Chapter 105: In Fengyang

“This… what happened?”

Sha Lifei first looked puzzled, then his face darkened; he cursed, “Damn coward! Could that old man have deliberately pointed us the wrong way just now!”

The coachman Lao Meng shook his head. “Unlikely. I’ve traveled all over Shenzhou; villages don’t name their locations randomly.”

“This place should’ve been backed by mountains and facing water—a perfect dwelling. Perhaps something happened here…”

He glanced around, walked to a patch of wild grass by the road, pried through it, and dragged out a rotting wooden sign.

By moonlight, the characters “Wu Family Gully” were visible on it.

“Stay here. I’ll go take a look!”

Li Yan waved to halt the group, then tugged the reins and rode his horse slowly into the village.

In a deserted village at midnight, caution was unavoidable.

Li Yan gripped his sword hilt with his left hand, ready to activate the Three Talismans of Demonic Subjugation, while his right hand formed the Yang Seal and drew a deep breath.

Instantly, the smells of rotting wood, green grass, and various small animals flooded his nostrils; his wary gaze softened slightly.

Though he didn’t know what had occurred here, at least no yin spirits were at work.

Li Yan circled the village on horseback, then swiftly returned to the entrance and shook his head. “Nothing’s amiss. The villagers have all left. Let’s go in—we’ll rest here tonight.”

The group immediately drove their carts into the village.

Indeed, every farmhouse along the way had been stripped bare—not a single pot, pan, or bowl remained, not even the door frames.

Moss had grown thick where the door frames met the bricks, indicating the village had been abandoned for a long time.

In the center of the village stood a sizable structure.

Like everywhere else, it was completely empty, even the plaque above its door removed.

Wang Daoxuan lit a torch with dried mugwort, circled the building inside and out, then touched the altar and emerged, shaking his head. “This was once the village shrine. The ancestral tablets were removed properly, not hastily.”

“The people of Shenzhou are deeply attached to their homeland. Something major must have forced them to flee.”

Sha Lifei scratched his head. “That’s troublesome. We don’t even know where Wu Senior’s home was, let alone his wife and daughter’s graves. This whole thing…”

Li Yan thought for a moment. “Let’s settle in for the night. A relocation this large must be known by someone. Tomorrow, we’ll ask around—find an elder from the village.”

With no other options, the group reluctantly made camp.

They chopped wood, lit fires, built stoves, cooked meals, and fed the mules and horses; before they knew it, night had fallen.

The ordeal at Niubeiliang had left the porters utterly drained. Though this was a deserted village, it was safe.

With their guard down, each of them snored loudly.

Li Yan and Wang Daoxuan still took turns guarding the night, one meditating while the other watched. The battle at Niubeiliang had taught them clearly: the Jianghu was perilous, and they still had far to go.

After midnight, Wang Daoxuan ended his meditation.

He opened his eyes to see the bonfire blazing, the night wind damp outside the shrine—and somehow, a light drizzle had begun again.

Li Yan was not by the fire. He stood motionless at the shrine’s entrance, facing outward, his back to Wang Daoxuan.

To an ordinary person, this sight would have been terrifying.

But Wang Daoxuan had a hunch. He walked over to Li Yan’s side and whispered, “You saw it again?”

Li Yan nodded, his expression grim. “The direction changed.”

In the rain-soaked night outside the shrine, the wandering master reappeared.

His clothes were tattered, stained with blood, but the direction he pointed had shifted.

Wang Daoxuan followed Li Yan’s gaze. “The direction changed. That means we’re getting close. Where did Wu Senior say his lineage was?”

Li Yan replied, “Tianzhu Mountain.”

“Oh…”

Wang Daoxuan pondered, then pulled out an ancient geographical text and consulted it. “No wonder—I’ve heard whispers of this place. Though not listed among the Grotto-Heavens or Blessed Lands, it’s a known retreat for Xuanmen cultivators.”

“Legends say the Ancestral Cave, Jiao Zan’s Cave, and Meng Liang’s Cave are all within this mountain. Wu Senior’s lineage’s ancestral altar should be there too.”

Seeing Li Yan still frowning, Wang Daoxuan smiled. “Don’t worry—when the cart reaches the mountain, the road will appear. After we bury Wu Senior, we’ll head there.”

“Whatever lies there, we’ll find out clearly.”

Li Yan nodded, yet an inexplicable unease settled in his chest.

Gazing at the bloodstained, chain-pierced wandering master, he had a sudden premonition.

This matter probably won’t go smoothly…

…………

“Stay put, everyone.”

Sha Lifei pulled on his straw cape and bamboo hat, laughing. “Wang Daoxuan and I will be back soon—we’ll bring back some fine wine and dishes for you.”

The coachman Lao Meng chuckled. “Then I won’t be polite. This area borders Ezhou, with both river and land docks—plenty of good wine.”

