An incursion

Everbright Mountain, the Medicine Garden.

Several cloud-summoning, rain-bringing formations laid out in the garden had been broken through. A few disciples in the early stages of Fetal Breath lay gravely wounded in the yellow mud, blood spattered around them, their breathing faint.

Wang Xiwei stood upon a red cloud, facing off against a black-robed elder from Black Wind Valley at the fifth level of Qi Refining.

The old cultivator had kindly brows and benevolent eyes, a stooped frame, and robes embroidered with a hundred butterflies and a hundred bats. He leaned on a reddish-brown cane. If not for the currents of black wind swirling beneath his feet, any mortal who saw him would likely have mistaken him for the God of Longevity descended from a New Year painting.

"Xie Miao, you old bastard! You've come bullying your way to our gates. Are you asking for a beating?"

Wang Xiwei's tiger-like eyes widened. The little Red Jade Mallet at his waist thundered incessantly at his command, celestial stars glittering upon it and linking into a line that pointed at the old cultivator from Black Wind Valley.

The old cultivator's expression remained unchanged. Still smiling, he asked as casually as someone visiting a neighbor during the holidays:

"Fellow Daoist Wang, I heard that your abbey master successfully completed his secluded cultivation, so I came to offer my congratulations. Our two sects are both great and eminent traditions of Green Peaks. Why resort to arms?"

Wang Xiwei sneered and folded his arms across his chest. The red cloud beneath his feet surged, taking the forms of the Heavenly Furnace and the Wind Tiger. His face full of contempt, the Daoist mocked him:

"A great and eminent tradition? Your Black Wind Valley hardly qualifies. Our Great Red Abbey inherited a Daoist lineage passed down from Ancient Shu. Your Black Wind Valley is nothing but a pack of bandits who seized a mountain and crowned themselves kings, yet you dare put yourselves on our level? When the Blood-Burying Demon Sect took over Green Peaks, yours was the first sect to fall to its knees."

Xie Miao's expression shifted slightly, but he merely sighed:

"Your sectarian prejudices run deep, fellow Daoist. Then this old man can only ask to learn a thing or two from you."

Before he had finished speaking, black wind swept forth, carrying a chilling, bloody stench. The cries of ghosts rang through the mountains.

Wang Xiwei was already prepared. Azure light rippled over his Daoist robe and transformed into a Golden Pheasant, whose piercing cry broke through the sinister wind. Earthly Baleful Fire burst from the Red Jade Mallet in his hand as he struck Xie Miao fiercely, like a smith hammering out a shower of molten sparks. Streams of flame scattered across the sky and fell like fine rain.

Without a sound, Xie Miao took Wang Xiwei's attack head-on with his stooped body. Holes burned through his black robes, exposing the charred skin beneath.

Riding the wind, he had already lunged in front of Wang Xiwei. He activated a talisman, and bloody smoke rose, transforming into a green-skinned ghost with four heads bearing expressions of joy, anger, sorrow, and delight. It began chanting scripture in a lilting babble, and the magical light around Wang Xiwei dimmed for an instant.

In that single instant, black energy billowed around Xie Miao's hand as it clamped around Wang Xiwei's neck like iron tongs gripping charcoal.

"You spend all your days crafting artifacts, after all. You really are hopeless at fighting."

Seeing that his blow was about to succeed, Xie Miao secretly rejoiced. Before the Sixth Layer of Qi Refining, a cultivator's magical body had yet to receive nourishment from the [life foundation] and was not particularly resilient. Differences in cultivation amounted only to differences in the quantity of magical power.

Wang Xiwei carried many magical artifacts, and the cultivation method he practiced ranked above Black Wind Valley's. If they truly squared off and fought a proper, head-on battle, Xie Miao would undoubtedly lose.

That was why he had to decide the outcome in a single move, using the difference in their cultivation to trade a light injury for a heavy one.

Most important was the [Four-Aspect Scripture-Listening Ghost Talisman] the valley master had bestowed upon him. It could halt magical light and extinguish Daoist fire, briefly preventing this man from the Great Red Abbey from exploiting his magical artifacts.

Wang Xiwei was horrified. His usual sparring with his junior brother mostly consisted of exchanging moves back and forth. When had he ever encountered fighting like that of a street thug? Worse, the strange talisman had halted the protective light of his Daoist robe. Inexperienced in magical combat, he was about to suffer a grievous loss.

Suddenly, a muffled thunderous rumble came from the horizon. An exceedingly fine silver thread appeared amid the clouds, followed by successive cracks through the air, like thunderclaps exploding. The four-aspect ghost was instantly reduced to dust. Xie Miao felt his hair stand on end, as though a heavenly execution blade were about to descend. He could only retreat in haste, not daring to attack again.

Lightning flickered around [Cinnabar Thunder], and Sword Qi formed clouds in which the magical sword concealed itself like a flood dragon, its shape impossible to distinguish. A thin line of blood appeared from Xie Miao's chest to his dantian. Shocked, the old cultivator hurriedly rode the wind backward and cried:

"Abbey Master Xu, what a formidable sword!"

