Ancient Gaze City

Only after that green-clad figure had vanished completely beyond the clouds did the group from the Flowing Cloud Sword Sect seem to shed a thousand-pound burden, all letting out long breaths of relief.

The scent of blood had yet to fade from the air, and their faces bore an indescribable mix of humiliation and lingering fear.

"Senior Brother, we..."

The square-faced disciple approached him, hesitating.

Zhao Qinghe was still somewhat pale. He silently sheathed his sword and shook his head, weariness in his voice. "No one is to speak of what happened today. We'll decide what to do after reporting everything to Master."

"But Senior Brother, that brat..."

Another disciple could not help speaking up, his face full of indignation. "He acted so viciously! He must be an evil cultivator! Are we really just going to let this go?"

"And what could we do if we didn't?" Zhao Qinghe shot that junior brother a fierce glare.

"Will you chase him down? Will you drag him back here?" His gaze swept over every junior brother and sister present.

"All of us together-how many punches could we withstand from him? Have you already forgotten what happened to that man named Zhang?"

Looking at the headless corpse hanging from the ancient tree nearby, they all shuddered and could no longer utter a word.

Zhao Qinghe sighed, his tone softening as though he were trying to convince himself. "There are too many strange things about this affair. That man named Zhang used honeyed words and a pleasing face, then fled when battle came. He might not have been a good man either."

"As for that young man in green... his cultivation was so bizarre that I fear he practiced some kind of... evil art we've never even heard of."

Those words gave everyone, himself included, a barely passable step down from their humiliating predicament.

Elsewhere, Si Chen rode the wind, putting that little interruption behind him.

As his mother had said, there was no need to delve into things he could not understand that had nothing to do with him.

He was more concerned with his own shortcomings now.

If he had flown fast enough, he would have dealt with Zhang Quan long before. How else could so much trouble have followed?

He sank his awareness into his storage ring. He had never examined its contents carefully before; anything his lineage gave him had always seemed ordinary to him.

Only now, as he searched through it seriously, did he realize it was practically a general store, packed with cultivation supplies, clothes, spirit stones, and all manner of magical artifacts.

Soon, he picked out several jade slips devoted to movement divine abilities.

But most seemed overly complicated or flawed to him, until his attention settled on a purple jade slip.

The movement technique was called "Thunderbolt Flash."

He probed it with his spiritual sense, and its opening stated its purpose plainly: "Thunder stirs the nine heavens; a thousand miles pass in an instant. Only those possessing a thunder spirit root and a resilient body may practice this art. Otherwise, before harming the enemy, they will first harm themselves."

He happened to possess a thunder spirit root, and his body had been tempered by two cultivation arts. This technique suited him quite well.

"Draw lightning into wings, tread upon electric arcs..."

He murmured the formula, and the thunder spirit root that had formed on its own within him seemed to stir quietly, resonating with the power of thunder settled in his flesh and blood.

Si Chen's ability to learn remained as astonishing as it had been in childhood.

The instant he finished reading, he had already mastered the method for circulating "Thunderbolt Flash."

Still, he felt that the movement technique had some flaws.

And so the rest of his journey became a testing ground for refining it.

From time to time, a muffled thunderclap rang out among the mountains, and a green shadow streaked across the sky like lightning.

At first, the thunder boomed incessantly, and his movements were somewhat stiff. Every time he appeared, the shock sent branches and leaves trembling through the mountain forests below, startling flocks of birds into flight.

Gradually, however, the thunder grew softer and softer, fading from a roar to a hum, then to a sharp rush through the air that was almost inaudible.

His movements grew smoother as well, as though he had become thunder itself, weaving freely among clouds and peaks. Wherever his thoughts reached, his body arrived.

Before long, he had greatly improved "Thunderbolt Flash" and cultivated it to major mastery.

His speed was many times greater than when he had simply ridden the wind, while his spiritual power consumption was actually lower.

Unfamiliar with the route, Si Chen wandered for several days before finding the city he had heard about.

Its walls towered high, faint fluctuations of a formation radiating from them. Above the gate, three large characters had been carved in bold strokes like iron lines and silver hooks: Ancient Gaze City.

Before he even drew near, a wave of warmth washed over him, mingling dust, spirit herbs, cooking smoke, and the scents of countless living beings.

The main road grew extraordinarily crowded. There were travel-worn rogue cultivators, caravan guards escorting goods, plainly dressed mortal farmers, and even one or two lone travelers wearing bamboo hats, their auras difficult to read.

