Chapter 542: Winding Path, Every Person a Wild Cultivator

Chapter 542: Winding Path, Every Person a Wild Cultivator

Sun Daoren followed Huang Shi on the treasure hunt and made considerable gains.

The two worked together fairly well, moving separately but without letting the distance grow too large. Sun Daoren was afraid that if he strayed too far from Huang Shi, he would be unable to extricate himself from danger with his meager Daoist cultivation. Huang Shi, on the other hand, didn’t want this tall, gaunt Daoist who had come to him voluntarily to slip away after obtaining a valuable treasure.

Inside a two-story pavilion, Sun Daoren found that most of the numerous collected books had turned to ashes. However, he discovered a Daoist secret scripture that could not be opened or read. It still emitted a five-colored, flowing light, and even wrapped in a Daoist robe, its treasure light spilled forth. Sun Daoren couldn’t recognize a single one of those gold characters in ancient seal script—no way around it; only lineage-registered immortal masters with a proper transmission sequence could have access to those long-lost archaic seal scripts and Zhou-dynasty characters.

When he met up with Huang Shi, Sun Daoren was a bit embarrassed. Having a treasure that was too good was also a problem.

Huang Shi smiled, pretending not to notice.

Sun Daoren asked, “Brother Huang, have you had any fortune in obtaining something?”

Huang Shi nodded. “Just barely.”

The two separated again, each continuing to seek out other heavenly materials, earthly treasures, and immortal artifacts.

Huang Shi lingered a moment longer, glancing at the tall, gaunt Daoist’s retreating back, his smile deepening.

Earlier, Huang Shi had been in a small pavilion. There he had seen two desiccated skeletons sitting facing each other, playing Go. The stone table had a Go board carved into it, just seventeen lines wide. The game was in its final stage, with pieces scattered across the board. Huang Shi had no interest whatsoever in the game of Go, but seeing so many stones placed, he could tell that the two players of that era hadn’t been far from a conclusion. Pity he couldn’t be bothered to give the game any more than a glance.

Within that small pavilion, Huang Shi not only obtained two dharma robes but also the two jars of Go stones. The stones had a natural, graceful curve. Huang Shi couldn’t identify their material, but under the light, the translucent white stones revealed a faint golden hue. The black stones were opaque only in the center, and when light shone on them, a ring of dark green halo rippled around them. Anyone who wasn’t blind could see the stones were precious.

The two dharma robes were still heavily damaged, but those two jars of Go stones had actually turned misfortune into fortune. Like ordinary stones worn smooth by mountain streams for centuries, they had become even more refined, round, and pleasing to the eye.

When Huang Shi gathered the black and white stones from the carved stone board, the white stones were scorching hot, as if burning his soul, while the black stones were bone-chillingly cold. After quickly picking up two stones and tossing them into the jars, Huang Shi found that his fingers bore no injury at all. His heart was filled with joy—these stone jars were undoubtedly immortal artifacts of high rank. Ordinary offensive spiritual artifacts, even when fully activated by a cultivator, might barely wound the physique of a Golden Body Realm martial artist, but they couldn’t shake a cultivator’s soul like that. Yet just lifting and holding those stones for a moment had made Huang Shi unwilling to keep holding them.

From this, Huang Shi concluded that the stone table, which had supported the Go board for centuries, must be a heavy immortal artifact. Otherwise, there was no way the stones could have rested so peacefully for so long without the board being damaged at all.

However, Huang Shi had no intention of carrying a stone table around.

He had wanted to destroy the stone table at the time—“If I can’t have it, then no one else should get this opportunity either.” But when he slammed his palm down heavily, the table didn’t budge. Not only that, it seemed to be a table that absorbed fist force. This only made Huang Shi more regretful that he couldn’t take it. Paired with the two stone jars, it would certainly fetch an astronomical price.

Over at that pavilion, Chen Ping’an appeared silently. On the stone Go board, perhaps because the stones had been rooted there for so many years, they had left a trace of color, seeping into the table. There were still faint gold and dark green ripples. Chen Ping’an swept his gaze over the residual spiritual energy on the board, closed his eyes, and silently memorized the game. Opening his eyes, he thought a good memory was better than a bad pen. He took out brush and paper from his crammed storage artifact and recorded this ancient game on paper.

The board was seventeen lines wide, not the nineteen lines that had long been popular in the Haoran World. That itself was a clue.

And many opening patterns and life-and-death sequences could reveal hidden truths about the era.

The martial artist Huang Shi paid no attention to these crumbs at all. Chen Ping’an noticed them and cared, but he knew he couldn’t, like Lu Tai or Cui Dongshan, deduce the approximate era just by glancing at a Go game.

Chen Ping’an envied that mountain-top technique called “Sleeve Universe.”

Along with “Viewing Mountains and Rivers in the Palm,” these were the two cultivator divine abilities Chen Ping’an most wanted to learn.

But both of these superior divine abilities could only be barely mastered by Nascent Soul Earth Immortals. To become proficient, to reach the pinnacle of mastery, one needed the Upper Five Realms.

Chen Ping’an felt that this pavilion was an excellent feng shui location for cultivation and refining qi. The two jars of Go stones had gathered an enormous amount of spiritual energy that had persisted for a long time, the essence of water fortune. And it was far less conspicuous than the area around the ruined Daoist temple covered with green bricks.

The spiritual energy here was dense—not to be missed.

So Chen Ping’an took off his bundle and placed it on the table. He then removed the Hundred-Eye Taotie Dharma Robe and put on the highest-ranked Golden Sweet Wine Dharma Robe first. Finally, he put on even the Snowflake Dharma Robe taken from the female ghost of Funi City, and then put the black dharma robe back on top. With three dharma robes on, he could use them to absorb and store more of the water fortune spiritual energy.

Chen Ping’an leaped up to the top of the pavilion and sat cross-legged. Using the Tablet-Carrying Talisman, he suppressed his breathing, as still as a mountain, trying to keep the movements of the two Dao friends, Huang Shi and Sun Daoren, in view.

From within the pavilion, the board’s spiritual energy, tinged with faint gold and dark green, was drawn in threads, like a dragon drawing water, gathering on the pavilion’s roof and slowly seeping into the dharma robes.

This showed how pure the spiritual energy on the board was.

