Chapter 116: Retreat! Retreat! Retreat! Gagaga (6k)

This time, Zhou Qing still fell at the second wave—ten late-stage Jin Dan ghosts overwhelmed him in a frenzy.

Without the doubled gravity restricting his movements, and without the Cang Lei Sword Art that suppresses yin-evil beings, he wouldn’t have been this humiliated—even if he couldn’t win.

Especially since the last half-month’s absorption of Yan Ling Blood Paste had further increased his cultivation, making those ghosts seem to have strengthened in tandem.

“This is tricky!”

Zhou Qing sighed, lying on his bed—thirty mid-grade spirit stones had vanished without a trace, not even a whisper.

“If only I could refresh more points, the odds of being overlooked would rise significantly.”

But he was within the sect, now a “waste,” with no chance to earn points.

Two days later, Yan Xiaohu rushed over, clutching a hen.

“Fourth Brother, come to my place—I’ve got something great to show you!” Yan Xiaohu’s face glowed with excitement.

Before Zhou Qing could refuse, Yan Xiaohu grabbed him and hurried toward his quarters.

“Have you taken a fancy to someone lately?”

After dismounting from his flying sword, Zhou Qing glanced around Yan Xiaohu’s courtyard—once littered with urine and scorched by excessive fire, now resembling a desert—yet now, sparse green trees cast shade.

Though few, it was at least a good sign.

Yan Xiaohu sneered: “Women only slow my draw speed—but you’re observant. I actually dug a secret base.”

Saying that, he opened the courtyard’s barrier, pulled Zhou Qing inside, then peeked out furtively, confirmed no one followed, and slammed the door shut.

“Right here!”

Inside, Yan Xiaohu set the hen aside and slowly shifted a water vat.

Immediately, a clicking sound echoed from the ground, followed by layers of stairs emerging.

Zhou Qing stared, baffled.

Yan Xiaohu grinned: “Remember the black market in Lingyun Mansion? That’s where I got the idea. Below, I’ve carved out a massive chamber. To avoid suspicion, I planted trees above to hide it.”

Curious, Zhou Qing followed him down step by step.

“You’re not gonna slice my kidneys, are you?” Zhou Qing muttered, staring at the pitch-black space.

Yan Xiaohu didn’t answer—he snapped his fingers, and the chamber instantly flooded with light.

Indeed, it was enormous—paved entirely with massive blue bricks, stretching an estimated kilometer.

“When did you dig this?” Zhou Qing marveled.

Yan Xiaohu said: “Didn’t take long—I’m an Nascent Soul cultivator, after all. By the way, you’re the first person to see my chamber. If I’m not home, I’ll probably be here.”

“Wait, why’d you build this?” Zhou Qing felt his third senior brother was overcomplicating things.

You’re not afraid of assassins—so is this for hiding a concubine?

In response, Yan Xiaohu looked dead serious: “You’re not ordinary anymore. When you cultivate certain divine arts, someone might see. Here, you can unleash them freely—no one notices.”

“Plus, I reinforced the soundproof array and others—no one will ever find it.”

Hearing this, Zhou Qing froze, his eyes reddening. Yan Xiaohu turned away, continuing: “I now have Infant Fire—refining things here is dangerous, so I started digging this place early.”

“I’d already dug half when I went to Lingyun Mansion. I planned to refine elixirs quietly here once I found materials—but then I got the Yan Ling Blood Paste right away. See that cushion? That’s where I broke through to Nascent Soul.”

Following Yan Xiaohu’s gesture, Zhou Qing wiped away his touched tears.

I thought this was built just for me—turns out it was just a side project.

“By the way, I came here mainly for this!”

Quickly, Yan Xiaohu slapped his storage bag, and a drum taller than two men appeared.

Its body was a deep, profound purple, neither metal nor wood—like layers of ancient beast scales stacked together, each scale shimmering with cold, eerie luster.

On its surface lay a pair of pitch-black drumsticks, shaped like the humeri of some mighty beast.

“What’s this?” Zhou Qing reached out, awed, to touch it.

Yan Xiaohu beamed with pride.

A while back, I gave Old Mo a top-grade spirit stone to help me acquire some powerful, suitable arts. Just then, the Exchange Hall had a hidden treasure—Old Mo secured it for me. This is it!

Yan Xiaohu leaned against the drum, holding up three fingers: “This drum is called Retreat Drum. Worth three thousand mid-grade spirit stones. Its only flaw? Requires two people to use.”

“Wait—what’s its name?” Zhou Qing interrupted.

