Chapter 300: The Perils of the Jianghu
Outside the Huan Family Ancestral Hall, the group had barely managed to cut a bloody path to safety. After the slovenly old man used the secret technique passed down by Old Fort Master Huan—placing two bowls filled with the blood of Huan clan descendants and performing the spell—he waited for a moment, then slumped to the ground in defeat, dazed and murmured, "Why is it like this? It shouldn't be like this..."
The Huan siblings, drenched in blood, had pale faces. The young Daoist's lips trembled as he said, "Those demons and evil spirits, using some vile method I don't know, had already drained all the spiritual essence from the two stone lions long ago."
Tao Xieyang sat down heavily on the ground, using his saber as a crutch.
The old Daoist turned his head to look at the sea of clouds above the training grounds. The mountain sank downward, fist energy met the enemy, and above the sea of clouds, sword light crisscrossed.
A faint glimmer of hope rose in the old man. Struggling to his feet, he said to the four young people, "All of you, leave Flying Eagle Fort immediately. Earlier you escorted me here; now it's my turn to see you kids off safely. Consider it preserving a thread of blood and incense for the Huan clan of Flying Eagle Fort. Don't hesitate—leave this place now, go as far as you can. Don't think about revenge later!"
Tao Xieyang made no move to rise. Lifting his head toward the Huan woman he had admired for years, he said hoarsely, "Huan Shu, you go with Huan Chang. I'm staying here. I've traveled north and south for so many years, and I'm truly tired. I won't leave today."
The young Daoist was about to speak, but Tao Xieyang shook his head at him. "Huang Shang, don't try to persuade me. My mind is made up!"
The old Daoist sighed, then led his disciple and the Huan siblings as they fought their way toward the nearby north gate of Flying Eagle Fort.
Tao Xieyang sat cross-legged, facing the gate of the Ancestral Hall, and began wiping his long saber with his sleeve.
As Huang Shang ran alongside his master, his vision blurred, and he never dared to look back at that young martial artist.
Huan Shu suddenly turned her head, looking at the familiar man's dejected back. Her heart ached, and a thousand words swirled in her mind, but when they reached her lips, they vanished like smoke.
In the face of life and death, true nature reveals itself.
The young woman was pulled away by her brother and did not linger.
Tao Xieyang lowered his head, staring at the slice of his face reflected in the gleaming blade. He twitched the corner of his mouth—he still didn't like it.
---
The moment Lu Tai pierced the ghost infant through the heart with his bamboo fan, a wail echoed out from the main building's hall. Above the black sea of clouds outside the building, the high-crowned old man reappeared, ignoring the two flying swords still darting about freely. His face was extremely ugly, and his fury even caused the Five Peaks Crown on his head to tremble. The sea of clouds, which had almost submerged the rooftops of the taller buildings, churned like boiling water.
The old man roared toward the main building, "Worthless! Worthless! What use is keeping you?!"
The high-crowned old man extended a hand and suddenly clenched his fist.
Inside the great hall, the whisk-wielding man who had been struggling against the two flying swords had long ago been controlled by the old man using a secret technique of their school from the very beginning of his Dao cultivation. Now, his heart exploded without warning, and in an instant his soul scattered, his bones and flesh separated. All his blood was cleanly extracted, forming a massive crimson blood sphere that recklessly slammed outward. The explosive rupture of an Observation Sea realm's qi sea alone had already shattered the talisman array that Lu Tai had forcibly occupied, leaving it battered and on the verge of collapse. When the blood erupted outward, like birds returning to their nests, it tried to streak toward the old man above the sea of clouds.
Lu Tai frowned. He withdrew the Needle Tip and Wheat Awn swords to avoid being contaminated by that filthy blood—if that happened, it wouldn't be as simple as wasting some precious materials. He stopped channeling spiritual essence into the talisman array. Thus, the blood flowed like a stream, stretching into a slender river from the great hall all the way to the high-crowned old man above the sea of clouds, pouring into the old man's palm.