Under Chen Ping’an’s deliberate guidance, the Golden Sweet Wine Dharma Robe was the first to be satisfied. The water fortune spiritual energy that had been drawn by the stones and lingered in the pavilion for years was now seventy or eighty percent absorbed, bringing it roughly to the same level as the spiritual energy density in other halls. Chen Ping’an hesitated, then did not drain the place completely—to avoid leaving traces. If you take everything for yourself and exhaust all the good luck, you have to consider whether you’re turning fortune into disaster.

After all, the real tests would come next, as various immortals successively climbed the mountain, followed by a series of scheming and conflicts.

When it comes to luck, if you can spare a bit, then spare it.

Ultimately, making a little less money for a short while is for the sake of making more money over the long term.

Only when the big picture is settled can you talk about gains and losses.

Next, Chen Ping’an changed his strategy. Instead of keeping Huang Shi under surveillance, he shifted to secretly tailing Sun Daoren.

If, before obtaining that Daoist book, Sun Daoren had been single-mindedly following Huang Shi, now it seemed even if Sun Daoren wanted to bolt, Huang Shi wouldn’t let him.

Since this mountain wasn’t a proper temple or monastery, the central axis was the white jade steps that led all the way from the mountain gate to the summit.

It was more like an immortal sect without distinct inclination toward any of the Three Teachings or Hundred Schools. What puzzled Chen Ping’an the most was that there was no Ancestral Hall.

Especially above the halfway point, there were both scattered thatched huts and majestic halls and mansions, all jumbled together without any pattern.

After entering and exiting various buildings, Sun Daoren subtly distanced himself from Huang Shi. Every time he passed by a winding corridor or vermilion railing, he no longer swaggered but instead hunched over and moved quickly, trying to keep his figure hidden.

In the end, he ducked into a secluded little hall. Its plaque had fallen to the ground, broken and barely legible—the words “Water Hall” could be discerned.

Inside the hall was enshrined a female deity statue, with colorful ribbons fluttering, giving a sense of ethereal ascension.

Using his Daoist robe as a bundle, Sun Daoren repeatedly passed through halls and corridors, entering and exiting buildings, gaining a lot. Anything that hadn’t turned to ashes—large or small objects, antiques and curios, calligraphy and paintings, rubbings, scholarly items—he shoved indiscriminately into his bundle and carried on his back. Even the dharma robe he had traded with Huang Shi for a censer was now slung sideways as a bundle. A truly heavy load, assuming he could live to leave this immortal mansion.

Sun Daoren shut the hall’s door. But after some thought, he remembered that none of the buildings he had passed through seemed to have had their doors closed, so he quietly opened it again, to avoid the obviousness of “no silver here,” which would give him away to Huang Shi.

Chen Ping’an, hidden by the Tablet-Carrying Talisman, sat on a rooftop ridge, watching with vicarious anxiety for this fellow Sun. Isn’t this still just like stealing money and then planting a wooden sign, indirectly telling Huang Shi, “Sun Daoren didn’t steal any money”? Friend Sun, at least run a bit more, open a few more doors, pretend to have crossed that central axis of steps and fled toward Young Master Qin of the Jiayou Kingdom. Otherwise, if you stop here, Huang Shi, as long as he has a brain, will still start his search from this little hall. If it were Chen Ping’an, from the very beginning, he would have either opened or closed all those doors.

But throughout this hidden tracking, Sun Daoren had to make constant decisions—replacing items in his two bundles, throwing some away. The tall, gaunt Daoist couldn’t tell whether new items were better or old ones were more valuable, so in the end he went purely by visual appeal.

Chen Ping’an followed behind, picking up the discards.

On Huang Shi’s side, if there wasn’t enough room in his bundle, he would punch whatever he discarded into pieces. If it couldn’t be smashed, he would reconsider and perhaps swap something else.

Most of the immortal legacies here were at the brink of shattering. Repairing them might cost a fortune in immortal money, but smashing them was easy for Huang Shi, a Golden Body Realm martial artist with solid foundations. If a discarded item didn’t shatter with one punch, he would naturally take it back. This was a unique method of appraisal.

The magnitude of this treasure-hunting opportunity was evident.

In typical cases of immortal caves newly exposed to daylight, hordes of wild cultivators would fight to the death, and each might end up with three or two immortal artifacts—enough to make them ecstatic.

Huang Shi was still unsatisfied.

Sure enough, after suddenly losing track of Sun Daoren, Huang Shi gave up his own scavenging and followed the path of open doors, hurriedly searching until he found this little hall.

When Huang Shi approached, Chen Ping’an no longer sat upright. He lay down on the rooftop ridge, held his breath, and ceased all signs of breathing.

Huang Shi glanced at the plaque on the ground and laughed, “Daoist Sun, inside the Water Hall, another heavy treasure? How about I lend a hand? Don’t worry, according to our prior agreement, whoever opens the door first gets all the treasures inside, no matter how valuable.”

Inside the Water Hall, Sun Daoren trembled, silently praying to the Three Pure Ancestors of Daoism to make Huang Shi leave quickly.

Probably because Sun Daoren wasn’t a disciple of the three Daoist lineages, his prayers were useless. Huang Shi stepped directly over the threshold, laughing, “Daoist Sun, what’s this? Gotten some treasures and now you’re turning your back on an ally? The one we need to guard against is that Di Yuanfeng with his dharma blade weapon, isn’t it? I’m just a five-realm martial artist—how could I be so formidable that Brother Sun needs to be this wary?”

Having no place to hide, Sun Daoren had to come out from behind the statue, grinning sheepishly, “Brother Huang, you jest.”

Huang Shi teased, “We’ve only walked through about twenty or thirty percent of this immortal mansion. There’s still so much ground to cover. Not to mention, earlier at the summit temple, we saw that the back mountain still had great scenery. Why did Brother Sun discard that dharma robe bundle so early? I recall that when entering a temple to burn incense, retracing one’s steps is not ideal.”

Sun Daoren had no choice but to backtrack. Behind the statue, on the ground, he picked up the bundle he had carefully placed earlier, slung it over his shoulder, forehead beaded with sweat. “Brother Huang, how about we join forces and focus more on guarding against that Di Yuanfeng? Wouldn’t that be better? If we two fall out, Di Yuanfeng will just scoop up the spoils.”

Huang Shi nodded. “Let me have a look at that scripture that’s glowing through your robe?”

Sun Daoren groaned, “Brother Huang, you already got that censer. Don’t you think you should quit while you’re ahead? Besides, this scripture of mine is a Daoist classic—it wouldn’t be very useful to you.”

