Chapter 9: Chapter Eight: My Master Was Right

The man wore a red silk ribbon tied across his forehead, his face like peach blossoms, eyes bright as stars, his movements not swift but exquisitely graceful.

Crucially, he was extremely young—no more than fifteen or sixteen, with a hint of childishness in his expression.

Master Ma’s heart stirred at once; he kept glancing back, a strange smile on his face: “Brother Li, this fellow has a splendid figure… his cultivation seems weak…”

Liu Xiaolou asked: “What’s your plan, Master Ma?”

“Did you see clearly—he’s alone?”

“Exactly!”

“How about…”

Both halted simultaneously, splitting left and right, waiting in place. Liu Xiaolou never dared remove his black cloth hood; seeing this, Master Ma quickly pulled his own black cloth back up.

The handsome youth stopped several zhang away, facing two against one, utterly unafraid, coldly saying: “Two rats, dare you show your true faces?”

Master Ma chuckled lewdly: “Young brother, you’ll see my brother and me’s true faces soon… Brother Li, the man’s mine, the loot’s yours; if there’s a magic treasure or spirit stones, we split it fifty-fifty, how’s that?”

Liu Xiaolou felt a chill run down his spine, yanked his black cloth higher, pressed his hood tighter, and said: “After you, Master Ma.”

Master Ma stepped forward two paces: “I never expected Zhang’s family could produce such a handsome lad—he looks like he’s made of water…”

The youth’s expression turned instantly icy, like frost-laced steel: “First, I am not of the Zhang family. I am a disciple of Dongyang Sect. My surname is Han, my name Wuwang—Wuwang, meaning ‘to leave others hopeless.’ Second, today, right here, on this mountain, is where you will bury your bones!”

No sooner had he spoken than a Bagua compass flew from his sleeve, spinning rapidly as it swelled in size, engulfing Master Ma beneath it.

Master Ma’s face turned as white as paper. “Dongzhen Bagua Compass?!” He frantically launched an iron rod, blocked two strikes, then was instantly pinned down, unable to struggle free.

In desperation, he screamed: “Brother Li, help me!”

Liu Xiaolou had no time to care for this so-called brother. Upon hearing it was the Dongzhen Bagua Compass, he immediately abandoned any thought of fighting. Already dozens of zhang away, he ignored the mountain path and leapt straight off the cliff ahead.

The Dongzhen Bagua Compass—one of Dongyang Sect’s three treasured artifacts—was known even to the lowliest wandering cultivator like him, a name that rang like thunder. Add to that the fact that the Dongyang Sect’s Sect Master also bore the surname Han, and the handsome youth’s identity was now obvious—even if not certain, it was almost certainly true.

The moment he leapt down, a black-and-white ring of light followed close behind, grazing his scalp—it was the Taiyi Light Blade from the Dongzhen Bagua Compass. As it circled back, three massive trees were cleanly severed mid-trunk, tumbling over the cliff with heavy, thunderous crashes.

The Taiyi Light Blade then returned to the Bagua Compass.

Han Wuwang chanted his spell, and the Dongzhen Bagua Compass spun faster. Master Ma’s iron rod was never a fine artifact; even though his cultivation was two levels higher than Han Wuwang’s, he could not withstand the divine might of the Bagua Compass.

After only a brief moment of resistance, the iron rod snapped. Master Ma’s scream tore through the air as the rapidly spinning Bagua Compass crushed him into a shapeless pulp of blood and flesh, unrecognizable in form.

Han Wuwang sneered: “Bandits!” He recalled the Dongzhen Bagua Compass, rushed to the spot where Liu Xiaolou had jumped, and peered over the cliff. Seeing the area below littered with fallen trees, he leapt down after him, chasing into the valley, searching through the dense forest.

Moments later, a thick cluster of shrubs on the cliffside rustled. Liu Xiaolou, hidden behind them, carefully climbed upward. When he finally rolled onto the cliff top, he was drenched in cold sweat, trembling uncontrollably.

His Master’s words were indeed true: how could one ever dare provoke a disciple of a great sect? Judging by his cultivation, he was likely only at Qi Refining Level Two or Three—even weaker than Liu Xiaolou in endurance. But when he fought, five or six of Liu Xiaolou would be nothing but corpses.

Liu Xiaolou dared not delay. He fled in another direction, then, after a short distance, summoned courage and raced back, rummaging through Master Ma’s bloody remains to retrieve two bloodstained spirit stones.

Total gains from this trip: one spirit herb, three spirit stones, over ten taels of silver and gold, and three ordinary jade pendants. Oh, and he’d also drunk nearly half a jar of spirit wine.

Though he risked his life, this Hero Gathering was truly worth it!

Preliminary judgment: the three Foundation Establishment cultivators from Dongyang Sect pursuing the bandits were heading northwest. Though he didn’t know how far they’d go, this direction was definitely off-limits.

The young Dongyang disciple named Han had chased westward—Liu Xiaolou must not go near that direction either.

So Liu Xiaolou headed southwest. After traveling a hundred li, he turned north. After two days, he moved northeast for one day, taking a wide detour, wandering through desolate mountains and wild lands for five full days before entering the Wulong Mountains.

At the foot of Qianzhu Ridge, as usual, he did not enter the mountain but went to Tian Bo’s house, waiting until Tian Bo returned carrying firewood, then took the load: “Uncle Tian, off to chop wood? I just got back.”

Tian Bo chuckled, scooped a gourd of water from the corner cistern, drank deeply, then peered outside the door, pulling Liu Xiaolou aside: “I just came down from Qianzhu Ridge, couldn’t find you. You haven’t gone up yet? Yesterday, a few men were asking around the village about the Daoist masters’ whereabouts—they had cultivation, their shoes weren’t even dusty.”

Already found Wulong Mountain so fast?

“Uncle Tian, how many men? What did they ask?”

“Three men. Just asking randomly—whether there were any Daoist masters on the mountain. Didn’t mention any specific names. Totally vague. Of course, I only heard it from the village women gossiping at the entrance—they never came to me.”

“Did they go up the mountain?”

“They entered. Heard they headed toward Ghost Dream Cliff first, didn’t climb Qianzhu Ridge, but might still come here. All the masters on nearby peaks got word and are avoiding the area. Here’s some rice cakes I baked for you—enough for half a month. Hide for a few days before returning.”

“Understood. Thank you, Uncle Tian.”

The Hero Gathering at Jinping Mountain Villa had only just ended a few days ago—it must have spread already. Though few Wulong Mountain wanderers participated—only myself and Longshan Sanren—any stranger entering the mountain now would make the local cultivators flee. Regardless of whether they were connected to me, better to avoid the storm.

Liu Xiaolou pulled out a jade pendant and handed it to Tian Bo: “A Zhen has been guided by a great master and entered a prestigious sect. This jade is my small token—though an ordinary item, its quality is excellent. Let her wear it for fun.”

The jade pendant was rich with watery green and ink-black hues, taken casually from Jinping Mountain Villa. Its quality was superb. Tian Bo didn’t recognize its worth but knew it was valuable, refusing several times. Yet he likely sensed its dubious origin—probably ill-gotten gains from Liu Xiaolou’s travels—and to a cultivator, such things were trivial. Eventually, he accepted it with a beaming smile.