The old man, like a starving man finally feasting, had a sanguine glow flare in his eyes. He waved his sleeves, and two streams of crimson energy surged forth from his wide sleeves. In an instant, a fierce gale arose, causing the two flying swords, First and Fifteenth, to scatter about in the sea of clouds.
The high-crowned old man's face contorted with rage. He looked down at the central mountain that had not yet touched the ground and bellowed, "Struggling in vain! I originally planned, since the ghost infant was newborn and had a weak appetite, to press you beneath the mountain millstone and slowly extract your essence blood. But since you've ruined everything for me, I don't need to be so particular! Die!"
Lu Tai had already arrived at the viewing platform of Flying Eagle Fort's main building. He sent his two flying swords streaking toward the old man in the clouds and laughed heartily, "Old villain! Our Taiping Mountain has been waiting for this day for a long time!"
The old man's expression tightened, then he laughed wildly, "Even if I die here today, I'll take two genius disciples of Taiping Mountain with me as burial companions!"
With one hand, he kept waving his sleeves, desperately blocking the attacks from four flying swords—First, Fifteenth, Needle Tip, and Wheat Awn—while with his other hand, he clenched his fist and smashed downward. "Brat, will you die or not?!"
A flicker of change passed through Lu Tai's eyes. He silently intoned "Go," and a multicolored ribbon flashed from the Upper Sun Terrace, cooperating with the golden demon-binding rope that coiled around the mountain peak like a golden flood dragon, together dragging upward. They absolutely could not allow this central mountain to merge with the other four peaks rooted in the ground. Once the Five Peaks array was fully formed, Chen Ping'an, even as a fourth-tier martial artist—or even if he had a sixth-tier physique—would be crushed into a pulp of flesh and blood.
Lu Tai roared, "Rise up!"
The mountain peak rose several feet.
"Who doesn't know how to risk their life?" The high-crowned old man, who lived up to his reputation as one of the most ruthless wild cultivators in the world, laughed freely and stood up. After withdrawing his meditation cushion, his lower body immediately began to decay like withered wood, with ashes drifting away. Still, he paid no heed and swooped down to the central mountain. His feet touched the summit, and he slammed down with force, pushing the mountain—already restrained by the multicolored ribbon and golden demon-binding rope—all the way to the ground!
When this central mountain landed, the entire Flying Eagle Fort began to tremble violently, to the point that even the mountain ranges outside the fort started to crack.
The golden demon-binding rope slid down the mountain's slope to the ground in defeat. The high-crowned old man laughed heartily, reached out, and grabbed the rope.
With all five peaks assembled, the formation was complete. At the Upper Sun Terrace, Lu Tai spat out a mouthful of blood. He staggered forward a few steps, barely managing to grab the railing. His fingers twitched as he said with difficulty, "Return..."
The multicolored ribbon that had bound the central mountain also lost its dazzling luster and began reverting to its original form, then streaked toward the main building. The old man's eyes lit up. He stretched out his arm again and snatched the ribbon, pulling it into his hands. Having just obtained the demon-binding rope, and now this ribbon—clearly a magical treasure at a glance—falling into his lap, the old man felt that while there was no way out of a hopeless situation, heaven had not completely abandoned him. Though he had suffered a great loss this time, at least he hadn't lost everything.
The old man sat cross-legged again, and the meditation cushion materialized out of thin air. After this battle, the spiritual essence within his Five Peaks Crown had become sparse.
Above, in the sea of clouds, only the two flying swords of the sword cultivator from the main building—one large, one small—still struggled. The two miniature flying swords from earlier, the high-crowned old man had actually been secretly watching. After the central mountain had successfully crushed the golden-robed youth, those flying swords had fallen to the ground, landing in two distant alleys. Most likely they had been destroyed—truly a pity.
