Chapter 63: Feng Ping's Fears

In an instant, the sword light descended and a figure emerged.

Shen Yan glanced around, then turned to gaze into the distance toward the Three Lotus Prefectures, letting out a contemplative sigh before shaking his head. Though he had slain the elder of the Azure Lotus Sword Sect, shattered the great formation of the fiends, and managed to escape with his life, a lingering doubt remained in his heart.

He could not understand the matter concerning that elder of the Azure Lotus Sword Sect.

Had he truly slain that elder?

Shen Yan was astonished. Even the cultivators who had formed their golden cores, in the past, had only been able to suppress and seal that elder, not kill him outright. And yet now, he had managed to slay the elder himself? It defied reason.

It was not simply a matter of methods—if he had his means, would not those golden core masters have had theirs as well?

No matter how he turned it over in his mind, he could not make sense of it.

At last, a bold idea surfaced in Shen Yan’s thoughts.

Though the Qian Kingdom was but a minor realm, it nonetheless encompassed three continents and twenty-one prefectures. The Lotus Prefecture was one of these, frequented each year by countless caravans and merchants.

Recently, the winds of change had gathered in the Lotus Prefecture. Young heroes and scions of noble families had arrived in fine attire, entourages of powerful clans moved in great processions, and the imperial authorities had issued orders to seal the mountains, compelling the villagers to comb the forests in search and collection.

“Lingzhi grass?”

“Is it really necessary to make such a fuss just to gather a herb?”

“What do you know? That lingzhi is sentient, like a thousand-year ginseng—it can run.”

“Run? How does it run?”

“They say it melts into the earth like water, vanishing without a trace in an instant.”

“That’s the king of the lingzhi grass. Ordinary lingzhi isn’t so mystical.”

“I heard that not long ago there was a surge of spirit fish by Lotus Lake, including a king among them. The great clans all scrambled to catch it, but instead of the fish, they ended up ensnared in a fiendish formation.”

“Fiends?”

“Demons. But just as they were about to relocate, the fiendish presence vanished. No one knows which golden core master intervened.”

“Demons disappearing in a day? That’s a miracle. The last time a fiend appeared in the Qian Kingdom, it lingered for a decade before dissipating on its own. In that time, all living things within were devoured by the elder of the Azure Lotus Sword Sect, leaving nothing but a wasteland.”

Rumors abounded, the talk unceasing, and among the chatter were even cultivators refining their qi, a testament to the current prosperity of Dongyun.

Meanwhile, chaos reigned in the mountains.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Put down the lingzhi king!”

“Snatching food from the tiger’s mouth—a death wish!”

“Hand over your life!”

Lights of flight streaked through the clouds, piercing the sky, until a lone figure was cornered by three parties. With a miserable cry, he was slain on the spot by three fierce spirit weapons, his body bursting apart, leaving not a bone behind—denied even the chance to become a demonic seed and perish in mutual destruction.

Those who followed shook their heads in lament.

“Jin Heizi—what a pity.”

“That old wretch really couldn’t read the situation. Even now, he dared to compete against Little Lan Mountain for the prize.”

“You alone?” The Old Demon Mo, far from being alarmed, laughed. “Old Ghost Xu, the Zhao Family’s elder is on the verge of death; your Little Lan Mountain is scouring everywhere for men and resources. How much strength do you have left to spare for hunting me down?”

“Likely none. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have needed such elaborate schemes and surprise attacks.”

“You think you alone can keep me here? What a joke.”

“Behold my Blood Escape Technique!”

With a wild laugh, the Old Demon Mo sprang into the air, exploding into a streak of blood-red light in an attempt to flee.

“You think you can escape?”

A celestial net descended from above, ensnaring the blood light and holding it fast.

Beneath the net, the blood light seethed and swiftly reformed, revealing the battered figure of the Old Demon Mo, who crashed to the ground in disarray.

“Heavenly Net!”

“Jade Immortal Sect!”

In a flash of shock and fury, a figure floated down beside Old Ghost Xu—a woman cold as frost, none other than Yang Yun.

Within the net, the Old Demon Mo struggled in vain.

“How can this be?”

“Old Ghost Xu!”

A flicker of dread crossed his mind and the reason dawned on him. Glaring with hatred at Xu and Yang Yun, he spat, “Well-played, well-played—Little Lan Mountain truly has its methods, even roping in a Jade Immortal Sect witch.”

“Hmph!” Old Ghost Xu snorted coldly, ignoring him and turning to Yang Yun.

Yang Yun said nothing, but the silver net tightened, frost gathering with lethal force.

“Aaah!” The Old Demon Mo shrieked as his body froze solid, his blood turning to ice, shattering into a heap of frozen shards.

“What!?” Xu and Yang Yun frowned, staring warily at a newcomer who had entered the scene.

The man wore azure robes, tall and straight as a pine, exuding the air of a grandmaster, though his features were hidden behind a mask.

The mask was beast-shaped, its dragon mouth gaping, clearly a Grade A artifact, faintly resonating with spiritual energy—clearly no ordinary tool.

Although they were both golden core cultivators, their spiritual perception could not pierce the mask’s concealment to discern the man’s true identity.

Xu and Yang Yun exchanged glances, and asked in a low voice, “Who are you?”

The masked man smiled gently, “Jia Yi of the Taiyi Sect.”

“Taiyi Sect’s Jia Yi?”

Xu and Yang Yun looked at each other, their astonishment deepening. They had never heard of any Taiyi Sect, and the name itself was suspiciously perfunctory.

What was this masked figure scheming?

The two frowned deeply, but forced themselves to be patient. “So, Daoist Jia Yi, what brings you here? Surely you’re not here to champion this fiendish marauder?”

“Not at all!” Jia Yi replied with a smile, coming straight to the point. “The Taiyi Sect is here for one purpose only.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. The patriarch of Little Lan Mountain is nearing the end of his days, desperately searching for rare treasures. Jin Heizi dared to reach for them as well—was that not courting death?”

“What choice did he have? He was born a rogue cultivator, lacking superior techniques. Without rare treasures to aid him, how could he ever break through? Now, he had no option but to risk everything for a chance at survival.”

“A pity…”

As they watched three Little Lan Mountain cultivators slay the man who had dug up the king of lingzhi, the bystanders could only sigh in pity.

“Hmph!” One of the cultivators strode forward, retrieving a blood-soaked storage pouch from the heap of corpses.

The other two glared coldly about, intimidating those nearby.

Just then—

“Kekeke, Little Lan Mountain, is it?”

A wicked laugh echoed on all sides.

“Hm?”

The three focused sharply, preparing to react.

But they were a heartbeat too slow. The one holding the storage pouch trembled—suddenly, a hand burst through his chest.

The other two sprang into action, but pain lanced through their own chests before they could move.

“Pfft!”

They stood paralyzed, looking down to see a hand thrust through their chests, clutching a blood-soaked, still-throbbing heart.

“A fiend... Old Demon Mo!”

“You again!”

The three stood frozen, faces ashen, forcing out their last words with great difficulty.

“Since when do corpses have so much to say?”

“Ha ha ha!”

With a manic laugh, Old Demon Mo squeezed, crushing the beating heart to pulp.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

With each heart crushed, the three bodies exploded in unison, bursting into clouds of crimson mist.

Within each cloud of blood, a ghostly hand floated—three claws of blood.

The bystanders fell silent, then, without a second thought, all fled in terror.