Chapter 39

Chen Zhao stared at his palm, silently pondering.

Since this fortune was auspicious, he might as well set out and try.

The miasma there suppresses cultivation levels; with his strength, facing a Qi Refining sixth-layer cultivator isn't too much of a disadvantage.

Moreover.

He still had a Nourishing Spirit Pill, a Nine Orifices Clearing Jade, and a fragment of a map.

All clues pointed to the middle layer of Fulong Mountain.

There were plenty of opportunities, but he still needed to bring another person to handle Su Muqing.

Chen Zhao looked around.

He chose Duan Bo.

Even with his cultivation suppressed, this man's foundation far surpassed Qi Refining sixth-layer; bringing him was the safest choice.

After disguising themselves, the two rushed toward Fulong Mountain.

To avoid exposing their movements, only four people were involved, traveling in separate groups to obscure their intentions.

They communicated via Communication Tokens and never met face-to-face.

Half a day later.

Chen Zhao and Duan Bo reached the edge of the miasma.

Looking out.

Even at noon, the fog was so thick nothing could be seen.

From within, metallic clashes and the screams of cultivators echoed intermittently—truly chilling.

"My spiritual sense can't extend…"

Chen Zhao lowered his head, thinking silently.

He drew the Qingming Naling Sword and slashed it through the miasma.

As expected.

The blood-colored mist split apart—indeed, it had remarkable effect.

"So the miasma truly shares the same origin as evil qi; no wonder it confuses the mind."

Duan Bo gave a slight nod.

Chen Zhao had suspected this already; now confirmed by Duan Bo, his conviction deepened.

This place might well be the Cave Abode of some Evil Cultivator master.

When that man died, his evil qi became trapped by seals, lingering endlessly.

Later, the seals broke open, releasing the evil qi, which became this miasma.

Chen Zhao pulled out his Token; it bore residual spiritual energy from Zhang Sifan. He pressed it to his forehead and carefully sensed.

After a long while, he sighed softly.

He could not tell whether Zhang Sifan was alive or dead.

All he'd heard was that Zhang had headed southeast; after confirming with his other teammates, Chen Zhao led Duan Bo into the miasma.

The instant his body entered.

Chen Zhao felt his heart contract sharply, as if the spiritual energy of heaven and earth had severed all ties with him.

Even with his Dao heart firm, a thread of loneliness and despair arose within him.

To be safe, he swallowed a Nourishing Spirit Pill.

His spirit instantly revived.

He looked around.

Even with the Qingming Spirit-Absorbing Sword protecting him, he could not see Duan Bo's face—the visibility was far too low.

Chen Zhao held Duan Bo's hand, and the two moved southeast.

Along the way, corpses lay everywhere, yet there were no signs of battle—as if they had simply died of old age.

Chen Zhao bent down to search, hoping to collect some treasures.

Unexpectedly, even the Dharma Treasures had been corroded by evil qi, their spiritual essence utterly gone.

The two walked for a long time.

Before them stood a colossal tree, piercing the clouds, blocking their path.

Beneath the tree lay scattered ruins, ancient beyond count, yet still steeped in spiritual energy.

Something was wrong.

With visibility so low in the miasma, how could they see these objects?

Chen Zhao focused his mind and violently broke free from the illusion.

Duan Bo cast him a sidelong glance; even with the Nourishing Spirit Pill's aid, Chen Zhao had to notice the illusion first to break free voluntarily.

"Third Brother is wise—setting up this illusion array, waiting for others to smash their heads trying to escape, so we can reap the rewards."

A thin, high-pitched male voice echoed from the mist.

Immediately, a white-robed disciple entered their view.

His body was covered in pus-filled sores, dragging a severed hand, yet his head remained intact.

The strangeness was that only he was ever present.

The so-called "Third Brother" was surely long dead.

Chen Zhao narrowed his eyes—he recognized this man.

Su Muxuan!

The man's mind was clouded; he formed a hand seal, and a spiritual arrow Dharma Treasure shot through the air.

But times have changed.