Huang Shi smiled. “Useful or not, that’s not for you to decide, Daoist Sun.”

Sun Daoren’s face darkened. “Huang Shi, then I’ll give you some advice too. I am, after all, a Viewing Sea Realm Daoist who excels at close-quarters combat.”

Huang Shi said, “If you weren’t, that would be a problem. I know your trump card is that already-shattered pagoda bell for defense. Too bad it’s gone. Other than that, you have one offensive natal object. But do you know that I am actually a six-realm martial artist? Killing you in three punches would be like taking something out of my pocket?”

Sun Daoren was stunned. “Sixth-realm martial artist?!”

Then he sneered, “Anyone can bluff. What if I said I’m a Golden Core Earth Immortal? Would you be scared?”

Huang Shi was about to punch this old Daoist to death when footsteps suddenly sounded outside the Water Hall. Turning his head, Huang Shi saw that black-robed old man, Brother Chen, who hadn’t gone to Di Yuanfeng’s side to hunt treasures.

Huang Shi glanced at the bundle slung across him—it seemed to contain some glazed tiles and... a few green bricks from the temple?

Was he too timid, or just unlucky?

Rushing all the way here, crashing straight into the Ghost Gate, and he had nothing else to show for it?

If that were the case, Huang Shi felt that punching such a pitiful wretch to death would be a waste of energy.

Sun Daoren, seeing the hastily arrived Dao friend, felt both joy and frustration.

Why couldn’t this Brother Chen have listened? Well, never mind—now that it had come to this, see if there was a chance to join forces to prevent Huang Shi from hogging all the treasures they had worked so hard to find.

When he saw the meager contents of the other man’s bundle, Sun Daoren thought, if worst came to worst, the two of them could escape together, and he would gift Brother Chen a few treasures that didn’t look valuable.

Chen Ping’an wiped the sweat from his brow. “I’ve been searching for you two all this way. I skimmed over the rooftops and saw two groups climbing the mountain. I hurried down. One group—two people, a young man and woman—looked like registered immortal masters we shouldn’t mess with. Both were wearing dharma robes. The second group is that Little Marquis of the Beiting Kingdom—five men. One is guarding the arched bridge at the mountain’s foot, and one went straight up to the summit temple, clearly trying to block the main path. The remaining three are searching the mountain slowly. They’ll run into us sooner or later. What do we do?”

Huang Shi’s mood turned heavy.

At the broken-down rest pavilion by the winding path, there were two pure martial artists, both genuine Grandmasters. If he had to handle them alone, he’d need to go all out.

With the other three on top of that, Huang Shi didn’t think he could escape with his treasures.

So the situation had changed. He couldn’t kill the two Dao friends here and now—at least not yet.

So Huang Shi laughed. “Just joking with Brother Sun. Don’t mind me.”

Sun Daoren huffed, “Brother Huang, it’s better not to make jokes that hurt feelings.”

Huang Shi felt a simmering anger but held back. He nearly couldn’t resist just killing this Sun Daoren first. After all, this so-called wild monk who claimed to be good at close combat was far inferior to that black-robed old man who specialized in long-range talismans. If he killed Sun Daoren, he could temporarily entrust the treasures to the black-robed old man—he didn’t believe Brother Chen wouldn’t be tempted!

Sun Daoren suddenly spoke up loudly, “Brother Chen, can we make a deal? Can you spare me a few offensive talismans?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “I can sell them.”

Sun Daoren was speechless.

Huang Shi frowned, then relaxed. He had almost forgotten—Sun Daoren was also a half-baked Daoist cultivator. He might not be able to draw talismans, but he could still wield them. That wasn’t necessarily bad news. With both Sun Daoren and the black-robed old man holding offensive talismans, combined with his own Golden Body Realm martial prowess, and if they met up with Di Yuanfeng, the four of them together would be nothing to sneeze at.

Huang Shi walked out of the Water Hall’s threshold, stepping aside for the black-robed old man who had already stopped, giving him space. Then, with his peripheral vision fixed on both of these frail-looking qi cultivators, he smiled. “Whether we can hold on to our opportunities depends on how sincerely we cooperate. I’ll say it in advance—I am a six-realm martial artist, that’s no lie. Once I start fighting, I won’t hold back. But as repayment for helping you leave this place, each of you must give me one opportunity.”

Chen Ping’an patted his bundle, which vaguely showed the outline of bricks, and said cheerfully, “Take it, it’s yours.”

Huang Shi’s eyelids twitched.

Sun Daoren gritted his teeth and said, “Other than that Daoist scripture, you can take anything you like from the two bundles—large and small!”

Huang Shi hesitated, then nodded. “It’s settled!”

Chen Ping’an stepped over the threshold, exchanged a glance with Sun Daoren, and without need for mental communication, they went behind the statue of the enshrined goddess.

They both crouched down. Sun Daoren asked, “Brother Chen, how many types of offensive talismans do you have? And how many of each?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Three types. Aside from the most precious trump card thunder talisman I mentioned earlier—the Five Thunder Orthodoxy Talisman—there’s the Horizontal Flow River-Cutting Talisman and the Gathering Earth Mountain Talisman. From the names alone, Brother Sun can guess they’re top-grade rare talismans. As for how many...”

Seeing the other hesitate, Sun Daoren grew impatient. “Except for that thunder talisman—keep that for self-preservation—I’ll take all the rest!”

Standing before this Brother Chen, Sun Daoren still had plenty of confidence.

As for those ridiculously imposing talisman names—Brother Chen, are you trying to fool a child?

Chen Ping’an asked, “Brother Sun, do you have that much immortal money? These immortal treasure talismans I nearly lost half my life grabbing from other immortal mansion ruins—each one isn’t cheap.”

Sun Daoren was puzzled. “Didn’t you say they were talismans you drew yourself?”

Chen Ping’an said, “Brother Sun believes that? If I could draw these kinds of killing talismans myself, why would I be a wild dog scraping for food as a rogue cultivator? I’d have long been a honored guest at top-tier immortal mountains like the Caique Sect or Cloud City, lying around enjoying life. Why would I come here?”

Sun Daoren winced, rubbing his cheek. “Brother Chen, just tell me how many more talismans you have. I’ll buy them all.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Brother Sun, you’re a senior, but business is business. First, let your junior see some immortal money. Every time I sell one of these life-saving rare talismans, my heart aches until my liver trembles.”

