Chapter 435: The Divine Dragon Shows Its Head But Not Its Tail

Ancient battlefield…

Seeing this place, Li Yan knew exactly where he was.

Between heaven and earth exist two qi: gang and sha. Gang qi is yang, born of the light of sun and moon, often gathering in famous mountains, great rivers, and sacred realms.

Sha qi is yin, dispersed and heavy, yet also concentrates in certain special areas.

Neither is inherently good or evil—even places where primordial gang qi gathers can be death traps for ordinary people or cultivators.

But because places where sha qi accumulates typically breed dark, gloomy energy and attract lingering souls and resentments, they are feared.

An ancient battlefield is precisely such a place.

In battle, slaughter and resentment qi gather; if not dealt with promptly, they may give rise to malevolent spirits after many years.

Beside him, Cui Cong introduced: "In the third year of Chunyou during the Southern Song, the Jin Tent Wolf State invaded, and this natural fortress was built to form a defensive line alongside Diaoyu City, Baidi City, Huanghua City, and Panshi City."

"Later, during the Great Xing Dynasty's northern standoff with the Jin Tent Wolf State, the city changed hands several times, filling its walls with countless bleached bones. After the Great Xuan unified Shenzhou, the city was abandoned."

Li Yan looked up—the city stood atop a mountain peak, surrounded either by sheer cliffs or treacherous narrow paths.

Key areas were fortified with watchtowers and guard posts, divided into inner and outer walls—truly a fortress built for defense.

He immediately formed the Yang Seal, drew a deep breath.

In an instant, a flood of odors flooded his nostrils.

With his current cultivation, he could detect scents within three hundred meters, even ten meters underground—nearly covering half the ruins.

At the same time, echoes of battle cries reverberated in his ears.

But they were faint, indistinct.

Li Yan frowned: "Places like this usually require rituals to pacify the dead. Your Dian Yi Sect is affiliated with Emei, a orthodox Daoist school—why didn't you send anyone to investigate?"

"You don't understand, friend."

Cui Cong admitted: "Our Dian Yi Sect's experts mostly specialize in numerology and divination, not exorcism. So back then, Qingniu Temple handled it."

Qingniu Temple of Fengdu…

Li Yan gazed ahead, thoughtful. "Nothing found here. Let's go up the mountain."

With a burst of hidden power, he stepped on broken walls, leapt into the air, caught a tree branch for momentum, and soared straight into the inner fortress.

My goodness…

Cui Cong watched, stunned.

He'd only seen such movement before in his sect's elders.

No wonder this young man had already made a name for himself.

He himself had no such skill. His awakened ability was bodily, unsuited for detection. Combined with the night mist and dim light, he feared falling off the cliff—so he could only climb slowly along the winding path.

But after two steps, he turned back quickly: "Young Master Yang…"

The wealthy merchant from Chengdu smiled and waved: "No need. Young Master Cui, go ahead. The mist is thick—I'll climb slowly along the path."

"Very well."

Cui Cong nodded: "Be careful. If anything's wrong, shout for us."

Saying that, he leapt into the mist and vanished.

Cui Cong had begged him not to come, but the man insisted. He wasn't good at refusing, so he agreed to bring him along.

But what lay above was clearly more important.

After they left, the Chengdu merchant's face twisted into a strange smile: "Young men like this are becoming rarer…"

He pulled from his robe a gilded bronze slingshot, loaded a silver pellet, glanced around, his eyes darkening with sha qi. He flicked his wrist—the pellet shot into the mist and vanished.

Strangely, the pellet flew fast—but made no sound.

Having done this, he tucked the slingshot away and strolled down the mountain path, indistinguishable from an ordinary man…

………

"Kill! Kill kill!"

Li Yan closed his eyes—the battle cries still echoed in his ears.

Odors drifted in with the wind.

When Cui Cong reached the summit, he saw Li Yan standing on a stone platform.

"Young Master Li, any findings?"

Cui Cong hurried forward.

"There's something strange here."

Li Yan said gravely: "Ordinary abilities detect nothing. But my ability is unique—I can hear certain sounds."

Cui Cong's eyes lit up: "Young Master Li, you're truly extraordinary. My sister tried qi observation and Plum Blossom Divination—she found nothing. Yet you found it easily…"

Before he finished, he suddenly realized: "I get it! This is a military fortress—its construction likely involved Qimen Dunjia techniques. The Ganba must be hiding inside!"

"I think the same."

Li Yan nodded, then asked: "Where's that man just now?"

Cui Cong replied quickly: "He's slow on his feet, lagging behind. No worry—this place is close. If anything happens, he'll shout and we'll hear. You needn't fret."

