Chapter 9: Chapter Nine: The Twelve Zodiacs Break the Four Seas, the Mist-Riding Shenjun

Qian Chen appeared exactly like a frail scholar on the road, trudging slowly along the official highway each day; when the sun grew too fierce, he would seek shade, and aside from continuously circulating the embryonic breath to purify his Dao foundation, and his unshakable meditation at Zi and Wu hours, he showed no difference from ordinary mortals.

This rare experience of secular life in ancient times did not disgust Qian Chen; on the contrary, he found it novel.

Each night in the inn, he listened to travelers recount their stories; by day, he pressed onward, blending into the masses, until the transcendent aura once clinging to him gradually wore away, leaving him indistinguishable from the common folk.

“So this is what it feels like to be human,” Qian Chen muttered, pinching his aching toes. “Completely unlike my original world. For the first time, I’m experiencing the ordinary life of this world—like a deep dive.”

He chuckled bitterly to himself: “Before, my mind was filled with the thoughts of those immortals from the Louguan Sect, the lofty notions of orthodox disciples. Only now do I truly understand how ordinary people live. I never realized how disconnected I’d become.”

“We must be nearing Linhai City!” Qian Chen spotted a corner of a banner peeking from beneath roadside shade, and focused his vision—on the banner was embroidered a massive character: “Tea.”

He walked closer and found indeed a roadside tea stall, where a simple-looking owner was boiling water. Though small, it was the cleanest he’d seen since beginning his journey. Qian Chen sat down and asked the stall owner: “Master, how far is it to Linhai City?”

“About twenty li,” the owner replied, earnestly. “Are you going to Hong Sihai’s thousand-year banquet?”

“Hmm,” Qian Chen paused slightly, then shook his head. “I’m a scholar. I don’t involve myself in martial affairs.” Then, curiously, he asked: “Hong Sihai’s sixtieth birthday—do many martial heroes come?”

“Hong the Hero is the local leader. The Four Seas Hall holds Linhai—who doesn’t know him? Back then, he led the righteous heroes to crush the Demon Cult, slaying their leader with his bare hands and ridding the martial world of this great scourge. The martial community unanimously honored him as the Martial Alliance Leader. Travelers tell this tale constantly—I’ve heard it until my ears are calloused!”

“Would you like a bowl of hot tea?”

Though Qian Chen was at the Foundation Establishment threshold and avoided impure water, the man had already gone to such lengths to be friendly. To refuse tea would be rude. So Qian Chen, understanding the etiquette, said: “Then one bowl, please.”

Internally, he thought: “The Four Seas Hall has immense influence—even roadside stall owners know about Hong Sihai’s birthday banquet. Such gatherings always bring trouble. Is it a vendetta? A martial feud? This world’s martial strength is high—Grand Masters are equivalent to those who’ve broken through the Sensory Barrier in the Central Lands; they likely manipulate heavenly spiritual energy. They’re on the verge of high-martial cultivation!”

“Before forming the Golden Core, the body is fragile, reliant on magic treasures for defense. If an enemy closes in for a surprise strike, and you can’t summon your treasure in time, even a Grand Master of martial arts can kill you easily. I must not be careless. The Heaven’s Net Umbrella must always be near, attuned to my qi, ensuring the fastest possible reaction.”

As he pondered, the tea stall owner brought him a pot of hot tea.

Qian Chen thanked the owner, placed the teapot beside him, and noticed the owner smiling at him. He suddenly understood, laid down several copper coins to pay, and was about to resume thinking about improving the Heaven’s Net Umbrella’s response speed—when he suddenly frowned, reached behind his bookcase, pulled out a gourd, and poured the tea into it, as if preparing for later use.

“Now no one will wonder why I didn’t drink the tea.”

Qian Chen nodded inwardly: Outside, there are only two words—caution!

The stall owner, seeing the tea in front of Qian Chen gone, hurriedly said: “Oh no! I forgot to refill your cup! Wait, I’ll bring another pot—our refills are free.”

Qian Chen raised his hand with a smile: “That’s kind, but my gourd isn’t full yet—could you add a bit more?” He shook the gourd, and the sound of water sloshing inside clearly indicated it was only half-filled.

The owner glanced at the small red gourd, thinking: “This gourd’s small, yet holds quite a bit.” He reached to take it, and just as he was about to unstopper it, a yellow mist suddenly burst from the gourd’s mouth—the tea had been infused with hidden internal force, waiting until the owner took it, then exploding toward his face.

The pale yellow mist struck the owner’s face, instantly paralyzing half his facial muscles.

His expression twisted: his left side contorted in rage, his right side, doused in mist, had gone rigid, twitching and contorting like a demon.

“I’ve hunted geese all my life, only to be pecked by a gosling!” The owner’s face darkened, sneering: “Clever boy. How did you know my tea was poisoned?”

“I should be asking that,” Qian Chen said, feigning innocence. “Where did I slip up? How did you know I wasn’t just an ordinary passerby?”

“I even disguised myself as an old man!”

“Now I see you’re riddled with flaws,” the owner sneered. “But back then, your disguise was good enough to deceive. I didn’t realize you were anything special.”

“Then why poison me?” Qian Chen’s expression was utterly innocent. He was merely traveling to Linhai City, not bothering anyone, with no leads on his main quest—how had someone suddenly tried to kill him?