Sun Daoren snapped, “Brother Chen, you should be reasonable!”

Chen Ping’an shot back, “Brother Sun, business should be fair!”

Sun Daoren was disheartened.

Damn, this Brother Chen wasn’t easy to fool either.

After some deliberation, Sun Daoren opened the bundle made from his dharma robe and spread it on the ground. He said meaningfully, “Three each of the Water and Earth talismans—sell me six. Then you can pick one mountain-top artifact of immense value from what’s here.”

Chen Ping’an pulled out two ordinary yellow-paper talismans from his sleeve, then put the hand holding the talismans behind his back. With his other hand, he began rifling through the collection. “Two talismans, a matched pair. I’ll trade them with Brother Sun for one piece of broken immortal mansion relic.”

Sun Daoren’s face turned ashen, and he started to roll up the bundle.

Only then did Chen Ping’an place those two talismans on one corner of the bundle. “Wait until I’ve picked one item, then I’ll give Brother Sun two more talismans.”

Sun Daoren relented. “Brother Chen, I’m getting the short end of this deal.”

Chen Ping’an stared at the more than twenty immortal items, his eyes drifting indecisively as he carefully examined each one. While looking, he grumbled, “Brother Sun, since you’re from the Thunder God Manor on Infant Mountain, why didn’t you bring some thunder talismans down the mountain? You think you can coast on being a registered immortal master—and now you’re blaming me?”

Sun Daoren, reminded of his own registered status, stroked his beard and chuckled. “A journey down the mountain is full of unexpected things. You can’t predict everything with finger calculations. If you could calculate everything flawlessly, there would be no need to go down and hone your Dao heart.”

Chen Ping’an nodded and continued choosing.

He took an immediate liking to two items.

After looking through them, he liked another one.

The one that caught his eye first and most, he thought, would be best as a gift. Its rank didn’t matter much to him.

He could give it to Li Huai.

It was a palm-sized wooden carved deity statue.

It depicted a Daoist Yuan Jun figure, with a face similar to the female deity statue in the Water Hall. Elegant figure, slender and graceful, slender fingers forming a hand seal, expression serene, wearing a crown and robe so exquisite it looked like real brocade, with the hem hanging down to the base.

The base had sixteen tiny seal-script characters: “Contemplate the clarity within, no longer deceived by external demonic veils.”

Chen Ping’an also noticed a round, ancient-looking silk fan that seemed quite valuable. He could put it in the shop at Spring Dew Garden on Old Locust Street, or later in the Bundle Shop at Oxhorn Mountain. Maybe they’d encounter a spendthrift—the world’s female cultivators shop much like mortal women; they’re more willing than men to spend a fortune if they like something, without caring about logic or rank.

The last item was the one that surprised Chen Ping’an the most.

It was a pair of bamboo-woven little cages threaded with golden silk. The green bamboo was lush and dripping with color, but like most items here, they were covered in fine cracks that greatly damaged their appearance. Each cage was the size of a fist, looking like cricket cages from the marketplace, with the inscriptions “Fighting Flood Dragon” and “Hidden Coiling.”

Seeing them, Chen Ping’an’s forehead broke out in sweat for the first time.

He was genuinely nervous.

He felt that if he had a chance, he really should travel around with Brother Sun more often, exploring famous mountains and seeking hidden treasures.

Sun Daoren sensed something was off. This was supposed to be a sure-fire, profitable deal—so why did Brother Chen look so awkward? Could it be that he had just realized the truth, that no matter how valuable these items in his bundle were, an extra talisman on hand could mean one more chance at survival? That made Sun Daoren’s forehead sweat as well. He reached out to snatch those two talismans on the sly, thinking, “Friend Chen, with a friendship like ours, two talismans are fine.” He pinched the talismans and slid them into his sleeve, breathing easier for a moment. He was about to say that he’d skip the other two.

But unexpectedly, Brother Chen took the silk fan and—keeping his word—pulled out two more Water and Earth talismans from his sleeve, handing them to Sun Daoren.

Then he took off his side-slung bundle, removed a folded bundle from among the green bricks and glazed tiles, gently shook it open, and placed the fan inside.

Sun Daoren watched with a mix of surprise and admiration. Brother Chen carried so many blue cloth bundles on him—he was truly an old hand at this.

Chen Ping’an then produced four more talismans, placed them on top of the dharma robe Sun Daoren had spread on the ground, and added the wooden Yuan Jun statue to his own bundle.

Sun Daoren’s mood lifted. He grinned. “Brother Chen, how about four more talismans? Feel free to pick anything on the ground, take your time.”

Chen Ping’an hesitated, dawdling, then finally pulled out a stack of more than twenty talismans from his sleeve. Among them, three had a hint of gold—three golden talismans!

Sun Daoren watched this friend clutching the stack, looking left and right.

It must be Brother Chen’s last stash of talismans.

Sun Daoren swallowed hard, telling himself to stay calm, to be composed. But still, his smile turned stiff. He tested the waters in a low voice, “Brother Chen, is there something else you’ve taken a liking to? Good things come in pairs. I can do a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Just give me four offensive talismans.”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “No, after selling eight talismans, I mostly have barrier-breaking talismans left. That won’t do.”

Sun Daoren reminded him, “Brother Chen, after we leave here, don’t you want to return to the Thunder God Manor on Infant Mountain with me and become a registered immortal master with a backing?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “Whether we can leave here alive is still up in the air.”

Sun Daoren sighed regretfully. “It seems Brother Chen’s Dao-seeking heart isn’t solid enough.”

Chen Ping’an glanced once more at the bundle spread on the ground, then turned around. It seemed he was about to take out four offensive talismans to buy one more item.

Sun Daoren reached out and grabbed the man’s wrist, smiling. “Brother Chen, I only want two talismans from you—one to pay for that item, and one as your entrance fee into my Thunder God Manor. Just two, how about it?”

The black-robed old man laughed, “Brother Sun, you have a good eye!”

Sun Daoren stroked his beard, still smiling. “Fair business, business fair. This chance won’t come again, Brother Chen. You need to be careful, cherish this hard-won Dao affinity.”

The other hesitated.

Outside the Water Hall, Huang Shi, growing impatient, warned, “You two old fellows planning to live in here for a few days?”

