The meeting hall on Northern Mang Mountain sat within the mountain itself.
Hard stone walls surrounded it, with only a narrow stone stairway connecting it to the outside.
He now wore Iron Ox's appearance, with plant ash smeared on his face to imitate the blade scar running from Iron Ox's brow bone to his jaw, and even forced his voice into a coarse rasp.
As soon as he reached the meeting hall entrance, he saw two bandits leaning against the stone doorway. One was gnawing on half a hard, dry wheat cake, scattering crumbs all over the ground.
Qing Chen took a deep breath and steadied himself.
He knew he had to stay calm at this moment. Even the slightest hint of panic could expose his identity.
"Brothers, these shifts wearing you out?"
Qing Chen steeled himself and walked over, deliberately stamping his feet heavily. Imitating Iron Ox's bullying manner, he reached out to clap the bearded man on the shoulder.
But his hand was only halfway up when the bearded man abruptly stopped chewing, holding the wheat cake in midair as he narrowed his eyes at him.
"Fifth Chief? What's happened to your face? It wasn't this dirty when I saw you yesterday."
Qing Chen's heart lurched.
He hastily withdrew his hand and cursed, "Damn it! The latrine on the back mountain collapsed and splashed mud all over me! What? You little bastard dare find fault with me?"
The tall, skinny man edged half a step closer, his hand still rubbing against his saber hilt. "Not finding fault, Fifth Chief. The Chief only told you this morning to guard the back mountain and watch Young Master Zhao. Why have you come around to the front now?"
His gaze swept over Qing Chen's waist. Iron Ox always carried a short axe tucked there, but Qing Chen wore only a ring-pommel saber.
Sweat soaked Qing Chen's back.
He suddenly raised his voice, deliberately putting on Iron Ox's explosive temper.
"Guard my ass! The vanguard's almost pounding down our mountain gate, and Young Master Zhao's holed up in that hut like a turtle. What could go wrong?
"I'm here for the defense map, then I'm going to the front mountain to chop off a few heads and show them who's boss! Keep yammering, you two, and see if I don't slap you across your damn faces!"
The bearded man frowned and was about to speak, but the tall, skinny man tugged at him and jutted his lips toward the meeting hall.
"Fifth Chief, the defense map's on the table, but..."
Before he could finish, Qing Chen suddenly moved.
Qing Chen had already clenched his fists, gathering all the Jade Forging Art's internal force into the heel of his palm.
His left hand shot out like lightning, the heel of his palm pressing squarely against the tall, skinny man's temple.
He dared not use his full strength for fear of leaving an external injury, merely sending his internal force into the man's skull.
The tall, skinny man's eyes flew wide and his mouth gaped, but not a sound escaped. His body went limp as noodles and slid down along the stone doorway.
The bearded man had just reacted and reached for his saber when Qing Chen's right foot slammed into his knee!
With a soft crack, the bearded man dropped to one knee. Before he could cry out in pain, Qing Chen's right palm struck his chest.
The instant the internal force penetrated him, the bearded man's face turned deathly pale. A mouthful of black blood surged up, but Qing Chen covered his mouth with his hand, keeping even a drop from spilling.
In no more than two breaths, both bandits had stopped breathing.
Panting heavily, Qing Chen dragged the two men to either side of the stone doorway and arranged them in their original poses.
He stuffed the wheat cake back into the bearded man's hand, leaving his mouth poised as though still gnawing at it;
The tall, skinny man's hand remained on his saber hilt, his head tilted to one side as though he were dozing.
He took out a scrap of cloth and wiped the black blood from the corner of the tall, skinny man's mouth.
Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief. Fortunately, he had left no obvious wounds; no one would notice for a while.
He pushed the door open. The meeting hall was larger than he had expected, with a blackened wooden table in the middle and half a pot of unfinished sorghum liquor sitting on it.
Several crumpled scraps of paper lay scattered beside it, bearing crooked terrain maps marked with the bandits' sentry positions.