Yan Xiaohu looked embarrassed but said: “Retreat Drum. Don’t mock the name—when struck, its waves instantly slow anyone nearby, like oxen sinking into mud—just like the gravity zone.”

Zhou Qing’s eyes lit up—this was perfect!

“What does ‘two people’ mean?” he asked.

Yan Xiaohu pulled out a manual: “Look—this is the heart method. One strikes the drum to slow enemies; the other recites the incantation to shape the waves into razor-sharp spiritual blades. Both are essential.”

Zhou Qing understood.

“So you immediately thought of me. When Qian Dafu chased us, if we’d had this, we wouldn’t have been so desperate. Alright, practice now—I’ll strike, you chant.”

Yan Xiaohu picked up the drumsticks.

Zhou Qing glanced at the incantation and immediately shook his head—he felt embarrassed.

“I’ll strike. You chant.” Zhou Qing snatched the drumsticks.

Yan Xiaohu scoffed: “Knew you’d be shy. Luckily, I’ve memorized the incantation.”

He released several wooden dummies, and under spiritual control, they slowly advanced toward them.

Zhou Qing exhaled deeply, channeled spiritual power, and the drumsticks glowed brightly as he swung down hard.

A thunderous “DONG!” echoed—the Retreat Drum unleashed its first earth-shaking strike.

The drumhead quivered violently, and dazzling waves surged outward like a raging river.

The waves shimmered in vivid hues—red as flame, blue as the deep sea, purple as star clouds—each like a living spiritual serpent lunging at the dummies.

The dummies’ movements slowed drastically. Yan Xiaohu leaned forward, knees bent, eyes wide.

His right hand raised high, fingers tightly clenched, palms open, as if weaving intricate seals.

Then he stepped forward, gathered spiritual power in his throat, and roared: “Tui! Tui! Tui...!”

Each “Tui” transformed into a solid sonic wave, merging into the ripples.

The ripples resonated, instantly forming countless blades that slashed furiously through the dummies.

Zhou Qing’s face twitched—that’s why he’d rather strike than chant.

But the spiritual blades were indeed razor-sharp, and their speed was extraordinary.

“What are you staring at? Keep going!”

Seeing Zhou Qing freeze, Yan Xiaohu shouted.

He needed to test how long they could sustain this.

Zhou Qing snapped back, muscles tensing, swinging the drumsticks with all his strength, hammering the drum repeatedly.

“Dong! Dong! Dong...!”

The deafening drumbeats exploded like thunder, each strike threatening to shatter the air.

With every strike, Zhou Qing felt his spiritual power drain like threads, flowing up his arms into the drumsticks, then into the Retreat Drum.

Beside him, Yan Xiaohu stomped the ground like a war drum, face flushed, veins bulging in his neck, screaming hoarsely: “Tui! Tui! Tui...!”

…………

When Zhou Qing staggered out of the chamber, trembling arms barely holding up, he felt utterly spent.

“I’ve never exerted myself this much—I don’t know if I’ll even be able to eat for days,” Zhou Qing slumped against the wall, arms limp.

Yan Xiaohu was drenched in sweat, voice hoarse and shrill: “N-not bad... today... was... great...”

Zhou Qing cut him off—duck quacks sounded better than that.

“Got it, got it—rest now. I’m heading back!” Zhou Qing rose and fled.

Yan Xiaohu called after him, face flushed, voice piercing: “Remember... tomorrow... ga...”

Zhou Qing stared blankly, quickening his pace.

Will my arms even heal by tonight?

I’ve more important things to do—need to get the No.1 and No.3 Yan Ling Blood Paste soon, build up energy for my breakthrough.

Back at his quarters, he found Lu Yaoyao waiting, along with Li Daoxuan standing rigidly beside her.

Seriously, your senior brother’s off cultivating Soul Transformation, and you’re the Sect Master’s top disciple—why do you loiter here like a shadow, guarding your little junior sister?

Aren’t you a bit pathetic?

Seeing Zhou Qing stagger back with limp arms, Lu Yaoyao gasped and rushed forward.

“Senior Brother Zhou, what happened?” she asked urgently.

Zhou Qing shook his head: “Nothing—just numb. Rest will fix it. What’s up?”

Lu Yaoyao reached out, touched his arms, confirmed they were still there, then sighed in relief.

She added: “Nothing urgent—just came to invite you fishing in the back mountain. But now, seeing you like this...”

She trailed off.

Zhou Qing gave her a thoughtful look.

