Chapter 141: Wait, Did You Just Establish Your Idiot Archetype Like This?

The scene before them was so cruel and horrific that Zhou Qing and Yan Xiaohu felt their stomachs churn violently, on the verge of vomiting.

The Cangyan Dao Palace acts in such a manner—it’s an outrage against heaven and earth; don’t they fear heavenly retribution?

No wonder those humanoid puppets all wore black robes and masks, completely covered up—they were afraid of being recognized by someone who knew them.

Zhou Qing frowned deeply and quietly pulled out an image stone, recording the utterly horrific scene in full.

Once these images are made public, they will surely ignite public fury and unite everyone in shared hatred.

Perhaps even those sects hesitating to take sides will finally make the choice they ought to make.

At that moment, Yan Xiaohu’s expression changed drastically; he nervously tugged Zhou Qing’s sleeve and pointed to one side.

Zhou Qing followed his gaze—and his pupils instantly contracted.

On the last row of iron racks, a woman’s figure hung suspended, her clothes torn and ragged, large patches of snow-white skin exposed, her eyes filled with terror and despair.

“Shi… Shi Zhen—”

Zhou Qing could hardly believe his eyes.

After Shi Zhen used the Nascent Soul Pill he gave her to break through to Nascent Soul, she left with her senior sister Pei Yan.

It seemed she went to help pay off debts, while at the time, he himself was fully focused on pushing toward Nascent Soul, then came the Four Flowers Converging at the Crown, the various factions seeking him out, and now the war between the Five Sects.

Neither Pei Yan, the top senior sister of Yuqing Peak, nor Shi Zhen had returned—but he never imagined she would suddenly appear here.

Shi Zhen deeply admired the senior brother; even Yan Xiaohu had once called her “sister-in-law,” and she had always treated the two of them exceptionally well.

Now, their eyes met—both filled with urgent desperation.

Save her—must save her!

Even if it were just an ordinary Taiqingmen disciple, as fellow sect members, they could not stand idly by while someone was gutted alive.

At this moment, only three people remained before Shi Zhen; the massive, blood-splattered man, like a butcher, flexed his thick wrists, glanced at the man before him who had involuntarily soiled himself, snorted coldly, and his blade flashed with icy light—then a piercing scream echoed through the entire cave…

“Over there—”

Yan Xiaohu pointed again toward several wooden crates, where several Cangyan Dao Palace disciples were holding their breath, carefully lifting out mysterious items emitting faint cold energy, then slowly placing them into the victims’ abdominal cavities.

Seeing this, Zhou Qing had already formed a rough hypothesis.

If his guess was correct, those talisman arrays must have been pre-made and brought here by Song Yuan for unified puppet assembly.

They weren’t assembled at the sect because these people were secretly kidnapped; openly bringing them back would draw attention from those with ulterior motives.

But once they became obedient puppets, that was another matter entirely.

“Too noisy—” At that moment, a figure descended slowly from the stone steps afar; he appeared to be in his late twenties, tall yet slender, his skin unnaturally pale, almost sickly.

He was currently pressing his fingers against his ears, complaining loudly.

This man was Song Yuan, one of the Five Prodigies of the Cangyan Dao Palace, whose cultivation had long reached Nascent Soul Late Stage.

Hearing Song Yuan’s words, the disciples beside the racks immediately smiled broadly, hastily sealing the mouths of the screaming victims with spiritual energy.

Instantly, the entire cave fell into deathly silence.

“Senior Brother Song, the Spirit Orifice Conversion Array is insufficient—we still have two left.”

One disciple hurried forward, wearing a fawning smile, pointing with his finger toward the last two hanging figures.

Song Yuan glanced over, a cold smirk curling his lips: “Looks like I prepared too little. No choice—the materials for these arrays are expensive and the refinement process extremely tedious; other places need them too.”

Then his narrow eyes turned to Shi Zhen; his thin lips pressed together as he frowned in thought.

“Why does this person look so familiar? Have I seen her somewhere before?” Song Yuan muttered to himself.

