Chapter 837: Time to Take the Medicine!

Mist Prison Valley has a north-south length, with exits on its east and west sides.

One exit was right beside Qiao Yi, and many soldiers rushed toward it, only to be pierced by spikes on the rock walls, their heads bleeding.

The Mist Prison Valley was still fighting, because the Stone Forest still stood.

As long as the Stone Forest remained, the Peddler was still fighting; according to the Life Pact, if the Peddler fought, the valley fought.

The exit Qiao Yi saw was an illusion crafted by Huan Wuchang; there were many more exits on both east and west sides, and which one was real, Qiao Yi didn’t know—and right now, he didn’t care to know.

Huan Wuchang’s illusions couldn’t be distinguished, and there were other illusion experts among the enemy ranks; for Qiao Yi, he couldn’t risk falling for illusions—the correct response was to leave the valley immediately.

Qiao Yi ordered his troops to regroup and launch a full assault on Shiba Lun and Tou You Lu, but just as the army prepared to move, a Stone Forest blocked their path.

How could there be another Stone Forest?

Was this another one made from the Peddler’s blood?

Qiao Yi turned to look at the Peddler—he was still sitting beside his cart, eyes open, holding a cigarette that had gone out.

Is he still alive?

Qiao Yi sent a squad forward to scout; the soldiers entered the Stone Forest and were soon trapped between the stone pillars.

Sun Tiecheng crouched atop a pillar and grinned: “Lao Qiao, you coming? These pillars are all fake.”

Huan Wuchang clasped his hands and crouched beside Sun Tiecheng, staring at Qiao Yi: “When truth becomes false, the false becomes true—can you tell the difference?”

Qiao Yi truly couldn’t tell anymore—even Ku Po Po, watching from afar, was stunned; Huan Wuchang had teamed up with Sun Tiecheng, and their coordination was uncanny.

Around them were many Foolish Cultivators brought by Sun Tiecheng—some partnered with Sound Cultivators, others with Painting Cultivators, and some even with the bitter cultivators of Ku Cai Zhuang.

The nature of Foolish Cultivators hadn’t changed; they clashed with no Dao sect.

Especially with Illusionists—that synergy felt innate. Zhen Luo Ming, a master of the Watcher Sect, had strained mightily and still couldn’t distinguish the real from the false; the Lianshou of Illusionists and Foolish Cultivators was far too deceptive.

Qiao Yi was trapped, with no way forward or back; since he’d led his troops out, he’d never felt such despair.

But after a moment of despair, he regained clarity—these pillars were crafted by Sun Tiecheng and Huan Wuchang using techniques, utterly different from the Peddler’s methods; he immediately ordered a direct assault.

Indeed, these pillars were far weaker than those made by the Peddler; a single soldier could knock one down with a single strike.

But when lava filled the Stone Forest, the soldiers dared not advance.

This lava wasn’t a Foolish Cultivator technique nor an illusion—it was Ku Po Po’s unique method: Purgatory Polishing.

This lava was real.

The Totem Army couldn’t form the Thousand-Man Force Array within the Stone Forest and could only move slowly; no one dared run into the lava and stay there. Some soldiers, trying to avoid the lava, did everything to lift themselves into the air.

Tou You Lu flew into the sky, urging the airborne soldiers to rise even higher.

Feng Xuan Zhen stretched silk threads midair, wrapping each flying soldier in a silk net to prevent them from struggling, then Tou You Lu dropped them one by one to the ground to be crushed.

Those not killed by the fall were swallowed by the lava; where lava didn’t reach, wine flowed everywhere, ignited by Smoke Cultivators, instantly turning into a sea of fire.

Flames rose, smoke spread thickly, the smoke laced with deadly poison, and among it darted all manner of wandering souls.

Heroes from every Dao sect cooperated seamlessly, chaining their foundational techniques together, driving the Totem Army back step by step—all thanks to the training they’d endured under Shiba Lun these past days.

Normally, their forced cooperation stemmed from Shiba Lun’s cruelty; today, they fought for the man sitting beneath the cart.