With his revenge largely accomplished today, the old man felt some satisfaction. For one thing, he could no longer sustain the Five Peaks True Form array; for another, he still needed to quickly strip the golden robe from the youth's corpse and then leave Flying Eagle Fort as fast as possible to avoid being intercepted and killed by old monsters from the Fuji Sect or Taiping Mountain. Otherwise, he would once again become a homeless dog, just like in the old days.
Since matters had reached this point, and Taiping Mountain still hadn't sent a Golden Core or Nascent Soul ancestor to intervene, it seemed the two brats—one dead, one injured—had been too cocky, giving him a chance to leave safely. Still, these two young men were undoubtedly the most outstanding direct disciples of Taiping Mountain, perhaps even the proud high disciples of that mountain master, which was why they dared to flaunt so many magical treasures so ostentatiously.
If he hadn't already forged an irreconcilable enmity with Taiping Mountain, he would probably have avoided their edge long ago.
The high-crowned old man silently recited the "Retract Mountain" incantation. The five mountain peaks instantly rose from the ground, shrinking in size, and finally returned to the Five Peaks Crown.
While waving his sleeves to control the sea of clouds and block Lu Tai's Needle Tip and Wheat Awn flying swords, the old man sat cross-legged on his cushion, smiling as he descended toward the training grounds.
On the ground, there was a glaring patch of gold, like a golden garment that had accidentally fallen from a bamboo pole, casually spread across the surface.
Even though a magical treasure was right within reach, the high-crowned old man's expression changed dramatically. He clapped his hands in the air and, together with his cushion, shot upward. After a series of battles and with his own spiritual essence waning, the black sea of clouds, now less than a tenth of its original size, frantically surged toward the old man.
That patch of gold on the training grounds leaped up from a pit just large enough for one person to lie flat in, shouting, "Lu Tai, lend me Needle Tip!"
Lu Tai showed no surprise. With a flicker of his mind, the enormous flying sword Needle Tip appeared beneath Chen Ping'an's feet.
Earlier, when First and Fifteenth had "fallen," Lu Tai had actually detected some subtle clues. Chen Ping'an had said they were his life-bound flying swords, but not his life-bound treasures—meaning they were not tied to his very life force. So if Chen Ping'an had truly died, First and Fifteenth would only have fought harder to kill the enemy. Only if Chen Ping'an were faking his death would he deliberately make the two flying swords put on an act.
After that, when the demon-binding rope also "played dead," Lu Tai had to hold back hard to keep from laughing out loud.
Following the same pattern, acting on a sudden inspiration, Lu Tai deliberately lost control of his multicolored ribbon, allowing the high-crowned old man to take it.
The old man was moving very fast, but First and Fifteenth, which had been lying in ambush nearby, moved even faster.
From left and right, they instantly stabbed through the meditation cushion, causing the old man's rapid escape to falter slightly for a moment.
Then Lu Tai's flying sword Wheat Awn blocked the way from above.
The most critical factor was that Lu Tai's multicolored ribbon and Chen Ping'an's golden demon-binding rope came back to life simultaneously, binding the high-crowned old man's arms like two pythons coiling around a person.
And Chen Ping'an, standing on the flying sword Needle Tip, pursued the high-crowned old man and the sea of clouds through the air.
Traveling afar by flying sword!
Although he had survived the mountain's crushing pressure thanks to Lu Tai's ribbon buying him time, and because Chen Ping'an had calculated the largest possible hollow in advance—stomping the ground to create a pit large enough for him to lie in and thus escape being ground to dust—having the full force of the Five Peaks grand formation pressing down on him as if he were sealed inside a coffin had not been easy. At the moment, several of his ribs were broken. If he hadn't become accustomed to such situations in the bamboo tower, he would have had to watch helplessly as the high-crowned old man fled.
Before stepping onto the sword for his "ascension," Chen Ping'an had used the sword master's method of controlling a sword to grip the longsword "Foolish Heart," which he had discarded earlier, in his hand.