Most conspicuous of all was the North Mang Celestial Eagle Painting on the wall, depicting a celestial eagle with spread wings and a piercing gaze.
He searched carefully and finally found the somewhat unusual talon.
Compared with the other parts, its lines were rougher, and its coloring was slightly different.
Following the method the wandering martial artist had taught him-"three left, two right, twist slowly"-he pressed the talon in the prescribed manner.
With a creak, the tiger-skin chair behind the long table suddenly sprang upward, revealing a concealed opening two feet square.
It was pitch-black inside, as though it had not been opened for a long time.
Qing Chen did not hurry inside. First, he went to the entrance and listened. All was quiet outside, and the two bandits' poses had given nothing away.
He bent down and slipped into the concealed opening, reaching back to push the chair into place.
Once inside, Qing Chen immediately flicked open his fire starter and shook it a few times, trying to dispel the darkness in the secret passage.
He had just blown the fire starter alight and had yet to make out the path when he suddenly heard a soft whoosh. Rows of candles sprang out from the stone overhead, their flames flaring up to illuminate the hidden passage ahead.
Qing Chen jumped, nearly dropping the fire starter.
This mechanism saved him some trouble, but it also showed that the passage contained even more traps than he had imagined.
The candlelight was dim and yellow, enough to reveal patterns carved into the stone walls on both sides of the passage.
After entering the secret passage, Qing Chen took every step with exceptional care.
The wandering martial artist had mentioned that mechanisms were packed densely throughout this place, and the slightest carelessness could cost him his life.
Sure enough, before long, he encountered the first trap.
A sharp stone blade suddenly sprang from the wall, hurtling straight at a vital spot with a whistling rush of wind.
Qing Chen was already prepared, and he darted aside.
Using a protrusion in the wall as cover, he easily evaded the stone blade's attack.
Next, he encountered the second trap.
A row of poisoned arrows shot soundlessly from the darkness.
Qing Chen dared not meet them head-on, swiftly swinging the long saber in his hand.
The blade flashed, knocking down the poisoned arrows one after another.
But there were simply too many poisoned arrows. He had to retreat while swinging his saber, searching for an opportunity to dodge.
Just then, he felt the ground suddenly give beneath his feet, and his whole body nearly sank through.
He hurriedly steadied himself and discovered that the floor was covered in tiny, closely spaced holes.
It was clearly another trap, and he dared not take another careless step.
Instead, he tapped the floor gently with his long saber, probing his way forward.
Yet even with such caution, he still nearly fell victim to a trap.
As he reached a corner, he suddenly felt a powerful rush of wind strike from overhead.
He looked up and saw an enormous stone hammer smashing down from the ceiling.
It came with a thunderous roar, as though it would pound him into pulp.
Qing Chen was startled, but he did not panic.
He swiftly swung his long saber and used the blade's springiness to leap up, evading the stone hammer's attack.
But before he could land, he felt another fierce rush of wind coming from behind.
He hurriedly turned and swung his saber, knocking away an iron arrow shot from the wall.
"Damn it, whoever designed these traps was vicious as hell! In his next life, he's sure to be some bastard whose line dies out without a single descendant!"
And so Qing Chen advanced, overcoming traps all along the way.
Fortunately, Qing Chen possessed deep reserves of internal energy from the Jade Forging Art, as well as considerable lightness skills and saber technique. Even so, a spiked club swept away a chunk of flesh from his thigh.
For an ordinary Third-Rate Expert entering this place, it truly would have been nine chances of death to one of survival.
After another thirty steps, a heavy stone door finally appeared ahead.
A ferocious tiger's head was carved into the door, its eyes inlaid with two black stones polished to a shine.
Qing Chen caught his breath, sweat streaming down his cheeks. Even his hands had begun to tremble.
The "object for becoming an immortal" the wandering martial artist had spoken of was inside.