Chapter 618: The Old Friends of Chang

"Night Crier?"

Upon hearing this, the old Daoist's white eyebrows immediately knotted together.

The young boy beside him, seeing this, quickly asked cautiously: "Master, is there something wrong with this Night Crier?"

The old Daoist rubbed his temples. "Have you heard of the Mingjiao?"

"Disciple knows."

The boy replied swiftly: "They originated from ancient Qin palace secret incantations, later took refuge in the Qinling Mountains, rarely interact with outsiders, and are said to understand the ancient 'Five Directions Yin Sacrifice,' so their disciples mostly handle funeral affairs and hide among the common folk."

"Hmm."

Hearing his disciple recite it flawlessly, the old Daoist nodded in satisfaction and said: "This Night Crier, named Shen Sanyou, was originally from the Yin Gate, later absorbed into the Mingjiao, with considerable talent—but later ran into trouble and wandered around Chang'an. He and I have a decent relationship."

The boy frowned. "Master, if you have a decent relationship, why are you so troubled? Why not go help him?"

The old Daoist's face twisted in Ku. "We do have a decent relationship, but that man is a complete bastard—hard to deal with…"

He gritted his teeth. "Fine, let's go see. If he knows I'm pretending not to see him, he'll surely cause more trouble."

Having made up his mind, the old Daoist urged the group to quicken their pace.

Soon, they rounded a hill and indeed saw a large crowd gathered on a mountain plateau ahead—monks and Daoists alike, all from various sects, all watching with idle curiosity.

The old Daoist tiptoed, peering through the crowd.

On the left rock sat a man in a blue robe, thin and gaunt, shouldering a funeral banner used to summon spirits.

He was handsome enough, but hunched over, pale-faced, dark circles under his eyes, the classic look of a man worn down by wine and lust, listless and drained.

It was none other than Chang'an's Night Crier, Shen Sanyou.

Opposite him stood an old man in black robes, wearing a red square headcloth, a wide leather belt adorned with several bronze talismans, and holding a long iron ruler.

The old man's face was weathered, yet oddly fashionable—a flintlock pistol, crafted from ivory and exquisitely detailed, stuck in a holster on his belt.

Seeing this, the Kunlun sect elder frowned slightly and bowed slightly to a nearby man, whispering: "May I ask, friend, what's going on here?"

The man he addressed wore a red Daoist robe—clearly from the Southern Fa Jiao. He chuckled softly: "I don't know what happened either. Suddenly they started fighting. Shen Sanyou's known to be troublesome, but this time he's probably met his match…"

"Oh, thank you."

The old Daoist nodded, fell silent, his expression grim.

The bystanders were right.

The man from the Tiantong Jiao on the right was no easy target either.

The Tiantong Jiao mainly spread through Sichuan, Chongqing, and Guizhou, its techniques brutally vicious, specifically targeting the soul.

The old man before them was known as Diliangzi.

Originally heir to the Luoyang tomb-raiding clan "Tu Long Zhang," he later fled after illegally excavating a royal tomb on Mangshan, carrying the fragmented scroll of the "Hanchuan Jing" to join the Tiantong Jiao.

He was highly accomplished, a senior elder in the sect, and had a terrible reputation.

But Shen Sanyou wasn't the type to meddle—why provoke him?

The same question troubled Diliangzi.

He spoke coldly: "Night Crier, why aren't you staying put in Chang'an? Why come here to stir up trouble with me? Are you tired of living?"

Shen Sanyou tilted his head and snorted with laughter: "Well, well, haven't seen you in years—got a big mouth now?"

He stood up, banner on shoulder, yawned, and said: "I'm not bored enough to waste time. I just came to beat you up—to deliver a proper greeting."

"Hahaha…"

Diliangzi laughed bitterly. "I've walked the Jianghu for decades—enemies abound. Whoever I've offended, it's none of your business to interfere."

As he spoke, he glanced around, feeling humiliated by being so openly challenged, then pulled seven copper coins from his sleeve, placed them in his mouth, whispered a spell, and flung them sharply.

Pata-pata-pata!

The coins scattered midair, then as if pulled by invisible magnets, plummeted down, forming the shape of a Big Dipper between the two men.

Hu~

Instantly, a chilling wind howled, dust and sand swirling, forming seven small whirlwinds around the seven coins.

Only after this did the black-robed Diliangzi speak coldly: "I'm too lazy to bother with you. No bloodshed beneath Qingcheng Mountain. If you've got the skill, come over here and speak."

"Copper Coins Lock the Big Dipper?"

Someone among the crowd recognized it and gasped softly.

The Kunlun disciple whispered urgently: "Master, what's 'Copper Coins Lock the Big Dipper'?"

The old Daoist narrowed his eyes and explained: "Those seven coins are unique to the Tiantong Jiao—called Yin De Tong Bao. Cast from ancient coins into ritual currency, their use is extraordinary."