The disciple beside him quickly explained: “She seems to be from Taiqingmen, a Nascent Soul cultivator. Her exact identity is unknown—she was captured personally by Bloodbone Elder.”

“Nascent Soul? Then she’s either a True Disciple or Core Disciple—interesting!” He suddenly drew a deep breath, his eyes blazing with sudden interest.

“Her Yin Essence is still intact—this is an unexpected windfall! I say, Elder Bone, you deliberately left her for last and didn’t install the array first—was this meant as a gift just for me?” Song Yuan laughed aloud.

No sooner had he spoken than an elderly man with thin, gray-white hair and a hunched back slowly descended the steps.

Within his sunken eye sockets, a pair of blood-red eyes glimmered with eerie, sinister light.

“She is Shi Zhen, the final disciple of Tong Min, the peak master of Yuqing Peak in Taiqingmen. She only recently broke through to Nascent Soul. Master, you’ve traveled far and labored hard—does this humble gift please you?” the old man chuckled coldly.

Upon hearing this, Song Yuan’s eyes blazed with sudden brilliance; he stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Shi Zhen, whose hands were hoisted high above her, utterly defenseless, and he let out a low, appreciative hum.

Then he slowly extended his hand, reaching to touch the exposed snow-white skin—Shi Zhen, enduring excruciating pain and crushing humiliation, wrenched her head aside and spat a mouthful of bloody froth directly onto Song Yuan’s face.

Shi Zhen’s eyes wide open, she roared in fury: “You’re worse than pigs and dogs! You’ll die a cursed death! Even if I become a vengeful ghost, I’ll make you pay with blood for every drop of blood you’ve spilled!”

Song Yuan didn’t dodge—he tilted his head slightly, stuck out his tongue, and slowly licked the spittle from his lips, wearing an expression of rapturous delight.

“I love training women with such fiery tempers!” Song Yuan’s eyes gleamed with twisted excitement.

But the next instant, his rapturous expression twisted into a furious snarl; he swung his fist violently, slamming it directly into Shi Zhen’s abdomen.

Shi Zhen spat out a geyser of blood mixed with shattered internal organs, her entire body trembling violently, yet she forced herself to utter not a single cry—only her eyes burned red, fixed on Song Yuan with a hatred so immense it yearned to peel his skin and devour his flesh.

Hidden nearby, Zhou Qing and Yan Xiaohu watched this scene, their fists clenched tight, their hearts ablaze with rage, desperate to rush forward and carve Song Yuan into a thousand pieces.

Bloodbone Elder grinned sinisterly and spoke: “As long as Master is satisfied, it’s fine. Her spiritual power is sealed—she cannot self-destruct or move. Master may take his time to train her. But before that, two silent little mice have sneaked in—we must deal with them first.”

No sooner had he spoken than his body flickered like a ghost; his withered, bony palm tore through the air, carving a curved path radiating eerie energy, crashing down upon Zhou Qing and Yan Xiaohu’s hiding spot with overwhelming force.

Both men’s faces changed instantly; they retreated at once.

With a thunderous boom, the stone wall before them turned to dust in a single palm strike, dust swirling thickly.

Meanwhile, the other Cangyan Dao Palace disciples, now alert, swiftly drew their weapons; blades flashed with cold light as they surrounded the two.

“Senior Brother Zhou, Senior Brother Yan—” Shi Zhen, enduring unbearable pain, struggled to lift her head; when her gaze met the two familiar figures, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Then, summoning all her strength, she shouted: “Who told you to come? Run away—!”

Song Yuan, now reacting, swiftly arrived; upon seeing their faces, a mocking smile curled his lips.

“I heard Taiqingmen has a pair of senior brothers who like to sneak and watch their own Supreme Elder bathe. If I’m not mistaken, you two must be them. Indeed—you’re even more lewd than your portraits! Especially this round-faced, small-eyed one—why do you always do such sneaky, underhanded things?”

Song Yuan mocked freely, his laughter echoing through the cave.

Hearing this, both men’s faces darkened instantly.

Yan Xiaohu stepped forward, shielding Zhou Qing behind him, pointing his finger at Song Yuan with blazing eyes: “If you mention that incident again, don’t blame me for being uncivil!”

