Chapter 59

Zuo Gaofeng and Tan Ba were greatly surprised to see Liu Xiaolou come back with four jars of Zhuyeqing wine. They had also considered trading in spiritual liquor, but could never get that much stock—nowadays, spiritual liquor was nearly impossible to find at the Tianmen Marketplace, and even trying to contact Wei Hongqing for leads had failed; they couldn’t even find Wei Hongqing.

They didn’t even know Wei Hongqing had become the new proprietor of Hongji Wine House.

It seemed Brother Wei treated people differently inside and out, Liu Xiaolou couldn’t help feeling a little smug. Since that was the case, he naturally wouldn’t reveal anything about Wei Hongqing—instead, he told them he’d worked hard to collect these wines, running door to door, pure grunt work, earning nothing but a runner’s fee.

With that, Zuo Gaofeng and Tan Ba let it drop. For these four jars, Liu Xiaolou had spent six full days running up and down the mountain—truly earned his runner’s fee.

Hou Guanshi was very pleased with the four jars and accepted them on the spot; Liu Xiaolou received sixty taels of gold. But he also requested that next time payment be made in spirit stones, since he himself no longer had so much silver or gold—altogether, he had paid Liu Xiaolou nearly a thousand taels’ worth in silver and gold.

Liu Xiaolou dared not delay. The Qingyu Sect and the various sects of Xiangxi couldn’t sustain their feud indefinitely; no one knew how long the window of opportunity would last, and this was no time to slack off—every extra trip counted.

Sixty taels of gold equaled six hundred to seventy taels in silver, enough to buy eight jars of Zhuyeqing—but Hongji Wine House could only give him one jar per day, and only if he showed up in person, so he had nothing to do but wait.

During these waiting days, Liu Xiaolou wasn’t idle—he pondered how to get closer to Hou Guanshi. But honestly, they weren’t familiar; the only thing he knew was that Hou Guanshi liked buying meat.

So Liu Xiaolou wandered the entire Tianmen Marketplace, hoping to find something. But the rare meats sold there were absurdly expensive—for example, even the lowest-grade Heishan Spirit Piglets cost three spirit stones per head, or the Seven-Tailed Geese from Tianxing Peak in the north, a luxury item priced at twenty spirit stones apiece—far beyond what Liu Xiaolou could afford.

He simply began shuttling between Wuling Mountain and the Tianmen Marketplace: hunting during the day, eating and collecting wine at Hongji Wine House at night.

For two days straight he found nothing, until the third trip, when he spotted a rare green-feathered pheasant. The bird moved with extreme agility and had sharp senses; judging by Liu Xiaolou’s standards, its combat ability was nearly equal to that of a large white goose. Though not a true spiritual bird, it was uncommon enough to make a suitable gift for Hou Guanshi.

Doesn’t matter if the meat tastes good—just serve something fresh!

He chased it for over two hours before finally capturing it.

As dusk approached, Liu Xiaolou hurried back—only to suddenly encounter bandits lying in wait.

There were three bandits, all wearing conical hats and black face cloths, emerging from hiding to surround and block his path.

Liu Xiaolou’s first thought was that this was a case of friendly fire—could these three be fellow cultivators from Wulong Mountain? Wulong Mountain had over a hundred scattered cultivators; he’d only just begun his journey and didn’t know half of them—mistakes were inevitable. He announced himself: “I’m from Wulong Mountain...”

Before he finished speaking, the three bandits attacked, drawing their magic tools and charging in. The leader snarled: “Who the hell you are doesn’t matter—today you die here!”

No rules at all!

Liu Xiaolou had no choice but to fight. As soon as he engaged, he felt overwhelming pressure. The three bandits weren’t high-level, but they steadily held the upper hand—roughly Qi Refining fourth or fifth layer. The only oddity was their lack of ruthlessness; that alone proved they weren’t from Wulong Mountain.

Though their attacks weren’t lethal, Liu Xiaolou’s own cultivation was low. His Three Mysteries Sword Art had little power and looked plain and unremarkable—he could barely hold off their blows before falling into dire peril. Last year, he would have died here, and the Three Mysteries Sect would have ended. But now, he had an extra survival trick.

In haste, he yanked the array disc’s jade pendant from his waist and tossed it to the ground. His mind connected with the disc—the Lin Yuan Xuan Shi Array activated instantly.

This was Liu Xiaolou’s first time using an array in combat. Though he’d once asked Star De Jun to verify its power, actual battle was different—he was still nervous.

The three bandits suddenly found themselves in the courtyard of a wealthy household, standing beside a pond in a pavilion.

“Illusion array!” the leader shouted. “Brothers, probe the array!”

An illusion array was nothing but a trick of the eyes—inducing hallucinations with minimal real damage. All one needed to do was smash the array’s core to break free easily; the trick was knowing where the core lay, which depended on the intruder’s understanding.

Of course, even if one didn’t recognize the core, if one’s cultivation vastly surpassed the array’s user, one could simply brute-force through it and escape.

The other two agreed and immediately began exploring every corner of the courtyard.

The leader hurled his magic spear, channeling true qi into it, flinging it at every spot in the courtyard to test the array’s limits. The other two wandered through the grounds, but no matter how they moved, they could never escape the courtyard’s boundaries, never pass beyond the seemingly low white wall.

The three bandits clearly knew nothing about arrays and couldn’t find the core—but they all understood the principle of brute force. Though they couldn’t locate the core yet, they weren’t panicked.

They’d been trailing Liu Xiaolou for a long time and had roughly judged his cultivation level—not exceeding Qi Refining fourth layer. Such low cultivation couldn’t sustain a complex array. What was there to fear?

The spear flew like a dragon, striking first the pavilion, then the fish pond, then the willow tree, then the stone bridge, then the side rooms—lightning crackled, power radiated. After striking every spot, they felt none were the core, so they paused, concentrating in thought.

“Zi Ma, Zi Lu—any anomalies?” the bandit leader called out, eyes fixed on the courtyard.

“Brothers?”

“Zi Ma? Zi Lu?”

He called several times—no answer. The leader grew deeply suspicious. He’d clearly seen his two brothers enter the side rooms moments ago—why no response?

Uneasy, he leapt from the pavilion, spear in hand, fully alert, heading toward the side rooms across the pond.

As he neared the rooms, he felt the sky gradually darken. In just a few steps, daylight turned to night. He paused, realized the change in light affected him not at all, then reached out to push the door—it creaked open...

The bandit leader froze. His two brothers sat on embroidered stools, staring fixedly at the far end of the hall, faces flushed red, hands tightly clenched... hmm...

“Zi Ma! Zi Lu!”

The two brothers acted as if they hadn’t heard—still flushed, bodies slightly arched, struggling with themselves.

The leader was baffled. He couldn’t help leaning forward to peer into the room—and he too froze.

Then, another embroidered stool appeared in the room, and on it sat another man. The three brothers sat there, raptly watching the enormous bed at the far end of the room, their bodies occasionally arching, like three giant shrimp...