Chapter 89: Zhen Mo Si of Outside Qingzhou

Several demon hunters halted their inspection of the disciples, their expressions filled with deep wariness.

Only Chen Qiankun remained unmoved, casually releasing the heavy iron halberd in his hand, closing his eyes, his yin spirit instantly leaving his body and ascending with the halberd!

A demon lord of such an aura could not possibly move him.

Yet only for an instant.

The halberd hung motionless in midair, as if confused, then finally returned to Chen Qiankun's grasp.

The old man opened his eyes, and a hint of something unusual appeared in his calm gaze.

That aura… had vanished.

Even his yin spirit could not detect its trace.

Within the Nascent Core Realm, and at such close range, it was impossible for any demon to evade his yin spirit's perception—whether by suppressing its aura or assuming a human form like Zhang Hengzhou—let alone a low-grade transformation technique.

It was more like some kind of teleportation art, shifting a thousand li in an instant, merely to intimidate him.

If that were the case, the aura just revealed was likely only the tip of the iceberg.

Chen Qiankun slowly clenched his hand around the heavy iron halberd, then after a long while turned to face the demon hunters.

The demon hunters' expressions shifted slightly, as if they had guessed something.

The old man who had single-handedly suppressed Qingfeng showed a rare trace of melancholy, as if lamenting his age.

"I wonder which demon lord is playing tricks on this old man? Since you refuse to show yourself, let me show you… the sharpest sword in Outside Qingzhou."

"I ask you all to go to Lady Yushan."

"Summon Jiang Qiulan."

Upon hearing this, even the Qingfeng Mountain disciples—including the two guardian elders—instinctively touched their necks.

Over twenty thousand skulls still piled upon the walls of Lady Yushan's Juncheng.

The demon hunters all nodded in agreement: "Old General, no need for courtesy—we know the gravity."

General Jiang's methods for hunting demons may not surpass Old General Chen's, since she and the old man were both in the Embracing Elixir Realm—though more formidable, she had not truly broken through a realm.

She was also the only one among all the Zhen Mo Si generals who did not cultivate Wu Xian, but Slain Hunyuan.

She didn't even possess the abilities of the yin spirit.

But as soon as she stepped beyond the gates of Lady Yushan's Juncheng, within half a day, every named demon lord in Linjiang Juncheng would hear the news and retreat quietly to their lairs to rest.

The First Sword of Outside Qingzhou, leader of the twelve Zhen Mo Si generals—counting all of Zhen Mo Si and Sixingwu Sect together, only her master, the Commander, could surpass her.

"I have urgent duties to attend to; I won't linger."

Chen Qiankun shook his head, gave a slight gesture, and a crimson steed shot toward him like a streak of light, letting out a soft snort.

It then carried the old general to the mid-slope of Qingfeng Mountain, its hooves lightly treading as it slowly ascended to the peak of Guanjian Gorge.

The old man gazed down at the dense forest below, finding it mildly intriguing.

In the report brought back by the demon hunters, the villagers of Shuiyun Township had vividly described a black-robed, fearsome river god, wielding a black blade at his waist, his eyes brimming with slaughter.

Yet in person, he was a reserved young man.

He waited all night, but the young man never came to pay his respects.

Cautious in thought, decisive in slaughter, fearless in mortal combat, firm in seizing the demon core—as if even this Zhen Mo Si general couldn't take what was his.

Yet he never sought greater rewards for it, never once approached him, let alone flattered or begged for recognition.

"Disdain the merit of slaying the dragon? Old man will give it to you anyway."

Watching the young man step out of the tent, the old man's lips revealed a rare smile—observe him a few more years, and leaving him the Sword Pool of Qingfeng Mountain wouldn't be a bad choice.

Zhen Mo Si has no shortage of geniuses, but it lacks geniuses who have endured the crucible of life and death; though they risk premature demise, without facing those moments of mortal peril, how can they protect millions of Li Min?

Only those who survive are true seedlings.

"Staying by my side may be safe, but it would be a waste."

Those who earn merit should be honored splendidly.

Thinking of this, he said softly: "Before you return to the Zhen Mo Si headquarters, if you dare to get down, I'll break your legs."

His words, neither heavy nor light, drifted down to the two men at the cliff's base.

Hong Lei, holding the reins, turned in shock to look behind—and upon seeing Chen Qiankun's familiar figure, immediately shoved Shen Yi: "I told you, this horse was granted to you by the General—you must have a Deputy General lead it! Why are you dawdling?"