Thanks to the ribbon and the demon-binding rope binding the old man's arms, and these two items being able to pierce through the sea of clouds and accurately guide the three flying swords to break the meditation cushion, Chen Ping'an, even on his first time flying a sword, quickly caught up to the high-crowned old man and slashed at the back of his head.
The old man put his life on the line, wrapping himself in the sea of clouds and accelerating forward, barely dodging that sword strike. However, the overflow of sword energy still left a bloody gash on the high-crowned old man's head.
At the Upper Sun Terrace, Lu Tai gritted his teeth and once again uttered the word "Bloom." His green robe fluttering, he rode the wind in pursuit.
His speed was even faster than the flying sword Needle Tip.
Lu Tai traced an arc through the air. In the span of a dozen blinks, he had quickly intercepted the path of the Dragon Gate realm high-crowned old man.
Having suffered greatly, the old man did not dare to force his way through. He turned to take a detour, but the golden-robed youth, whose two sword strikes had been a beat too slow earlier, now stabbed him straight through the heart—a clean impalement!
And this sword was extremely strange.
Vitality, along with spiritual essence, suddenly drained away, absorbed by the longsword that had passed through his body.
The old man halted. The sea of clouds beneath his cushion hovered in place.
He looked down at the sword tip and smiled bitterly.
The one who took my life wasn't even one of those four life-bound flying swords.
What helped this longsword take my life was just a inch-long talisman that I had looked down upon.
These days, the little ones from lineage sects—how are they even more cunning and treacherous than us wild cultivators of the mountains and marshes?
Chen Ping'an wanted to press the advantage and deliver another punch to shatter the high-crowned old man's head for good measure, but Lu Tai, almost shouting with his mind voice, warned Chen Ping'an to retreat immediately on the flying sword Needle Tip, and as far as possible.
The high-crowned old man adjusted the askew Five Peaks Crown on his head without pulling out the "Foolish Heart" that had pierced his heart. He smiled a sinister smile at Lu Tai.
His arms were still tightly bound by the two magical treasures, severely restricting his spiritual essence flow.
The meditation cushion was already torn to shreds, with dozens of holes stabbed by the three flying swords, leaking air everywhere.
Lu Tai stood facing the high-crowned old man, still shaken. He had deliberately claimed to be a Taiping Mountain cultivator earlier, hoping to scare the old man away. He never expected that upon hearing "Taiping Mountain," the old man would go mad and attack wildly. At that time, Chen Ping'an's situation was truly hanging by a thread.
Lu Tai steadied his mind and said calmly, "We're actually not disciples of Taiping Mountain."
The old man twitched the corner of his mouth, smiling without mirth. "I figured it out earlier. Taiping Mountain couldn't have taught two little kids like you."
The surrounding sea of clouds gradually dispersed, returning fruitlessly to heaven and earth.
---
Immortal battles always take place in the sky.
But joys and sorrows, partings and reunions, mostly happen in the human world.
Inside the main hall of Flying Eagle Fort's main building, the atmosphere was eerie.
Fort Master Huan Yang was now moving freely, but he didn't spare a single glance at the corpse of his wife lying on the chair beside him.
The old steward He Ya glanced at the fort master's wife with a complicated expression. Unable to bear it, he seemed about to speak, but Huan Yang silenced him with a cold glare.
Huan Yang rested one hand on the armrest of his chair and said in a deep voice, "What happened in this hall today—no one is to speak of it outside. Whoever dares to leak a single word will not only face family punishment but will also implicate everyone in their household. Their limbs will be broken, and they will be expelled from Flying Eagle Fort!"
Huan Yang didn't turn his head but casually pointed at the chair beside him with his finger. "The fort master's wife, worn out by overwork, died of a serious illness..."
He paused, then said coldly, "After death, her spirit tablet will not be placed in the Huan Ancestral Hall! She is not to be buried..."
