Chapter 844: Who Is the Golden Cicada?

The deal was settled. Dan Budai said to Chu Shaoqiang: “Draw a map of Dao Ghost Ridge, three-tenths scale, as detailed as possible.”

Chu Shaoqiang had already prepared the map. Dan Budai handed it directly to Li Banfeng: “Circle the things you can’t move. Mark everything that must stay intact.”

Li Banfeng held the parchment and pen, unsure how to begin: “What do you mean by ‘things you can’t move’?”

Dan Budai frowned: “Don’t ask me. Didn’t you scout the place yourself? Which spots need to be moved whole? Draw them fast—don’t overdo it.”

Li Banfeng paused, then said: “So if I don’t mark it, it’s fine to dismantle and move it?”

Dan Budai shook his head: “Anything not marked gets taken apart.”

“If you take it apart, how’s it still a mountain?”

Dan Budai laughed: “Oranges grow on orange trees. You pick them, they’re still oranges. When you harvest oranges from an orchard, do you carry the whole tree—branches, leaves, everything? You afraid someone’ll know you’re stealing oranges?”

Li Banfeng looked at Tian Nü. He wasn’t sure if Dan Budai could be trusted.

“Sisterly bonds end here, but I trust her!” Tian Nü shoved her hair into her mouth and crunched it loudly.

“Old Seven, I trust her too!” Dan Budai had full confidence in his sister’s methods. “If Dao Ghost Ridge gets damaged by her, I’ll fix it for you.”

Li Banfeng picked up his pen and began circling the map.

The shrine must remain intact. The water source must remain intact. Green Flower Seeds should be preserved whole if possible.

Ku Po Po and dozens of members of the Hand and Foot Alliance hid silently in a bamboo grove.

This grove lay on the border: west lay Tushi, east lay Ren Shi. According to Huan Wuchang’s intelligence, He Jiaqing would launch a surprise attack on Ren Shi tonight through this grove.

At first, Ku Po Po doubted the accuracy of the tip. If He Jiaqing planned an ambush, he wouldn’t leak his movements so early.

At 11:30 p.m., the White Crane Gang raised the first alarm: anomalies detected outside the bamboo grove.

Normally, once the White Crane Gang sounded the alarm, White Falcon County’s troops would respond swiftly. Together, with aerial advantage, they could cripple the enemy—often driving them off entirely.

But today, Ku Po Po had specifically warned: White Falcon County and the White Crane Gang must hold back. Wait for her signal.

Click! Click!

The White Crane Gang’s sentries emitted sharp, rapid bursts—signaling Ku Po Po: the enemy was approaching.

The Hand and Foot Alliance had several Kui cultivators. After observing briefly in the grove, they nodded to Ku Po Po.

It was truly He Jiaqing!

Ku Po Po’s face turned ashen. She pulled a bitter herb from her pocket, bit it between her teeth, and ordered her troops to prepare for battle.

Song Shu closed her eyes, steadied her breath. Tonight, she would lead the assault.

Ku Po Po tilted her chin toward Song Shu—a warning: if you fail, I’m replacing you immediately.

Song Shu nodded slightly to Ku Po Po, used her magic treasure to conceal her form, and began her technique.

Thin strands of mist drifted slowly toward the bamboo grove.

Song Shu knew He Jiaqing’s strength. She used only the faintest mist—no thick clouds. Even a slight density would alert him.

He Jiaqing would sense it.

The mist drifted like silk scarves around the grove. Using the electric charge within it, Song Shu spotted He Jiaqing’s figure.

He Jiaqing led two thousand Totem soldiers into the grove. Among the three-headed men, his form was small and easily identifiable.

Huan Wuchang felt mist brushing past him and immediately used illusion to shield himself.

Feng Xuan Zhen held silk threads, her eyes fixed on Song Shu.

Song Shu nodded slightly to her. As the mist slowly thickened within the grove, Song Shu activated her technique.

Electric Cultivation Technique: Lightning Dew!

The mist surged through the bamboo grove. Lightning flashed. Hundreds of Totem soldiers collapsed instantly, their bodies smoking with charred flesh.

Among them was He Jiaqing. They hadn’t lost combat capability. After enduring the shock, they rose quickly and reformed their ranks.

Feng Xuan Zhen ignored everyone else. She flung a silk net over He Jiaqing.

He Jiaqing had just shaken off the electric shock—his body still numb and weak. He was unprepared for the net.

The net tightened, biting into his flesh. Feng Xuan Zhen unleashed her full strength, aiming to crush him into pulp.