Who the hell cares about him…

Li Yan thought bitterly. This kid was the classic orthodox sect fool—knew the rules of the Jianghu, but couldn't tell good from evil.

This was a Ganba.

Who in their right mind would come to gawk?

Thinking of this, Li Yan sighed: "Qimen Dunjia is your Dian Yi Sect's core art—surely you can find it…"

Before he finished, his heart snapped taut.

Boom!

A muffled crash came from the south. Instantly, gales howled, leaves swirled, and a thick stench of decay surged toward them.

"Watch out!"

Li Yan shouted, drawing his Dunchen Blade.

He smelled heavy corpse qi. The battle cries grew sharp—suddenly, he felt as if he stood in the midst of war.

"It's the Ganba!"

Cui Cong shuddered, drew his sword with a clang, and pulled several Huang Fu from his robe.

But surprisingly, nothing rushed out.

As the corpse qi spread, the cold winds lessened—but the battle cries grew louder, swirling with white mist.

These were battlefield remnants—souls that could gather and carry yin energy.

The weaker ones made passersby hear strange sounds, driving them mad and causing them to harm others.

The stronger ones became yin armies on the march, leaving countless dead.

"Right Jia Chen, Right Jia Yin, Right Jia Wu…"

Cui Cong suddenly plunged his sword into the ground, stepped the Nine Stars, each index and middle finger pinching three Huang Fu, the rest forming seals.

After chanting the incantation, he thrust both hands forward—the six Huang Fu shot out, burning to ash in midair.

Instantly, the white mist vanished. The battle cries ceased.

Six Jia Divine Repulsion Technique?

Li Yan watched, silently impressed.

He'd heard of this from Wang Daoxuan—it was a type of Yan Sheng technique, more advanced, known only to orthodox sects.

Naive as he was, his skill was solid.

Li Yan had no time for idle talk. He dashed toward the southern side of the fortress.

The southern side of the fortress was also sheer cliffs—nothing unusual at first glance. But with his ability active, Li Yan quickly traced the source of the scent.

The thing was well-hidden.

Beneath the cliff jutted a massive rock, with a slanted cave entrance, overgrown with vines and foliage, completely concealing it.

When the yin energy erupted earlier, the stones blocking the entrance had been blasted away. Under the moonlight, white smoke still curled from within.

Clearly, not a place of good omen.

Li Yan leapt, blade in hand. As he touched the jutting rock, he twisted his body, seized the surface with one hand, and—like a swallow returning to its nest—slipped into the cave. Cui Cong couldn't match that, but his movement was still agile, leaping like a monkey from the opposite side of the rock into the cave.

"This is a corpse-nourishing ground!"

As soon as he entered, he sensed something wrong. He lit a firestarter, ignited his torch—the flame instantly turned green.

The eerie green light revealed every detail of the cavern.

The stone walls were embedded with human skeletons and tombstones, drenched in blackened, foul-smelling blood.

Every meter, a black flag was planted, inscribed with strange runes—seventy-two in total, encircling the entire cavern.

In the center stood a stone coffin.

Its lid was shattered, a silver pellet embedded in the center, surrounded by a web of cracks, leaking corpse qi continuously.

"This… what happened?"

Cui Cong stared, dumbfounded.

!.

Li Yan narrowed his eyes, stepped forward, and kicked hard.

Crash!

The coffin lid shattered instantly, stones flying everywhere.

Inside lay a corpse, covered in black fur, nails elongated, face twisted like a demon.

It was the legendary Hanba.

But its form had not yet solidified when its corpse qi had already dissipated.

Without a word, Li Yan swung his Duanchen Blade, and instantly, electric sparks crackled as it plunged straight into the Hanba 's skull.

Sizzle!

As the arcs flashed, the Hanba 's black fur curled instantly, its skin collapsed, then suddenly burst into flames with a boom.

"Friend, don't!"

Cui Cong was startled, but it was too late to stop him.

The Hanba can only be suppressed, not destroyed—otherwise, its poison spreads for a thousand li, bringing drought and plague.

But what puzzled him was that after the Hanba 's corpse burned, it quickly turned to ash, and nothing happened at all.

Cui Cong was utterly baffled. "This… how is this possible?"

Li Yan looked around, picked up the silver pellet from the ground, and said gravely: "Someone long ago, during the chaos of the world, raised the Hanba here. Just now, a high-level cultivator intervened and destroyed it before it could fully form."

He handed the silver pellet to Cui Cong. "Do you recognize this?"

Cui Cong took it, frowned, and said: "This thing's Gang qi is gone, no talisman patterns either—how could it be this powerful?"