Song Yuan’s face filled with scorn and disdain.

“Be uncivil to me? That’s hilarious. What’s your name again? Whatever—it doesn’t matter. I’d like to see how a Nascent Soul Early Stage cultivator dares to be uncivil to me.”

Bloodbone Elder, meanwhile, stood with his hands behind his back, slowly approaching, standing shoulder to shoulder with Song Yuan.

To be honest, he was slightly alarmed—how had these two discovered this place and slipped in unnoticed?

Had it not been for Song Yuan’s punch against Shi Zhen, which caused a slight spiritual fluctuation, he’d detected nothing at all.

He’d thoroughly scanned the manor with his spiritual sense not long ago—how could this happen?

Zhou Qing’s eyes flickered rapidly as he scanned the surroundings.

The surrounding enemies were few—mostly Foundation Establishment and Jin Dan cultivators. If only these two Nascent Soul experts were present, it might still be manageable—but he feared other hidden masters lurked in the shadows, waiting to strike.

If Third Senior Brother could hold off one of them, perhaps they still had a chance.

Song Yuan’s gaze now fixed on Zhou Qing, who hid behind Yan Xiaohu—especially noticing the complete absence of spiritual energy radiating from him, his interest surged.

“You’re Zhou Qing, right? You’re the one who, after the Five Sects’ Artifact Exchange, accidentally ruined my Cangyan Dao Palace’s plan?”

Before Zhou Qing could respond, Yan Xiaohu’s face darkened; he shouted loudly: “Wait a minute—what do you mean? Why do you only know my fourth brother’s name and can’t even remember mine? This is blatant discrimination!”

Yan Xiaohu’s outburst made Song Yuan and Bloodbone Elder stare at him as if he were an idiot.

“Got a plan yet?” Yan Xiaohu, buying time, urgently whispered to Zhou Qing via spiritual transmission.

Zhou Qing frowned tightly—if they were to rescue Shi Zhen and escape alive, they had to eliminate at least one of them first.

Bloodbone Elder was too cunning to trick easily; but Song Yuan, arrogant and deranged, was just like Meng Xing.

There was no choice now—they had to gamble!

Zhou Qing slowly drew out Po Shang Feng from behind his back, gripping it tightly, then feigned utter terror.

After all, his restored cultivation had only just been announced in the sect a few days ago—he gambled that Song Yuan didn’t know, and even if he did, he’d likely dismiss it as unworthy of notice.

Song Yuan, seeing the rusted, broken sword in Zhou Qing’s hand and the seemingly dim-witted hen peeking out from his robes, burst into laughter.

“I heard your Golden Core was crushed, and you’ve been focusing on body refinement ever since—looks like you’ve made some progress. Otherwise, how could you follow such an unreliable senior brother and dare come here? Did you really eat bear’s heart and leopard’s gall?” Song Yuan mocked freely.

Just as Yan Xiaohu was about to speak, Zhou Qing suddenly burst forward, face flushed with anger.

“Don’t you dare call my senior brother an idiot—I’ll kill you!” Zhou Qing shouted, swinging Po Shang Feng with all his strength and hurling it straight at Song Yuan.

Song Yuan, seeing this, smirked slightly, made no move to dodge, didn’t even activate his spiritual power—only lazily raised his hand and caught the rusted broken sword effortlessly.

“Hmph, since you became a cripple, your Taiqingmen can’t even give you a decent sword anymore? How laughable…”

Song Yuan hadn’t finished speaking when his brows suddenly furrowed.

A thin trickle of crimson blood was slowly dripping from his palm onto the ground—he froze.

Only then did he notice: his palm had been sliced open.

He hadn’t expected this rusted, junk sword picked up from some forgotten corner to be so sharp!

Seeing this, Zhou Qing’s eyes flashed with hidden delight.

He’d won the bet!

This rusted, unremarkable Po Shang Feng, though ugly, was the perfect disguise.

“Senior Brother, I hurt him! I hurt him!” Zhou Qing cried out, sounding delighted.

