Chapter 230: Black Clouds Press Down on the City
“Disaster!”
On top of the city wall, the old immortal who was overlooking the prefectural city and controlling the overall situation cried out in alarm. He turned to the bewildered General Ma and explained, “There’s a major problem over at the City God Temple. It looks like some great demonic fiend has gone berserk and directly shattered the City God's immortal Golden Body. I must go see for myself to be at ease. The Golden City God is tied to the fate of Rouge Prefecture. If City God Shen’s Golden Body completely collapses, even if we survive this calamity, Rouge Prefecture will still be grievously wounded!”
The old immortal gazed toward the direction of the City God Pavilion, deeply worried. He sighed and sneered, “Forget it! Even if it’s a dragon’s pool or tiger’s den, I’ll have to charge in today! I might have to risk my entire cultivation and see if I can rescue the severely wounded City God. I never imagined the demons causing trouble would be so powerful. I thought they were just using a formation to restrain the City God, but I never expected such ruthless methods aimed at annihilating the entire city. General Ma, there’s no help for it. For now, the east gate will have to be left in your hands alone.”
General Ma said in a deep voice, “Do you need a dozen elite soldiers to assist you, Old Huang? The prefectural governor’s mansion still has several dozen special arrows, best for slaying demons.”
The old immortal waved his hand and said, “No time, and it wouldn’t make much difference anyway.”
General Ma, after all, was a seasoned battlefield commander and didn’t dawdle. He clasped his fists and said, “I wish Old Huang a swift victory!”
“Then I’ll take your good wishes, General Ma!” The old immortal clasped his hands in return, smiled faintly, and his figure swooped down from the city wall like a bird, landing on a rooftop several dozen zhang away. He rose gracefully, flew forward again, and after a dozen or so elegant rises and descents, his figure finally shrank to the size of a grain of rice as he landed inside the dust-settling City God Pavilion.
This old immortal—whom Old Demon Mi and the couple called the Glass Immortal—didn’t head straight for the City God Pavilion. Instead, he landed in the main hall square outside the high walls and walked forward slowly. With a flick of his sleeve, a large stack of yellow paper talismans floated out, billowing with smoke in the air. In the blink of an eye, more than a dozen white-robed maidens wielding swords burst out of the smoke. They stepped lightly as if treading on waves, their figures graceful as they rushed toward the first main hall, which enshrined the founding heroes of the Colorful Garment Kingdom.
When the old immortal passed by two broken statues of Heavenly Officials, the five poisonous creatures had already scattered completely. He entered the main hall. Most of the clay statues in this hall remained intact. The old man naturally understood why: without gods residing within them, these seemingly imposing statues were merely clay garments crafted by artisans. Old Demon Mi wouldn’t bother tampering with them or wasting his specially made incense.
The sword-wielding maidens who had once appeared on the lake-center platform moved swiftly, their footsteps light as they rushed into the small square between the Hall of Wealth and the Hall of the Grand Duke. One of the maidens’ lips moved slightly, as if softly calling someone, but there was no response. The old immortal stepped through the back door, stood still, and looked around, frowning. “No need to call anymore. Your Sister Colorful Garment has long been beaten back to her original form. I can’t even sense her remnant soul. The one who struck has very high cultivation.”
The old man raised his arm and suddenly beckoned. The scarlet longsword hidden among the high branches of the ancient cypress was instantly in his hand. He lowered his head and sniffed the blade, slightly relieved—there was no trace of demonic qi left. Good. It wasn’t that Old Demon Mi had found some clue and snatched the seemingly decorative “refined iron official seal” first. He casually tossed the sword to a white-robed maiden with a mole at the corner of her mouth. The old man walked forward slowly. Although the current situation hadn’t reached the worst possible outcome, it wasn’t good either. The City God Hall had been destroyed, the Golden City God Shen Wen had turned into a pile of dirt, the statues of the two civil and military subordinate officials had met the same fate, and the refined iron official seal was missing.
The old man’s expression was somber as he pondered. Could it be that the great figure behind all this was also interested in the City God Manifest Grace Earl’s seal? Had he bypassed him and gotten there first? The old man quickly dismissed this thought. No, it couldn’t be. For an old immortal who truly stood at the peak of Vase Bottle Continent, such a treasure was certainly invaluable to Middle Five Realm Qi refiners—worth fighting tooth and claw over—but for that person, it was far from worth reneging on their agreement and seizing it by force.
That person’s ambitions were far too great: a five-nation melee including the Colorful Garment Kingdom and the Ancient Elm Kingdom, the drumbeats of war and billowing smoke rising across the central map of Vase Bottle Continent.
This heterodox rogue cultivator of an old man, his face dark, walked into the ruins of the City God Hall and finally stopped beside a wall that had collapsed entirely to the ground.
Although the wall remained mostly intact without major cracks, there were countless minor breaks. The old man scrutinized every detail. The mural depicted eighty-one flying celestial maidens, but only a little over thirty with decent appearances remained. The old man stamped his foot in great regret. “What a waste of heaven’s gifts!”