"Young Master Li, no sect or high-level cultivator in Shu is known to use this."

Li Yan also found it strange, so he first tucked the silver pellet away, then looked around. "This corpse-raising ground must be destroyed. Take a talisman flag back and ask around—maybe you can find out who's behind this."

"Got it!"

Cui Cong wasted no time, swung his long sword, wrecked everything around, then dragged in dry grass and firewood, lighting it with a fire-starter.

Soon, thick smoke filled the cave.

When the two climbed the mountain, the corpse qi outside had vanished, the fog had thinned considerably, and the night wind stirred the wild grass, now accompanied by the chirping of insects.

"Huh?"

Cui Cong looked around wildly. "Where's Master Yang?"

Li Yan formed a hand seal, took a deep sniff, and immediately paled. "Something's wrong—his scent is completely gone!"

The two exchanged glances and rushed down the mountain…

…………

"What Yang? This is our boat!"

"Young sirs, you've been tricked…"

By the dock, after questioning others, Cui Cong descended the boat with a face full of regret. "It was clearly this boat just now—alas! I met a high-level elder but failed to see him."

Li Yan looked at the bustling crowd around him, his heart chilled.

A single pellet destroying an Hanba —such a technique was unheard of. He never expected to encounter such a mysterious, elusive master right upon entering Shu.

His earlier arrogance had vanished completely.

"Brother Li, let's find a place to talk."

Though regretful, Cui Cong didn't forget his purpose. Leaving the dock, he found a secluded spot and recounted what had happened.

"That night, we camped in a ruined temple. In my dream, I met an old monk, wearing a tattered gray robe, acting half-mad… At first I didn't think much of it, but then I remembered something…"

"Outside Chongqing Prefecture, there's a courier road linking Yuzhou and Chengdu, heavily traveled by merchants carrying goods on horseback—the locals call it 'Zou Ma.' The place is called 'Zou Ma Yi.'"

"There's a custom there: every night, northbound and southbound merchants gather in teahouses to tell stories—mostly strange folk tales from all over Shenzhou. Very entertaining."

"When I went to Chengdu, I stayed there several days and happened to hear someone telling the story of this 'gray-robed mad monk.' He was the only one who told it, and he was wildly popular—that's how I learned of him."

"What was his name?"

"An elder of the Pingmen sect—known as Song Tiezui…"

…………

Back on the boat, everyone rushed over to ask.

"Young Master Li, are you alright?"

"We waited half the night—no one attacked…"

"We met a high-level master."

Li Yan shook his head slightly and recounted what he'd seen.

But most of them were new to Shu; even the well-traveled "Fast Boat Zhang" and Bai Wan had never heard of it.

The Salt Gang hadn't attacked—unexpected indeed.

Li Yan returned to his cabin, sat in meditation for a while, then lay down, staring at the silver pellet in his hand, and drifted into sleep without realizing it.

In the darkness, the Dragon Pattern Jade Tablet gifted by the Dragon Maiden glowed faintly.

Li Yan slipped into the dream again—first enveloped in water, then a pair of jade arms embraced him from behind.

Visions swirled before him: in Mohu clarity, a divine temple appeared, its altar holding the statue of a handsome general, with a third eye on his forehead, noble and striking, with dragon-like brows and phoenix eyes, bright teeth and vivid lips.

He wore a three-peaked flying phoenix crown, golden armor, over which draped a pale goose-yellow robe, wielding a three-pronged, double-edged halberd, and at his waist hung a golden slingshot.

Suddenly, the statue lowered its head and stared directly at him.

Whoosh!

Li Yan jolted upright from bed, snatched the silver pellet in his hand, swallowed hard. "Damn…"

He turned to look out the window.

Beneath the bright moon, the river surged endlessly; distant mountains loomed dark, veiled in mist—mysterious and profound…

Dozens of li away, on a desolate mountain path, the Chengdu merchant strode with flowing sleeves, his steps measured and dignified, surrounded by howling winds.

Woof! Woof! Woof!

From the distant woods, dog barks seemed to echo.

The merchant sniffed, his eyes instantly gleaming. "Mutton! Haven't had meat in ages!"

The wind and white mist swept past—and the man vanished.

…………

Two more days passed, and the river finally cleared.

During those two days, the Salt Gang sent no attackers.

Though none understood why, they remained vigilant, sailing toward Fengdu.

In the cabin, Li Yan held the silver pellet, frowning, still struggling to believe it…

The rest of the journey passed without incident.

But the weather turned capricious—autumn rain fell mid-journey, not the lingering drizzle of Jiangnan, but a chill that seeped into the bones.

Finally, as dusk fell, they reached Fengdu City…

(End of Chapter)