In the end, the black-robed old man handed Sun Daoren two golden-material talismans. Only one of them was a thunder talisman; the other was a landscape barrier-breaking talisman.

But Sun Daoren knew when to stop, only teasing Brother Chen for being ungenerous.

Of that stack of talismans, only one golden talisman remained—presumably the other’s private stash for offense. Sun Daoren didn’t press. At least leave him one life-saving charm, right?

Nevertheless, Sun Daoren was now even more convinced that this Brother Chen, who claimed to be from a small Daoist temple in the Wuling Kingdom, was not a true Daoist cultivator proficient in talismanic arts.

Chen Ping’an took the pair of bamboo fish cages, whose nature Sun Daoren couldn’t even begin to guess, and was about to take another item when Sun Daoren cheerfully packed up. “The two little bamboo cages count as two items.”

Without waiting for the other to bargain, Sun Daoren rolled up his bundle and slung it over his shoulder.

Chen Ping’an turned his back to Sun Daoren. As he did, he quietly stowed the three items into his storage artifact. Then he replaced a few glazed tiles and one green brick into the new side-slung bundle, crossing the two bundles over his body.

When the two stepped out of the Water Hall, Huang Shi’s face was sour. “There’s been some fighting on the other side of the steps. Hard to tell who’s clashed with whom.”

Now there were three groups mixed together on the mountain.

The four of them were probably the first to enter this mansion’s secret realm.

Huang Shi had no idea who the second group of registered immortal masters—those two young men and women—were. Cloud City cultivators were the most likely, since Caique Sect only had female cultivators.

The third group was the trickiest.

The best case scenario was that the two young registered immortal masters had gotten into a conflict with the Beiting Kingdom Little Marquis’s faction.

If it was Di Yuanfeng who had clashed first, that wasn’t good news.

Given Di Yuanfeng’s nature, if he got into trouble, he would definitely divert the trouble to Huang Shi’s side. If Di Yuanfeng was cornered, his first thought would be to drag the three of them along as company on the Yellow Springs Road.

Suddenly, Huang Shi leaped onto the rooftop. Over by the caisson ceiling area, figures were falling like dumplings into a pot—no fewer than forty. And it seemed more would keep dropping in.

The commotion was far greater than the intermittent fighting on the other side.

Huang Shi was a bit confounded. A chaotic mix like this, from his personal perspective, was more of a benefit than a harm.

As long as he could find an escape route, grab Sun Daoren’s Daoist scripture, he could just vanish.

He was a pure martial artist—he had no greed for the spiritual energy here.

Let everyone else fight and kill in desperation; that had nothing to do with him.

Huang Shi said, “We won’t take the main steps. Let’s go around to the back mountain.”

Chen Ping’an asked, “Aren’t we waiting for that Young Master Qin?”

Sun Daoren sighed. Truly a greenhorn who didn’t know the wickedness of the world.

From the business done inside the Water Hall, Sun Daoren had already seen this friend’s cautious nature—actually quite frivolous and unreliable.

Huang Shi laughed. “Brother Chen can go and say hello to Young Master Qin. I’ll wait here with Sun Daoren.”

Sun Daoren saw the man’s expression turn awkward, and he said no more.

Sun Daoren then sent a mental message: “Brother Chen, remember—too many words bring mistakes. We’re in a mountain of gold and silver; let each seek his own fortune. Don’t add extra strokes to the snake. Maybe Young Master Qin has already gotten immense fortune over there and doesn’t want to see you. If you go, wouldn’t that put him in a difficult position?”

Chen Ping’an smiled. “As expected of Brother Sun—prudent and steady.”

For now, Chen Ping’an’s best plan was to first find an outsider to determine the flow of time in this small world, to make sure he wouldn’t miss his journey along the great river. Then he could stay here for a while, try to coexist peacefully with all the other immortals, and steadily cultivate, filling his Water Mansion and Mountain Shrine acupoints with spiritual energy.

He could also absorb as much water fortune essence from the temple’s green bricks as possible.

At the third realm, his Water Mansion and Mountain Shrine had limited “water storage.” As for his other qi mansions, because of that one mouthful of pure true qi, they couldn’t hold much spiritual energy—probably all combined, they couldn’t match the Hundred-Eye Taotie Dharma Robe’s gathering power. But even if the Water Mansion and Mountain Shrine were full to overflowing, that was fine—he could draw talismans here.

Using the best immortal cinnabar from Spring Dew Garden, on golden-material talisman paper, he would consume as much spiritual energy as possible, making higher-quality talismans.

Cultivating qi, studying talismans, earning immortal money—three birds with one stone.

He could even use this spiritual energy to attempt opening a third key acupoint, making room for his third Five Elements natal object in the future.

Because Chen Ping’an had a hunch: the wood-element natal object already had a prospect.

In fact, from another perspective, being inside this small world wasn’t entirely bad for Chen Ping’an, who was currently in the Northern Juju Continent.

It would sever his connection with He Xiaoliang of the Qingliang Sect.

When she had followed him into the Ghost Valley at Skeleton Beach and lurked near him at Jingguan City, and after his tribulation thunder had implicated her, she had to actively cut that mysterious connection and likely hidden herself inside a small cave heaven to avoid being dragged down again—the same principle applied.

So everything gained or lost within this small world was solely Chen Ping’an’s own affair.

That was actually good.

The worst-case scenario was Chen Ping’an cutting through the world’s restrictions with his sword and making a clean getaway.

Even disregarding the glazed tiles and temple green bricks, just those two small, exquisite bamboo-woven fish cages had already deeply surprised him.

They were very likely Dragon King Baskets!

Even if these were the two lowest-grade, most damaged small baskets, they were still worthy of investment to repair and restore, and then used to catch flood dragons.

Then came the question: should he keep watching over Sun Daoren?

Could he really feel satisfied and at ease after giving Sun Daoren two golden-material talismans?

Or would it be more expedient to simply eliminate the root of this accidental trouble—the martial artist Huang Shi?

Should one judge by actions or by intentions? Or both?

Gu Can didn’t need to worry about this.

Ma Kuxuan didn’t need to.

All the wild cultivators in the world probably didn’t need to.

As for Cui Dongshan, Lu Tai, Zhong Kui, Qi Jinglong—they would each have their own choices. Even if those choices coincided with or differed from Chen Ping’an’s, none of them would find it as difficult as he did.

When Chen Ping’an truly set foot on the path of cultivation and became half a Daoist, he discovered that all the principles that had sustained him to this day

truly felt like a burden.