“In Ezhou, they brew yellow wine on the ninth day of the ninth month. Less than a month until Chongyang—last year’s batch must’ve just been opened. Perfect flavor…”

“Lao Meng, I salute you!”

Sha Lifei gave a thumbs-up and turned away with Wang Daoxuan, riding off into the autumn rain.

This had been the plan set that morning.

Sha Lifei had deep Jianghu experience; Wang Daoxuan knew local customs. Together, they could watch each other’s back while gathering information.

Li Yan, the strongest fighter, stayed behind in the deserted village to protect everyone if trouble arose.

After they left, the group fell idle.

The porters were especially relaxed. Their destination had been reached. All they had to do was wait for Wang Daoxuan to choose a perfect fengshui burial site, carry the coffin up the mountain, lay it to rest—and this job would be over.

Because of the danger at Niubeiliang, Li Yan had promised them an extra fifty percent pay.

And time was still plentiful. They could find more work along the way to earn extra coins—this year, they’d have a truly fat New Year.

Relaxed, they either boasted stories or listened to Lao Meng recount Jianghu legends—pleasant enough.

Li Yan, however, walked alone to a ruined house far from the shrine, set up the drum stand, and lifted the oilcloth covering the Yunlei Divine Drum.

Dong! Dong! Dong!

Soon, the drumbeat shook the house, sending dust rattling from the rafters.

Because Li Yan practiced the Yunlei Divine Sound, striking the drum required not only hidden force but also chanting the mantra “Hong,” making the sound thunderously loud—audible throughout the entire village.

The porters and coachman were used to it by now. They paid no mind—even enjoyed it.

The Divine Drum had the power to shake the soul. Ordinary people found it noisy at first, but once it ended, their mental clutter vanished, and they slept deeper.

Yet today, they noticed something strange: the drumming was noticeably faster, even rhythmic.

Three slow beats, three fast beats, then three moderate ones.

“That’s Qin-Han drum rhythm!”

Lao Meng, the coachman, figured it out, took a puff from his pipe, and explained: “The Qin-Han war drums are famous in Xianyang. Many drum troupes, but all play the same tunes.”

“The first tune is ‘Marching Out’—slow, majestic, imposing. The second is ‘Battle’—fast, overwhelming, like a mountain collapsing. The third is ‘Triumph’—steady, swift, exultant…”

“Lao Meng, you’ve got insight.”

“What’s this? Have you ever seen the Chang’an Drum Festival? Flags like oceans, drums like thunder…”

Ignoring the chatter, Li Yan had entered his state.

Dongdongdong!

The drumbeats surged and slowed, synchronized with the mantra, vibrating like thunder.

This force surged through his body, striking like lightning—his skin tingled, every pore opened, sweat poured.

Li Yan gritted his teeth, his movements unshaken.

Through storms and trials, he’d never been able to train in peace. After several brushes with death, he knew: though young and regarded as a genius by others, the Jianghu didn’t care if you were young or old.

His fists needed to be harder,

his blade faster!

Now that he had a moment, he had to push beyond.

Learning Pi Gua Quan could wait. Without a master’s guidance, studying the manual alone might lead him astray.

But hidden force? That had to be trained daily.

While drumming, Li Yan had a sudden insight: the Qin-Han Drum Rhythm, combined with meditation, could repel and subdue evil.

Would it enhance hidden force even more?

He acted on impulse—that was his nature.

With the Great Luo Body to absorb damage, he dared more than others, pushing past limits again and again—his exceptional skills were forged this way.

Indeed, the drum rhythm amplified the Yunlei Sound’s effect.

He felt his tendons and membranes ripple, his whole body becoming the drum, trembling in rhythm with the beat.

!.

Moreover, the Qin-Han Drum Rhythm was military.

Its powerful, stirring cadence plunged him into a trance—as if he’d returned to the Qin and Han dynasties, to battlefields stained with dragon’s blood and dark earth.

Dong!

He didn’t know how long it lasted—then the drumming abruptly ceased.

Li Yan trembled violently, muscles pulsing rhythmically, drenched in sweat—his clothes soaked, two wet footprints forming on the ground.

Puh!

He choked, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

He inhaled sharply—pain stabbed his chest and abdomen.

Li Yan knew: he’d sustained internal injury. His muscles, bones, and tendons had reached their limit; his delicate organs couldn’t withstand such force.

The Great Luo Body rotated, and internal injuries healed rapidly.

Feeling the swelling, numb, yet solid and powerful force coursing through his body, Li Yan’s eyes lit up with delight.

He had won the gamble!

This method produced astonishing results.

It equaled days of ordinary cultivation.

While Li Yan rejoiced, he also felt hesitation.

This method was naturally effective, but it came at the cost of depleting the Great Luo Body—like trading a treasure’s durability for cultivation.