Everyone in the hall was silent, not daring to raise the slightest objection.
The elderly scholar He Ya finally couldn't hold back. He stepped forward and interrupted Huan Yang's latter words, saying bitterly, "Fort Master, the mistress has indeed done wrong, but I beg you, considering the years she has spent managing the household and raising your children, please allow her to be buried in the back mountain. Fort Master, even if I, He Ya, am begging you..."
By the end, this old steward, who had devoted himself to Flying Eagle Fort and had taught generations of children as a tutor, was sobbing uncontrollably.
Huan Yang flew into a rage. He slammed his hand heavily on the armrest, shattering the entire chair to pieces. His face darkened. After a moment's thought, he snorted coldly, "We'll discuss this later!"
Huan Yang, who had always treated others kindly, now looked around like a starving eagle or a hungry falcon, making everyone's scalps tingle. None dared to meet his gaze; they all lowered their heads.
"Whether Flying Eagle Fort can survive remains uncertain. For now, none of you are to leave this place. If anyone dares to leave the gates without authorization, He Ya, kill him!"
After throwing out these words, Huan Yang left the hall alone, climbed the stairs, and finally arrived at the place that even his father had inexplicably named the "Upper Sun Terrace." This man, who had never been so hard-hearted in his life, looked into the distance, trying to see the outcome of the great battle ahead of time. But his martial arts cultivation was mediocre, and his eyesight limited. He could see no signs, only the faint sight of the clouds dispersing and sword light crisscrossing.
Huan Yang lowered his voice and ground his teeth. "If that ghost infant had been born as powerful as they said, and if Flying Eagle Fort had been in full control, that would have been fine!"
---
The old Daoist led the three of them smoothly out of Flying Eagle Fort, heading deep into the northern mountains. Their escape went so smoothly it was almost unbelievable—apart from a few scattered yin creatures and ghosts causing trouble, there were no major obstacles.
The three young people felt as if they had survived a catastrophe, and even the old Daoist himself found it hard to believe.
For a moment, all four felt as if they had left one world and entered another.
Standing on a hillside, Huan Chang suddenly said, "I want to go back."
The slovenly old man nodded inwardly. With this thought—whether naive or not—Huan Chang might have a chance to help the Huan clan rise again in the future.
If he had just buried his head and fled in panic, the old man wouldn't have thought less of Huan Shu as a woman, but he would have looked down on this grandson of his old brother Huan.
The previously pitch-black sea of clouds had dispersed, and though it was still too early to say Flying Eagle Fort was out of danger, it was at least a good sign.
The old Daoist looked into the distance. Using a rough observation technique of his sect's Dao methods, he saw that the dense yin energy within Flying Eagle Fort had almost completely dissipated.
So he said to Huan Chang, trying to dissuade him, "Don't rush back. It seems the tide has turned in our favor. At this moment, you absolutely must not make any unexpected moves."
Huan Chang tightened his grip on the saber at his waist, veins bulging on the back of his hand, and said sullenly, "My parents are still in danger. As their son, how can I stand by and do nothing? That would be unfilial!"
The old man laughed softly, without impatience, and explained, "Needless sacrifice is not true courage, Huan Chang. To be a man like your grandfather—only when there is truly no retreat, only when righteousness demands it, do you perform the feat of splitting a spirit guardian statue with one saber stroke! Even us cultivators living in seclusion, upon hearing such a story, would applaud and call him a hero. That kind of courage and boldness is not the bravery of a common man, not running off to throw your life away."
Huan Chang nodded silently.
This young martial artist, on whom the clan placed great hopes, was not one to dwell on stubbornness. If his heart were not broad, as the next fort master of Flying Eagle Fort, he would never have tolerated the growing influence of the outsider Tao Xieyang within the fort.
Huan Shu gently tugged at Huan Chang's sleeve.