Like when he was a child climbing the mountain, carrying that big backpack on his back. Even before it was filled with herbs, it already felt heavy.

But the difficulty lay in that precisely these burdens from back then had carried him all the way to today.

To make things difficult for oneself—that was the hardest part of climbing the mountain of Dao.

Just then, Sun Daoren sent a mental message: “Brother Chen, be careful. This Huang Shi is hiding his true strength—he’s a sixth-realm martial artist. You don’t have many offensive talismans left. I’m still decent at fighting. When the time comes, just move back. But don’t forget to support me from afar. Don’t be stingy with talismans—just hurl any junk you have at Huang Shi. But try not to hit me.”

Chen Ping’an was taken aback, his mind clearing. He smiled and replied, “Brother Sun, rest assured. To tell you the truth, besides talisman arts, I’m also quite good at fighting enemies.”

Sun Daoren sighed helplessly. “Brother Chen, don’t talk like that. Hearing this kind of bragging doesn’t reassure me one bit—it just makes me anxious.”

Chen Ping’an laughed. “Brother Sun comes from an eminent immortal clan, profound in Daoist arts. Maybe you won’t even need my help.”

Sun Daoren said no more. Inside, he thought, being flattered by this shallow-sighted fellow gives me no sense of accomplishment.

Huang Shi’s instincts were sharp. He could guess the two were communicating secretly.

But he didn’t think two Daoist wastes could come up with anything useful. How to die? How to laugh arm-in-arm at the Ghost Gate?

Chen Ping’an, having understood a few things, felt that the sky was high, the earth vast, green mountains and waters all pleasing.

But then, a glance made him frown.

He shook his head, and the strange phenomenon disappeared.

Chen Ping’an couldn’t help but warn Sun Daoren, “Brother Sun, be careful.”

Sun Daoren laughed. “Friend, spare me the grand talk and useless chatter.”

—

On the other side of the steps.

It was indeed Di Yuanfeng who had clashed with the two registered immortal masters from Cloud City.

The two young Cloud City disciples, a man and a woman, had inadvertently found an ancient immortal’s cultivation site. Through a lucky chance, they triggered a mechanism from a calligraphy scroll and discovered a set of “golden branches, jade leaves, treasure light crystalline” remains—a skeletal relic.

Such radiance, undimmed for hundreds or even thousands of years, could only be from a Nascent Soul Earth Immortal, or someone who had obtained a shocking fortune, like the legendary remains of a Jade Purity Realm cultivator.

Immortal Realm remains would be even more extraordinary—flesh would not decay, and they wouldn’t turn to bone.

The dharma robe on the remains was nearly flawless, with no damage to its appearance.

Originally, Di Yuanfeng had been secretly tailing the two inexperienced young cultivators, not expecting much. But this one look showed him the real prize—the remains alone were precious, and the dharma robe’s quality gave it away. On top of that, the young male cultivator had taken the remains and robe into a white jade brush tube wreathed in mist. That was clearly a legendary

immortal storage artifact.

Di Yuanfeng sized up their cultivation and decided he could take them. He hid at the exit, waiting for a chance to strike once, take the treasure, and flee. A brush-shaped storage artifact, plus the immortal skeleton, plus the dharma robe—three heavy treasures.

But when his vicious blade came down, the young male cultivator’s dharma robe was damaged and he was seriously injured, but he still managed to protect the brush tube.

Di Yuanfeng was about to follow up and kill the panicking, useless female cultivator.

But an old cultivator suddenly appeared. Not only did he repel Di Yuanfeng, he almost trapped Di Yuanfeng in that thatched hut where the immortal had passed.

Di Yuanfeng used his ancestral dharma blade to break through a spell cage and fled, wounded.

He cursed inwardly. Damned registered immortal master—the fellow was wearing two dharma robes!

The young male cultivator, pale-faced, wiped his hand—it came away covered in blood. If he hadn’t been careful and worn two dharma robes, that solid blow would have killed him for sure.

The female cultivator was heartbroken and furious at the treacherous villain. Ignoring her own safety, she wanted to chase him down. He was badly injured—maybe they could beat the drowning dog.

The old Dragon Gate Realm honored elder said calmly, “Don’t chase a cornered enemy. Besides, with such a huge fortune in your hands, you should know when to stop. Now, you need to figure out how to leave this place. That Beiting Kingdom Little Marquis has stationed a martial arts Grandmaster at both the mountain’s foot and summit to guard the passes. Plan it out yourselves.”

The elder’s form then dispersed.

The two young Cloud City survivors, having narrowly escaped death, were both shaken. Neither noticed the look of inner struggle in the old elder’s eyes.

If it weren’t for an extra guardian, he—the old true man Huan Yun, who had served as Cloud City’s chief honored elder for nearly a century—might have shown these two young treasures what “unexpected storms” meant.

Not far away, another old true man, concealed by superior talismanic arts, having witnessed the Dragon Gate Realm honored elder’s restraint, Huan Yun also had a complex expression. He seemed relieved, yet with a hint of barely detectable regret.

Huan Yun murmured to himself, “Cultivating is hard, but cultivating the heart is even harder.”

With a sigh across his lake of mind, the old true man’s form dispersed.

Many treasures and opportunities he had seen earlier but, adhering to the rules, did not take—now he could reach out and claim them.

Because these two direct disciples of Shen Zhenze were now completely preoccupied with escaping their predicament, not treasure hunting.

As for that Dragon Gate Realm honored elder, he was likely thinking along the same lines.

Besides the immortal artifacts in a few halls and towers, Huan Yun also wanted to check the summit temple. Those glazed tiles he had glimpsed from afar when flying past—they were more precious than anything.

But that could wait. As long as that Golden Body Realm martial artist from Beiting Kingdom was guarding the summit, the old true man wouldn’t rush to grab them unless necessary.

Di Yuanfeng, carrying a bundle, hid behind a rockery. He swallowed a pill and panted heavily, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He cursed his luck.

Since he still had the spirit to curse, it meant he wasn’t fatally wounded.

Di Yuanfeng had no regrets about attacking for the treasure.

Since the attack failed, he wasn’t going to waste time continuing.

—

On the steps at the mountainside.

Little Marquis Zhan Qing held a folding fan, gently stirring the breeze. Beside him stood Bai Bi, a female Golden Core Earth Immortal from the Water Dragon Sect.

