Chapter 77: Chapter Seventy-Six: Snowy Day, Deceiving the Daoist

Having just pulled off such a job, though with a four- to five-month buffer, Liu Xiaolou had no intention of returning immediately to Wulong Mountain; he decided to stay out longer and observe the situation first.

Not returning to Wulong Mountain, yet daring not to stay in Yueyang, after much deliberation, he returned to the familiar southeastern part of the Tianmen Mountain marketplace, to the abandoned courtyard beside Yangliu Bay.

With four and a half spirit stones left, Liu Xiaolou planned to absorb them all at once, aiming to break through the Laogong acupoint within two months.

The Laogong acupoint is not only a major point on the Hand Jueyin Meridian but also one of the top acupoints among the body’s four hundred and nine points; the more true qi he expended here, the more true qi would naturally accumulate in this acupoint pool, granting him the “initiative” in combat.

Having reclaimed the Lin Yuan Xuan Stone Array and gained the Li Di San Yuan Rope, Liu Xiaolou felt greatly pleased; with his mood improved, his cultivation naturally flowed smoother, and when transforming true qi to strike the acupoint barriers, the momentum surged continuously, like an unbroken tide, gradually drawing him into a state of immersion.

“Immersion” was not a bad thing but a deep state of cultivation, where spiritual sense sank so thoroughly it was nearly “irresistible.” Cultivating in this state brought obvious benefits, though it could also be a precursor to qi deviation—a possibility small, perhaps one in a hundred—but still not to be ignored. Whether it was good or bad remained hard to say.

For three straight days, Liu Xiaolou remained immersed until the spirit stone in his hand, half-depleted, was fully drained; in his perception, he seemed to hear a “crackling” sound as the stone shattered, jolting him abruptly from his immersion.

Having gone three full days without food or drink, he was truly famished; he gorged himself until he comfortably patted his belly. But immediately after, he recalled the “crackling” sound he had perceived moments earlier.

And the image that accompanied it: the jade hairpin crushed under Gao Gaofeng’s foot and tossed into the river.

He shook his head to dispel the image, circled the abandoned ruin twice, breathed in the bleak autumn wind, let yellow leaves swirl and settle on his shoulders, and suddenly remembered: it must be time for the goose-sheep mountain rice harvest now. The harvest window was brief; even if he rushed there, he’d likely arrive only at the tail end. He felt a pang of regret.

Returning to his room, he shut the door, took out another spirit stone, and resumed cultivation—this went on for two months.

One night, Liu Xiaolou withdrew from cultivation, slowly concluding his practice; inside his palm’s Laogong acupoint, true qi churned like iron beads rolling incessantly.

He had finally broken through the Laogong acupoint; now, only one point remained on the Hand Jueyin Meridian: Zhongchong.

He had spent five spirit stones in total, all the transformed true qi now stored in the Laogong acupoint pool; the sensation was unmistakably different. At this moment, he actually felt a tingling in his hands, a strong urge to engage in combat.

He gazed at the closed door, gathered true qi for a moment, and struck the door with a palm blast; a gust of force surged forth, striking the door seven feet ahead, slamming it open, causing it to swing wildly, letting in gusts of cold wind and swirling, scattered snowflakes.

He examined his palms with satisfaction: now that Laogong was open, his palm power had more than doubled!

Stepping outside, heavy snow blanketed the courtyard. He stared at the snow for a long while, and the image of the crushed hairpin reappeared in his mind, accompanied once more by the “crackling” sound.

For two months, this scene had surfaced repeatedly; each time a spirit stone was drained to dust, the “crackling” sound would ring, and the image of the crushed hairpin would rise, pulling him out of his immersive, fervent cultivation—truly baffling.

Previously occupied with cultivation, now that Laogong was broken and all spirit stones spent, he had time to reflect. He recalled the mysterious techniques of the Qingyu Sect and wondered: could that hairpin have concealed some kind of soul technique? If so, might it have revealed the ambush on Hou Sheng?

But the hairpin was shattered and cast into the river; even if a hundred techniques existed, none could restore it—this possibility was extremely slim.

After much thought, he decided to return to Shahu Kou and take another look.

Returning to Shahu Kou went smoothly; gazing at the cave beneath the water’s surface, Liu Xiaolou felt more at ease. Two months had passed, the river had swelled several feet higher, flooding the cave entirely, turning it into a pond—any traces had long been washed away.

He leapt into the riverbed again and searched meticulously for a full day, finding no remnants of the past—everything must have been carried off by the current…

It was clearly an ordinary jade hairpin; all four of them had examined it repeatedly and found nothing unusual—so why did this image keep returning to him?

Snow in the south rarely lasted; the snow covering trees, grass, and mud melted quickly. Liu Xiaolou trudged away from Shahu Kou, boots caked in slush, lost in thought—until a carriage passed beside him, its whip lashing mud across his body, snapping him out of his reverie and triggering his ingrained instinct to stay alert.

The profession of a Wulong Mountain cultivator.

When encountering wealthy families, if there was a legitimate excuse, one must not miss the chance—swindle a few taels of silver; even if mistaken, a scolding and a few slaps were nothing serious.

He glared, leapt before the carriage, and barked: “How dare you drive like this? You’ve splashed mud all over this Daoist! Is this how you follow the road’s rules?”

After shouting, he suddenly grew wary: in his single-minded focus on the hairpin, he hadn’t noticed—this carriage had no driver. A single horse pulled the cabin alone through the wilderness—this situation fell squarely under the Five No-Scam Rules!

The words were out, too late to retract; the carriage curtain parted slightly, revealing an old woman. She wore luxurious robes, adorned with pearls and jade, no maidservant beside her, seated alone in the carriage, apologizing: “I’ve disturbed this young man—it’s my fault. I offer my apologies.”

An old woman traveling alone in snow—another example of the Five No-Scam Rules!

Though he sensed no cultivation aura from the old woman in the carriage, two of the Five No-Scam Rules already applied—forget swindling her, just running away would be a blessing!

Liu Xiaolou’s heart fluttered; he immediately forced a smile: “Oh, it’s an elder! Then no harm done—it’s just mud, nothing to worry about. Elder, the road is slippery, please be careful. I’ll take my leave, goodbye!”

The old woman squinted at him for a moment, then smiled: “You’re a good boy. Do you have time, young man? Could you help me drive the carriage?”

Liu Xiaolou bowed deeply: “Of course, Elder, hold tight—I’ll take the reins. Where to?”

The old woman beamed: “I’m heading to Luoshan, fifty li ahead. You’ve done me a great favor, child.”