Chapter 485: The Spirit Mirror Sorcerer, the Lotus Sect Master

The paste on the paper doll was still wet.

Drip… drip…

It kept falling onto the wooden board.

Li Yan learned this craft from Wang Daoxuan when he made paper dolls.

To be honest, he didn't learn it well at all.

He merely used bamboo sticks to hold the shape, clumsily draped layers of earth paper over it, with no details at all for facial features or fingers.

For some reason, Li Yan had no talent at all for such delicate handwork; if anyone saw it, they'd likely laugh themselves sick.

But this much was enough.

After his cultivation improved, the Northern Emperor's Straw Spirit Art gained more variations.

As a spy, its range for gathering intelligence expanded.

Moreover, it could now mimic his aura.

Don't underestimate this point—many spells and incantations target aura; thus, the current Straw Spirit Art can both protect him and confuse enemies.

Just like now, the opponent sensed absolutely nothing amiss.

Making the paper doll was merely to make it more convincing.

At the back door of the inn, Li Yan had lowered his wide-brimmed hat, glanced around, then swiftly moved through the dark alleys.

Wufengxi was named so because it had five main streets: Golden Phoenix, Green Phoenix, Jade Phoenix, White Phoenix, and Little Phoenix.

Each street connected to a network of narrow alleys.

Though seemingly small, it was bustling.

Some areas were even under construction, building guildhalls for fellow townsfolk and merchants to rest and network.

Li Yan did not enter the main streets; he moved only through the dark alleys.

He possessed the "Dragon-Snake Token," and when he activated his divine ability, no one could detect any disturbance—it was perfectly stealthy.

Soon, he sensed something unusual.

This tiny Wufengxi dock was crowded with sorcerers; several had formidable auras, nearly equal to his own.

Whether they were enemies or not was still unclear.

To avoid alerting them, Li Yan merely memorized their locations and the scents clinging to their bodies, without approaching.

His first target was the sorcerer casting spells to spy on him.

Unless he eliminated this man first, he couldn't sleep or eat in peace.

Finally, when he reached a dilapidated warehouse, that prickling sensation—like a sword pressing against his back—returned.

This was definitely a spell targeting him.

Li Yan's eyes flashed with murderous intent; suddenly, he kicked off the ground and smashed through the wooden door with a thunderous crash, charging inside.

Indeed, it was the black-robed old Daoist and the spirit medium.

The old Daoist had plenty of experience in the martial arts world.

Though he didn't know why his surveillance target had suddenly appeared, his adaptability was exceptional—he flung his robe, wrapping up the small black altar on the ritual platform.

"Take this!"

With a cold snort, the black altar exploded.

The altar was small, filled with incense ash and bone powder, mixed with red phosphorus, which scattered into a gray mist in midair.

Hssss~

The gray mist ignited without wind, transforming into two emerald-green ghostly flames that twisted and howled toward Li Yan.

Guardian Altar Art!

When a sorcerer sets up an altar, the greatest taboo is being disturbed—especially during spellcasting, when he is most vulnerable.

Usually, one would assign a guardian spirit general.

But without such resources, one must pre-arrange a Guardian Altar Art that can be triggered instantly to block enemies.

Meanwhile, the black-robed Daoist wasn't idle.

He leapt sideways and slammed into the warehouse wall.

Elsewhere, the walls were built of packed earth; here, however, part had collapsed and was crudely patched with wooden planks.

Crack!

The Daoist shattered the planks and dashed out.

A cold breeze blew against his face—he felt a surge of relief. Thank heaven he'd been cautious and pre-planned his escape route.

As for the child behind him, he didn't even glance back.

But the moment he stepped out of the warehouse, his face turned ashen, his body froze stiff, his eyes glazed over, and he couldn't move.

Then a hand emerged from the darkness, clasping his throat and dragging him back inside.

It was Li Yan—he shattered the ghostly flames with a punch and subdued the Daoist's soul with his Soul-Grabbing Chain, capturing him effortlessly.

Clatter!

Amid the sound of breaking debris, the old Daoist tumbled to the ground.

"Master!"

The spirit medium cried out, flinging himself over the Daoist, glaring at Li Yan with pure hatred—as if ready to take the blade for him.

Li Yan frowned slightly, flipped his Broken Dust Blade sideways, and asked, "Why are you shielding him?"

The child gritted his teeth: "He's my master. If you want to kill, kill me!"

Li Yan chuckled. "What kind of master? Don't you know this art drains your life?"

"You're lying!"

The boy's face flushed red—he refused to believe it.

Li Yan shook his head. "This old man's cultivation is barely Second Story. How could he possibly threaten me unless it's not ordinary Spirit Mirror Art?"