The Peddler’s eyes remained open, still watching.

Qiao Yi frantically swallowed various herbs amid the smoke, still directing his soldiers’ counterattack.

A figure in a black suit appeared before Qiao Yi.

At the sight of Li Qi, Qiao Yi dropped the herbs in his hand.

All soldiers around were fighting, yet none noticed Li Qi.

Qiao Yi called for reinforcements; dozens of soldiers hadn’t even reached him before Zhao Xiao, Banfeng, and several shadows slew them.

The remaining soldiers no longer came to help; after two grueling days in the valley, they only wanted to fight for themselves, to carve out a bloody path for their own survival.

Li Qi lifted his hat brim, staring at Qiao Yi: “Any last words?”

Qiao Yi looked at Li Banfeng: “Killing me won’t help—Pulu Province can no longer reverse its decline. This is the tide of fate.”

Li Qi smiled: “I truly wish you could see what real fate looks like—but even if you saw it, you’d still deny it to the end.”

As his words ended, Li Banfeng slashed off Qiao Yi’s head, then wiped a tear from his corner of the eye.

Watching the ash fall from the sky, Li Banfeng clenched his teeth.

Turning back to see the Peddler sitting by the cart, Li Banfeng quickly wiped away his tears.

This one can’t cry.

“Healers!” Li Banfeng shouted. “Any Healers left? Come here!”

The Healers had already come—they’d examined the Peddler’s wounds and all shook their heads.

“I told you—you’re useless!” Lu Qianjiao, tears in her eyes, cursed. “A hundred Healers aren’t worth one Disease Cultivator!”

“Pharmacists!” Li Banfeng called next.

Several Pharmacists tried applying healing pills, but no one knew if they worked.

From the signs, the Peddler seemed gone.

No one dared speak the truth to Li Banfeng, but Zhao Xiaojuan spoke up: “Husband, call the Demon Cultivators over to try.”

Song Qianhun and Gui Jianchou had been waiting nearby for a while, both shaking their heads.

They couldn’t find the Peddler’s soul.

Sun Tiecheng crouched on the ground and sighed deeply: “He risked his life to uphold the Life Pact. You always say the Peddler owes you—now what do you have to say? I ask you: what exactly does he owe you?”

Everyone remained silent, killing enemies without a word.

The Totem Army was nearly gone; due to the terrible terrain, their commander had fallen, and with all the heroes united in fury, morale soared.

An hour later, the Totem Army was almost entirely annihilated.

A few survivors remained—about twenty—who fled with Nian Shangyou into the deep mountains.

Nian Shangyou now knew clearly: showing himself meant death; going straight to Mo Xiang Shop meant death; he would hide silently in the mountains, waiting until everyone forgot him—perhaps then, a sliver of hope remained.

Li Banfeng sat beside the Peddler, his expression dazed.

A voice came from the Personal Chamber: “Let me see him—just one glance. I beg you.”

Li Banfeng said nothing.

The old man told Tong Lianhua: “Don’t pressure Old Qi—when you step out, it’s all heavenly light. Who could endure that?”

“There’s a way—don’t let me use this body. This body is a fake Red Lotus I made to deceive the Waizhou Society, to deceive Old Huoche, to escape the Anxing Bureau—I made it for that purpose.

It bears a spiritual seal. Let me switch bodies—Hulu Village can block the seal.”

The old man sighed: “Let you switch bodies? Who knows what you’ll do?”

“I won’t do anything—I just want to see him once. I’ll sign a pact with the Peddler’s contract paper. I beg you!” Tong Lianhua’s voice grew hoarse.

Li Banfeng returned to the Personal Chamber and picked up Tong Lianhua.

After a moment, he opened the door.

Outside was a house floating above Hulu Village—A Yu was cleaning a wound on her chest.

“You’re hurt?” Li Banfeng asked.

“Just a minor wound. Ai Yi was fighting at Santou Cha, so I went to help. This battle was terrible—the enemy was too fierce. The Cuohuo Camp is even stronger than Difeng Camp now.” A Yu looked up and saw Li Banfeng holding Tong Lianhua.