After confirming there was no one nearby, the old man still ordered the sword-wielding white-robed maidens to keep watch on the walls. Then he crouched down, took out a small, exquisite cup flowing with iridescent colors from his left sleeve—seven hues, glittering and bright. As the cup was carefully drawn from his sleeve, it illuminated the surroundings with a layer of multicolored light, a breathtaking sight.
The old man quickly waved his right sleeve to suppress the flowing colors spreading across the ground, muttering incantations. The lines of the various beauties in the mural began to flow slowly. One by one, they drifted off the wall and poured into the small glass cup. The thirty best-preserved mural women—in terms of appearance and attire—entered first, followed by a dozen or so with intact faces but damaged limbs and clothes. Finally, only those with ruined faces and bodies remained on the wall, seeming to emit faint, subtle sobs, like a clear mountain stream flowing over stones.
The old man wasn’t willing to stop there. He even extracted the base layer of the entire mural and absorbed it into the cup. The broken women who had lost their courtyard dwelling became even more mournful, weeping and wailing on the empty wall.
The old man put away the cup, stood up, looked down at the scattered remnants of women on the wall, and shook his head again, pained. He raised his sleeve and slammed his palm down heavily. The wall instantly turned to dust.
---
The rice shop opened again, but not for business. The three shop assistants each headed to a different part of the prefectural city, especially the handsome young man, who ran out with a face full of joy. The old shopkeeper, the rice shop owner, led the couple down a quiet alley. The woman asked, “The Golden City God of the City God Pavilion had already become your puppet, Old Demon Mi. Even if his cultivation had declined somewhat, how could his Golden Body suddenly shatter? Could a small place like Rouge Prefecture actually hide a Middle Five Realm expert?”
Old Demon Mi was in a bad mood. His greatest trump card and protective charm had vanished for no reason. Who could be happy about that?
He thought for a moment, then spread his palm. He decided to risk using the technique of “Viewing Mountains and Rivers in the Palm.” This superior art was closely guarded by a handful of righteous immortal sects, kept secret from outsiders. Old Demon Mi had only acquired a fragmentary heterodox manual by chance, learning just the bare basics. Because the manual was missing half of the luck-manipulating incantations, each use cost him a drop of his heart’s blood—a heavy price. Moreover, if a Qi refiner of equivalent cultivation happened to be present at the place he was spying on from afar, they could easily detect him and might trace the clues back to kill him. Thus, this once-supreme divine ability had become utterly useless due to its incompleteness.
The reason mountain immortal clans were so deeply rooted was largely because they possessed secret techniques passed down through generations, with no side effects. Through continuous refinement by successive patriarchs, they became perfect and flawless. Thus, there was no need for descendants or outstanding disciples to grope in the dark and hit walls. It was said that the most supreme sect secret methods could even allow practitioners to hope to reach the Upper Five Realms, while second-rate heterodox paths were still bright avenues to the Middle Five Realms.
But how many wild cultivators and rogue practitioners in the world had gone insane from cultivation deviation because of this? Countless!
A drop of thick, crimson blood seeped from Old Demon Mi’s palm. Suddenly, it exploded with a bang, filling the air with bloody mist. Soon, an image appeared in the old man’s palm: the City God Pavilion. The old man squinted and saw the figure of that “old immortal” and his white-robed maidens. He slightly shook his palm. The image, which had encompassed the entire City God Pavilion, quickly narrowed to only the ruins of the City God Hall, making the crouching old immortal’s posture even clearer.
Old Demon Mi chuckled, “Heaven helps me! Old Chen can’t hold his patience and came to check in person. He’s walking right into the trap!”
The woman’s eyes lit up, staring fixedly at the small glass cup in the Glass Immortal’s hand in the image. “Is that the Glass Cup of the Immortals?”
Old Demon Mi suddenly clenched his fist, drawing the bloody mist back into his body. He turned his head and sneered, “What, you want to fight me for it?”
The woman’s eyes rippled with charm as she cooed, “How would this slave dare?”
Old Demon Mi ignored the enchantress’s pretense and quickly weighed the pros and cons in his mind.
Old Chen’s objective from the very beginning had been the mural beneath the Golden City God’s watchful eyes. He claimed to covet the mural’s essence—after centuries of incense influence, it had nurtured true immortal maidens. Moreover, after collecting female souls from the unmarked graves, he could use the mural as their new dwelling place, killing two birds with one stone, possibly even cultivating more yin ghostly beings from the Colorful Garment women.
Now Old Demon Mi suddenly realized: perhaps… that seal from the Dragon Tiger Mountain Heavenly Master Mansion wasn’t in the prefectural governor’s mansion or the Zhao residence at all, but in the City God Pavilion! And this old friend had intended all along to hog all the benefits, never meaning to leave behind the seal that their master and disciple had painstakingly plotted for years.
What a fine Glass Immortal, Old Chen!
Old partner, if you show no mercy, don’t blame me for being unjust!
