Chapter 15: The Run-Mountain Man

Hao Erge screamed as the giant spider scurried toward him, its massive fangs gaping wide!

Wu Haishan had another trick up his sleeve—meant for Xu Yuan.

But after a quick glance, that bastard Xu Yuan had vanished somewhere.

What a sneaky bastard!

Wu Haishan could no longer afford to wait; his only option now was to flee for his life.

The Holy Maiden valued him because of that one potion—but he was still a ninth-rank Alchemist, and Alchemists had their own methods.

For instance, this “external pill” was forged from a spider demon.

In his hand, he still clutched another external pill—the life-saving gift from his sect, containing a single slash from a seventh-rank Wu Xiu!

Wu Haishan turned the fire in his belly into two fiery tails, attaching them to his legs; with a surge of power, his speed multiplied severalfold as he smashed through the villagers and vanished behind the village gate in an instant.

The gate stood wide open—Wu Haishan was about to escape, and he silently swore: When I get out, I’ll report this to the sect, and next time I’ll bring an army and slaughter every last soul in this village!

Suddenly, a massive shadow erupted from the dead tree in the village, spreading its wings and hurtling toward him—faster by several times than Wu Haishan with his fiery tails!

In an instant, the shadow caught up to Wu Haishan, who roared: “Come on then!”

He launched the external pill from his mouth!

The pill soared into the morning light, its surface gleaming with metallic luster, then exploded with a thunderous crash—a terrifying blade qi erupted from within!

The shadow hadn’t anticipated this move; with no time to dodge, it braced itself and took the slash head-on.

CLANG!

A loud crash echoed as the shadow staggered to the ground—but its motion wasn’t slowed; a dark, gleaming blade flashed once.

PTH—

A common woodcutter’s axe, deeply embedded into the junction of Wu Haishan’s neck and shoulder, nearly cleaving his upper body in two!

From the wound, sparks hissed outward, burning his blood dry and releasing a foul, stinking odor.

Wu Haishan’s eyes bulged with terror; his Adam’s apple bobbed twice, emitting two muffled sounds before he died, unwilling to let go.

The Old Run-Mountain Man pulled the axe from the corpse.

He still wore the great cloak stitched from countless feathers—about a third of them now severed by that single slash!

His yellow crystal glasses were askew; Xu Yuan, hiding in the shadows, glimpsed that the Old Run-Mountain Man’s eyes were entirely white.

The Old Run-Mountain Man adjusted his glasses, wiped the axe clean, glanced once toward where Xu Yuan hid, then walked off without a word.

The villagers surged forward and tore Wu Haishan’s body apart.

That was the village’s rule: when trouble arose, the Run-Mountain Man handled it.

The villagers handled the cleanup.

With Wu Haishan dead, the giant spider froze in place.

Its massive fangs hovered just a foot from Hao Erge’s neck.

Hao Erge shrieked: “Aunt Tang! Help me—!”

The mother from the house where Wu Xiu Old Chen had stayed last night stepped out, flicked her slender fingers a few times, severed the silk, and pulled Hao Erge free from the web.

Old Chen and his companions were also “handled” by the villagers.

Xu Yuan emerged trembling, shook the goods in his hands, and forced a smile: “I’m a real peddler—let’s keep trading.”

…

By mid-afternoon, all of Xu Yuan’s goods had finally been traded.

Beside him now lay a pile of mountain produce.

Many of these items were valuable—sell them outside and he could make ten times their value.

But Xu Yuan felt no joy.

The villagers haggled over every bit; Xu Yuan had to bargain back and forth with them.

Xu Yuan wanted to finish quickly—let them name the terms, and he’d leave at once.

But he kept feeling eyes—behind those yellow crystal lenses—watching him.

Xu Yuan dared not show the slightest flaw!

If he acted even slightly unlike a real peddler, that blood-drinking axe would split his neck next!

With all this delay, he had no time to leave the mountains today—he had to spend another night at Jiao Erbo’s house.

Jiao Erbo, seeing how well Xu Yuan had “traded” all day, raised the room fee by ten cash; Xu Yuan paid without hesitation.

That night, Xu Yuan didn’t sleep; more than half the mountain goods were herbs and ores—he fed them to his belly fire and refined them.

One of the many cultivation methods, “Feishi,” simply meant “eating.”

But not like ordinary people eat.

Ordinary people who ate these would die.

The Seven Sects’ cultivators each consumed different things; Alchemists had the broadest range.

They ate everything—belly fire could refine anything.

But Xu Yuan had no master to guide him; whether as a Life Cultivator or Alchemist, he could only stumble forward alone.

So once these “Feishi” entered his belly, Xu Yuan had to sort and refine them separately.

Herbs with similar properties were grouped together and refined into a single pill.

Ores were simpler: gold, silver, copper, iron—all smelted into one “Golden Pill.”

But these ores from Ghost Witch Mountain were extraordinary, far superior to ordinary ores outside.

Finally, Xu Yuan pulled out a gray-black external pill.

Upon close inspection, it resembled low-quality amber, sealed inside was a spider.

This was Wu Haishan’s external pill, taken by the mother and daughter next door.

Xu Yuan paid a “high price”—three entire kitchen knives—to get it from them.

The other external pill, containing the seventh-rank Wu Xiu’s slash, could be used only once—then it vanished.

Xu Yuan washed the pill clean, swallowed it, refined it with his belly fire, and claimed it as his own.

The spider inside the external pill was a demon; captured and forged into an external pill by someone.

Xu Yuan estimated the spider was roughly equivalent to a ninth-rank cultivator; the one who forged it into a pill must have been at least eighth-rank.

But since the spider demon itself was weak, the external pill was only ninth-rank quality.

After this night’s cultivation, Xu Yuan felt his Alchemist level had finally reached ninth-rank.

The standard for an Alchemist to “enter the ranks” was to condense five “pills.”

Xu Yuan had just refined over a dozen by sorting them.

Though each pill was weak, the quantity was sufficient.

His father had told him many stories about the Seven Sects before he died; after his father’s death, his stepmother had explained them to him several times in detail.

The standard for advancing from ninth-rank to eighth-rank was to condense one’s own “internal pill.”

The pills Xu Yuan had just made were not true “internal pills.”

Alchemists must be extremely cautious when condensing an internal pill!

For instance, Xu Yuan now had no idea what kind of internal pill he should form—he needed more time to refine his path before he could clearly see his direction.

(End of Chapter)