A Yu froze for dozens of seconds, silent: “You—you’re going to…”

Li Banfeng said: “Let her see the Peddler once.”

“They can’t meet.” For some reason, A Yu, who had always longed for the Heavenly Maiden’s soul to return to her body, now felt utterly lost.

She didn’t know what to do.

Tong Lianhua slipped from Li Banfeng’s arms and leapt to the Heavenly Maiden’s side.

She unfurled her lotus leaves, then closed them again; she tried several times, perhaps too eager—she couldn’t return to her own body.

A Yu asked Li Banfeng: “What happened to the Peddler?”

Li Banfeng lowered his head, the brim of his hat hiding his face: “Just… let them meet once.”

A Yu guessed something. She looked at Tong Lianhua and sighed: “You’ve been quarreling with him your whole life—now it’s life or death. He’s dead. Are you satisfied?”

Tong Lianhua was covered in dewdrops, unfurling her lotus leaves, clawing and scratching at the Heavenly Maiden’s body.

A Yu, beside her, used some unknown method to aid the Heavenly Maiden, allowing her soul to return to her body.

The Heavenly Maiden, lying on the bed, struggled to rise; perhaps from too long of stillness, she couldn’t walk well—each step wobbled.

She rushed toward the door, couldn’t open it, turned back, and grabbed Li Banfeng: “Help me, help—help me—”

The Heavenly Maiden’s speech was slurred, her diction unclear.

Li Banfeng understood her intent and used Lian Kuo Dongfang to return them to the Personal Chamber.

The Mist Prison Valley was cleaning up the battlefield; Zhen Luo Ming and Ku Po Po were discussing matters: “The Peddler is gone, but Pulu Province can’t be without a leader.”

“That’s true,” Ku Po Po looked around at the group.

Song Shu worried this was an inappropriate moment to say such things—sure enough, Lu Qianjiao exploded first: “Fine! The leader’s still here, and you’re already planning to split the inheritance!”

Ku Po Po sized up Lu Qianjiao: “I once quarreled with the Peddler, but now I have no selfish motives—I act only for Pulu Province.”

Sun Tiecheng crossed his arms: “How exactly are you acting for Pulu Province? Tell us—who can take the Peddler’s place?”

Ye Jianhuang lifted his pipe: “Are you suggesting He Jiaqing? What is he? The battle’s reached this point, and we haven’t even seen him!”

Huan Wuchang said: “Jiaqing has fought many battles in the New Lands—those were all troops sent by Qiao Yi. That doesn’t mean Jiaqing didn’t fight.

Of course, I’m not defending him—I’m just clarifying a fact!”

Gui Jianchou laughed: “That’s fighting? That’s guarding his own doorstep! Plainly put, isn’t it all for those thirteen new lands? In the end, isn’t it all for himself? What has he ever done for Pulu Province?”

Song Qianhun said: “If He Jiaqing wants to be leader, I will never agree.”

Qiao Wuzui lifted his wine jug: “I won’t agree either!”

Tang Shijiang snorted: “It’s truly embarrassing to say such things—how could someone like him even be compared to the Peddler?”

Song Shu found the others’ attitudes deeply awkward.

He Jiaqing was chosen by the Blood Brotherhood as the Lord of Pulu, yet he was so unwelcome among the people of Pulu Province.

It wasn’t anyone else’s fault—even Song Shu herself didn’t like He Jiaqing.

Ku Po Po shook her head and said, “Brothers and sisters, I never said I wanted He Jiaqing to take this position. I said Pulu Province needed a new lord, but I never said it should be someone like him.”

The crowd erupted in murmurs.

Song Shu was stunned.

Hadn’t the Blood Brotherhood always claimed they wanted to replace Pulu’s old order?

Wasn’t He Jiaqing the symbol of the new order?

Why had Ku Po Po’s stance changed today?