Last time he’d merely asked about the location of the No.1 Yan Ling Blood Pool, she’d immediately drawn him a full map and coordinates, excitedly guessing he’d sabotage it, offering to help—even leaving that voice-communication paper crane.

It’s only been five days since he last contacted her—and now she’s impatient.

Is she deliberately creating an opportunity?

And specifically, the back mountain.

Li Daoxuan no longer envied him as a mortal—the bright 【Poor Soul】 characters above his head still glowed clearly: “Indeed, fishing calms the mind. You’ve been cooped up—go take a break.”

“Too bad there’s no Ice Soul Shadow Carp left—otherwise, it’d be worth looking forward to,” Zhou Qing said.

At this, Li Daoxuan added: “Funny—we still don’t know who took the other two Ice Soul Shadow Carps. Quite strange.”

Lu Yaoyao’s eyes flickered with an idea. “Maybe we could organize a fishing contest?”

Zhou Qing stared in surprise.

But he decided against it—everyone was too busy now; who’d have the patience to fish with him?

Besides, ordinary fishing—even if he forced everyone to gather—couldn’t create the tense, multi-person environment he needed to trigger his Ignore Points.

Right now, as a useless cripple, everyone might just be hovering around him, using spiritual energy to lure fish toward him, watching him constantly.

Boring!

“Forget it. My arms are still weak—I’ll need two days to recover. Why not come in for some tea?” Zhou Qing invited.

Lu Yaoyao was about to agree when Li Daoxuan gently tugged her sleeve and smiled. “No thanks. Zhou younger brother, rest up. We won’t disturb you. Drop by Shenyue Peak sometime.”

After they left, Lu Yaoyao couldn’t help speaking up. “Big Brother Li, how can we come all this way and not even go inside?”

That’s just disrespectful.

Li Daoxuan said, “I smelled strong sweat stench on him. His arms are completely drained, and he just came back from outside. If I’m right, he’s already begun Body Refinement.”

“Body Refinement?” Lu Yaoyao’s eyes lit up instantly.

So he’s picked himself up and taken a different path?

Could it be because the Supreme Elder soaked him in the No.2 Flame Spirit Blood Pool, restoring his confidence?

Li Daoxuan nodded with a smile. “Exactly. Right now, he’d rather collapse on his bed and sleep, or take a good bath first. If we walked in, he’d have to entertain us—how clueless would that be?”

Lu Yaoyao blushed with embarrassment.

She’d never thought of that.

“How come I didn’t smell the sweat? Big Brother Li, has your nose turned as dull as Zhou younger brother’s?” Lu Yaoyao grinned.

Li Daoxuan sighed. “I’m just me—I don’t compare to anyone. Let’s go.”

The two then left Xiaoling Peak.

As Li Daoxuan had guessed, Zhou Qing had wanted to bathe after returning to bed—but his arms were so weak and aching he couldn’t lift a finger, and collapsed straight onto the bed, asleep.

Three full days passed before he finally recovered.

“That ‘Retreat Retreat Retreat’ really drained me. I wonder how Third Brother’s throat is doing?”

Zhou Qing muttered to himself, yet admitted: the artifact was truly powerful—anything inside its wave field, including weapons, moved drastically slower.

It created an isolated domain, and only Third Brother’s “Retreat Retreat Retreat” wave-blades remained unaffected.

“Maybe I should ask Lu Yaoyao. She’s at the late Foundation Establishment realm—ninety percent chance she ignores me. But there are only two people total, and one’s the opposite sex. Anyone not an idiot would notice someone’s nearby.”

Zhou Qing scratched his head.

If Li Daoxuan or He Han—both Nascent Soul cultivators—were around, they’d be staring at him nonstop.

“Unless… she’s not home!” Zhou Qing’s eyes flashed with sudden hope.

He pulled out a paper crane and sent it to lure her away—perfect.

First, he checked the almanac: today was auspicious for travel.

He stepped outside, heading for Niu Guangmo, when he spotted Yan Xiaohu approaching.

“Third Brother! Perfect—take me to Shenyue Peak!” Zhou Qing said quickly.

Yan Xiaohu opened his mouth: “Wha—ga… your hands… gaga…”

Zhou Qing’s face twitched. “Your throat still hurts?”

“Injured… gah… throat…” Yan Xiaohu pointed to his neck.

Zhou Qing understood and gestured for him to stay quiet.

“You just started practicing—why push so hard? Why not swing by the Exchange Hall and see if they have throat-soothing pills?” Zhou Qing suggested.

Yan Xiaohu shook his head immediately: “No… gah… money.”

