Chapter 792: The New Rooms of Suishenju

Tong Lianhua believed Li Qi’s Zhai Xiu and Lv Xiu had both advanced one level.

Zhao Xiaojuan didn’t believe it—no matter what Honglian said now, Zhao Xiaojuan refused to believe her.

But if not her, who else could she believe? Cultivation base is invisible—how could she know which path Li Qi had advanced in?

After a moment’s thought, Zhao Xiaojuan called out loudly: “Old Master, how many rooms are there now?”

Suishenju gave no response—it seemed something had gone wrong.

Zhao Xiaojuan turned again to Tong Lianhua, her gaze filled with murderous intent.

Tong Lianhua helplessly waved her flower leaves: “Zhao Xiaojuan, whether you believe me or not, I didn’t harm Li Qi, nor did I harm Little Train!”

Zhao Xiaojuan held Li Qi and said to Jiu’er: “Sister, go check the rooms—see how many rooms we have now!”

Suishenju originally had thirteen rooms; each time Li Banfeng advanced in Zhai Xiu within Suishenju, one more room would appear.

If there were still thirteen rooms now, it proved Zhai Xiu hadn’t advanced—Li Banfeng had consumed so much popularity, advanced two levels in Lv Xiu, and Zhai Xiu would suffer severe backlash.

If there were fourteen rooms, everyone would be delighted—it proved Li Banfeng had indeed advanced one level in both Zhai Xiu and Lv Xiu.

If there were fifteen rooms, it proved Li Banfeng had advanced two levels in Zhai Xiu but not in Lv Xiu.

That was the worst possible outcome, because Lv Xiu’s backlash was fiercer than Zhai Xiu’s—jumping two levels at once, Li Banfeng would surely be gravely injured, possibly even die.

Jiu’er sprinted to Room Thirteen, and soon Zhao Xiaojuan heard Jiu’er shout: “I see Room Fourteen!”

Hongying smiled and said to Tong Lianhua: “You’re actually useful.”

The Pendulum chuckled: “Our Old Master is blessed by heaven.”

Zhao Xiaojuan didn’t smile—she shouted to Jiu’er: “Keep looking further down!”

No sooner had she spoken than Jiu’er shouted again: “I see Room Fifteen!”

Zhao Xiaojuan’s face turned deathly pale—the worst outcome had arrived.

The gloves trembled on all five fingers: “This shouldn’t be—Master—”

The Wine Gourd shouted: “Give me the harmonizer—mix it with medicinal wine, get some into Little Brother!”

The Scythe said to the Gloves: “Any popularity left? Maybe we should advance Lv Xiu one more level.”

Tang Dao shook his blade handle: “No more advancement—Master can’t take it!”

Even the Judge’s Pen, fast asleep, woke up: “Impossible!”

Everyone was stunned—Tong Lianhua didn’t know what was happening. Hongying raised her long sword and walked toward Tong Lianhua: “Wretched bitch, I knew you had ill intentions!”

She was about to chop Tong Lianhua down when Jiu’er shouted: “I see Room Sixteen!”

The main room fell silent instantly.

Hongying, sword in hand, went to find Jiu’er: “Useless fool, can’t even count properly!”

Jiu’er shouted again: “I see Room Seventeen!”

Hongying froze for a moment, then turned to Zhao Xiaojuan: “Is this girl mad?”

Jiu’er shouted again: “I see Room Eighteen!”

Zhao Xiaojuan urged Hongying: “Go check right away!”

Hongying went to look.

Jiu’er walked forward, Hongying chased after her, all the way until they reached Room Thirty-Two before stopping.

“How could there be thirty-two rooms?” Jiu’er couldn’t fathom the reason.

Hongying silently pulled away from Jiu’er and rushed back to Xiaojuan’s side.

“Xiaojuan, Jiu’er’s older sister is insane, her mother’s crazy too—I think she’s insane as well.”

Zhao Xiaojuan frowned: “How many rooms did you see?”

Hongying looked tense: “I saw thirty-two too—so I think I’m insane too. Her madness is contagious.”

Zhao Xiaojuan shoved Hongying: “You know it’s contagious, yet you’re standing this close—what if you infect Master?”

The mistress knew clearly: Jiu’er wasn’t mad, and Hongying wasn’t mad either.

Suishenju suddenly producing thirty-two rooms—only Suishenju itself might know why.

But Suishenju was now in serious trouble; suddenly gaining so many rooms, it couldn’t possibly remain unaffected.

From inside Suishenju, rooms had increased—what changes would appear from outside?

Had Suishenju become visible?