---
The sky above Rouge Prefecture City, which had been clear and cloudless, gradually turned overcast. Dark clouds drifted in from all directions, pressing down on the city until it was black, making people’s chests feel tight.
A carriage drove safely out of the south gate. The old advisor held the reins with one hand and reached for a flask of fine wine he had prepared earlier with the other. Just as he was about to drink, he saw a poor scholar by the roadside vigorously waving and shouting, “Old Song! Old Song! I’m a friend of your young lady. Is she in the carriage?”
The gaunt old man’s heart tightened. Had the demons already set their sights on the prefectural governor’s mansion? Were they determined to eradicate the roots? Would they even spare the young master and young lady?
The woman quickly bent down and lifted the carriage curtain, saying cheerfully, “Uncle Song, he’s my friend. His name is Liu Chicheng, a wandering scholar from White Mountain Kingdom.”
Another head poked out, asking with a puzzled tone, “Liu Chicheng, didn’t you leave the city long ago? Why are you still here? Did you harass some girl on the way again?”
The old man hesitated for a moment, then stopped the carriage.
If it’s fortune, it’s fortune; if it’s disaster, it can’t be avoided.
He could only wait and see.
Hearing the teasing from his future brother-in-law Liu Gaohua, Liu Chicheng rolled his eyes and trotted forward eagerly. Although he didn’t know why the old demon had suddenly descended from the sky and temporarily returned his body to him, Liu Chicheng didn’t bother to think about it. The old geezer had promised that as long as he convinced this carriage to turn back to the city, he could solve all the problems with just one finger.
Right now, Liu Chicheng was still wearing that pink Daoist robe, but the old geezer said that Qi refiners below the Tenth Realm, including even those golden core immortals, couldn’t see through his clever illusion technique.
Liu Chicheng stood by the carriage, panting, and asked, “What, you’re running away too? Liu Gaohua, you unfilial son, can you bear to leave your parents in deep trouble? With so many demons stirring up trouble in the city, as the son of the prefectural governor, you should be leading the charge. At the very least, you should raise your arm and shout, guard the gate of the governor’s mansion, and swear to never retreat. I’ve already walked far out of the city, but I still feel I can’t just leave like this. Think about it—even I, an outsider, feel that when righteousness calls, we scholars should face death generously…”
The old advisor’s teeth itched with fury, and he wanted to slap the poor scholar across the face.
Liu Gaohua looked at the poor scholar as if he were an idiot.
His sister’s eyes had already grown hazy, glistening with tears. Her hands clasped over her heart, she felt that her Liu Lang must have come just to see her.
Liu Gaohua rolled his eyes and said, “If you want to go back, go back yourself. I’m going to take refuge with my sister.”
Liu Chicheng muttered inwardly, *Old man, what now? This brother-in-law has no heroic spirit. I’m casting pearls before swine.*
Suddenly, Liu Chicheng found that he couldn’t control his legs. He stomped one foot “gently” onto the official road.
A thunderous crash.
Dust rose in billows along the entire road. From the city wall, it looked as if a yellow dragon several miles long had appeared out of nowhere.
Liu Chicheng swallowed, coughed, and clasped his hands behind his back, trying to exude as much air of a lofty expert as possible. “To tell you the truth, I, Liu Chicheng, am a hidden golden core realm immortal!”
The old advisor was stunned, speechless for a moment.
Perhaps only the very pinnacle of martial grandmasters in the Colorful Garment Kingdom, like the reclusive old Sword God, could have such power in a single stomp.
Could this unreliable poor scholar really be a mountain immortal wandering the mortal world?
Liu Chicheng tried to rise on tiptoe, intending to fly directly onto the carriage, but his body remained motionless. Helplessly, he climbed onto the carriage himself, squeezed into the cabin, and sat cross-legged between the siblings, who stared at each other in amazement. He turned to the excited woman and said with a smile, “Miss Liu, sincerity works wonders, right?”
---
Chen Ping’an and the silver-belled girl landed on a rooftop near the prefectural governor’s mansion. Chen Ping’an stopped. The girl was about to ask a question when Chen Ping’an pointed at the mansion’s walls and tall buildings. Following his gaze, the girl’s heart tightened. It was a set of specially crafted Mohist strongbows, arrow tips all aimed at the two of them. A dozen or so bowmen, all wearing standard military armor of the Colorful Garment Kingdom, stood ready. The girl frowned. “They seem to be General Ma’s personal troops stationed at the mansion. They might not recognize me. Maybe I should shout a few times? If I show myself and explain, that should work. I’m just worried that official inquiries will take up a lot of time.”
Chen Ping’an looked up at the sky, hesitated for a moment, and said, “Let’s split up. Don’t rush in. If they stop you, explain first. But I must find my friends immediately.”
The girl was also a decisive type. She nodded. “Good! I’ll follow the old immortal’s plan!”
Chen Ping’an took a deep breath and leaped up. An arrow shot swiftly toward him. Chen Ping’an abruptly rose higher, stepped onto the arrow, and lightly tapped it, shooting straight toward the prefectural governor’s mansion.