Not only had Ku Po Po changed her tone—Huan Wuchang’s attitude was off too: “Who should be the lord? This needs careful deliberation. Jiaqing is too young; in status and seniority, the lord’s seat doesn’t belong to him.”

Song Shu was speechless—how could Huan Wuchang be talking about status and seniority here? This was completely contrary to his earlier stance!

She turned to Yuan Miaoping.

Yuan Miaoping chewed her bubblegum and glared at Song Shu: “What are you looking at me for?”

“Ancestor, won’t you say something?” Song Shu still regarded Yuan Miaoping as a key member of the Blood Brotherhood.

Yuan Miaoping sized Song Shu up: “What should I say? Didn’t I already tell you? I’m from the Suiju Gang—I’ve had nothing to do with your Blood Brotherhood for a long time.”

Song Shu shook her head: “Ancestor, you can’t say that now—”

“What kind of thing are you telling me to say?” Yuan Miaoping sneered. “If you know I’m your ancestor, stop dragging me into this nonsense!”

“Now you’re dragging me into this mess? If it weren’t for the crowd, I’d use the Dao Gate’s disciplinary code—rip your pants off and—”

“Whip you!”

“Whip me?” Song Shu was utterly bewildered—she had no idea who was wrong here.

Yuan Miaoping flicked her bangs and blew a bubble: “Who else should I whip? You’re so stupid—don’t you deserve it? Do you really think the Blood Brotherhood chose He Jiaqing as Lord of Pulu? They just need a shield!”

“Do you think I joined the Blood Brotherhood for your so-called ideals? When I was playing with ideals, you were still in diapers! I joined out of necessity—do you understand?”

Song Shu turned to look at Ku Po Po, who stared coldly ahead, not even glancing at her.

Huan Wuchang, Feng Xuanzhen, Shang Yuwei—all core members of the Blood Brotherhood—ignored her.

Song Shu felt dizzy.

Yuan Miaoping suddenly spoke: “If we’re choosing a lord, I think our boss is the most suitable.”

Gui Jianchou frowned: “Who’s your boss?”

Yuan Miaoping said: “The famous Seventh Master—you don’t know him?”

Gui Jianchou’s frown eased: “That’s true. If we’re choosing a lord, only our Seventh Master qualifies!”

Ye Jianhuang nodded: “I agree—Seventh Master is the best.”

Qin Xiaopang shouted: “The Three Heroes Sect declares it: from now on, the Lord of Pulu Province will be our Seventh Brother!”

Zhen Luoming grew angry and glared at Qin Xiaopang: “Who the hell are you? What’s your cultivation level? What’s your seniority? Do you even have the right to speak here?”

“Why don’t we have the right?” Ma Wu looked around. “When we fought, did we ever back down?”

The Demon Cult Ancestor Sui Chanxin said: “We didn’t back down either! But we’re talking about seniority now—you don’t have enough, and neither does Seventh Master!”

Chu Er laughed: “In my courtyard, my lotus pond has plenty of turtles—they’re all ancient. Do you think they have enough seniority?”

Sui Chanxin flew into a rage, about to strike Chu Er—then glanced at Ku Po Po. “Old woman, your disciple’s temper is fierce. She speaks to me like this—do you control her or not?”

Ku Po Po said nothing.

Feng Daiku looked at Sui Chanxin: “If you want to act like a senior, act like one. These people fought their way out of battlefields—they didn’t come here to listen to your posturing!”

The Cold Cult Ancestor Bing Suling snorted: “What’s your meaning? Didn’t we win the Fog Prison battle?”

Qiao Wuzui sneered: “Speak with some dignity—most of that battle was won by the Peddler! The Suihuang Plain was taken by Seventh Master and these youths!”

Bing Suling said: “Didn’t the Suihuang Plain still rely on Ironbone Seeds?”

The crowd argued endlessly. Shi Ba Lun stood up: “If the Peddler truly can’t recover, Pulu Province should be handed to Seventh Master.”

These days, everyone had followed Shi Ba Lun’s orders—now that he spoke, they grew uneasy.