Zhao Xiaojuan searched all over Li Banfeng’s body but found no key.

With Lian Kuo’s Bedroom Technique, even if Li Banfeng brought the key into Suishenju, he could still exit—but Li Banfeng still insisted on hiding the key outside Suishenju. Even if he brought it home, it was useless; unless Li Qi was conscious, Suishenju wouldn’t let anyone out.

Zhao Xiaojuan laid Li Banfeng on the bed, covered him with the quilt, confirmed he was sound asleep, then went to Room Five.

The girl in Room Five was picking flowers; seeing Zhao Xiaojuan enter, she quickly put down the fresh blooms and stood properly.

She lowered her head, cautiously glancing at Zhao Xiaojuan.

Zhao Xiaojuan asked: “Can you see what’s happening outside?”

The girl in Room Five shook her head rapidly: “Old Master sealed my eyes—but—”

“Speak plainly.”

The Fifth Girl said: “If I could go to Room Ten, perhaps I could see something.”

Room Ten in Suishenju had a crack—a scar left by Old Train’s collision. Once, Xiao Qianshou nearly escaped Suishenju through that crack.

Today, the girl in Room Five mentioned Room Ten—Zhao Xiaojuan smiled: “Fine, we can negotiate. If you behave well,

I’ll take you there someday.”

She absolutely could not let her go to Room Ten.

Before Master and Old Master woke up, Lai Wuju must not step one foot outside Room Five.

Zhao Xiaojuan was pondering how to monitor Lai Wuju when Jiu’er shouted: “There’s a crack in Room Thirty-Two,

but the door won’t open!”

Ma Wu rode the train to Tie Wan Gang—Xiao Chuanzi had already prepared personnel and materials.

Railways had been opened in all areas of Puluozhou, but many places still lacked them.

Suihuangyuan was one such place; as a border stronghold, it had no railway. Li Banfeng had specifically instructed Ma Wu: Suihuangyuan must have a train line.

All materials for building the railway were ready—but how to cross the border now?

Where there were tracks, trains crossed the border; where there weren’t, they used to rely on the Guanfang Hall.

Now the Guanfang Hall was gone, and Li Qi was unreachable—Ma Wu had no good solution.

Just as he was desperate, a message arrived from Xiaoyaowu: a hoodlum had repeatedly caused trouble; Manager Zhang, proud and unwilling to beg for help, had fought the hoodlum several times and been severely injured.

Ma Wu had heard this before and hadn’t cared—but now the hoodlum had grown bolder, and with the railway project stalled, Ma Wu’s anger boiled over.

He immediately called Qin Tianjiu. Qin Tianjiu laughed upon hearing: “Brother Wu, is this worth getting angry over? Tomorrow I’ll personally go to Xiaoyaowu and wait. No matter who this hoodlum is, if he shows up, he won’t leave alive!”

Little Fat kept his word—he went to Xiaoyaowu the next day.

He wore a thick fur coat, a large fur hat, and a woolen scarf, completely bundled up, sitting at the bar, ordering a bottle of foreign liquor.

The bartender, seeing his attire, grew nervous—there had been trouble lately, and this man didn’t look like a good sort.

The liquor was poured, and the bartender wondered how he’d drink with all that wrapped around him.

Qin Tianjiu glanced at the bartender: “Why are you staring? Do your job!”

The bartender left. When no one was watching, Qin Tianjiu pulled down his scarf, lifted the glass, and took a sip.

Sipping slowly, over two hours passed—he drank two bottles, and just as he felt warmth spreading through him, a man entered the main dance hall and sat down.

Because of recent incidents, Xiaoyaowu’s patrons were already few; as soon as this man entered, the band stopped playing, and the singers fled to the back.

Several bouncers entered the dance floor and escorted all other guests out.

Qin Tianjiu didn’t leave—he stared at the new arrival.

The man’s attire resembled his own—he wore a large hat, not fur but cotton, no scarf, and his face was plastered with medicinal patches.

No need to ask—he was the habitual troublemaker.

“What are you all staring at? What place is this? Isn’t this a dance floor?” the patch-faced man spoke. “Where’s the liquor? The songs? The dancers? Nothing here—what kind of business is this?”

The bouncers knew they couldn’t beat him, but this was their duty—they had to fight when faced with such trouble.

Qin Tianjiu moved first, sitting across from the man: “I’ve got liquor. I can sing. Dancing? Not so good. How about you just listen to me sing?”

The patch-faced man looked at Qin Tianjiu: “Can you sing well?”

