A Temple and an Old Monk

The attribute panel had not changed much.

However, after absorbing the Foundation Establishment-level Sword Dao inheritance, a new entry had appeared after his Cultivation Art: Crimson Fire Sword Art.

Zhao Huaian understood.

The core of this Sword Dao inheritance lay in the Crimson Fire Sword Art.

From the information he had received while absorbing the inheritance, he knew the Crimson Fire Sword Art was several grades above the Azure Wood Art.

All Cultivation Arts had limits on how far one could advance. For example, the Greenwood Sect's was merely an introductory cultivation art, and could only take someone to peak Qi Refining.

The Crimson Fire Sword Art had a much higher limit: it could take someone all the way to Foundation Establishment Peak Stage.

As for breaking through to a higher realm after that...

Naturally, he would need to find a more advanced Cultivation Art to replace it.

"Six hundred Low-grade Spirit Stones for a Cultivation Art that can take me to Foundation Establishment Peak Stage, along with all those insights and notes—that's an absolute bargain."

"Besides, with all those insights, the Crimson Fire Sword Art reached Proficient Level in just half a month. Even my cultivation increased by more than forty points."

"Next, I'll study the Art of Sword Riding and Flying I got from Wang Daniu. Once I learn it, traveling out to carry out missions will be much more convenient."

Looking at the figures on the Attribute Heavenly Book, Zhao Huaian was in a wonderful mood. He knew he had struck it rich on this trip.

He admired it to his heart's content.

Then Zhao Huaian took the book on the Art of Sword Riding and Flying from his Storage Bag.

This Art of Sword Riding and Flying was fairly common in the Greenwood Sect, and it wasn't too expensive. It usually sold for around fifty Low-grade Spirit Stones.

For convenient travel, or simply to look the part of a cultivator, most late Qi Refining cultivators would buy and learn it.

Zhao Huaian had originally planned to buy it himself.

But he hadn't expected Wang Daniu to have it on him.

That had saved him another expense.

He opened the book on the Art of Sword Riding and Flying.

Zhao Huaian immersed himself in its contents.

The steps were not difficult. After just three days, he had raised it to the introductory level and achieved the ability to fly on a sword.

A month later.

In the vast expanse of water,

high above, a young man in white rode his Flying Sword, darting freely through the sky.

The young man in white was Zhao Huaian.

By then, Zhao Huaian had been away from the Greenwood Sect for more than half a month.

During that time, he had flown from place to place to complete missions. His Art of Sword Riding and Flying had reached Proficient Level.

Now that he had a certain level of strength, Zhao Huaian had taken on more than ten missions in one go, intending to finish a full year's worth of them.

Then he could retreat into cultivation in complete peace, without having to interrupt it every so often to go out and complete missions.

Over the past half month, he had completed several missions while traveling from place to place. Only the final two remained.

Once he finished those last two, he could return to the Greenwood Sect and collect a handsome amount of Spirit Stones and resources, then spend the next year cultivating without interruption.

His Proficient Level Art of Sword Riding and Flying had greatly increased Zhao Huaian's speed and reduced the amount of Spiritual Energy it consumed.

He sped through the sky.

With one of his mission locations in his sights, Zhao Huaian shot forward like a streak of light. His figure dwindled, then vanished into the sky.

There was a temple on Yellow Sand Island.

And an old monk lived in the temple.

In his youth, the old monk had entered the Buddhist order. But he broke the precept against killing and was cast out, left to wander the world.

By chance, he had stumbled upon enlightenment and become a Rogue Cultivator.

But the old monk's spiritual roots were poor. With no resources to aid him, he had wasted away half his life without advancing his cultivation at all.

Perhaps Heaven had taken pity on him, or perhaps he had fortune on his side. A few years ago, while traveling, the old monk had unexpectedly come upon an opportunity.

From then on, his cultivation had advanced by leaps and bounds. In just a few short years, he had reached Qi Refining Layer Six.

But the opportunity he had gained was both blessing and curse...

"Little ones, your Buddha Lord is here!"

Rubbing his hands together, the old monk entered a secret chamber in Clear Wind Temple, his face full of greed.

Though the chamber was hidden from the light of day, a flower grew inside it, crimson from stem to petal and breathtakingly vivid.

Nearby, a group of boys and girls with spiritual roots were imprisoned.

"One, two, three, four, five. Eeny, meeny, miny, moe—whoever I land on, that's the one I'll choose."

