The winding jiao

At those words, everyone rose together and intoned, "We pay our respects to Lord Flying Light."

Flying Light walked slowly to the seat of honor, swept his brocade robe aside, and sat down with a bold, commanding air. He gently pressed a fair, slender hand downward, his voice warm and mellow. "Dispense with the formalities, gentlemen. Take your seats."

Only then did everyone dare sit again, though they perched on the edges of their seats. Flying Light picked up the wine cup on his table and merely swirled it in his hand. His gaze settled on the Fei Household's seats to his right, his tone leisurely. "Fei Household Head."

Fei Cai hastily rose and cupped his hands. "Your Majesty."

Flying Light set down his wine cup, his tone quite genial. "I hear your household has had a difficult time these past few years. After Fellow Daoist Yi Ming passed away in meditation, a junior at the Aperture Opening level like you had to shoulder the entire Fei Clan, yet you still delivered the full tribute every year. That was no easy feat. Well? Has this year gone smoothly?"

"Thanks to Your Majesty's blessings, it has been reasonably smooth. Though the Fei Household is no longer what it once was, we would never dare neglect our tribute to the mountain."

The other household heads exchanged glances, their gazes briefly meeting before each lowered his head again.

They had clearly enlisted that monster general today to help persuade Flying Light to join them in pressuring the Fei Household. Why had Flying Light begun by offering the Fei Household reassurance instead?

Had he changed his mind, or was he warning them?

But Flying Light said no more on the subject.

His gaze passed over Fei Cai's shoulder and settled on the black-robed man standing behind him with a sword in his arms.

Those eyes, their sharpness largely concealed beneath cosmetics, narrowed slightly.

"And who is this?"

Fei Cai cupped his hands. "Your Majesty, this is a guest retainer our household recently engaged. He has already registered his name on Greenbriar Mountain."

"Oh? Your household still has the means to hire guest retainers?"

"Fortunately, our ancestor left us a legacy."

"I see." With those softly spoken words, he withdrew his gaze.

As Fei Cai added that final remark, Flying Light suddenly clapped his hands.

The music stopped abruptly, and the dancing girls all prostrated themselves.

Flying Light leaned against the back of his chair, resting his chin on one hand. His gaze returned to Li Fuchan, and a knowing amusement entered his voice. "Decadent songs and dances cannot compare with blades, spears, swords, and halberds. They lack a measure of heroic spirit."

He paused, raised a finger, and pointed from afar at the sword in Li Fuchan's arms. "Seeing you standing there with your sword, fellow Daoist, with such an extraordinary bearing, I imagine you know how to wield it. Might I ask you to perform a sword dance to enliven today's festivities?"

His words shocked the entire cavern.

The cultivators on the right lifted their heads, their eyes filled with horror.

"Fellow Daoist? This man really is an Outer Scenery cultivator!"

"What is Fei Cai trying to do, bringing an Outer Scenery cultivator into the mountain?"

"Your Majesty, I wish to accuse the Fei Household of bringing—"

The wolf monster who had entered later had intended to demand that the Fei Household answer for its wrongdoing, but halfway through his accusation, he suddenly heard those words.

He immediately tucked his tail away and hid in a corner.

"Good heavens, an Outer Scenery cultivator. I nearly died just now."

Flying Light seemed not to notice the commotion throughout the cavern.

He slowly lifted the hand resting on his knee and lightly traced a fingertip through empty air. A streak of green radiance some three feet long condensed out of nothing.

The green radiance flickered and extended, shaped like a sword blade yet without physical substance.

He gripped that green radiance, its tip angled toward the ground, and looked past the tables laden with meat, bones, and wine vessels at Li Fuchan with a playful smile. "I shall spar with you. What do you say, fellow Daoist?"

Li Fuchan looked at the sword in his hand, a hint of amusement likewise entering his eyes.

The Gold-Gathering Secret Origin Art.

A monster cultivating Wandering Gold.

That Spirit Object on Greenbriar Mountain was probably not merely being kept locked away there.

It was not that the Fei Household's people could not cultivate the Gold-Gathering Secret Origin Art. They dared not.

That Spirit Object was intended for this monster's use. The Fei Household and Greenbriar Mountain were nothing more than servants nurturing it for him.

That was why he treated them generously.

When Li Fuchan had asked the Fei Household for the Gold-Gathering Secret Origin Art, Fei Cai had already set his sights on him.

No, perhaps it had happened even earlier.

Perhaps he had been marked from the moment he first arrived in the Southern Border, first inquired about cultivation arts for Wandering Gold, and first investigated the Fei Household.

However decrepit an aristocratic clan became, it was still an aristocratic clan. The outskirts of the Southern Border were crawling with their eyes and ears. They had long known he came from South of the Yangtze; how could they possibly have failed to watch him?

The Fei Household had simply paid him closer attention.

Earlier, Fei Cai had also spoken ambiguously, saying they owed their success in recruiting a guest retainer to their ancestor's legacy, implying that Li Fuchan had come for the Gold-Gathering Secret Origin Art and that Spirit Object.

A few days earlier, he had used his qi-gathering method to sense the Spirit Object within Greenbriar Mountain and become tinged with its aura.

Now Flying Light had sensed it on him.

Naturally, murderous intent had stirred.

No wonder Fei Cai had told him not to reveal himself and had even made him conceal his cultivation. He had wanted to create the illusion that Li Fuchan was threatening him.

And... only now did he realize that neither Fei Yangxie nor any of the Fei Household's six sons had followed them inside.

The moment I let a little greed stir, I walked straight into a scheme.

Li Fuchan's expression remained unruffled as he slowly shook his head. "I fear I cannot grant Your Majesty's wish."

Flying Light's gaze abruptly sharpened. Those eyes, their contours softened by cosmetics, suddenly tightened, their pupils narrowing into vertical slits as a cold gleam flickered within.

"Why?"

"When my sword leaves its sheath, it must draw blood."

Flying Light froze for a moment, then threw back his head and laughed.

The carefully applied layer of cosmetics on his face flaked away, revealing the blue-gray skin beneath.

With the cosmetics gone, his once somewhat gentle face suddenly became ferocious, and emerald light blazed in his pupils.

At last, his monstrous aura surged out without restraint. Several of those with weaker cultivation had already slid from their seats and collapsed limply onto the ground.

Flying Light stopped laughing and pointed toward the seats on either side below him. His finger swept over the trembling cultivators, then over the monsters silent as cicadas in winter. His tone was sinister and cruel. "Isn't all this blood?"

He drew his hand back, then slowly pointed that finger at himself. His red brocade sleeve slipped down, exposing a length of wrist covered in fine, tightly packed scales.

He tilted his head at Li Fuchan, brazen and unrestrained. "If you have the courage, fellow Daoist, am I not blood as well?"

Clang.

Boom.

[Walking Flood Dragon Driving Lightning]

Thunder Escape Sword Art.

A sword's ringing cry rose with a sudden blaze of lightning, faintly melding into a jiao's roar. Sword light wound onward, Thunderbolt surged, and blazing light erupted everywhere. The monsters throughout the cavern bowed their heads and trembled.

Li Fuchan threw away the ornamental iron sword in his hand and let the malice and savagery between his brows run free.

He raised his hand and caught Light-Deceiving as it flew back.

He looked at the Monster glaring furiously at him, desperately clutching the sword wound in its neck as filthy blood, lightning, and electric sparks streamed between its fingers. Its tone was hostile. "Posturing, posturing, posturing. What the fuck are you posturing for?"

His tone was hostile. "Posturing, posturing, posturing. What the fuck are you posturing for?"