Zhou Qing: “…”

True—he and Zhang Wanbao had spent nearly all their cash on the two Golden Core Pills, including the herbs they’d already bought for their production.

After all, debts of gratitude should be kept minimal.

Then each received two supreme-grade spirit stones. Third Brother used one to break through to the Nascent Soul stage; the other was traded to their Master for a compatible cultivation art—including “Retreat Retreat Retreat.”

So now, Third Brother was utterly broke.

“Wait—you didn’t come here to borrow money, did you?” Zhou Qing blurted out.

Yan Xiaohu flushed with embarrassment and opened his mouth—Zhou Qing raised a hand instantly. “I only have two myself—one’s almost drained, the other’s reserved for something vital.”

The energy needed for the two Golden Core Pills was immense—they’d even risked sneaking into the Supreme Elder’s territory to steal Flame Spirit Blood Paste just to accumulate enough. No spare cash left.

Yan Xiaohu looked crestfallen.

It was time for him to return to the martial world, gathering his eight sworn brothers to make money once again.

Soon, Yan Xiaohu landed with Zhou Qing on a flying sword and hurried off.

Facing the bustling Task Hall, Zhou Qing slipped into a secluded corner, confirmed no one was watching, then pulled out his paper crane and spoke.

“Lu younger sister, are you free today? I need to speak with you.” The crane flapped its wings and flew off.

Time passed. Soon, the crane returned, carrying Lu Yaoyao’s cheerful voice: “Yes yes yes, of course! Wait, Zhou older brother—I’m coming right now!”

He could hear her excitement—and it made him feel guilty.

“If there’s plenty, I’ll give you a piece. Consider it compensation,” Zhou Qing said.

He then arrived at the entrance to Shenyue Peak’s inner mountain, hid quietly, and waited until he saw Lu Yaoyao depart on her sword—only then did he step forward and register.

The registering disciple didn’t even ask why he was here—only looked at him with pity.

What a pity—a core disciple reduced to a useless cripple.

Once alone, Zhou Qing quickened his pace, even activating the Silver Dragon Step.

After slipping into the core disciple zone, he slowed, twisted through winding paths, and finally found Lu Yaoyao’s residence.

“Anyone home?” He shouted loudly first, then, hearing no reply, extended his spiritual sense to check again.

He rushed straight toward the hidden passage beside the outhouse.

“The most dangerous place really is the safest!” The entrance was disguised as a stone amid grass.

He moved one stone aside—revealing a dark, yawning hole below.

Zhou Qing leapt down, then carefully restored the covering stone.

With the map in hand, he confirmed the direction and sprinted toward his target.

Soon, he stopped, compared Lu Yaoyao’s drawn map, then looked upward.

“This must be it. Heaven, please protect me!”

Zhou Qing pulled out a hoe and began digging upward.

“In this tiny tunnel, dig, dig, dig. Seeking precious spirit paste—tastes heavenly…”

After who-knew-how-long, a familiar scent surged toward him.

Zhou Qing’s face lit up—he immediately stopped digging and gently brushed away the soil with his fingers. There it was: a lump of Flame Spirit Blood Paste.

“Found it! Really found it!” Zhou Qing’s eyes gleamed with excitement—he reached to grab it—

The next instant, a pair of large hands seized his ankle.

Zhou Qing’s face turned deathly pale: “Oh no—”

He was yanked violently downward.

When he landed, he scrambled up, ready to explain—but froze.

A black-robed man stared at him in shock.

Above the man’s head floated the term: 【Gifted Little Kid】.

Zhou Qing blinked, stunned. “Uncle Er, when did you get back?”

“My goodness, you recognized me?” Uncle Er pulled off his mask, revealing a stranger’s face—then instantly shifted back to his familiar one.

He stared at Zhou Qing in disbelief. “Wait—what are you doing here? No, that’s not the point—how did you find this hidden passage?”

Zhou Qing felt more awkward than a man caught stealing in his own grandmother’s house.

He never imagined Uncle Er would return today—and catch him red-handed.

What a cursed almanac—today was definitely not a day to leave the house.

Zhou Qing forced a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his head.

“Uncle Er, listen—I mean… it was an accident. Pure coincidence. I just fell down, and then… I came in…”

He felt like he was babbling—everything had happened too fast. He had zero preparation.

Uncle Er ignored him, looking upward.

With a casual flick of his right hand, the Flame Spirit Blood Paste Zhou Qing had dug up floated down and landed neatly in his palm.

[191] Looking at the paste, Uncle Er’s eyes gleamed. “Well, well—this has matured? I never noticed it before.”

[192] (End of Chapter)