The crowd fell silent. Ku Po Po looked at Shi Ba Lun: “Old Train, you can’t decide this alone, can you?”

Shi Ba Lun turned to Ku Po Po: “Then who should decide?”

Ku Po Po said: “This is hard to explain clearly.”

Zhen Luoming nodded: “I agree—it’s unclear. Let’s settle it with a fight—whoever wins gets to speak, so no one can complain.”

Shi Ba Lun stared at Zhen Luoming: “You fight me? Are you even worthy? Go piss on a mirror and look at yourself.”

Zhen Luoming knew his limits: “I can’t fight you alone—but we have several strong ones here. If you’re truly a man, fight us all together!”

Tou Youlu sighed: “I never wanted to deal with you people.”

Sun Tiecheng shouted: “What the hell are you thinking? The war’s over—now you’re squabbling over who gets to rule?”

Zhen Luoming said: “Sun Tiecheng, don’t stir trouble. This isn’t internal scheming—we need a leader to fight. Right now, we need to see—”

“Who in Pulu Province can truly be in charge.”

The Insight Master suddenly stumbled over his words.

Li Qi arrived.

What truly frightened him wasn’t Li Qi—behind him came two others.

One was A Yu—she was manageable.

The other—well, that was another matter.

Though she wore only a plain white robe and her tangled hair covered her face, Zhen Luoming was an Insight Master—he could see her features even through the hair.

He retreated in a flash, hiding behind Ku Po Po.

Ku Po Po’s expression turned grim. She asked Li Banfeng: “Seventh Master—who is this woman?”

Before Li Banfeng could answer, a gentle breeze swept through the valley, lifting the woman’s hair.

All those who had been arguing fell silent.

Everyone stepped back instinctively, leaving a wide space around the Heavenly Maiden.

Only Old Train didn’t retreat—he stared at the Heavenly Maiden: “What do you want? Who let you return to Pulu?”

The Heavenly Maiden glanced at Old Train—her expression was calm, showing no hostility.

She said nothing, slowly walking toward the Peddler.

Tou Youlu turned to leave, but Sun Tiecheng blocked him: “Why rush? Go ask this girl—maybe she’s interested in you.”

“If she’s interested in me, I still won’t have her!” Tou Youlu was adamant. “This woman is hateful!”

The Heavenly Maiden stumbled toward the Peddler, her feet unsteady.

Her mouth opened as if calling a name—but no sound came out.

She stepped on a vine and fell face-first to the ground.

Li Banfeng found the scene too sorrowful—he lowered his head.

Sun Tiecheng muttered behind him: “Seventh Master, why did you bring her here?”

A Yu walked up beside Sun Tiecheng and sighed: “She only came to see the Peddler one last time—let her have this.”

Sun Tiecheng sniffled: “They shouldn’t have met.”

A Yu sighed: “The Peddler’s already gone—this doesn’t break the original pact.”

“Who knows what she’ll do?”

“She can’t do anything. Just trust me.”

Sun Tiecheng nodded: “I trust you.”

The Heavenly Maiden rose and staggered forward again toward the Peddler.

Tears streamed down her face—she couldn’t cry out, but her cheeks were soaked.

She ran faster—then suddenly slammed into a stone pillar, her face hitting it hard.

The Heavenly Maiden collapsed again.

Sun Tiecheng’s voice trembled: “Why must this be?”

A Yu looked at Sun Tiecheng: “This doesn’t feel right.”

“I told you not to bring her!” Sun Tiecheng wept uncontrollably.

A Yu lowered her voice: “How did that stone pillar just appear?”

Sun Tiecheng said: “It wasn’t just there—it was always there!”

“I can’t see what others can’t?” A Yu whispered even lower. “Is he really dead?”

Sun Tiecheng hunched over, hands clasped, weeping: “How can I explain this to you? We just don’t get along—you’re too cruel! He’s like this already—what more do you want?!”

A Yu kicked Sun Tiecheng lightly, then looked down at his face: “You’ve been crying for ages—yet not a single tear!”