Qin Tianjiu humbly replied: “Decent enough—they say I’m a bit better than Jiang Mengting.”

The patch-faced man picked up a bottle from the next table and pointed at Qin Tianjiu: “Who’s Jiang Mengting? Your wife? Make her come out and drink with me.”

Qin Tianjiu stared at the man for a moment: “You really are a hoodlum? Why not beg for food elsewhere? Why come here to die?”

The patch-faced man said: “What’s it to you if I come here?”

Qin Tianjiu smiled: “Do you want to die now, or have a drink first?”

The patch-faced man suddenly yanked off Qin Tianjiu’s scarf—the sight startled him.

From hair to eyebrows to beard, Qin Tianjiu’s face was covered in fur—only the area around his eyes remained clean. Since eating Nian Shangyou’s beard, Qin Tianjiu had become this way; his wife shaved him every night, and by morning, his face was full again.

He tore off Qin Tianjiu’s scarf; Qin Tianjiu didn’t hold back—he ripped off the man’s patches.

The pull tore off a large chunk of skin and flesh—the man’s face now showed bone.

Qin Tianjiu frowned: “Who are you?”

The patch-faced man said nothing—he smashed a bottle over Qin Tianjiu’s head.

Qin Tianjiu shook the glass shards from his hair: “Classic hoodlum tactics. Let’s see if you’ve got real skill.”

As he spoke, Qin Tianjiu spat a pellet at the patch-faced man.

The pellet landed on the wound—its tiny insect burst out instantly, crawling all over the man’s face.

Logically, being hit by those pellets should have meant losing half the battle already—these insects consume blood and flesh at an astonishing rate.

But these insects kept crawling, never taking a single bite.

Fatty blinked: “You’re an Insect Cultivator?”

The plaster man overturned the table and smashed it against Qin Tianjiu’s body.

Qin Tianjiu sat motionless, struck a match, and held it to his lips, as if about to smoke.

He didn’t pull out a cigarette; instead, he exhaled a mist of liquor, which passed through the match and turned into a fire serpent, circling the plaster man—whose entire body burst into flames.

Given the plaster man’s cultivation base, ordinary fire wouldn’t trouble him—he had countless ways to extinguish it.

But this fire was hard to put out: Qin Tianjiu’s match was special, infused with Fire Cultivation techniques; the more the plaster man tried to extinguish it, the fiercer it burned.

“Too painful, isn’t it? Let me help you ease up.” Qin Tianjiu inhaled through his mouth, drawing in most of the flames.

This act seemed like saving the plaster man from fire, but in truth, it was draining his strength—if he didn’t respond, once the flames were fully absorbed, he’d have no energy left to fight Qin Tianjiu.

The battle was going well; the plaster man’s strength was severely depleted, his movements growing sluggish. Qin Tianjiu thought victory was assured—until he felt a sudden chill creeping over his head.

Damn—it’s poisoned!

What sect is this man from? This poison is ruthless!

Qin Tianjiu tried to cough out the poison, but his mouth wouldn’t open—his tongue and palate were glued shut by something.

Glue Cultivation techniques too?

If a Food Cultivator can’t open his mouth, he’s in deep trouble.

Fortunately, Qin Tianjiu had more than one mouth.

He tore open his shirt, revealing a hairy chest—and beneath the fur, another mouth bit down on the plaster man’s wrist, ripped and tore, pulling off the entire arm and swallowing it whole.

After eating the arm, Qin Tianjiu tasted something.

The shell was rotten, long decayed—but the flesh held spiritual essence, proving a soul resided within—the man before him was a living corpse.

Qin Tianjiu had seen many living corpses, but this one’s spiritual essence was chaotic, as if not originating from a single soul.

Multiple souls sharing one body—he’d never encountered such a case.

He pulled a bell from his robe and shook it vigorously.

This was a top-tier magic treasure of the Three Cong Sect—useless against the living, but devastating to dead souls.

He’d barely shaken it twice when the plaster man lunged to snatch it. He had only one hand left—he shouldn’t have been Qin Tianjiu’s match—but his strike was unnaturally swift, his technique flawless; after two exchanges, he knocked the bell flying.

Qin Tianjiu was stunned—within those two exchanges, he recognized the man’s foundation in Spirit and Wu Cultivation.

He’d used poison, glue techniques—so many methods combined left Qin Tianjiu utterly uncertain how to respond.

Unable to devise a strategy, he resorted to the simplest solution: he closed in, aiming to grab the plaster man and dismantle his body.

The plaster man dodged painfully, spitting poison mist at Qin Tianjiu intermittently.