Huan Chang looked up and smiled. "I'm fine, don't worry."
The old man felt some relief.
Such was the true flavor of the jianghu.
The young Daoist Huang Shang murmured, "Master, could those two outsiders really slay that demon in the sky?"
The old Daoist gave a wry smile and sighed. "To have laid out such a grand scheme, overturning the feng shui and fortune of a hundred miles of land, that demon is most likely a Golden Core realm grand demon. The art of moving mountains—not even I, and not even your genius master's master at the peak of his cultivation, could do that. If those two young men can drive away the enemy, that's already the best we can hope for. Don't even think about them successfully killing him."
Now that they had left the danger zone, the old man's tightly wound nerves relaxed, and he immediately showed signs of exhaustion. This battle had drained him mentally and physically.
The old Daoist leaned against a large tree. "Unless a high-ranking elder from the Fuji Sect gets word and rushes over—and one with a high enough seniority—it would be very difficult to stop that demonic overlord controlling the sea of clouds."
The three of them wore grim expressions. Huan Shu bit her lip, her emotions especially conflicted.
Her parents were still in danger, and outside the Ancestral Hall, there was a fool who had willingly chosen to die.
Even if she and her brother managed to survive, their future was still bleak. Where to go from here? Huan Shu truly didn't know.
Huang Shang looked dejected.
He had worked hard at his Dao cultivation for several years, never daring to slack off for a moment. He thought he had achieved some small success and could handle any situation, yet here, in what seemed like a paradise like Flying Eagle Fort, he had nearly lost his life.
The old man broke the heavy silence. After taking a deep breath, he smiled. "But don't worry. As long as this demon is forced to retreat in defeat, it will likely draw the attention of the Fuji Sect. For a hundred years, that demon won't dare to stir up trouble again. The Fuji Sect has two Dao companions who are immortals. If they are angered, either one of them could come down from the mountain and annihilate the demon with ease!"
As if still not satisfied, the old man made a flipping motion with his hand and emphasized, "With ease!"
---
Outside the Ancestral Hall, Tao Xieyang was filled with anxiety.
But not over Flying Eagle Fort turning into a living hell.
Rather, he was worried that the clan patriarch who had thrown him into this place when he was young would suffer too great a loss in this battle, hindering Tao Xieyang's own plan to eventually become the number one grandmaster in Chenxiang Kingdom.
He wanted to take the beauty he admired into his arms—Huan Shu, whom he had watched grow from a little girl into a maiden and then into a graceful woman. He genuinely liked her.
He wanted the beauty. He also wanted the jianghu.
Who knows—maybe in the future, he might have the chance to see the scenery from the mountaintop.
Occasionally, using the excuse of traveling the jianghu for the Huan clan, he would secretly meet with the patriarch. The patriarch once taught him that anything he liked, he should grasp firmly in his own hands. If he truly couldn't hold it, either stop thinking about it, or destroy it.
Tao Xieyang deeply agreed.
With no one around, the mask slipped from Tao Xieyang's face. His expression flickered between gloom and uncertainty. He pushed aside his chaotic thoughts and finally, finding the now-useless stone lions irritating, he delivered two saber strikes, splitting them in half. They crashed to the ground.
After venting his pent-up anger, the young man immediately realized he had made a mistake. If the patriarch's plans failed and he had to retreat to his lair to recover, such a petulant act could easily leave traces and tip off that damned old man. So, with meticulous care, Tao Xieyang strode forward and used the hilt of his saber, infused with pure true qi, to methodically smash the fallen stone lion statues into pieces.
Then he hurried toward the main building of Flying Eagle Fort. Halfway there, he struck his own chest with his palm, making himself spit blood everywhere before he stopped.
The mountains are dangerous; when the wind is strong, men easily fall. The jianghu is treacherous; when the water is deep, boats easily capsize.
The most difficult thing to calm is the human heart.
To keep the heart steady and sincere—how hard that is.