“Hah…” The owner threw his head back and laughed: “I…”

Before he finished speaking, his body shot backward. In one motion, a point of golden light shot forth—and Qian Chen felt the man’s entire essence, spirit, and vitality had merged into that single point. As the golden light left his body, the man’s form became nothing but an empty shell. The golden thread moved faster than lightning, arriving before Qian Chen in the blink of an eye.

Too fast to react.

But at that moment, the Heaven’s Net Umbrella strapped to Qian Chen’s back “popped” open, its spiritual light cascading down!

The golden thread struck the spiritual light, hesitated slightly, then revealed its true form: a small serpent with emerald scales threaded with golden filaments, its eyes like rubies…

"Protective divine weapon! Body Gangqi! You're also a Grand Master..."

The tea stall owner, now standing over a zhang away, spoke stiffly, like a puppet.

He seemed to express disbelief—but the golden serpent, though momentarily halted, did not stop. Instead, it instantly spat a crimson poison mist that stained the Heaven’s Net Umbrella’s spiritual light. Though instantly purified, the magic treasure’s light flickered imperceptibly, revealing a tiny flaw.

The golden serpent, displaying extraordinary martial wisdom, instantly spotted the flaw.

Golden as lightning, it slipped through the gap in the trembling spiritual light.

But as the serpent drew closer to Qian Chen, its speed slowed—countless threads seemed to bind it, pressing down a thousand jin of weight.

Its emerald scales shimmered with golden light; again it spat poison mist, which coated its scales as a thin crimson mist, slowly corrupting the delicate five-element spiritual light. Just as it neared within a chi of Qian Chen’s skin, Qian Chen reached out and gently pointed at the serpent’s head.

The Heaven’s Net Umbrella’s full spiritual light descended, sealing the space around the serpent, immobilizing it utterly.

"How is this possible... My Emerald Phosphor Golden Snake is specialized in piercing protective Gangqi. What is the origin of your divine weapon? Why isn't it listed in the Divine Weapon Catalog?" The stall owner struggled to speak. "I can't believe it! I can't believe it! Who are you, Grand Master? Why are you mocking Chengwu Shenjun?"

“Chengwu Shenjun?” Qian Chen repeated.

The stall owner chuckled grotesquely: “You don’t even know Chengwu Shenjun? Your origins must be incredibly obscure! I am the Snake of Si, one of the Twelve Zodiacs, known as Chengwu Shenjun—poisons cannot touch me, and I ride mist. Among the eleven others, I’m among the most troublesome. If you…”

“You’re talking so much to draw my attention to yourself, aren’t you?” Qian Chen suddenly interrupted.

“The Twelve Zodiacs will break the Four Seas…”

Qian Chen reached out, lightly pressing the suspended golden serpent, and said calmly: “Your entire essence, spirit, and vitality have already entered this serpent. It is your true body. This form? Merely a decoy to distract me. If I’d been swayed by your words and lost focus, you’d have seized your chance—correct?”

The spiritual light above Qian Chen’s head seemed to ease slightly. The golden serpent strained to move—when Qian Chen flipped a white jade ring in his hand, drawing the golden serpent inside. The stall owner collapsed instantly, unconscious.

“I wanted to release the Heaven’s Net Umbrella, pretend I’d fallen for it, give you a sliver of hope—then, when you drew within three cun, flip the Dragon Phoenix Ring and crush your hope utterly, demonstrating my supreme mastery.”

Qian Chen sighed at the utterly senseless enemy: “But I’ve spent my life in caution. Even with five layers of defense, I won’t risk it. Even explaining to you, I must first fully control every variable before I can act calmly.”

“First layer: Heaven’s Net Umbrella. Second: Dragon Phoenix Ring. Third: Illusion created by the Spirit Mirror. Fourth: Golden Strength Talisman. Fifth: A secret I can never reveal—ensuring I can still resist even if poisoned. You’ve only breached half of the first layer. You should be proud.”

Martial experts are forged in life-or-death battles, refined by tactical adaptability in combat.

Chengwu Shenjun’s boastful demeanor wasn’t mere arrogance. Had any ordinary cultivator come, even one at the Spirit Communion Realm, a moment’s inattention would have meant death. Qian Chen’s advantage lay first in the Heaven’s Net Umbrella’s quality—far exceeding the average Spirit Communion cultivator’s, so that even after the serpent’s poison stained the spiritual light, its power was spent.

Second: he detected the poison in the tea the instant he received it.

Even if he hadn’t noticed, Qian Chen would never have ingested anything casually.

Third: Chengwu Shenjun’s every thought, every tactic, was anticipated and controlled by Qian Chen. His prized golden serpent transformation, though astonishing in this martial world, fooled no one among the well-traveled Immortal Daoists. How many of the five-poison methods of body possession and wisdom transference did Chengwu Shenjun know? A dozen? Twenty?

Qian Chen had prepared for all of them.

This single encounter with a martial Grand Master had wasted one Golden Strength Talisman—without even triggering its effect. Any ordinary cultivator seeing this would have been heartbroken, trembling, desperate to plunder this wastrel’s space bag. But Qian Chen himself didn’t care… he was simply generous.

He casually plucked a Soul-Sealing Talisman and drew the spirit from the Dragon Phoenix Ring.

Qian Chen activated the talisman’s power and interrogated Chengwu Shenjun… Based on the fragments the latter had revealed while trying to create a reversal, he seemed connected to Qian Chen’s main quest—he must be questioned thoroughly.