Sun Tiecheng sobbed: “I’ve cried all my tears dry!”

Jiu’er nearby wanted to cry too—but Sun Tiecheng glared at her, and her tears vanished.

The Heavenly Maiden reached the Peddler’s side—only to face a cold arrow from Lu Qianjiao.

Lu Qianjiao drew her bowstring: “What are you doing here? Looking to die?”

The Heavenly Maiden pointed at the Peddler, then at herself: “He—I—”

Lu Qianjiao kicked her hard, sending her sprawling: “Get away from here—or I’ll kill you!”

The Heavenly Maiden crawled on the ground, still reaching for the Peddler.

Lu Qianjiao shot an arrow—it pierced the Heavenly Maiden’s spine.

The celestial maiden shuddered, then crawled toward the peddler.

Lu Qianjiao drew her bow again, nocking an arrow and aiming it at the celestial maiden.

The celestial maiden ignored her, continuing to crawl toward the peddler.

Lu Qianjiao closed her eyes, lowered her hawk bow, and sat aside.

The celestial maiden reached the peddler’s side and cupped his face in her hands.

A Yu asked Sun Tiecheng: “Why are his eyes closed?”

Sun Tiecheng replied solemnly: “Shouldn’t they be closed?”

A Yu said: “They were open just a moment ago!”

Sun Tiecheng’s expression remained serious: “Then they’re closed now! If you didn’t see it, it didn’t happen. I believe you—why can’t you believe me?”

The celestial maiden touched the peddler’s cheek and struggled to speak: “I—I came—I—”

She pulled him into her arms, holding him tightly, repeating over and over: “I came—I’m here—”

She held him so tightly, afraid someone might take him away.

Tears covered her face, but she made no sound.

In the deep night, Li Banfeng brought the celestial maiden back to his personal quarters.

The others found places to rest, preparing to head to Three Forks for support tomorrow.

They agreed to follow Li Banfeng’s command; though many resented it inwardly, the peddler was gone, and the celestial maiden had no rival—anyone who objected had to swallow their anger.

In the quiet night, only Lu Qianjiao remained beside the peddler.

Li Banfeng said to Lu Qianjiao: “Sister-in-law, go find somewhere to rest.”

Lu Qianjiao shook her head: “I’m not tired.”

Li Banfeng said: “Could you give us brothers a moment alone?”

Lu Qianjiao looked at Li Banfeng, then gave a slight nod.

Once Lu Qianjiao had walked far away, Li Banfeng sat beside the peddler. He first took out a cigarette and offered it to the peddler—the peddler gave no reaction.

He poured a cup of wine for the peddler—the peddler still gave no reaction.

“Brother, I know your injuries are severe. I’ve visited every renowned physician, had them write prescriptions—they said this one can heal you.”

Li Banfeng pulled out a pile of bottles and jars and began mixing medicine for the peddler.

“Mud eels from Medicine King Gully—stiff whiskers, strong stench, and slimy skin. You’ll have to bear with it.”

The peddler gave no reaction.

Li Banfeng pulled out the second ingredient: “These are earthworms from Ironwire River. There are no ironwire worms left there—I dug for hours and only found about twenty. Winter’s here, hard to find them—each is three inches long, slippery as hell.”

The peddler still gave no reaction.

Li Banfeng pulled out the third ingredient: “Flies from Iron Bowl Ridge—green-headed ones. I caught sixteen—all pregnant!”

The peddler’s cheek twitched.

He placed all three ingredients into a medicinal pot and said: “I know this medicine is hard to swallow. I’ve also prepared some catalysts—Xu Lao was fighting at Three Forks, so I had Tan Jinxiao prepare them—yellow and white ones both.”

Li Banfeng placed the mixture in the pot and shook it well.

He took a funnel from the cart: “Brother, I’m going to feed you this medicine now!”

“You dare!” The peddler opened his eyes and glared fiercely at Li Banfeng.

PS: Thank you to the patron Hánxù Shén for your tremendous support of *The Lord of Pulu*.