Xu Xuan slowly descended from the clouds. [Cinnabar Thunder] leaped joyfully, turning into a silver thread and returning to his sea of qi.

He did not pursue. Xie Shu, the master of Black Wind Valley, was at the ninth level of Qi Refining. If an ambush lay ahead, Xu Xuan would be no match for him.

"Senior brother, are you all right?" Xu Xuan went forward and helped Wang Xiwei up, hurriedly taking out some healing pills for him to swallow.

Looking somewhat ashamed, the burly man rose and sighed:

"I never expected Xie Miao's methods to be so vicious. I capsized in a gutter. I thought I had this firmly in hand."

Xu Xuan comforted him:

"You've spent your whole life crafting magical artifacts, senior brother. While Master was alive, what sect would have dared come here to provoke us? Besides-"

Xu Xuan said no more. What sect would send an artifact-crafting elder out to fight?

If they truly had anyone else available, why would they take such a risk? Every year, Wang Xiwei brought untold gains to the sect. At this moment, Xu Xuan would rather have been the one injured.

Below, Wen Si'an was leading the disciples in carrying away the wounded, mud staining her silk skirt. When Xie Miao invaded, she had been the first to go out and resist him, and had suffered the worst injuries.

Senior Brother Wang had happened to come looking for her. Only then had he taken the field himself and sent Wen Si'an to find Xu Xuan.

"We have no one."

Xu Xuan felt utterly exhausted in body and mind. He had intended to spend the few days before the birthday celebration in seclusion, stabilizing his cultivation. Upon his return, he would cultivate his [life foundation] and use pills to push through to the Sixth Layer of Qi Refining. Now he could only abandon that plan.

Wang Xiwei had largely recovered by then. He sat with Xu Xuan among the fields. Neither put on airs; like old farmers inspecting their crops, they sat until dusk.

The glow of sunset appeared along the horizon, like brass subjected to a furnace, taking on shades of reddish gold, purplish gray, and smoky blue. The red sun sank in the west, and the thousand mountains around them looked like the golden bodies of a thousand Buddhas in its light. Yet once the Greater Yang went down, they withdrew their sacred forms and became hideous demons that chilled the heart.

Elsewhere, Xie Miao had fled back to East Secret Mountain, riding the wind down into a dark, sinister valley.

A hidden world lay within the valley. Beneath the lamplight, a great hall built of black stone revealed layer upon layer of ghostly shadows. Men and women bowed in turn when they saw Xie Miao return.

"Second chief!"

Xie Miao snorted coldly and went straight into the great hall. Inside, brilliant lights shone over men and women, young and old, all feasting and drinking. Beef, mutton, and fine wine arrived in an endless stream, while songs and laughter filled the air.

At the head of the hall stood a gilded throne, its relief carvings depicting the Hundred Ghosts in all their hideousness. A thin, sinister-looking man sat upon it, his face rather pale, smiling as he watched the men and women making merry below.

"Greetings, Valley Master."

Xie Miao entered and hurriedly bowed.

"Oh, Uncle, you're back. Did you manage to meet the master of the Great Red Abbey?"

A smile appeared on Xie Miao's face, withered like an old tree. His harsh voice sounded like the cawing of a crow as he said with a laugh:

"Wang Xiwei is skilled at crafting artifacts but poor at fighting. Wen Si'an is still young and lacks seasoning."

The old cultivator chuckled and opened the upper part of his robes, exposing the sword wound Xu Xuan had inflicted. Only a fine red line was visible as he continued:

"As for the master of the Great Red Abbey, I think his reputation is hollow too. It's just that-"

Xie Miao's voice stopped abruptly. Flecks of lightning burst from the red line on his chest. Then his magical body split cleanly open along the line from his chest to his dantian, like congealed fat meeting a hot knife. His bowels sprang out and dangled to the floor.

He could no longer utter a single word. Inarticulate cries for help squeezed from his throat as he desperately signaled to the nephew he feared so deeply.

Yet excitement appeared on the sickly man's face as he sat upon the throne. He examined the sword wound carefully, his expression admiring, before finally acting.

He directed a strand of black energy to stuff Xie Miao's organs, bowels, and yellow-and-white innards back inside, affixed a talisman over the wound, and ordered the servants to take him away to recover.

"Xu Xuan does have some ability. His Sword Qi is no weaker than his master's."

Xie Shu, the master of Black Wind Valley, gently stroked the area over his dantian. Within his sea of qi lay a wound like a golden flame, Sword Qi spilling from it. Stirred by Xu Xuan's Sword Qi of the same lineage, it had become active again.

The man narrowed his eyes slightly and looked toward Luoqing Mountain. His sinister gaze called to mind a certain kind of snake.

"Chen Weiyuan could protect you for a time, but not for a lifetime. Once I slaughter your entire sect, consume your blood essence, seize your allotted fortune, and replenish my life, it will be time for my Foundation Establishment."

Black wind suddenly rose around the throne. Blue-purple demonic clouds appeared within it, and waves of scripture chanting sounded. As though bewitched, the men and women below abandoned themselves to even greater debauchery.

(End of chapter)