"They lock the earth's qi, ready to form illusions at any moment. If Shen Sanyou steps into the array and triggers it, he won't even get a chance to fight…"

As he spoke, the Night Crier spat and laughed: "Such a cheap trick, dare you show it off?"

Shu!

Before the words faded, he leapt forward.

But strangely, though he had been facing Diliangzi midair, he flipped backward like a bat hanging upside down.

When he landed, he was facing away from Diliangzi.

"Excellent!"

The Kunlun elder couldn't help but cheer.

Others didn't know, but he knew Shen Sanyou well—this was his skill, "Bat Inverted Stake," modeled after bats, trained blindfolded in pitch-black caves to listen for wind and locate position.

His movement was uncanny, his night combat like a ghost.

This was one reason he earned the name "Night Crier."

As Shen Sanyou landed, banner on shoulder, he reversed his steps in the Gangbu, toes tapping the coins, producing a clinking sound—the whirlwinds vanished, the coins emitted a foul stench, and black blood seeped from the ground around them.

"Despicable!"

Seeing this, the Kunlun elder's face darkened.

Some onlookers also sneered.

You set an array, fine—but why hide corpse-blood curses inside the Yin De Tong Bao? Had Shen Sanyou not reversed the Gangbu to break the curse, he'd have been caught.

Seeing Shen Sanyou reverse the steps and shatter the array, Diliangzi frowned but remained calm, pulling a black pill from his satchel and swallowing it.

Hu~

As Shen Sanyou stepped on the final coin, Diliangzi suddenly opened his mouth and spat a fireball, while his left hand formed a seal and his right palm slapped backward.

Boom!

A muffled thunderclap echoed—the fireball roared straight toward Shen Sanyou's back.

"Yin Fire Thunder!"

The Kunlun elder's face turned grim—he suddenly produced a Huang Fu and moved to rescue him.

One of the Tiantong Jiao's famed techniques was the Five Thunder Palms.

This move used Yin Thunder Palm, fused with Yin Fire—vicious and poisonous. His Kunlun Snow Mountain talismans could neutralize the fire poison and heal.

But to his surprise—

Shen Sanyou showed no panic. He stepped, twisted his body strangely, flipped upside down again, barely dodging the blast.

The Yin Fire Thunder struck the forest opposite, exploding violently—strange green phosphorescent flames rose, igniting the soaked shrubs, thick smoke billowing.

As for Shen Sanyou, midair, he already had a carved thunderwood mouth harp between his lips, playing a funeral dirge.

Wailing, mournful, it made all who heard it feel sorrow.

Diliangzi's eyes glazed over for a moment, then snapped back to awareness—he grabbed his flintlock pistol from his belt.

"Stop!"

At that moment, a sharp cry rang out.

Several figures approached from afar—Qingcheng's Lingyunzi, and Li Yan and his companions.

That night, after retrieving treasures from the Dragon Palace, Li Yan and the others returned to Chengdu, met with the Yu family father and son, the treasure hunters of Sichuan, and received the spirit tea they'd commissioned.

Then they hired a security escort from the Huangling Sect's Biaoju —after all, they carried too many items, including a heavy iron rhinoceros statue.

After winding detours, they finally arrived at Qingcheng after several days.

They stayed again at Chaoyang Cave. After settling in, they accompanied Lingyunzi down the mountain to visit Lady Bai and Master Xiaoyue, asking when Long Yan would emerge from seclusion.

In short, it had been a busy stretch.

They'd just returned to the mountain when this happened.

Lingyunzi flashed between the two, clasped his fists, and said sternly: "Both of you, when you issued your invitations, it was clearly stated—no fighting on Qingcheng Mountain. Violators lose their eligibility. Show some respect."

His words carried both softness and firmness—carefully balanced.

Clearly, he'd grown since the battle at Shu Wang Palace.

"Hmph!"

Diliangzi sneered coldly: "That madman started it. Am I supposed to stand here and take a beating?"

"Is this how Qingcheng treats guests?"

His words were firm but veiled.

The Tiantong Jiao had a fearsome reputation, but it was merely a technique lineage—lacking deep roots or hidden treasures.

He had important business here too.

If he couldn't ascend the mountain, it would be a major problem.

Lingyunzi turned to Shen Sanyou, who wore a look of utter indifference, and felt his temper rise.

But then, beside him, Li Yan suddenly spoke.

"Old brother, long time no see."

Seeing his old acquaintance from Chang'an, Li Yan felt joy—but also a headache.

Shen Sanyou can be a real troublemaker at times, but we can't ignore him either.

"Oh, you two know each other?"

Upon hearing this, Lingyunzi suppressed his anger.

"I dare not."

Before Li Yan could speak, Shen Sanyou grinned: "He's famous all over the land now—how could he remember me?"

Li Yan was speechless. "Don't joke around now, big brother."

"I'm not joking."