Celestial treasures and earthly essences are not something you can find just by looking…

Yet this hesitation lasted only a moment.

Li Yan quickly made his decision.

Use this method to rapidly strengthen his cultivation!

Celestial treasures and earthly essences are ultimately external things.

If your combat power is insufficient when danger strikes, you’ll pay with your life.

Of course, today’s cultivation had reached its limit.

A martial artist’s body is like a bowstring; even with the Great Luo Body, one must know when to tense and when to relax.

After stowing the Cloud Thunder Divine Drum, Li Yan took out the Divine Tiger Talisman, clasped it in his hand, formed the hand seals, stepped the Gang steps, and chanted: “Nuo Gao, open solely for the descendant Wang Jia, the Six Jia Azure Dragon, the Six Yi Meeting Star, the Six Bing Bright Hall, the Six Ding in the Yin…”

Hss~

Instantly, wind arose out of nowhere around him.

Li Yan’s entire aura rapidly condensed into the Divine Tiger Talisman.

The Divine Tiger Talisman could also be used to perform the Baopu Ascending Mountain Technique—and with even more astonishing effects!

The sky was overcast, and the old house was dim.

Standing inside the room, Li Yan had no trace of aura whatsoever; instead, a chilling yin energy enveloped him. If someone peered through the window, they would be fooled into seeing him as blurred and indistinct…

This state was nearly identical to when Luo Mingzi had used the “Upper Xuan Bamboo Talisman”!

Of course, the consumption of spiritual insight was also staggering.

Li Yan could only maintain it for a short while before feeling mentally exhausted; the white light in his third eye began to dim.

Shhh!

Li Yan had no choice but to release the technique.

It seemed he must build a Tower of Observation as soon as possible.

Though the Divine Tiger Talisman was powerful, such consumption was unsustainable; in daily practice, he must still rely primarily on yarrow stalks, without affecting combat power.

Then, he clasped the Divine Tiger Talisman again and began cultivating the “Thousand Gold Body Protection Spell,” forming the same hand seals and stepping the Gang steps—but the Gang steps differed, and the incantation was different.

“Nuo Gao, left bearing the Three Stars, right bearing the Three Bonds, heaven overturned, earth inverted, all nine paths sealed…”

When the incantation ended, nothing happened.

Li Yan was not discouraged; cultivation of techniques was never simple.

Inside the old house, he performed it again and again, silently sensing the subtle changes between the incantation and the Gang steps…

………………

Meanwhile, Sha Lifei and Wang Daoxuan had arrived at Fengyang County.

“Old man, do you know Wujiagou?”

“Don’t know! Don’t know!”

“Brother, I’ve got a question—Wujiagou…”

“Why ask about that? Don’t cause me trouble!”

Sha Lifei had originally thought it was no big deal—anyone could answer—but no one would speak.

Wang Daoxuan frowned slightly. “It seems the relocation of Wujiagou hides something deeper…”

“I don’t believe it!”

Sha Lifei grew irritated. “If they dare not speak, someone else will. Dao Master, follow me.”

Saying this, he dragged Wang Daoxuan through the streets.

The Shangzhou region belonged to Shanzhou, centered on Shangluo City.

Fengyang County, due to its Manchuan Pass dock, had once been the border between Qin and Chu, and its commerce remained prosperous—its vibrancy second only to Shangluo City.

Autumn rain drizzled endlessly; mules, horses, and carts passed constantly along the streets.

“Here we are—this place!”

Sha Lifei wandered aimlessly with Wang Daoxuan until they found a teahouse, its door pillars and stone bases carved with auspicious clouds and lotuses.

Wang Daoxuan glanced once and knew it was a Jianghu establishment.

A Jianghu establishment differed from ordinary teahouses.

In plain terms, it was a hub for spreading rumors and news.

Such places never lacked customers; ordinary folk who entered would be utterly confused, unable to understand what others were doing, and would get thoroughly overcharged.

“Sir, please come in!”

As soon as they entered, a waiter rushed forward.

Sha Lifei immediately clasped his hands into a gesture and smiled: “A newcomer to the Jianghu, not here to drink wine or sip tea—find me someone who understands the ways of the Jianghu, so I may hear the wind.”

The waiter instantly understood, flung his white towel over his shoulder, and called out loudly: “Wind Floor, second level—two guests, Dragon Gate Tea!”

Then he led them upstairs.

In the main hall, dim and secluded tables were occupied by patrons—some sipping tea alone, others whispering, silently observing the two newcomers, guessing their identities.

Wang Daoxuan pretended not to notice, following Sha Lifei and the waiter upstairs, and immediately saw that on the four sides of the second floor—east, south, west, north—hung four wooden plaques, each inscribed with one of the four characters: “Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain.”

He, too, was a Jianghu man; though he had never been here before, he vaguely understood the rules…

(End of Chapter)