Yan Xiaohu stared at Zhou Qing’s unusual behavior, utterly baffled by his intentions.

But he couldn’t help saying: “He just called me unreliable—he didn’t call me an idiot.”

Zhou Qing: “…”

Song Yuan frowned, staring at the hen with bulging eyes in Zhou Qing’s arms, then at Zhou Qing’s idiotic expression—he felt his face grow hot.

Clearly, after his Golden Core was crushed, his mind had suffered severe damage.

Yet despite that, he’d been wounded by a rusted iron sword thrown by a fool—it was too humiliating.

He snorted, swung his arm sharply, and hurled the broken sword aside.

“I won’t stoop to arguing with a fool!” Song Yuan muttered, trying to salvage some dignity.

Seeing this, Zhou Qing ignored the other Cangyan Dao Palace disciples and hurried over to retrieve his sword.

Wasn’t the whole point of pretending to be a fool to ensure Po Shang Feng would safely return to him?

Fortunately, everything went smoothly!

The Cangyan Dao Palace disciples around him made no move to stop Zhou Qing; they merely watched coldly as he picked up the rusted, broken blade with a beaming smile.

Even if he weren’t a fool, do you think he could have escaped from Blood Bone Elder and Young Master Song?

Yan Xiaohu stared blankly at Zhou Qing’s utterly inexplicable actions.

Wait, did you just suddenly establish your fool persona?

What about me?

You’re concealed by the Void Realm Manifestation, and now you’re playing the fool—they have no use for an ordinary person, but I, on the other hand, walked right into their hands and became prime-quality flesh-and-blood puppet material?

Isn’t this ridiculous?

After picking up Po Shang Feng, Zhou Qing solemnly blew dust off the blade, then pulled out the old hen from his robes, smiling with innocent delight: “Third Brother, this place is so spacious—I’m going to take the chicken for a walk.”

At these words, the Cangyan Dao Palace disciples froze for a moment, then burst into uproarious laughter.

Yan Xiaohu’s face twitched slightly.

But Blood Bone Elder frowned sharply, his gaze piercing as he stared at Zhou Qing and snorted: “An ordinary person may lack spiritual power, but that doesn’t mean he can vanish before me—or evade my spiritual sense. Besides, when I struck just now, your eyes weren’t this vacant. Stop pretending!”

Hearing this, Zhou Qing immediately stopped walking the chicken and carefully tucked it back into his robes.

He had planned to stall until Song Yuan lost half his blood and was completely incapacitated—but now, that wouldn’t work.

The old fox is still an old fox. Good thing I didn’t toss Po Shang Feng to him.

Song Yuan, seeing Zhou Qing’s eyes instantly turn icy, suddenly understood—and burst into loud laughter, laced with self-mockery and mockery, even clapping his hands.

“Your acting’s impressive—you nearly fooled me. But do you really think playing a fool will let you walk out of here unharmed? Pure fantasy!” Song Yuan sneered.

Blood Bone Elder suddenly realized something and turned to Song Yuan: “Watch out—that sword might be poisoned!”

Song Yuan’s heart clenched. He immediately summoned spiritual power to examine the wound on his palm.

Fortunately, after probing, he detected no anomaly—and exhaled a silent sigh of relief.

But seeing the blood still seeping from his palm, he frowned and used spiritual power to seal the wound.

“Hmm?”

Soon, Song Yuan sensed something was wrong: no matter how he channeled spiritual power or blood qi, the wound kept bleeding uncontrollably.

“What’s wrong?” Blood Bone Elder asked at once, noticing Song Yuan’s expression.

Song Yuan immediately pulled out several high-grade antidote pills from his person and swallowed them all at once.

But the wound still bled.

Now he was truly panicked. He stepped forward sharply, eyes glinting like knives as he locked onto Zhou Qing: “Antidote!”

Zhou Qing smirked, feigning confusion: “What antidote? What are you talking about? I don’t understand.”

Song Yuan snorted, his voice like an ice blade, chilling to the bone: “Fine. Very fine. Since you won’t give it, I’ll take it myself!”