Blood began to seep out—then He Jiaqing’s body suddenly swelled, splitting into three heads.

Thief Cultivation Technique: Steal the Beam, Replace the Pillar.

He Jiaqing swapped places with a Totem soldier.

The soldier died trapped in the net. He Jiaqing, covered in wounds, rose and fled.

Huan Wuchang unfurled his folding fan, tracing each rib with his fingertip. Layer upon layer of illusions bloomed across the grove.

He Jiaqing looked ahead—the bamboo grove seemed endless. Bamboo stalks merged into one another. All he saw were dead leaves and twisted branches.

He was fleeing. His Totem soldiers, seeing their commander run, abandoned formation and followed him. The situation seemed dire.

Yet He Jiaqing smiled faintly.

He didn’t try to discern direction or break the illusion. He simply sprinted forward, not even glancing at his own footprints.

Song Shu sighed inwardly. He Jiaqing was truly panicked.

“Huuu—”

Shang Yüwei, the Master of Sound Cultivation, let out a long howl—sounding exactly like wind through bamboo.

The sound reached He Jiaqing’s ears. He felt refreshed, his pace unconsciously quickening.

Was Shang Yüwei helping He Jiaqing?

Of course not.

This was his self-created technique: Sound Lures Into the Trap. The core principle: use specific sounds to lure enemies to predetermined locations.

He Jiaqing, as a core member of the Great Hand and Foot Alliance, had seen all these masters’ signature techniques.

The wind’s sound was indeed refreshing—it clouded the mind, making one follow it without thought.

Add to that He Jiaqing’s disorientation within the illusion. With no sense of direction, the wind’s pull would easily guide him into the trap.

Song Shu lowered her head. She couldn’t bear to watch.

The trap had been set by Ku Po Po herself. He Jiaqing charged into a bamboo grove where leaves sliced like blades, carving his flesh layer by layer.

Stripping his skin and muscle from his bones.

Bamboo branches pierced his body repeatedly. Some branches withdrew, still dripping with bits of flesh and bone.

Hardship Cultivation Technique: Thousand Blades, Shredding Dissection.

The technique sounded like a Blade Cultivation art—but had nothing to do with it.

These bamboo leaves were Ku Po Po’s own flesh. The branches were her own bones.

Ku Po Po had first cut herself open. She transformed her body into this grove, trading unbearable pain for immense combat power—all to kill He Jiaqing.

The leaves and branches moved with blinding speed and crushing force. He Jiaqing couldn’t dodge or parry. After several rounds of slicing, he collapsed to the ground.

Ku Po Po didn’t stop. The bamboo leaves whirled, reducing He Jiaqing to a pulpy mess.

Staring at the shredded remains, Ku Po Po gritted her teeth and restored her body.

She stood before the pile of pulp, her frame trembling.

Not from sorrow for He Jiaqing—but from unbearable pain.

Thousand Blades, Shredding Dissection was an extremely rare Hardship Cultivation technique. The agony was too great—even for Ku Po Po.

Today, she’d acted too hastily. She hadn’t recovered in a long time.

He Jiaqing was surely dead. Everyone present believed he had no chance of escape.

Only Huan Wuchang sensed something was wrong.

He crouched, touched the bloody pulp.

The flesh was real—but felt unnaturally thin.

Illusion cultivators obsess over details to make illusions lifelike. He poked the pulp with his fan—and it didn’t move.

Hard?

Huan Wuchang poked harder. He pierced a hole into the pulp. Beneath it—nothing. Hollow.

“It’s a shell!” Huan Wuchang gasped in shock. “He used Golden Cicada Transformation!”

He Jiaqing appeared to have been chopped into pulp—but he’d piled the shredded flesh onto himself, forming a cocoon.

Once a Thief cultivator uses Golden Cicada Transformation, they appear dead—even Kui cultivators of the same level can’t detect they’re alive. He Jiaqing’s technique was so refined, no one noticed the deception.

Now, He Jiaqing beneath the shell was gone. No doubt—he’d used another Thief technique: Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell.

But Song Shu couldn’t understand: He Jiaqing had endured electric shock, been crushed by the silk net, trapped in illusion, lured by Sound Cultivation, and nearly shredded by Ku Po Po.

To survive this was miracle enough. How could he possibly chain together two complex techniques—Golden Cicada Transformation and Golden Cicada Sheds Its Shell?

Feng Xuan Zhen and Shang Yüwei found it unbelievable. Ku Po Po seemed to realize something.

“He stole my fortune!” Ku Po Po whispered. “He stole my fortune!”