The old monk grinned savagely, pointing at the boys and girls at random.

Terror filled their faces. They trembled, afraid his finger would stop on them.

As cries and pleas echoed through the chamber, the old monk laughed maniacally and finally seized a chubby little boy.

"Buddha Lord, Buddha Lord, spare me!"

The little boy flailed his arms and legs, sobbing and begging for his life, snot and tears streaming down his face.

But seeing him like that only made the old monk's grin grow more deranged.

"Hahaha... don't cry, little one. Becoming an offering to help your Buddha Lord enter the Dao is a lifetime's worth of good karma."

Laughing wildly, the old monk dragged the little boy before the vivid crimson flower.

At the sight of it, he stopped laughing and turned solemn.

"Flower God above, please accept today's offering!"

Kneeling, the old monk reverently bowed his head three times. Then he circulated his Cultivation Art, and streams of blood-red Spiritual Energy poured from his palm.

Beneath that blood-red Spiritual Energy, the crimson flower sprang to life. A long tendril pushed up through the soil.

It shot forward and suddenly coiled around the little boy's body.

A thick blood-red glow engulfed him. The next moment, the little boy's face twisted in agony. In just a few breaths, all the flesh had been drained from his plump body, leaving only a desiccated corpse on the ground.

After draining the little boy, the tendril still seemed unsatisfied. It began to stretch again, reaching for the other boys and girls.

"The Flower God has quite an appetite today?"

The old monk did not dare hesitate. He reverently seized two more children and brought them over.

Soon, two more desiccated corpses lay on the ground.

Only after draining three children did the tendril retreat contentedly into the soil.

The flower growing from it became even more dazzling. Before long, it shuddered, and a blood-red Petal drifted down into the old monk's palm.

"Thank you for your blessing, Flower God!"

The old monk swallowed the Petal, and his cultivation instantly advanced. Overwhelmed with gratitude, he knelt and hammered his head against the ground.

This was the opportunity he had gained.

Five years earlier, he had already wasted away half his life, unable to make the slightest progress in cultivation. He had long since lost hope.

He had been about to find some place to spend the rest of his days when, by a stroke of chance, he had won the Flower God's favor.

For the past five years, he had obeyed the Flower God's instructions. Under the pretext of recruiting disciples, he had lured children with spiritual roots from other islands and offered them to the Flower God.

The Flower God had never been stingy. For every offering, it rewarded him with a Petal, which he swallowed to improve his cultivation.

"Is anyone here?"

Just as the old monk was laughing maniacally, a young man's voice suddenly came from outside Clear Wind Temple.

At the sound, the old monk's wild laughter stopped dead. His expression turned tense and wary.

"Anyone here? If no one's around, I'll come in..."

The young man's voice rang out again.

A moment later, the crisp sound of footsteps came from outside Clear Wind Temple.

The old monk's face turned stern, cold light flashing in his eyes. He quickly left the secret chamber and entered the main hall.

A battered, dilapidated Buddha statue stood enshrined in the hall, its surface covered in grime and dust. It was clear that no one had tended to it in years.

The young man who had spoken was now standing before the statue, his eyes full of scrutiny and tinged with faint disdain...

"Who are you, little brat? Why did you barge into Clear Wind Temple without my permission?"

The old monk spoke with anger as he looked at the young man.

But when he saw that the young man was a cultivator, a flicker of delight immediately appeared in his eyes.

"Fellow Daoist, my name is Zhao Huaian. I'm a Rogue Cultivator. I heard you're the most famous cultivator on Yellow Sand Island, so I came especially to pay you a visit!"

Zhao Huaian smiled harmlessly as he quietly sized up the old monk.

This was the location of his mission.

And the mission's targets were the Clear Wind Temple before him and the old monk.

"So you're Fellow Daoist Zhao. Forgive me for not welcoming you sooner, forgive me!"

The old monk laughed with delight, edging closer to Zhao Huaian without drawing attention to himself. "A guest from afar is always welcome. I haven't had a fellow cultivator visit in ages. Why don't we go to the side room for a cup of tea and discuss the Dao?"

"Of course!"

Thinking of the mission, Zhao Huaian nodded with a smile.

The old monk was only at Qi Refining Layer Six, and his cultivation was unstable and turbulent.

An opponent of this level was someone Zhao Huaian could deal with in a single exchange.

He hadn't rushed to attack because he wanted to find out where the old monk had taken all the boys and girls he had recruited over the years.

After all, that was part of the mission too.