Several dancers in the hall rushed forward to help, inhaled the mist, and collapsed, unconscious.

This battle was beyond their capacity. After dozens of exchanges, the plaster man’s wounds worsened, and Qin Tianjiu’s poisoning deepened.

While he still had strength, the plaster man used the Technique of Unimpeded Passage to escape from Xiaoyao Wu .

Given Qin Tianjiu’s nature, even if the plaster man fled beyond Hengshui Bay, he’d chase him down.

But tonight, he couldn’t chase—he collapsed at the very entrance of Xiaoyao Wu .

Three Cong Sect disciples waiting outside rushed forward: “Master Nine, what happened?”

Qin Tianjiu’s eyes were bloodshot; he strained with all his might, tearing his glued lips apart with his hands—his mouth was a bloody mess.

Those around him tried to lift him, but Qin Tianjiu waved them off: “Don’t touch me—I’m poisoned.”

Yin Zhangyueshu stood nearby: “Brother Nine, I’ll call a Medical Cultivator right away to detoxify you.”

Qin Tianjiu waved him off: “No need. Bring me some water.”

Someone handed him a water flask; he drank the entire thing, swallowing most of the poison into his stomach and forcibly digesting it.

But the remaining poison remained vicious—he felt waves of dizziness, struggling even to stand.

He instructed Yin Zhangyueshu: “Find several high-level Poison Cultivators. Go into Xiaoyao Wu and neutralize the poison in the dance hall. Tell the manager—no business tonight.”

Ma Junyang received Qin Tianjiu’s call—he never imagined Fatty had lost to this thug.

With such power, how could he possibly be a thug?

This man has connections—something big is going on.

Ma Wu immediately arranged a special train, departing for Hengshui City that very night.

On the train, Ma Wu slept uneasily, then woke Huo Ling and cultivated for several hours.

After cultivation, Ma Wu calmed slightly—when Huo Ling suddenly sensed something wrong: “Wu Lang, didn’t you just extinguish my fire seeds?”

Ma Wu blinked: “Maybe I overdid it just now—”

Huo Ling panicked: “I lost six of my fire seeds.”

Ma Wu froze—Huo Ling normally carried nine fire seeds; losing six at once couldn’t be an accident.

He pulled Huo Ling behind him, scanning the carriage swiftly—no trace of anyone.

He picked up a candle from beside the bed, burned it briefly against his palm—the flame detached from the wick and drifted through the carriage.

Technique: Lonely Flame Seeking Mate.

Influenced by the technique, the candle flame sought other flames—until it halted before the wardrobe door.

The candle flame had found its mate—half of Huo Ling’s fire seed.

Ma Wu didn’t approach the wardrobe. He focused his intent, sensing someone inside, then unleashed Joyful Flame to burn the wardrobe—flames erupted, and a figure burst through the door, charging at Ma Wu.

Ma Wu wasn’t afraid—he was about to use Flirtation Technique, but the man moved too fast, brushing past him, trailing flames, smashing through the window, and fleeing outside.

Ma Wu moved to pursue—but found he couldn’t stand.

He tried several times, then fell off the bed.

Huo Ling gasped, leapt down, and caught him: “Wu Lang, what’s wrong?”

Ma Wu’s legs trembled, utterly powerless.

Feng Dai was strolling the street, having heard two new films had premiered—rumored to be directed by Ma Wu himself.

Feng Dai knew well: Ma Wu was too busy to direct films—this was just publicity. But since their separation, she’d missed him, and now she wanted to see the films.

Tickets were impossible to get. In Fengdaikan, restaurant seats, guesthouse rooms, rental housing—all were scarce; even hiring a rickshaw required waiting in line.

Feng Dai didn’t need a ticket—she slipped silently into the cinema. As the film began, she suddenly felt a sharp pang in her chest.

Emotion Cultivation Technique: Soul-Thread Connection.

Ma Wu is in trouble!

At Hengshui City Station, several men carried Ma Wu to Xiaoyao Wu . Zhang Guan, still recovering from his injuries, heard Ma Wu couldn’t walk—he ignored his own wounds and searched frantically for physicians.

Several Medical Cultivators examined him and reached the same conclusion: Ma Wu’s leg tendons were severed.

Ma Wu had no external wounds, felt no pain, and when he felt his leg, the tendons were still there—this was utterly bizarre.

Renowned physician Luo Tieshi, with vast experience, diagnosed: “Young Master Wu, your tendons aren’t fully severed—someone extracted several tendon threads from within, eliminating your pain and strength. Based on my experience, this is the work of a Master Thief Cultivator.”