Ku Po Po’s Thousand Blades, Shredding Dissection had severely wounded He Jiaqing—and given him the chance to steal her fortune.

But the key question: did He Jiaqing steal only fortune?

Ku Po Po’s body convulsed. Something inside her was gone.

Her organs.

Part of her internal organs had been stolen by He Jiaqing.

That was fine—Ku Po Po had the Heaven-Unity Technique. Organs could regenerate quickly.

But she tried several times. Her organs refused to regenerate.

Had Heaven-Unity Technique failed?

Had He Jiaqing stolen it with Empty Hands?

Impossible. Even if He Jiaqing stole the technique, she could still use it—just slightly weaker in power.

What kind of technique is this? Could it be He Jiaqing’s unique method?

If the internal organs cannot be restored, can the damage from a thousand cuts and dismemberment be repaired?

In the midst of her thoughts, Ku Po Po felt a wave of dizziness.

Having endured the agony of a thousand cuts and dismemberment, now with her internal organs damaged and grief overwhelming her, Ku Po Po lost consciousness.

Covered in blood, He Jiaqing staggered up to Qiao Yi.

Qiao Yi frowned, his face grim: “General He, before you set out on campaign, I repeatedly warned you that the number of enemy kills does not matter,

but casualties must not exceed twenty percent. Now your entire force has been wiped out—what do you have to say for yourself?”

Everyone around felt He Jiaqing could not escape military punishment. Prince Anshun stood nearby, unsure how to explain to Qiao Yi.

He Jiaqing offered no defense. He presented a blood-soaked sack to Qiao Yi.

Qiao Yi opened the sack and saw it contained a portion of internal organs. He asked He Jiaqing: “What is this?”

He Jiaqing replied: “This is a portion of Ku Po Po’s internal organs.”

Qiao Yi froze. Everyone around was stunned.

Prince Anshun was overjoyed and hurried forward to ask He Jiaqing: “General, where did you obtain this?”

He Jiaqing said: “Your Highness, I fought bloodily against the enemy, risking more than half my life, to seize this.”

“Magnificent!” Prince Anshun exclaimed, turning to Qiao Yi. “Lord Qiao, shouldn’t this merit reward?”

Qiao Yi paused, then asked He Jiaqing: “General He, I ordered you to lead a surprise raid. Why did you engage the Fuxing Eagle? Don’t you know the essence of a surprise attack?”

His meaning was clear—he was accusing He Jiaqing of ignorance in military affairs.

He Jiaqing answered calmly: “Sending two thousand soldiers into enemy territory to burn some grain and kill a few scattered troops—anyone can do that.

That’s not warfare.”

At these words, Qiao Yi’s eyelid twitched. He heard the resentment in He Jiaqing’s tone.

He Jiaqing continued: “Though the soldiers of Pulu Province have formidable individual strength, they are still a rabble. This rabble won at Suihuang Plain, won again at Wuyou Ping, and kept winning at Qunying Mountain—there must be a reason.”

No one had dared to mention this.

He Jiaqing’s words were like daggers piercing Qiao Yi’s heart.

Everyone lowered their heads. All believed He Jiaqing was seeking death—even Prince Anshun broke into a cold sweat.

Though furious inside, Qiao Yi smiled: “General He, do you know the reason? I beg your insight!”

He Jiaqing answered calmly: “Because the enemy is lucky.”

At this, everyone wanted to laugh.

What does “lucky” mean? Is He Jiaqing truly foolish, or is he mocking Qiao Yi?

But Qiao Yi did not laugh. Prince Anshun did not laugh either. Because He Jiaqing’s answer was brilliantly clever.

He Jiaqing looked at Qiao Yi: “With your strategy and the strength of the Shang army, eliminating the scattered troops of Pulu Province should be effortless.

Yet the war has stalled, with victories on both sides—all because fortune has shifted. And the source of this shift lies in Ku Po Po.

In past eagle battles, did Pulu Province ever win except by sheer luck? If Ku Po Po continues to manipulate fortune, future battles will remain unpredictable.

The Peddler was once Pulu’s master, but he is dead. Li Qi appears to be the new master, yet his followers are still a disorganized mob!

The true force shaping the war’s outcome is Ku Po Po. She alters battle trends through fortune. She is Shang’s fiercest enemy.

To capture the enemy, first capture their leader. I went after her tonight. Now she is gravely wounded and cannot recover for months—this is the perfect moment to crush the rebels!”

When he finished, Prince Anshun’s skin prickled.