Like slicing paper, the Qingming Huan Ling Sword split the small arrow clean through, and in an instant, it severed Su Muxuan's nose.

The Mu Chen spirit breath swept over him, and his bloodshot eyes cleared slightly.

Chen Zhao saw his spirit returning, and promptly withdrew, demanding to know why he had come here.

"Spirit Stones! Give me Spirit Stones and I'll talk!"

Su Muxuan, wild-eyed, upon seeing the Spirit Stones, spilled everything like beans from a bamboo tube:

"A Foundation Establishment cave abode, gathering of evil cultivators—Sister guessed Chen Zhao and the others would come here, kill them, and the Spirit Stones would be plentiful!"

Chen Zhao raised an eyebrow.

Seeing him grow even more deranged, he severed Su Muxuan's head with a single sword stroke.

Yet he harbored a suspicion.

This miasma must amplify human desires—Xin Tong sought medicine, Su Muxuan sought Spirit Stones, and both ultimately fell into demonic deviation.

From the divination, Su Muqing is also here, but her desire remains unknown.

"Also, this gathering of evil cultivators..."

Chen Zhao's heart sank.

If this place truly holds a Foundation Establishment evil cultivator's cave abode, it is also an opportunity for other evil cultivators.

As expected.

The two had not walked ten steps when they heard fierce combat sounds ahead.

Chen Zhao acted decisively and took a detour.

His goal in coming here was best achieved by killing Su Muqing, not merely defeating her.

He must preserve his condition and minimize expenditure.

At first, Duan Bo would tease Chen Zhao for being cowardly and avoiding trouble, but after two hours of walking, he fell silent.

No other reason—along this path alone, over a hundred people had paired off and fought to the death.

Tiankui Sect is a righteous sect; where could so many evil cultivators come from nearby?

He pondered but found no answer.

"Senior, you promised to spare my life—why..."

A cry of anguish reached his ears.

A great sword pierced the air and pinned a gray-robed disciple before them.

Chen Zhao's gaze sharpened—he saw a figure crouched atop the great sword.

"Oh? Another who fears not the evil qi? Two of you?"

Another?

Chen Zhao raised an eyebrow.

This man's mind was clear; he seemed to have seen Zhang Sifan and the others—he could be questioned.

Unfortunately, the evil qi here was thick; Chen Zhao could not tell if he was an evil cultivator, so he ventured a probe:

"Friend, wait—have you seen a man dressed in black robes?"

He pulled out a low-grade Spirit Stone and described Zhang Sifan's appearance.

Unexpectedly, the man burst into laughter and mocked:

"You're an odd one—talking about human relations to evil cultivators? Aren't you afraid your sect will hunt you down?"

"Those who serve me are righteous; there are no evil cultivators."

Chen Zhao said coolly.

The Qingming Huan Ling Sword was hidden behind his back; Duan Bo had seen his gesture and prepared to strike first.

Unexpectedly—

The man scratched his head and smiled sheepishly:

"I didn't realize you were so straightforward—I was impolite."

"I've seen that black-robed Daoist too—he gave me a storage bag, telling me to deliver it to someone destined—surely that's you two."

Saying this, he tossed the storage bag.

Before Chen Zhao could catch it, he activated his escape technique to full power and fled.

He was an evil cultivator; even in the evil qi, he saw clearly.

This old man and young man spoke sweetly, but both were hard targets—he had no chance against them.

Besides, the storage bag was picked up; it bore righteous sect seals he couldn't open, so losing it was no loss.

Only—

Just as he was pondering this—

Thunder rolled behind him, fortunately not aimed at him.

But he sensed danger and instantly rolled over.

Zeng!

Half his arm was instantly severed, accompanied by strange mist that prevented him from channeling Qi to heal.

He gasped sharply, cursing inwardly:

"Damn it, I, Liang Chengfeng, have never endured such humiliation."

He stared at the wound—the white mist still corroded his flesh, burning with pain.

"Even after I've taken advantage, I don't strike from ambush—your method is this treacherous? Are you an evil cultivator? Or am I?"