Gao Ling, the Fuqu Kingdom general, stood at one end of the white jade arched bridge at the foot of the mountain.

The martial arts honored elder from Zhan Qing’s marquis household had gone to the summit.

The remaining Fuqu Kingdom imperial honored elder, who had come with Bai Bi, was now looting treasures after receiving Bai Bi’s nod.

Zhan Qing gazed at the distant strange phenomenon, frowning. “So many people? Did someone break the cave’s restrictions directly?”

Bai Bi sighed. “This place itself is the biggest problem. I’ll fly around the perimeter, see if I can send a flying sword message to the sect.”

Zhan Qing stood up. “I’ll go with you.”

Bai Bi shook her head. “Go down to the foot. Gao Ling knows what’s important—he’ll protect you. Don’t rush to the summit yet. Too many variables there—I wouldn’t feel safe going far to explore this domain’s boundaries.”

Bai Bi rose into the air on the wind and streaked away like a rainbow.

Zhan Qing watched with admiration.

Such was the bearing of a Golden Core Earth Immortal.

Zhan Qing descended the mountain slowly. One Golden Body Realm martial artist, Gao Ling, might not be able to stop every treasure hunter.

But as long as the various visitors surging toward the mountain couldn’t unite into a single force, they were just loose sand, at his mercy.

After entering the secret realm and discussing with Sister Bai, Zhan Qing had changed his mind.

He no longer planned to go on a killing spree. Instead, he intended to do business with these passing cultivators and martial artists.

They could go up the mountain. But when they came down, they would have to meet privately with him and hand over one item that caught his eye.

Just one.

As for the other items the lucky ones carried, Sister Bai would secretly record them all. Later, she would turn the list over to the Water Dragon Sect’s ancestral hall, and those Earth Immortal cultivators would capture these ants one by one and recover the treasures.

That way, he wouldn’t have to kill anyone himself. Peace makes for good business, after all.

It would save a lot of trouble and accidents right now.

Wild cultivators—unless they thought they were in a death trap—were generally afraid of death and easy to negotiate.

Registered immortal masters who didn’t fully belong to any sect, on the other hand, often misjudged the situation.

His own master, a Nascent Soul cultivator who had started as a wild cultivator, was now an honorary elder of the Water Dragon Sect. Sister Bai was his future Dao companion. They were one family.

So this immortal mansion was the property of the Water Dragon Sect.

Before this, Sister Bai and he had agreed: try to pick up a few heavy treasures, keep it under five items. More would just cause trouble. She wouldn’t be able to explain it to the sect. And their looting had to be as secret as possible, with plenty of misdirection. They couldn’t touch any supreme treasures that even Nascent Soul cultivators dreamed of. Those ancestors of the sect were no easy marks. When they eventually arrived and took over, they would thoroughly investigate every person who had entered. When Zhan Qing was traced back and got caught, Bai Bi would also be implicated. Accused of being an insider, it would be more loss than gain.

But three or four magic treasures—as the two juniors who had made the greatest contribution in opening up this new domain—even if the ancestral hall found out, with the mediation of her teaching master and Zhan Qing’s own master, those dozen or so grand cultivators qualified for seats in the ancestral hall would turn a blind eye.

Every registered immortal master on the mountain is both protected and bound by rules and precepts.

When Zhan Qing reached the foot of the mountain, he gave Gao Ling some instructions in a friendly tone. Gao Ling, who had just been promoted to full third-rank general in Fuqu Kingdom and was a Golden Body Realm martial artist, did not object.

The day he was tasked with escorting the female cultivator Bai Bi back to the capital, the imperial edict had already reached Gao Ling’s general mansion.

Gao Ling understood one thing: in Fuqu Kingdom, where military merit was harder to earn than climbing to heaven, currying favor with the Water Dragon Sect was more useful than anything else.

Zhan Qing stood at one end of the white jade arched bridge, tapping the bridge’s mythical beast lightly with his folded fan, looking elegant as jade, the white-robed gentleman.

Gao Ling announced loudly to the people approaching the bridge what rules they had to follow.

Of course, nobody was willing to accept it.

Some dared not force the bridge and tried to leap across the dark green moat-like river elsewhere.

But Gao Ling darted over and intercepted them with a single punch, killing them instantly. The cultivator’s body shattered into seven or eight pieces.

Gao Ling didn’t hold back much on that punch.

Someone gasped “Golden Body Realm martial artist,” and then the name “Gao Ling,” the number one martial artist of Fuqu Kingdom, was shouted out.

After that one punch, the noisy crowd on the opposite bank fell silent, only a few whispering.

Somewhere, a hoarse voice—clearly using an immortal secret technique—shouted through the lake of mind, “We outnumber them! Join forces and kill these two, then climb the mountain and each take what they find. Isn’t that better? Why should we kowtow to them? If some of us have bad luck and only get one treasure, do we have to hand it over and give it to that Beiting wastrel for free? If we don’t unite now, how much harder will it be when we come down?”

This speech moved many.

Two female cultivators from the Caique Sect, who had used illusion techniques, smiled at each other.

The one who had spoken so incitingly was the young direct disciple of their ancestral hall, whom they were guarding.

Young, with a good mind.

They were Sun Qing, the master of Caique Sect, and Wu Qun, the law-abiding ancestor of the ancestral hall.

Originally, Wu Qun alone would have been enough for protection, but Sun Qing had felt bored at the Caique Sect, so she came along for a change. And now, this change brought great fortune.

Wu Qun secretly communicated with the young sect master, “That young Earth Immortal earlier—could that be Bai Bi from Fuqu Kingdom?”

Sun Qing sneered, “Even if she’s a direct disciple of Water Dragon Sect, in a chaotic battle, if she lacks depth, if her skill falls short, she can die and that’s that.”

After saying this, Sun Qing’s expression was calm. “Same goes for us.”

Wu Qun was worried. “The cave suddenly disrupted its mountains and waters, the restrictions opened wide, and entrances to the secret realm appeared everywhere. Isn’t that too much of a coincidence?”

Sun Qing glanced at the sky and slowly said, “Take things as they come.”

Wu Qun sighed and looked at the young sect master beside her, radiating peace. No wonder she was the youngest Golden Core sect master in Caique Sect’s history, while she herself was just an old law-abiding ancestor at the end of her years.

On their side of the riverbank, the crowd clamored, shouting for blood, vowing to kill that Fuqu general and skin that Beiting Little Marquis alive.