As he spoke, his Nascent Soul late-stage spiritual power erupted like a raging tide, instantly closing the distance.

Zhou Qing had anticipated this—he retreated like lightning and sent a mental message to Yan Xiaohu: “Hold him off—I’ll help you later!”

Yan Xiaohu stared at Blood Bone Elder’s wide, yellowed teeth and swallowed hard.

This would cost him his life to stall!

Song Yuan moved his palms in a whirl, spiritual power surging into them like a tide, instantly forming two blazing orbs of fire that shot toward Zhou Qing.

Seeing this, Zhou Qing’s expression hardened. He shoved the hen against his waist, then slammed Po Shang Feng’s broken blade forward, barking: “Cang Lei Sword Art—activate!”

In an instant, the broken blade blazed with light; its rusted surface was suddenly sheathed in brilliant lightning.

The sword qi, charged with thunder, erupted forth. But the enraged Song Yuan didn’t retreat—he charged forward, eyes wild with madness.

As fire met sword qi, blinding light exploded, energy ripples spreading like waves in all directions.

The entire cave trembled under the force; stones from the ceiling rained down, kicking up clouds of dust.

Seeing this, Zhou Qing turned and fled immediately, showing no interest in fighting.

Why make things so hard for myself? I only barely killed one Nascent Soul late-stage cultivator—and that was thanks to timing, terrain, and luck.

He’s only Foundation Establishment. Song Yuan is one of Cangyan Dao Palace’s Five Prodigies—his true combat power surely exceeds what he’s shown. He might even be capable of slaying a Nascent Soul peak.

Who knows what other cards he’s hiding?

Anyway, Po Shang Feng already cut him. As long as I stall long enough, eventually I’ll chase him—and he’ll run.

As silver light flashed beneath Zhou Qing’s feet, he instantly reached the cave entrance and leapt in.

“You think you can escape?” Song Yuan, eyes brimming with murderous intent, leapt after him.

Zhou Qing plunged into the water like a dragon returning to the sea—fluid, agile—and in moments, widened the gap between them.

“Fool! You dared to catch the blade with bare hands? I wouldn’t dare. How can you even be called a prodigy? You clearly don’t know the meaning of ‘caution’!” Zhou Qing mocked without mercy.

Hearing this, Song Yuan went utterly berserk, especially as he felt his right palm bleeding faster with every surge of spiritual power.

“I’ll make you beg for death!” Song Yuan roared to the heavens, eyes bulging, spiritual power surging uncontrollably as he chased Zhou Qing without restraint.

Zhou Qing, meanwhile, moved effortlessly through the water, like strolling through a courtyard, maintaining the perfect distance—swimming calmly while continuing to taunt.

Song Yuan screamed in rage, but could do nothing.

Their cultivation gap was immense, yet he simply couldn’t catch Zhou Qing.

“Is your Cangyan Dao Palace’s temper always this fiery? Funny—I know a bit of fire cultivation too.”

“If you can’t catch me, stop yelling. Look—this water’s almost red.”

“Thankfully there are no Flame Crocodiles here—if they smelled this blood, you’d be done for.”

“I’ll tell you a secret—Meng Xing was killed by me. Honestly, you two are both insane. Good heavens—are all five of your prodigies like this?”

…………

Listening to Zhou Qing’s cold mockery ahead, Song Yuan burned with fury, pouring all his spiritual power into pursuit, determined to catch him and tear him to pieces.

But this only made his wound bleed even more.

A vicious cycle had formed: not chasing meant enduring his endless insults—and dozens of disciples watching.

Chasing meant using spiritual power—and the wound refused to stop bleeding.

Song Yuan’s face had grown pale, drained of blood.

“The wound’s still too small—Third Brother won’t hold out much longer!”

Though Zhou Qing kept taunting aloud, his heart was frantic.

The only way out now was to strike first—either accelerate the bleeding or close in for another slash.

Thinking this, Zhou Qing slammed to a sudden stop. Around him, a ring of blazing fire erupted, instantly becoming a roaring sea of flame.

(End of Chapter)