Si Chen landed lightly in a deserted spot outside the city and reined in his spiritual pressure. Looking like an ordinary, handsome young man, he joined the stream of people heading toward the gate.

The moment he stepped inside, a busy, vibrant clamor greeted him.

"Top-quality red iron ore! Perfect for forging fire-aspect flying swords!"

"Freshly made Qi Gathering Pills! Don't pass by and miss out!"

"Fellow Daoist, please wait! I see you have an extraordinary bone structure. I have a book passed down through my ancestors..."

Hawkers' cries, bargaining, greetings between acquaintances, the rumble of wagon wheels... all the sounds wove together.

It vaguely reminded him of his time in Cloud Brocade City, except here there was none of the deliberate deference inspired by his status, and a little more of the genuine warmth of everyday life.

He wandered wherever his fancy took him.

As he walked, his nostrils twitched. An exceptionally enticing aroma drifted from a bustling three-story restaurant ahead, overpowering many of the smells along the street.

The restaurant's sign read "Hundred Flavors House." Its entrance was broad, and both finely dressed cultivators and apparently well-off mortals came and went. Waiters with white towels draped over their shoulders darted among the tables, announcing dishes in ringing voices. The place was lively indeed.

Although Si Chen had long since reached Foundation Establishment, how could fasting pills compare to fine food?

Fine food was one of the few things he had discovered in this mortal world that brought him pure delight.

He entered the restaurant, and a waiter immediately approached with light, quick steps.

Si Chen could sense faint spiritual power fluctuations from him, roughly those of the third level of Qi Refining. In a city where mortals and cultivators mingled, a waiter like this was indeed better equipped to serve all sorts of guests.

"Please come in, Senior!"

The waiter smiled warmly, his gaze sweeping over Si Chen. Though exceptionally young, he had an extraordinary bearing. In the cultivation world, attainment took precedence, so addressing him as Senior was hardly inappropriate.

"Will you be dining or having tea, Senior? Our third-floor seating is quiet and offers a view of the street. The ingredients for our spirit dishes were all delivered fresh this morning."

As he led Si Chen toward the third floor, he listed the restaurant's signature dishes with the familiarity of someone counting his household treasures. There were ordinary delicacies from mountain and sea, as well as dishes prepared with spirit rice and spirit beast meat. The prices were steep, but against Si Chen's wealth, they amounted to a single hair from nine oxen.

Si Chen followed him upstairs. The surroundings were indeed much more refined, and most of the guests were cultivators. The waiter led him to a seat by a window overlooking the bustling street.

He had just sat down and ordered a few dishes when footsteps sounded from the stairs.

The world was vast, yet sometimes it was very small.

The newcomers were none other than Zhao Qinghe and his companions.

This time, however, an old man in a dark blue Daoist robe patterned with flowing clouds accompanied them.

The old man had a lean face, and a keen gleam flickered in his eyes as they opened and closed. His aura was as deep as an abyss, far beyond that of Zhao Qinghe and the others in the Foundation Establishment Realm.

He was the sect's Golden Core elder who had rushed over after Zhao Qinghe shattered a communication talisman to request aid.

The members of the Flowing Cloud Sword Sect clearly had not expected to encounter Si Chen here either.

Their steps froze at once, and their expressions shifted.

The junior brothers and sisters looked as though they had seen a ghost, instinctively retreating half a step. The square-faced disciple and the youngest junior sister instantly lost all color in their faces.

Zhao Qinghe trembled slightly too, but he was, after all, their senior brother. He forced himself to remain calm, though his right hand unconsciously settled on his sword hilt.

For a moment, the group from the Flowing Cloud Sword Sect could neither advance nor retreat, and the awkwardness reached its peak.

Si Chen saw them as well.

His face showed little expression. He merely felt that, since they had met again, courtesy seemed to call for a greeting.

So he set down the teacup he had just picked up and calmly cupped his hands toward Zhao Qinghe and the others in acknowledgment.

Then, as though nothing had happened, he paid them no further attention, turning back toward the window to wait for his food.

His gesture left the members of the Flowing Cloud Sword Sect even more at a loss.

The blue-robed elder took it all in. His gaze lingered on Si Chen for a moment, then swept over his disciples, who looked like birds startled by the twang of a bowstring. He already understood something of the situation.

With a faint smile, he walked calmly toward Si Chen's table. Seeing this, Zhao Qinghe had no choice but to steel himself and follow.

"Greetings, young friend." The blue-robed elder stopped beside the table, his tone even.

"I am Lü Yan of the Flowing Cloud Sword Sect. It seems there was something of a misunderstanding between you and these unworthy disciples of mine a few days ago?"