragrance.

The flame at the wick was exceptionally stable, without the slightest flicker. Though only the size of a thumb, it illuminated the entire room as bright as day.

On the square table, several thick, green-bound ancient volumes were stacked in a corner, with three or four jade slips placed beside them. A yellow scroll about seven feet long lay draped over the table’s edge, half rolled up and half trailing on the floor.

On the scroll, brush and ink depicted lifelike green peaks, with small square characters标注ing the names of these mountains—it was a fine landscape map.

Han Li was now sitting behind the square table, holding a somewhat damaged, yellowed ancient book in his hands, reading intently.

These jade slips, books, and scrolls were all geographical records of the Bell Toll Mountains, which he had borrowed today from the “Inner Canon Pavilion” on Imperial Dragon Peak.

Except for those few jade slips, these books and scrolls were all unique copies. Normally, they could be copied and purchased, but in order to consult the most original map records, he spent even more merit points than buying them to borrow these original ancient texts of unknown age.

Han Li did not overlook any detail, carefully examining all content including written records and pictorial depictions. Yet even now, he had not found any valley named White Sparrow.

Although there were a few places with similar names, most were obviously locations that could not be important sect sites.

His focus in consulting was still concentrated on those black areas seen in the Ink Spirit Mountain River Diagram. Most of these places were forbidden areas of the sect, not marked on most maps, but often mentioned in some written records.

After cross-referencing, he regretfully found that none of them mentioned White Sparrow Valley.

At this moment, the book he held, “An Account of Ancient Clouds,” was the last of all the texts.

In fact, this book could hardly be considered a geographical gazetteer; it was a travelogue recording the landscapes of the Ancient Cloud Continent, and its author seemed to be a frustrated cultivator whose cultivation was not going smoothly.

However, this book appeared to have been written very early, even comparable to the time the Candle Dragon Dao had existed, so the book was covered with a layer of禁制 array.

Once the array was removed, the pages would immediately decay into ash.

Han Li gently lifted a page and turned it back, his eyes scanning up and down along the recorded text.

Suddenly, he frowned slightly, pulled the ancient book closer, and focused on a passage, examining it carefully.

"In the western mountains there is a valley where a flock of white sparrows dwell. Once a shepherd boy chased a sparrow there, but upon entering the valley he saw no valley, only mist-shrouded palaces and jade pavilions, lofty terraces hidden in the haze, Chang'e dancing, immortals drinking, and he was bewildered, not knowing where he was..."

Han Li looked at this extremely brief travelogue, lost in thought. The latter part of the story told how the shepherd boy was struck by a golden-armored god with a whip, and when he suddenly came to his senses, he found himself still standing in the valley, as if sleepwalking.

The scene described in this travelogue was quite common in secular tales of the strange, often called a mirage, nothing particularly unusual. But the mention of a flock of white sparrows caught his attention.

In his earlier browsing, he had come across names like white oriole, snow pheasant, plain kite, and so on, but never white sparrow. This was the first time he had seen it.

Afterward, he continued to read through the travelogue carefully, finally confirming that among all the books, only this one place clearly recorded the words 'white sparrow.'

"Where is this western mountain then..." Han Li murmured, holding the ancient book in one hand while lightly tapping the table with the other, lost in thought.

After a moment, he suddenly stopped tapping, picked up several green-bound ancient volumes from the table, flipped through each to a certain page, and spread them out on the table.

Pointing to one page, Han Li muttered, "Youxi Mountain, seven thousand two hundred fifty-seven zhang high, narrow and long, running from south to north. On the sunny slope grow Luyang grass and Huanri flowers, and it produces phosphorite..."

"Xiquan Mountain, eight thousand nine hundred thirty-one zhang high..."

"Zexi Peak, six thousand..."

...

The moon's shadow sank westward, and soon it was past midnight.

Han Li, who had been sitting behind the square table, stood up, stretched, gently closed the ancient books one by one, tidied them, and neatly stacked them in a corner of the table.

The only thing still spread open on the table was the scroll of the mountain and river map.

However, this map was only opened less than a foot, revealing a peak named Xilin Peak.

This peak, located in the western part of the Zhongming Mountains, was an ordinary peak with no notable spiritual energy. Since it had no particularly rare spiritual products, it had been left abandoned, with no elder or disciple choosing to reside there.

To its west was Pulin Valley, and to its east, across a wide, crescent-shaped valley, lay a branch range of the Zhongming Mountains.

This mountain was the 'western mountain' Han Li had selected after extensive comparison.

He believed that the crescent-shaped valley named Bangu Valley was very likely the White Sparrow Valley he was looking for.

Han Li gently brushed his hand over the ancient lamp on the octagonal table, and the flame flickered slightly before going out.

From the wick, a wisp of white smoke rose, emitting a faint fragrance that lingered long.

Han Li left the room, closed the door, and headed straight for the front courtyard. But before he could even cross the hall, he saw Meng Qianqian running quickly from the corridor.

"Elder Li, it's coming out, it's coming out..." she called out as soon as she saw Han Li, before even reaching him.

Hearing this, Han Li first frowned slightly, then raised an eyebrow, a hint of joy appearing on his face.

"Let's go take a look."

Saying this, he stepped forward, took Meng Qianqian's arm, and both turned into a flash of green light, disappearing from the spot in an instant.

A moment later, their figures appeared in a stone chamber within the cave dwelling.

In the stone chamber, the small spirit-gathering formation was still running, with green spiritual light flickering continuously.

A huge white egg stood in the center of the formation, constantly absorbing the gathered spiritual energy from heaven and earth, swaying slightly.

But Han Li and the other watched the giant egg for a full quarter of an hour without seeing any sign of it breaking open.

"It was shaking violently just now, and there were knocking sounds from inside the shell. I thought it was about to hatch, so I hurried to inform you, Elder..." Meng Qianqian said apologetically, looking at the scene.

Han Li stared at the giant egg. Upon close inspection, he noticed a very fine ring of cracks at the bottom of the shell, barely visible without careful observation.

"It has already hatched, but after emerging, it didn't see its mother bird and was frightened, so it retreated back inside," Han Li said after a long while, shaking his head.

Then, thinking for a moment, he turned his palm over, and a long, shimmering feather appeared in his hand, which he handed to Meng Qianqian.

Meng Qianqian took the feather, somewhat puzzled, and stared blankly at Han Li.

"Go and call the little one out," Han Li said with a smile.

Meng Qianqian nodded, her long eyelashes blinking a few times. She stepped forward hesitantly and gently tapped the giant egg.

The giant egg showed no response.

After a slight hesitation, Meng Qianqian used the feather in her hand to gently stroke the surface of the eggshell.

This time, the giant egg seemed to sense something. It paused, then began to sway gently, though with much less amplitude than before.

Meng Qianqian's beautiful eyes lit up. As she gently stroked the eggshell with the feather, she also reached out her other hand and gently touched it.

The giant egg gradually stopped swaying and remained still, motionless.