"Don't believe me? Feel your left rib, two inches down—is there a swollen lump? Do you suffer nightmares every night and can't sleep?"

The child hesitated. "My master said I'm sick—he's earning money to cure me."

"Nonsense!"

Li Yan snapped coldly. "That's a Ghost Vein—infected by malevolent qi. How could a child your age withstand this art?"

"Once the Ghost Vein connects to your heart meridian, you'll die."

He'd heard this from Wang Daoxuan—some unscrupulous martial arts sorcerers used this trick to make money.

If a child with awakened divine ability was spotted by orthodox Daoist sects, they rarely missed the chance; the more talented ones were even fought over.

But if found by these corrupt fringe practitioners, the child became nothing but a tool for profit, dying mysteriously without understanding why.

"Y-You're lying!"

The spirit medium was only seven or eight years old. Everything Li Yan said shattered his worldview—he couldn't imagine his kind-faced master would betray him.

Before he could think further, he suddenly couldn't breathe.

Behind him, the black-robed Daoist had sprung up and seized the child's throat, snarling: "Step back! Let me go, or I'll kill this boy—"

Seeing Li Yan's demeanor, he assumed he was one of those sentimental, rigid righteous types—and used his disciple's life as leverage.

Shhh!

But before he finished speaking, his wrist exploded in pain.

A flying dagger suddenly appeared, severing his wrist, then hovered in midair, pressing firmly against his forehead.

"F-Flying Sword Art…"

The Daoist stared in disbelief, face ashen.

All will to resist vanished.

Li Yan naturally didn't explain. He glanced at him coolly. "I ask, you answer. Answer well, and I'll spare your life."

"Is that true?"

"Of course. I, Li Yan, never break my word. First, tell me your name—who sent you?"

The Daoist clearly knew Li Yan's reputation; hope flickered in his eyes. He hurried to speak: "I am Bu Xu, of the Golden Gate. Not a notable figure, merely skilled in Spirit Mirror Art, hired for money."

"The one who hired me—no one knows his real name. His nickname is 'Ghost Painted Face.' He came from the opera world, a former member of the famed 'Ghost Opera Troupe,' later joining the Shu Prince's court. His cultivation is profound; all who've seen him fight are dead."

"Who else is involved?"

"There's Wang Han, the Lotus Sect's leader of Shu; Jin Cuilian, the Black Seat of Yanmen; and Tan Wanpei of Puan Temple… They received favors from the Shu Prince's court, scattered across the land, only acting when summoned by the Shu Prince…"

"What's your plan?"

"There's a boat on the river loaded with explosives. You were meant to stay here—originally, the plan was paused. Tomorrow, Wang Han will come to challenge you…"

As Li Yan listened to the old Daoist's tale, he fell into thought.

The Shu Prince sending people was within his expectations.

Since this matter wouldn't go through official channels but was handled via martial arts bounties, it was simple—it would ultimately come down to fists.

What surprised him was their identities.

Aside from fringe masters, they included leaders of folk Daoist lineages.

Though not from the main sects, they were top-tier figures in charge of Shu's branch temples—prominent figures in the orthodox Daoist world. And yet, all had allied with the Shu Prince.

Whatever the reason, this was a dangerous taboo.

Especially for imperial family members.

Back then, the Prince of Chang'an in Shanzhou, to avoid gossip, even watched the Drum King Gathering from atop the city wall.

Only Daoists from the Supreme Mystery Orthodox Sect or the local Shangshan Daoist Sect were allowed into the Prince's court—and they served openly, solely responsible for the Prince's security.

But the Wang Fu was indifferent to such matters.

That "Ghost-Face" looked unmistakably like a sinister master.

According to intelligence, the Wang Fu's changes occurred within these past years.

Could it also be due to Zhao Changsheng's manipulation…?

Too bad, the Commandant's secret agents assigned to track Zhao Changsheng were elusive, vanished somewhere—otherwise, this matter could have been reported.

!.

Thinking of this, Li Yan flipped his wrist; a flash of blade light pierced the Daoist's dantian, while he unleashed a yin thunderbolt.

"Aaah—!"

The Daoist let out a shrill scream and roared: "You said you'd spare me! Why break your word?"

Li Yan glanced at him coldly. "I said I'd spare you—I never promised to spare your cultivation."

He nodded to the spirit medium beside him, who stood dazed and broken: "Find a good family. Stop using sorcery. Perhaps you can live out your days in peace."

Saying this, he sheathed his blade and left the inn.

"Boy, you'll regret this!"

Behind him, the Daoist's eyes brimmed with venom and malice.

Though he'd survived, he was as good as dead—his future would be miserable; he must find a way to avenge this…

Pfft!