Zhan Qing smiled brightly, snapped his fan open with a clap, fanned a gentle breeze, and said only one sentence, “You can try to kill me—first come, first served.”

Sun Qing gave a faint smile and nudged Wu Qun with her elbow. “You go first, or they’ll be stuck here for a century.”

Wu Qun understood.

Wearing a veiled hat and obscured by illusion, Wu Qun strode out of the crowd and stepped onto the white jade arched bridge. At first, she walked slowly.

For this trip down the mountain, she wore two dharma robes. The inner one was the prime dharma robe of Caique Sect; the outer, one she had bought at great expense from Cloud City.

But of course, she had also used a small illusion on that Cloud City dharma robe—otherwise it would be too obvious, treating others as fools.

In fact, the two direct disciples of Shen Zhenze from Cloud City were doing much the same: wearing two dharma robes, just swapped around—their own robes inside, Cloud City robes outside, Caique robe outside.

Wu Qun walked slowly. On the bridge, some in the crowd moved forward, but even slower.

They were afraid of being tricked by this unknown woman. If they ran too fast, they’d be the first bird shot down by Gao Ling’s punch.

But then all the wild cultivators, small-sect registered masters, and martial artists breathed a collective sigh of relief. Their spirits lifted; doubts faded.

Because that woman walked faster and faster, and finally she flew into action, unleashing an immortal combat technique. She took two of Gao Ling’s punches. The first broke her technique; the second killed her. The female cultivator was sent flying back like a broken kite, crashing back to the opposite bank. But she was tough. She struggled to her feet, said nothing, and began walking onto the bridge again.

With someone truly leading the way, the crowd hesitated no more. Howls and shouts erupted, and they surged across the bridge and water.

Zhan Qing was furious. He hated that woman who had started the charge.

Without a second thought, he turned, made a gesture, and blew a whistle that pierced the sky.

The family’s honored elder on the summit, a seventh-realm martial artist, charged down the mountain. With a forward lunge, he leaped high from the white jade square and landed heavily on the climbing steps.

People at the foot of the mountain with sharp eyes saw this and trembled in fear. Their momentum weakened.

Then a hoarse female voice rang out loud again: “Kill the two at the bridge first! What can one more man do? Even if each of us throws one move, he’ll still end up as a pile of meat paste!”

At the foot of the mountain, chaos had erupted.

—

In the distance, Bai Bi hovered at the edge of this domain. Across a line, white mist stretched endlessly. No matter what technique or divine power she used, she could not see the scenery beyond that line.

She descended slowly, propelled a pebble into the white mist. It vanished like a stone dropped into the sea, no sign of it.

Then she tore a large chunk of ground and threw it into the mist—still no reaction.

This was more terrifying than any mountain-water restriction.

What she faced was the unknown.

In the history of the Water Dragon Sect, one Jade Purity Realm ancestral master and one Nascent Soul grand cultivator had died in a secret realm. The sect could not even find their bones afterward.

Bai Bi grew increasingly anxious. She needed to start thinking of a way out.

This immortal mansion site, which she had initially seen as a shallow pond, was definitely no small origin.

The Ji River that cut east-west through the central Northern Juju Continent was the sect’s foundation. The most important of its ancestral halls had once been one of the three ancient Ji River shrines. One of the other two had been taken over by the Dayuan Dynasty and was still thriving as the orthodox Ji River Shrine. The third had been occupied for years by a now-destroyed sect and had also been made into an ancestral hall, but it was destroyed during a conflict with a sword-cultivating sect.

The atmosphere here was similar to their own ancestral hall.

That was why Bai Bi had the confidence to let Zhan Qing take four magic treasures for himself.

If this was indeed the shrine site of some ancient great river, the contribution of opening the door would be enormous.

But for some reason, Bai Bi was worried, afraid of the worst outcome.

It wasn’t just being unable to leave or find a retreat.

Because if she and Zhan Qing disappeared for too long, the Water Dragon Sect would come looking for them.

What truly worried Bai Bi was that this place might become everyone’s tomb.

Consider: those seemingly orderly piled bones—could they be the corpses of newcomers, not the original inhabitants of the mansion?

That would mean this was a giant trap, waiting for outsiders to come in and die, believing they had hit the jackpot.

Of course, it was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance.

But Bai Bi’s heart felt uneasy. She felt that chance was shrinking to one in a thousand, one in a hundred.

For a moment, her mind was in chaos. She dared not linger at the world’s boundary. She flew back with all speed toward that green mountain, to find Zhan Qing and figure out a foolproof plan.

After Bai Bi’s figure disappeared, a tall, dimly formed old man stepped out of the white mist. He smiled, “Three Golden Core cultivators, two Golden Body Realm martial artists... and one strange little fellow. Enough for a feast.”

A wisp of sword qi fell from the sky, piercing straight down through the old man’s crown. The old man’s misty form coalesced elsewhere, laughing, “Good one. How many years have we been neighbors, and you still have such a terrible temper? Wouldn’t it be better to change? With those damned heavy restrictions imprisoning me, I can’t refine this mountain or water. And with all those mountains outside, their roots wrapping around this little world—you, little one, have been targeting me for years, barely able to protect this place. What can you do to me?”

The old man’s head was pierced again by that fine thread of sword qi, but he reappeared elsewhere, calm as ever. “As per the old rules, I’ll leave only one survivor, let him die a bit later, and have him tell me what’s happening outside. Then he’ll know how exquisite this trap is. Those treasures of yours—where can you take them? Food on the plate, things in the belly. A cave heaven to bury the dead—not too bad a fate for these little ones. It’s a pity about that temple. That little fellow with the sword on his back has a good eye, but he can’t take those things away. Afterward, I’ll have to patch things up again. How many times is this? Every time I patch it up, I have to move house. Tiring work.”

Once again, a tireless thread of sword qi shredded his form. When he reformed, he stepped backward, his tall figure slowly retreating into the clouds. He patted his stomach with pleasure. “Ha, good one, Haoran World. Another world inside my belly. Which world doesn’t see humans killing humans the most? Meaningless.”

After the old man vanished, the thread of sword qi continued to patrol the area for a long time, skimming and swooping, before finally shooting straight up into the high sky.

Chen Ping’an suddenly turned his head and looked into the distance. He was probably the only one who had sensed that sword qi’s descent and ascent.