He straightened his back and said to Qiao Yi: “Lord Qiao, General He’s achievement today is among the greatest since our campaign began!”

Qiao Yi did not agree.

He Jiaqing had indeed earned merit, but wounding Ku Po Po paled beside the meticulous preparations before the great battle, and meant little compared to the strategic maneuvering during it.

Moreover, Qiao Yi disagreed with some of He Jiaqing’s claims—he did not believe Ku Po Po held such decisive influence in Pulu Province.

He believed the key figures in Pulu Province were still the Peddler and Li Qi, and it was only through his own strategic planning

that the Peddler was forced to die on Qunying Mountain.

Now that Prince Anshun demanded reward, Qiao Yi could refuse. He Jiaqing had merit, yes—but he had disobeyed orders, and all two thousand soldiers under him perished. To call it a wash of merit and fault was reasonable.

But Qiao Yi did not do so. First, He Jiaqing’s words were well-spoken: he attributed Qiao Yi’s earlier defeats to shifts in fortune, blaming Pulu’s control of fortune for their losses—a view Qiao Yi found acceptable.

In time, this explanation could be refined: all past defeats could be recast as victories under adverse conditions.

Moreover, He Jiaqing had proven his loyalty and capability. If this battle truly wounded Ku Po Po, the time for a full offensive might now be at hand.

Most importantly, Prince Anshun’s stance: Prince Anshun was a peer of the Emperor, and by rights should be Qiao Yi’s rival.

Yet he had consistently supported Qiao Yi, offering crucial aid at key moments. Now he was advocating for his own subordinate—Qiao Yi could not shame him.

He publicly issued a decree, enfeoffing He Jiaqing as Marquis Zhenyuan.

He Jiaqing quickly bowed in thanks. Qiao Yi ordered him to rest quickly and prepare for battle.

Back at his quarters, Prince Anshun summoned a medical cultivator to treat He Jiaqing’s wounds. He Jiaqing thanked him again. After polite exchanges, the prince proposed recommending He Jiaqing as Vanguard Commander.

He Jiaqing thanked him once more. After Prince Anshun left, He Jiaqing struggled to rise, dismissed the others, and plunged a short dagger into the brazier.

The dagger glowed red-hot in the fire. He Jiaqing seized it and pressed it against his wound.

Smoke rose from the wound. He Jiaqing gritted his teeth.

Under searing pain, the wound did not char—instead, flesh and blood regenerated rapidly.

“So this is Ku Po Po’s Tianhe Technique,” He Jiaqing chuckled bitterly. “She trades pain for rebirth. Borrow and never return—or borrow and repay? Hard to say.

Lady, you used me as a shield. I borrow your technique for a few days—is that too much?”

San Tou Cha, Leishuang Plain.

Six carts rolled across the wasteland. Chu Shaoqiang sat in the first cart, trembling uncontrollably. Dan Budab sat in the last cart, eating an orange.

San Tou Cha held many perilous places. This region was unsuitable for ordinary life. But if one ranked dangers, Leishuang Plain could rival Dao Gui Ling and Duan Xu Shan.

“Thunder” here did not mean rainstorms—it meant heavenly light.

“Frost” did not mean snow or frost—it meant the sight of frost-like luminance on the ground, signaling the arrival of heavenly light.

Leishuang Plain was the most densely packed region of heavenly light in all of San Tou Cha. Chu Shaoqiang’s teeth chattered nonstop, terrified the ground might suddenly glow.

Dan Budab drove her cart up beside Chu Shaoqiang: “Hey, are you sure you’re on the right path? According to my plan, we should’ve reached Huantu Island by now!”

Click. Click.

Chu Shaoqiang’s jaw trembled violently—he could not speak.

“What are you afraid of? The heavenly light? My cart has a good canopy—it blocks the light just fine.” Dan Budab tapped twice on the canopy above Chu Shaoqiang’s head.

As she spoke, the night sky suddenly whitened.

Dan Budab looked up—the heavenly light was intense. The canopy alone wouldn’t suffice. She grabbed a raincoat and wrapped herself tightly.

Chu Shaoqiang had no raincoat. He had an iron shield he’d made himself—barely enough to block the light—but it was too heavy to lift.

He tried to crawl into the cart to hide. His upper body had barely slipped inside when the light struck.

“It’s over—I’m hit! I’m fully hit! It’s all over—” Chu Shaoqiang trembled, staring in despair at his legs.

Dan Budab poked her head out from the raincoat: “Hit by what? What are you babbling about? The Heavenly Maiden is in your cart—how could the heavenly light touch you?”