At the word “Thief Cultivator,” Ma Wu immediately thought of one person: He Jiaqing!

Enraged, Ma Wu prepared to gather men to hunt down He Jiaqing—but Feng Dai arrived at Xiaoyao Wu and stopped him.

“Wu Lang, tell me everything that happened, step by step.”

They’d exchanged only two moves—he remembered every detail clearly.

As Ma Wu spoke, Feng Dai shook her head repeatedly: “Wu Lang, I don’t think He Jiaqing did this.”

He Jiaqing’s cultivation is extremely high—I’m not even sure I could beat him. If he’d successfully infiltrated the carriage, you wouldn’t have lost your tendons—you’d be dead.”

Ma Wu had thought of this too: “He didn’t kill me—perhaps he has another goal. Maybe he’s using those tendon threads to threaten me.”

Feng Dai pondered long: “Your theory makes sense—but if it really was He Jiaqing, this fight was far too clumsy.”

Ma Wu didn’t agree: “He stole Huo Ling’s fire seeds first, then my tendons—easily mocking me—”

“Is that clumsy?”

Feng Dai shook her head: “Thieves don’t risk their lives for show. He targeted Huo Ling first—not to toy with you, but to distract you.”

He clearly feared your techniques. After being caught in your Joyful Flame, he had no choice but to gamble everything and steal your tendons.”

Even after escaping the carriage, the Joyful Flame still burned on him—you know its power. He’s badly wounded.”

Ma Wu frowned tightly: “Then… it really wasn’t He Jiaqing?”

Feng Dai gently rubbed Ma Wu’s legs: “Whoever the culprit is, our priority is healing your legs. If we can recover the tendon threads, best of all—but if not, we must prepare another plan.”

Ma Wu understood Feng Dai’s meaning: “Go to San Tou Cha to regrow the tendons?”

Feng Dai nodded.

Ma Wu felt uncertain: “Isn’t that just gambling?”

Feng Dai sat beside him, soothingly: “Let’s think carefully. If we have over fifty percent chance, it’s not gambling.”

Fifty percent.

Even with ninety percent certainty, Ma Wu still felt uneasy.

That night, restless, Ma Wu slept alone; Feng Dai slept in the next room.

At two a.m., footsteps echoed in the room—Ma Wu snapped awake, his hand reaching for the emotion thread beside the bed.

A slight tug, and Feng Dai would rush in.

A woman appeared, waving urgently for him to stay silent.

Ma Wu looked closely—the woman stood beneath a landscape painting on the wall.

That painting was a gift from Li Banfeng—authentic work by Mu Yuejuan. It was thanks to that painting—

Ma Wu received Mu Yuejuan’s guidance and ascended smoothly to Cloud Above.

At this moment, Mu Yuejuan stood beneath the painting.

“Fifth Brother, you’ve suffered so much,” Mu Yuejuan said, her voice trembling, tears falling without end.

Ma Wu sat on the bed and asked, “How did you know I was in trouble?”

Mu Yuejuan did not explain; she placed a brocade box on the table: “Fifth Brother, give this brocade box to Feng Daisi—she has a way.”

Ma Wu looked at the brocade box and asked, “What is this thing?”

Mu Yuejuan shook her head repeatedly: “Fifth Brother, don’t ask. I have my reasons. I must go now.”

She vanished into the painting, tears streaming down her face.

Ma Wu pulled the emotional thread; Feng Daisi walked in from the next room and listened as Ma Wu told her about Mu Yuejuan.

Feng Daisi opened the brocade box on the table.

After looking inside, Feng Daisi exclaimed joyfully: “These are Fifth Brother’s sinew threads! I can use the emotional thread to reattach them!”

Ma Wu was also delighted, but after the joy faded, he remembered something: “Old Seven told me Mu Yuejuan first sought refuge with Snowflake River, then joined the Brotherhood of Hands and Feet—she’s He Jiaqing’s person.”

Feng Daisi nodded slightly; she had heard whispers of this.

Ma Wu asked, “Do you still think this isn’t He Jiaqing’s doing?”

Feng Daisi struggled to make sense of it all.

Ma Wu clenched his teeth, his face twisted with rage: “Old Nine was poisoned and still hasn’t recovered; my leg tendons were pulled out—I’m nearly crippled; and Old Seven is still untraceable—”

“If Old Seven has been killed by He Jiaqing, then Ma Junyang will burn through every last resource, risk my very life, and tear He Jiaqing into a thousand pieces!”

PS: Was this truly He Jiaqing’s doing?