Chapter 109

The standard for Seventh-Flow Alchemists is to forge a “pill” of Seventh-Flow quality.

Whether internal or external pill, as long as it reaches Seventh-Flow standard, it suffices.

The skin-pill has already reached Seventh-Flow.

Without Master Shen’s ointment, Xu Yuan would have needed at least another month—possibly longer—to assimilate the nine snake skins.

“This rate of advancement is exceedingly rare,” Xu Yuan knew full well.

The standard for ascending to Eighth-Flow is condensing the internal pill.

Other alchemists carefully select their materials and plan meticulously before deciding to condense their internal pill.

But Xu Yuan, driven by circumstance, boldly chose gunpowder.

He effortlessly became Eighth-Flow.

This time, his ascent from Eighth- to Seventh-Flow relied entirely on Master Shen’s ointment.

Again, there was no bottleneck—he achieved it in one step.

Yet in the art of alchemy, Xu Yuan knew his future prospects were likely extremely limited.

But no matter what, he was now Seventh-Flow!

Master Shen still had two patches of ointment left; Xu Yuan was even less willing to use them.

He should return them to Master Shen—he could extend the old man’s life by several years.

Fu Jingyu had also woken, yawned, and opened his miniature almanac: today’s prohibitions:

Night travel, sacrifice, driving, bathing.

Xu Yuan immediately frowned—today’s prohibition against “driving” was rare; his war chariot could only be dismantled for use.

It was a minor but real constraint.

The caravans today were in for a terrible loss—forced to waste a full day.

At breakfast, Bai Lao’s eyes told Xu Yuan: “Zhang San’s father said no one passed through last night.”

The villagers themselves didn’t want to stay outside after dark.

Zhang San’s father was different—he immediately perked up at Xu Yuan’s offer and retreated behind the village gate.

Last night, he tucked his limbs and head entirely into his back and, through the gate crack, kept his gaze fixed on the path outside—low risk.

Xu Yuan nodded after hearing this: “I’ll still be troubling you in the village today.”

Outside, villagers left in small groups to work; Zhang San’s father yawned and went back to sleep.

The villagers also cultivated fields in the mountains, following the same farming schedule as those outside.

But around each plot, something guarded the crops.

The grain harvested could only be eaten by those within the mountains.

Long ago, a merchant entered the mountains, saw a melon patch, grew thirsty, plucked one to eat, accidentally swallowed a seed—and the seed instantly took root and sprouted inside his belly, draining all his essence and blood to nourish the sprout.

His white bones stood beside the field for over a decade, forever warning passing merchants: Don’t eat anything in the mountains!

Xu Yuan and the other three hid behind the village gate, watching the path through the crack.

Those on the path could not see them.

Near noon, a fat man walked slowly down the path.

He carried no pack—he was no merchant.

Fu Jingyu’s face changed: “It’s…”

Xu Yuan raised one finger: “Shh—”

Fu Jingyu had kept watch with Xu Yuan at Tiemenbao and had seen Zheng Rongkui once.

After seeing the man, Xu Yuan turned his gaze away: “Don’t stare—he might notice.”

Yan Lao asked: “Not act now?”

“The Sea Mouth Toad may be nearby. If we fight, the village will be caught in the crossfire. Wait until he’s farther away.”

Bai Lao glanced at Xu Yuan, feeling ashamed for having made them sleep in the cave last night.

Rongkui Uncle bypassed the village and headed toward Lao Ya Kou.

Xu Yuan stood up and gestured to the others: “Follow him.”

Xu Yuan donned the red-wood and brass earpiece, listening from afar to Zheng Rongkui’s footsteps, leading the group to trail him several li behind.

After thinking for a moment, Bai Lao joined them.

They walked until twenty li from the village, when Xu Yuan suddenly quickened his pace—the others knew action was coming and hurried after him.

Zheng Rongkui suddenly sensed something and whirled around.

From the mountain hollow behind him, two flashes of fire appeared—a man sped toward them on fire-wheels, wielding a great spear, thrusting straight at his chest!

Zheng Rongkui seemed unable to dodge—the spear had already pierced his chest.

Sssshhh!

His shirt suddenly tore open, and a withered, grotesque ghostly claw shot out, gripping the spear firmly!

Xu Yuan activated the fire-wheels, but the spear remained utterly motionless.

Xu Yuan manipulated the spear, triggering the iron branches inside with a metallic *zing*—yet still could not sever the ghostly claw.

Xu Yuan immediately drew his three-barreled firelock and fired three shots at Zheng Rongkui’s head.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The three bullets passed clean through Zheng Rongkui’s head and struck the ground behind him.

It was merely a spirit-shadow.

Zheng Rongkui reappeared ten feet away, curiously asking: “How did you suspect me?”

Fu Jingyu and the others arrived; Zheng Rongkui’s expression changed: “So Wangxiang Village got involved—no wonder you survived.”

The original shadow vanished, leaving only a withered black yin soldier, still clutching Xu Yuan’s spear.

Xu Yuan said: “Chen Liangxuan and the others planned to persuade the merchants on Guanghuo Street to leave Ghost Witch Mountain. They arranged a city in Zhenla for them—a blood offering of five hundred thousand souls.”

How could they make such arrangements? Someone powerful in Zhenla must have cooperated.

And you happen to be in Zhenla.”

Zheng Rongkui sniffed: “That’s all?”

“You kept saying you’d take me to the Demon-Exterminating Army—I always felt something off, began suspecting problems on Second Uncle’s side.

But yesterday, when the man named Qin revealed their entire plan, I suddenly understood—the problem wasn’t Second Uncle. It was you!

You claimed Second Uncle longed for me to come, yet you weren’t urgent. Even when I helped the Purification Office ask you to open Tiemenbao for refugees, you only pretended to be anxious—no real action.”

Today I stayed in the village, and you’re exactly who showed up—this proves my guess was right.

Xu Yuan stepped forward: “Who are you really?”

Zheng Rongkui sneered: “Do you think I’ll tell you?”

He certainly wouldn’t reveal his identity voluntarily.

Fu Jingyu asked angrily: “Why is the Demon Extermination Army cooperating with the Yong King?”

“The Zhenla people are stubborn—they’ve held their fortified city with five hundred thousand men, and we couldn’t break through. Then someone came to us, offering to feed them to the malevolent spirits. Why not take it?”

This excuse sounded plausible, but it failed to convince Xu Yuan.

Even if the Demon Extermination Army were your own private force, the Ming Court still has its main army in Zhenla—they’re the ones conquering the barbarians.

The River Administration has the Shanhe Bureau in Zhenla—they’re the ones funding the main army’s campaign!

Coordinating all these factions is no easy task!

There must be hidden details here, and Zheng Rongkui refuses to speak of them.

Xu Yuan even began to doubt what kind of relationship Zheng Rongkui had with his second uncle.

Zheng Rongkui had only presented one letter from his second uncle; the handwriting looked authentic, but Xu Chuanyang rarely wrote home, and Xu Yuan had only glanced at each letter before his father took them away.

If Zheng Rongkui had forged the letter, Xu Yuan couldn’t tell.

Zheng Rongkui’s past behavior truly resembled that of a “brother who had shared life and death with my second uncle,” so Xu Yuan had never doubted him.

Zheng Rongkui must at least have known his second uncle.

The Yong King’s likely partner in Zhenla is almost certainly the Demon Extermination Army.

(End of Chapter)