Chapter 60

Three bandits sat cross-legged on the mountain path, each in an odd posture, hovering midair with no surface beneath them; their gazes fixed eastward, faces flushed, tongues lolling, drool dripping, occasionally thrusting their hips upward...

Liu Xiaolou sat in meditation barely a pace away, fingers forming a spell, fully focused on maintaining the array’s operation. Beads of sweat constantly welled on his forehead and nose tip as he poured out true qi—so utterly drained that though he was near the three bandits, he had not a shred of energy left to strike.

In a flash of thought, Liu Xiaolou recalled how swords had suddenly pierced from the cliff walls when he’d been trapped in the array; only now did he understand that the Western Mountain Recluse who had controlled it had far surpassed him in cultivation.

How many levels must he ascend before he could strike lethal blows into an array like the Western Mountain Recluse?

After an indeterminate stalemate, another figure appeared on the path; seeing the scene, he froze in shock: “Xiaolou?”

Liu Xiaolou’s focus wavered slightly; he opened his eyes and saw Dai Shenggao. He exhaled in relief, his taut nerves instantly loosening, his true qi faltering—the array disc let out a mournful whine and flew back into his palm.

The illusion array dissolved; the three bandits saw everything vanish, jolted awake, and leapt to their feet!

“The array’s broken! Attack!”

“Ah… how did it break so soon…?”

“Just as I was about to see their last piece of underwear…”

“Huang brothers! Ziniu, Zima, Zilu… what in the world are you doing?”

Dai Shenggao stepped forward, grabbed the three brothers, questioned them, and finally understood—then he could only laugh and sigh.

These three bandits were the Huang brothers of Ezhou, wandering cultivators who’d caused a major incident, angered a local sect, and fled to Jingxiang in desperation. Just when they had nowhere to turn, they met Dai Shenggao—right when he was sending out hero invitations. The Huang brothers accepted the invite and joined the grand gathering to attack the Zhou family of Dongting. Since then, they’d been tagging along with Dai Shenggao.

For months, hiding from the Qingyu Sect’s manhunt, they’d lurked in Wuling Mountain, occasionally robbing travelers to make ends meet.

Indeed, it was a case of floodwaters washing over the Dragon King’s temple—family members didn’t recognize family members.

Liu Xiaolou said: “Senior, you’d better not show your face for now. The Qingyu Sect is still hunting you—even on Wulong Mountain, they’ve posted your likeness and offered rewards daily. Honestly, their portrait isn’t bad—it captures you about three-tenths. Us lowlifes don’t matter, but you’re a major target for them, second only to Old Wang. You must be careful. Wait until the heat dies down and the Qingyu Sect pulls back to Dongting.”

Dai Shenggao sighed: “I’ve been wanted before, but never this long. The Qingyu Sect’s real intent isn’t just us—they’re doing this for other reasons.”

Liu Xiaolou said: “I’ve heard whispers—they’ve had some disputes with the sects of Xiangxi.”

Dai Shenggao nodded: “It’s more than just disputes. Old Wang’s intel warns us to be cautious—the Qingyu Sect aims to dominate Jingxiang. Their occupation of Wulong Mountain is a probe.”

Liu Xiaolou realized: “So that’s it… Will the Qingyu Sect fight our Zhanglong Sect? Can Zhanglong Sect even stand against them?”

Dai Shenggao said: “Zhanglong Sect can’t match the Qingyu Sect. The question is whether the Dongyang Sect or Tianmu Mountain will intervene.”

Liu Xiaolou said: “Tianmu Mountain and Dongyang Sect have already cut off supplies to the Qingyu Sect. That’s why they’ve opened a market on our Wulong Mountain to buy goods.” He then told Dai Shenggao about the Wulong Mountain market.

Dai Shenggao laughed: “The Qingyu Sect doesn’t even know the thieves they’re hunting are selling goods right under their noses?”

Liu Xiaolou scratched his head: “Maybe they know, but pretend not to—otherwise no one would bring them goods up the mountain. I came into Wuling Mountain today precisely to get them fresh meat. This is why I just hunted a rare green-feathered pheasant—and these three brothers spotted me.”

The Huang brothers gathered close; eldest brother Huang Ziniu said: “Little Brother Xiaolou, so young and already possessing such skill—truly impressive.”

Huang Zima asked: “Little Brother Xiaolou, can you set up the illusion array again? We haven’t seen enough.”

Huang Zilu looked eagerly: “You didn’t even finish undressing them! Is this all you show us? No way—I can’t take it!”

Dai Shenggao asked curiously: “When did you get an array disc?”

As the saying goes, no fight, no friendship—the Huang brothers were straightforward men. After chatting a while, Liu Xiaolou bonded with them. But night had fallen, his true qi was spent, and he simply couldn’t set up the array again. He promised to treat them to a full show next time they met, then slipped away to fetch wine from Tianmen Mountain market.

This round of eight jugs of wine took Liu Xiaolou eight full days to wait for. When he returned to Wulong Mountain carrying them on a shoulder pole, Ghost Dream Cliff was even livelier—people from miles around had come to sell goods; stalls stretched from the cliff cave entrance all the way down the mountainside.

After squeezing through the crowd with his wine jugs, Liu Xiaolou set them down—and immediately spotted the Qingyu Sect’s familiar face. Not the wine collector Hou Guan, but Hou Zhishi, the inspector who’d patrolled the mountains when he’d met him on Xingde Mountain.

Why is he here?

Liu Xiaolou’s back instantly broke into cold sweat. He turned away, ducked into the stone cave, and stole glances as Hou Zhishi moved between stalls, hands behind his back, eyes not on the goods but scanning every person.

As Hou Zhishi’s gaze swept toward the cave entrance, Liu Xiaolou nodded to Zuo Gaofeng and Tan Ba, then slipped deep into the cave.

Zuo Gaofeng called after him: “What are you going in for?”

Liu Xiaolou didn’t answer: “Stomachache!”

Tan Ba exclaimed: “You’re going in to shit?”

Liu Xiaolou ignored him: “Stomachache—can’t I rest a bit? Don’t ask!” He vanished inside.

Tan Ba turned to Zuo Gaofeng: “Brother Zuo, he wants to shit in our sleeping spot—you can tolerate that?”

Zuo Gaofeng explained: “He said he wants to rest.”

Tan Ba rejected that: “Can someone with a stomachache sleep? And he’s a cultivator—no injury, why would he suddenly have a stomachache? He’s clearly trying to shit!”

“Who wants to shit?” Hou Zhishi arrived at the cave entrance, glancing between the two arguing men.

Tan Ba blurted: “Someone’s shitting inside…”

Zuo Gaofeng waved his hand: “No, no… You’re a stranger, are you also a high master of the Qingyu Sect?”

Hou Zhishi’s expression stiffened; he instinctively waved his sleeve before his nose, stepped past the cave entrance, and moved away with clear disgust.

Zuo Gaofeng complained: “Ba Zhang, why do you always speak without thinking? He hadn’t even looked at our goods—you scared him off!”

Tan Ba retorted: “It was Xiaolou who scared him off.”

Liu Xiaolou poked his head out from behind them: “He’s gone?”

The two jumped: “You shit that fast?”

Liu Xiaolou exhaled in relief, then waved urgently outside—he’d spotted Hou Guan, the wine collector, and wanted to summon him quickly to sell the wine.