After a long while, finding no abnormality on his body, Chu Shaoqiang calmed slightly.

He turned to look at the cart. Six carts, each three meters long, one and a half meters wide, one meter high, pulled by two horses.

Such carts were common in San Tou Cha. Ordinary horses could pull three thousand jin; even with San Tou Cha’s special draft horses, a cart could carry at most eight thousand jin over long distances.

Who could have imagined these six carts carried a fraction of a mountain—three-tenths of Dao Gui Ling.

These six carts were Dan Budab’s magic treasure—they altered the concept of space.

The Heavenly Maiden was inside Chu Shaoqiang’s cart. Each time heavenly light came, she used her benevolent power to shield him.

The twelve horses pulling the carts were not real horses—they were tools of Dan Budab’s technique. Naturally, they could not carry mountains. The true carriers were the Tianxin Stones.

Chu Shaoqiang controlled the Tianxin Stones. He rode at the front because he was responsible for navigation—direction could not be wrong.

After an hour, Chu Shaoqiang pulled the reins and turned to Dan Budab: “We’ve reached the mountain pass.”

Dan Budab stopped the cart and walked forward. Ahead lay a sheer cliff, beneath which a mountain peak was faintly visible.

The shape was strange—like another mountain growing from within a volcanic crater.

Dan Budab returned to the cart and tapped on the side.

Mi! Mi!

Li Banfeng stood in the temple on Dao Gui Ling and heard two muffled knocks.

“Hu ga, hu ga!” Li Banfeng growled at a group of Dao Lao Ghosts.

“Tu ta! Tu ta!” The Dao Lao Ghosts responded to the Dao Lao War God.

Li Banfeng lifted his shoulders and raised his knees, beginning to march in place.

All the Dao Lao Ghosts danced the same steps, chanting with him.

“Hu la la ka hu, hu la la hu!”

The chant meant: “Sleep, warrior. Rest for battle.”

After chanting over a dozen times, all the Dao Lao Ghosts vanished into the earth.

Once, these Dao Lao Ghosts had lost their will to fight. They had seen Qiao Yi’s dance and learned the Age of Peace had come. They no longer knew whom to fight for.

Now, their leader had returned.

The Dao Lao War God had returned!

Li Banfeng tapped twice on the wall.

Click. Click.

Dan Budab, pressed against the cart’s exterior, heard clearly—this meant Li Banfeng was ready.

He checked each carriage one by one, then said to Chu Shaoqiang: “Leave the island!”

Chu Shaoqiang was more cautious; he walked a full circle around the mountain pass.

Several corpses lay around the mountain pass—belonging to the Totem Army.

After seizing Huan Tu Island, the Totem Army believed it led to the surface and had sent troops to garrison it.

Huan Tu Island could be garrisoned, but only at suitable locations; the summit of Tushan and the surface exit must not be left unguarded.

The Totem Army had underestimated the environment of Leishuang Plain—all soldiers stationed at the mountain pass died horribly under the daylight.

Confirming no enemies near the mountain pass, Chu Shaoqiang climbed into the carriage, and Dan Budai drove the six carts over the cliff, crashing onto the soil hill of Huan Tu Island.

Sliding down from the summit, the horses and carriages became caked in mud, rolling all the way to the foot of the hill—six carts turned into six mud bowls.

Soldiers also guarded the perimeter of Huan Tu Island, with numerous warships patrolling nearby.

The six mud bowls rolled down the hill; the soldiers glanced twice but ignored them.

Mud rolling down from the island was common—this happened too often to draw notice.

These six mud bowls were identical to the soil on the hill—no flaw could be detected.

They rolled all the way into the sea without anyone paying attention; mud was just mud, no one cared to look twice.

Once in the sea, Dan Budai laughed: “Golden Cicada Shedding Its Shell—do you know how big this cocoon is?”

Chu Shaoqiang climbed out of the carriage and saw the horses still there, now encased in a thick mud shell.

The horses ran forward, and the six mud bowls swiftly swam beneath the sea.

After swimming over ten miles, Dan Budai activated the Golden Cicada Shedding Its Shell technique—the six carts shed their mud shells, transforming into six mud transport ships.

They sped swiftly across the sea.

Chu Shaoqiang stepped onto the deck, staring in astonishment at Dan Budai: “How many layers of skin does your Golden Cicada have?”

Dan Budai washed the mud from his face with seawater and grinned: “At least a hundred layers. I’d like to see how many eyes Qiao Yi has—can he see through my trick?”