Chapter 62: The Sky-Piercing Cannon

From Old Eight’s body, he took only two things: a large lacquered wooden box, no bigger than a palm, containing only a small piece of hide.

The edges of the hide bore clear tooth marks.

This was Old Eight’s spiritual fodder, likely from some powerful beast or aberration.

From the tooth marks, it was clear Old Eight could eat only a little at a time.

Xu Yuan could also consume this to strengthen his Skin Dantian.

Moreover, Old Eight was already a Seventh-Flow Wu Xiu, his body hardened into “copper skin” that could withstand blades and spears—yet he dared eat only a bit at a time. This hide must be extraordinary.

If he consumed it all, Xu Yuan believed his Skin Dantian could at least cover one arm.

His defensive power would also increase dramatically.

The other item was an ancient text—likely Old Eight’s cultivation manual—titled “The Sky-Piercing Cannon.”

Old Eight’s copper skin and iron bones made him fight like an ancient monstrous beast, and Xu Yuan found it deeply tempting.

So he took it. If he got the chance, he’d cultivate it alongside his own path—just thinking about it thrilled him.

Xu Yuan sliced at the hide with a small knife, but sadly found he couldn’t cut it.

A Seventh-Flow Wu Xiu’s body was exceptionally tough—teeth could chew it, but the Daoist Priest’s small knife couldn’t.

Xu Yuan simply swallowed it whole.

This was one difference between Dan Xiu and Wu Xiu.

Dan Xiu were best suited for consuming spiritual items—they resided in the belly, slowly refined by “belly fire.”

Wu Xiu could not.

Above Sixth Flow, Wu Xiu might cultivate a certain “internal organ fire,” but it could only enhance the power of their strikes, not be used for consumption.

Hence Old Eight dared eat only a little at a time—eat too much, and it would accumulate undigested in his belly, causing him to mutate into an aberration.

Xu Yuan didn’t sleep until late into the night, continuously refining the hide.

The “Five Cauldrons Boiling” technique was extraordinary, but in half the night, he refined only about five percent.

When he released his Skin Dantian again, the glove now extended halfway up his forearm.

If placed over his chest, it could already cover his entire left breast.

At dawn, Xu Yuan lingered in bed.

Today had no urgent matters—he simply waited at home for the Purification Office to come for him.

His stepmother rose at first light, busy preparing breakfast. Xu Yuan expected to be called, but Lin Wan had unexpectedly let him sleep in.

His stepmother ate and left.

Xu Yuan took another nap, then woke to check the almanac:

Today’s prohibitions: Linhe, haircutting, earth-breaking.

Xu Yuan washed slowly, then went to the kitchen and saw the stove still held glowing embers to keep warmth.

In the large iron pot sat a bowl of thin porridge and four steamed buns.

On the cutting board, two dishes of pickles were covered with bamboo steamers.

One dish: pickled cucumber in vinegar sauce; the other: salted mustard greens.

All his favorites.

He picked up a bun, bit into it—it was meat-filled, fragrant, greasy with juice on his fingers.

Now this was proper food.

His stepmother was from Sichuan and Chongqing—whether lazy or diligent was another matter, but her cooking was truly unmatched.

After eating, Xu Yuan stood under the eaves. The sky was overcast, and a light drizzle had begun.

“Today’s prohibition is Linhe,” Xu Yuan murmured, suddenly uneasy.

Yesterday, behind Old Qiao, eight men died at once.

Last night, they took no further action—surely today, retaliation would come?

And Pianpian today was such a dangerous day for trouble!

…

These past two days, the Chen household servants had been cautious, especially those near the Master.

The Master had returned home after retirement, and his mood had been good—he’d already lost influence when exiled to Nandu.

Back home, he read books, visited friends, engaged in idle talk, free from old constraints, living peacefully.

But these past two days, his face had grown noticeably gloomy.

At breakfast today, he ate only one bite, declared he had no appetite, and took Master Ji to the back garden.

Master Ji had even brought his sword with him today!

The back garden: Xuchun Pavilion.

Chen Liangxuan felt his decades of inner cultivation were now being tested.

The incident happened yesterday, yet none of Xing Guolong’s eight men returned. The Purification Office now occupied half the county magistrate’s courtyard, heavily guarded by county officials—no word had come out.

Chen Liangxuan waited all night, and still had no confirmed news.

He only knew Xu Yuan was alive, and no one from the Purification Office had died.

The Chief Constable led men to the scene and found the bodies of Old Four and the others in a nearby shop.

Aside from Old Four, the others bore not a single wound.

Yet their “Thread-Linking Method” had clearly activated—yet not a single soul returned!

Whoever broke the “Thread-Linking Method” was no ordinary foe—this filled Chen Liangxuan with unease.

He poured himself a cup of tea, drank it slowly, then slammed the cup onto the table and roared: “Are all the men I’ve raised useless?!”

Eight men dead, and not one managed to send a message?

Master Ji, sword on his back, stood nearby and soothed: “Old Master, don’t anger yourself. News should arrive soon.”

As if to confirm Master Ji’s words, light footsteps approached the door. A plain-faced middle-aged man knocked: “Old Master.”

“Enter!”

The man stepped in, knowing the Master’s urgency, cut straight to the point: “The information you requested about who the Purification Office sent—still no word.

But from scattered reports, Xu Yuan likely reached some agreement with the Purification Office.

And this morning, Fu Jingyu and others were preparing to depart—seemingly heading out of town.”

Chen Liangxuan frowned, glancing outside: “It’s raining. They won’t leave today.”

Today’s prohibition: Linhe.

If the rain grows heavy, roads will flood—traveling would truly mean “going on the road.”

The man added: “I risked activating a hidden agent in the county office and finally learned Fu Jingyu’s destination may be Qihé Terrace.”

Chen Liangxuan paused, then his brow relaxed. After a moment’s thought, he said: “You did well. Go collect your reward.”

“Thank you, Old Master.”

The man withdrew.

Chen Liangxuan’s expression grew heavier. Master Ji ventured: “Old Master, should I go to the county office and check if Ma Tianshou has arrived?”

With Fu Jingyu and Song Lu present, if the Purification Office sent a high-ranking official, it must be Ma Tianshou.

“No need to check,” Chen Liangxuan sneered. “Ma Tianshou is surely hiding in the county office! Qiao Zia’ang’s foolhardiness exposed the Ghost Witch Mountain affair—he’s drawn Ma Tianshou’s attention!”

Master Ji’s expression changed: “Then what do we do?”

Chen Liangxuan looked outside—the rain had grown heavier. Dark clouds gathered from all sides, plunging the sky into deep gloom.

Chen Liangxuan made his decision, rising: “Master Ji, come with me. We’ll visit Master Gao.”

“If Ma Tianshou insists on walking into our trap, we’ll eliminate them all!”

“If the grand plan succeeds, what is one old man’s life to me?”

He was seventy-two—his years were few. Sacrificing himself would bless his descendants.

The Chen family might even rise to become the foremost surname in Jiaozhi Province!

Two chapters posted together.

The Old Master is desperate.





(End of Chapter)