Shen Sanyou blinked, glancing at Dilongzi. "I'm afraid you've forgotten old friends, so I'm beating him up—just bringing you a gift before you climb the mountain."

Li Yan froze, turning to Dilongzi with a frown. "I've never met him—why beat him?"

Shen Sanyou kept his lazy, carefree demeanor, sneering: "Remember Zhao Lüzi? Your brother in Yuzhou nearly got ruined by him—still missing, Shengsibuzhi to this day…"

"What?"

Li Yan's heart tightened, snapping his head around.

Hearing Zhao Lüzi's name, Dilongzi's brow twitched—he grew wary, gripping his flintlock pistol.

Though the imperial court had covered up the Shu Prince's affair and banned commoners from speaking of it, Daoist sects had learned much through various channels.

Li Yan's name had spread across Shenzhou.

The Tian Sheng Sect, the Wushan Immortals, Lu Sheng, the Four Demons of the Southwest… each of these famed names had fallen to his hands.

Not to mention the even more fearsome Zhao Changsheng.

Even as a living Yin Cha, such a record was enough to command everyone's respect—and had drawn the attention of many.

The Tongtian Jiao was full of rogues and villains; several had joined the Shu Prince's rebellion and died at the hands of Li Yan and his allies.

Dilongzi had come up the mountain for other urgent matters and felt no bond with those disciples, so one of the very people he least wanted to meet was Li Yan.

Yet here he was, face-to-face.

Swish!

Before he could speak, his vision blurred violently.

So fast!

Dilongzi's heart leapt—he raised his pistol instantly.

Though old, he was no stick-in-the-mud; since the new firearms appeared, he'd been determined, going to great lengths to obtain a firearms permit and paying a fortune to have this weapon forged.

Truth be told, it was convenient—he'd already killed two enemies with it, so his instinct was to raise it as a threat.

But as his hand rose, Li Yan sidestepped, shifted his shoulder, and raised his right palm, striking with a gust of Gangfeng toward his face.

Dilongzi instinctively recoiled, eyes locked on the palm.

Yet Li Yan's left hand had already used "Flower Hidden Beneath the Leaf," emerging from his blind spot, followed by a "Twisting Silk Hand."

Crack!

The sound of bone breaking rang out.

Dilongzi's right hand, still gripping the pistol, hadn't even lifted before Li Yan pinned it down, twisted the Twisting Silk energy—and the gun fell, the bones shattered.

The old man had only used firearms for a few days—he couldn't compare to Li Yan's mastery; he couldn't even raise the weapon.

"Hn~"

Dilongzi was a tough one—though agony wracked him, he only grunted, then rolled like a lazy donkey to evade, using his intact left hand to clutch the bronze plaque at his waist.

But just then, Lingyunzi moved.

His body flowed with the motion, his right finger-sword thrusting out, precisely striking Dilongzi's wrist.

A sharp crack echoed—his left wrist shattered too. The bronze plaque fell to the ground, radiating yin-sha energy, black smoke rising to form a twisted skull, then slowly retracting.

"Master!"

Several Tongtian Jiao disciples nearby, eyes blazing with fury, rushed forward.

"Don't move!"

Dilongzi gritted his teeth, growling a warning, then glared darkly at Lingyunzi. "Are you Qingcheng Mountain going to break your own rules?"

"Don't say that!"

Far away, Shali Fei toyed with his flintlock, grinning: "The rule says no fighting on the mountain—this is still below, isn't it?"

Hearing this, Shen Sanyou chuckled, giving Shali Fei a thumbs-up. "Exactly right—it's still below the mountain! Li Xiao Brother could kill you and it wouldn't matter!"

Dilongzi ignored the two fools, fixing his gaze on Lingyunzi.

He wanted to see how Qingcheng Mountain would handle this, with everyone watching.

But Lingyunzi merely shook his head slightly, then turned to Li Yan and bowed. "Li Shaoxia, it seems you have matters to attend to. When you climb the mountain, find the Patriarch yourself."

"Understood, Daochang, you go ahead."

After saying this, Lingyunzi didn't even glance at Dilongzi—he turned and walked up the mountain.

Those around him were stunned.

The Tongtian Jiao was no match for Qingcheng Mountain—even though both operated in Shu, their relations had never been good.

But this was the Opening Cavern Assembly—the very rules Qingcheng Mountain had set.

To openly favor Li Yan, even at the cost of their reputation…

Where did Li Yan get such influence?

Everyone was curious, but Li Yan's face was dark as he stared at Dilongzi and the Tongtian Jiao disciples.

Shali Fei raised his pistol, aiming; Lu San and Wang Daoxuan blocked the other end; and even more chilling was Wu Ba, who had hoisted a small cannon…

"Twelve Zodiacs!"

Only then did they remember—Li Yan wasn't alone.

Dilongzi's eyelid twitched frantically—he blurted out: "I yield! Your brother Zhao Lüzi isn't dead!"

"He ran off—with a woman, and tricked me…"

(End of Chapter)