Shen Yi also looked toward that direction, seeing only a crimson streak flash across the sky and vanish beyond the horizon.

Such unrestrained demeanor stirred a flicker of envy in his heart.

"…."

Fortunately, he too had built up some foundation.

Feeling the external elixir, once again suppressed by the Molten Sun Treasure Furnace, within his qi sea.

Shen Yi turned his gaze away and mounted the demonic steed.

Over twenty Gold Eagle Captains led the way, surrounded by dozens of Camp Captains, while Hong Lei walked steadily, pulling the demonic horse, whispering into Shen Yi's mind:

"The old general is meticulous—he fears you'll be targeted by the Yangchun River's aquatic clans. Only these Deputy Generals know about the dragon-slaying."

"But Zhao Kanglin died right before our eyes—and only he died… the Zhao family can't help but suspect and resent you. Though those old bastards may not dare move against you, revealing your strength early saves a lot of trouble."

…

Qingzhou City.

Under the control of Zhen Mo Si, major events rarely reached its streets.

Nothing more than a swordsman's wife being abducted again, or bandits from Pingsha Valley drinking another few casks of the Prince's wine.

As courier captains raced through the city, an event significant enough to stun everyone could no longer be hidden—it echoed throughout the neighborhoods.

Qingfeng Mountain… was gone.

Unlike the bloody massacre at Lady Yushan, under the hand of the Linjiang Juncheng General, a vast sect that had endured for countless years vanished without a trace.

The storyteller gripped his wooden clapper, standing helplessly in the teahouse.

He had spoken for decades of chivalry and tender passion, spoken for decades of swords cleaving demons and monsters, and in a single night it had all become nothing but "legend."

"I…"

His dry lips moved, and he barely steadied his mind; the stories he knew by heart could no longer be told, so he could only rack his brains for new ones.

"Today, for everyone, I'll tell a… um… tale of the Water Cloud Hamlet's River God, who wields an immortal blade and furiously slays a thousand-year river fish spirit!"

The storyteller wiped the sweat from his face and brought down the sounding block with a heavy slap: "The story goes that in this dynasty there was a burly, leopard-headed, ring-eyed great fellow, draped in a gilded cloud-patterned splendid robe, gripping an ink-black blade that could split mountains and sever rivers — truly radiant and full of spirit, treading upon layer upon layer of river waves, with shrimp soldiers and crab generals by the thousand myriad at his back."

"That river demon had a hideous face, a fat head and big ears, insufferably arrogant! He roared out his challenge: 'Who goes there?'"

"The great fellow gave a cold laugh, and a tortoise minister cupped his hands in salute — this was a star descended from the heavens, the River-Settling God… the mere hearing of his immortal name made the river demon retreat again and again, his whole body trembling like sifted chaff, even that thing of his shriveled to the size of a bean…"

"Pfft!"

The storyteller spat into his hand, his voice rising high and sharp: "The immortal blade came down and ground that river demon's bones to dust!"

Down below, the young man wrapped all over in bandages could not help but close his eyes and murmur: "I can't take it, this is getting a little embarrassing."

The charming young woman in casual dress lifted her tea cup, somewhat unsettled: "Common folk just love hearing these exaggerated tales."

Li Xinhan looked back at the storyteller: "I wonder how far he still is from the Jade Liquid Realm — should be soon, I'd think. He's a genius too, just stuck here in this little town of Bai Yun, wasted a good deal of time."

"Oh, right."

He recalled something: "Earlier I asked you to take me out for a look around, but I forgot to ask — why did you come back so early? Where's Shen Yi?"

Li Mujin stared at the bits of leaf dregs floating up in her tea cup, and for a long while said nothing.

She herself did not know why she had been in such a hurry to return; she had only just arrived at that county town and stayed two days before she could not help but whip her horse and ride back.

What if Qingfeng Mountain still wanted to keep drafting Captains — what if it drafted her…

Why suddenly not want any more people again?

What on earth could a martial artist at the peak of the Initial Realm do up on Qingfeng Mountain?

As the woman's thoughts tumbled in confusion, Li Xinhan slowly knit his brows, stared hard at his elder sister, his eyes filling with indignation, and asked in disbelief: "You let him go?!"

Faced with this rare rebuke, Li Mujin did not argue back, but suddenly rose to her feet.

From outside the door came a vendor's cry: "He's back! The Zhen Mo Si Captain is back!"

(End of chapter)