As he spiraled in thought, his body suddenly stiffened; he looked down at his chest—the blade tip had pierced through, blood dripping steadily.

Behind him stood the equally furious spirit medium.

Not long after, the inn burst into flames.

Amid the firelight, a small figure, backpack slung over his shoulders, ran toward the town's edge…

"Fire!"

The roaring flames drew nearby townsfolk rushing to help.

Fortunately, the place was remote and near the river; soon the fire was extinguished, leaving only charred ruins smoking with gray plumes.

Amid the chaos, several figures exchanged glances, all with grim expressions…

…………

The next day brought a long-awaited sunny sky.

The autumn sun hung high, dispersing days of gloom.

The sky was clear, the air crisp after rain, the small town refreshed.

"Something's happened!"

"Something's happened!"

Inside the inn, someone exclaimed with excitement: "That brat Li Yan has been too arrogant—some senior master can't stand it and is coming to teach him a lesson!"

"Who? Which master?"

"The Lotus Sect's leader, Wang Han."

"Who's that?"

"A great master of the Xuanmen!"

Guided by those with intent, the news spread instantly through the entire town.

Many present were ordinary folk.

Though they were wanderers of the martial arts world, traveling far and wide, they rarely encountered sorcerers, let alone true Xuanmen masters—much less the head of a sect.

This was a rare chance to witness something extraordinary—they wouldn't miss it.

Soon, the inn where Li Yan stayed was packed tight—three layers deep, a sea of heads, everyone tiptoeing, wishing they could grow three feet taller.

Li Yan had already prepared; he sat in his room, eyes closed, resting.

He knew: killing the yuan-guang sorcerer last night, then igniting the fire, had surely put these people on guard.

Perhaps they'd change tactics.

But he no longer cared much.

Whoever came today, they must die.

His reputation was now loud and clear—many things could no longer be hidden, many methods were no longer secrets; pretending to be an innocent fool was impossible.

Now that it had come to this, there was no need to hide.

Only by carving out a fearsome name could he deter those who dared plot against him.

"Here they come!"

The crowd outside suddenly stirred.

A black-faced man strode forward.

"Is that the sect leader?"

Many in the crowd felt doubtful.

No wonder—they'd expected grandeur, but this Lotus Sect leader was utterly ordinary: a dark face, dressed in coarse cotton, a long spear slung on his back.

He looked no different from any common Jianghu man.

No trace of a sect leader's bearing.

"You know nothing!"

Someone whispered: "Fajiao comes from the people—not like those old Daoists of the Grand Xuan sects. Flashy clothes mean nothing!"

"This man practices divine striking—wait and see…"

The man was Wang Han.

He glanced at the sun, a faint smile on his lips.

Fengdu lay within Shu; he'd heard rumors of the Living Yin Officers and knew the power of the Yin Army.

But those were invisible troops—even summoned in daylight, their strength would weaken under bright sun.

And others would assist him.

A squad of Wang Fu's musketeers had secretly infiltrated the town that morning; the moment Li Yan summoned the Yin soldiers, they'd gun him down.

Of course, unless absolutely necessary, they wouldn't use these new firearms in broad daylight—after all, the Censor was still in Chengdu.

An entire squad of unregistered musketeers.

Even the Wang Fu dared not expose this lightly…

Hearing the murmurs around him, Wang Han smirked.

He said nothing, walked straight to the green stone outside the dwelling, glanced not once, and slapped it backward.

Shhh-shhh-shhh!

The green stone trembled; all the sunflower seed shells flew out.

"Excellent!"

Cheers erupted from the crowd.

"A Hua-jin master!"

Someone with sharp eyes cried out immediately.

Li Yan's challenge had been: don't touch the seeds, don't crack the stone.

To retrieve them, one had to use force alone to shake the shells loose—controlling the subtle power was harder than driving them into the stone.

A sect leader, also a Hua-jin master, proficient in martial arts…

That brat was doomed!

Hearing the exclamations, Wang Han ignored them, stared coldly at the inn's upper floor, and said in a low voice: "Boy, come out. See if you can bear this reputation!"

As planned, he'd intended to appear as a righteous elder disgusted by outsiders flaunting power in Shu, then confront and accidentally kill this insolent youth.

But Yuan-Guang sorcerer Bu Xu was dead; the matter was surely known to him now—no need for pretense.

Besides, Li Yan wouldn't expose it either.

Bringing this to light might bring Wang Fu trouble—but now, no more hesitation. Full force would be unleashed.

Li Yan had also prepared; he stepped out of the inn, carrying Duan Chen Dao.

The two locked eyes, their killing intent unmasked.

In the inn's upper tower, several Divine Fire musketeers loaded new magazines, their barrels protruding from the windows…

(End of Chapter)