Chapter 102: A Shrimp Bites the Hook

Xiang Weiyuan reviewed the relevant information in his mind. The Xu family was one of the Seven Surnames and Thirteen Clans, with their main power base in the central-western region of Ningzhou. The human race had only taken control of the entire Ningzhou for less than two thousand years, so the Xu family was considered new nobility, and among the aristocratic clans, their strength was at the bottom. Several years ago, the territory several thousand li west of Hanyang Pass had all been under Xu family influence, where they had established a Celestial Grotto; both government offices and cultivation sects were deeply entangled with them. But after the entire region was seized by the Wu Yu tribe, the grotto shattered, and the Xu family suffered a massive blow, their strength directly dropping by two-tenths.

Xiang Weiyuan’s only interaction with the Xu family had been back then during the martial assessment, when the purple-flame youth Xu Yinyin had slowly crawled through the air. He was brave, yes—but his arms were too short. After Xiang Weiyuan speared him into the air, he strained desperately but could never reach him, and finally left in bitter resentment.

Yet from the shopkeeper’s tone, the Xu family was secretly involved in the head trade? The shattered lands were lawless, having changed hands repeatedly; brothels couldn’t last long, but heads remained the most stable commodity for the Wu Yu tribe. He just didn’t know whether this head trade was the work of a few individuals in secret, or whether it had always been this way.

“Do you have a portrait of the female cultivator?”

“That nobleman said the female cultivator’s face may have been altered, so he provided an item she wore close to her body—on it, her aura remains.”

The shopkeeper pulled out a jade earring, upon which indeed clung a faint Yin aura. Xiang Weiyuan’s heart tightened—this aura bore a striking resemblance to Yun Feifei’s!

Xiang Weiyuan kept his expression neutral, tucked the earring away, and said: “You may treat Wang Lang as dead. What magic treasures do you have? Bring them all out!”

The shopkeeper looked uneasy. “This isn’t quite proper, is it? That nobleman only releases the magic treasures once the goods are delivered. If you’re still uneasy, then if none of the treasures suit you, I’ll add two hundred immortal silver taels.”

“Deal.”

With the deal settled, the shopkeeper beamed and stopped bothering Xiang Weiyuan. But as soon as he stepped out the door, he heard Xiang Weiyuan’s cold voice from inside: “The female cultivator’s identity isn’t simple, is it?”

The shopkeeper’s heart jolted—he hadn’t expected this fool to be sharp beneath his clumsiness.

He immediately forced a smile and whispered: “Your Immortal insight is truly piercing! To be honest, that female cultivator was a relative of the former Prefect. After the former Prefect was convicted and beheaded, she somehow escaped and hid outside for years—until by chance she fell into Wang Lang’s hands, and was then sent back.”

“Truthfully, the woman isn’t particularly beautiful, but that nobleman has a taste for noblewomen of status—that’s why he’s willing to pay such a high price for this deal. Prefects are rare; once you have this woman, you don’t use her just once or twice, so the nobleman isn’t losing out.”

Xiang Weiyuan remained silent, face cold.

The shopkeeper hurriedly added: “Fifty more taels!”

Xiang Weiyuan nodded.

After the shopkeeper left, Xiang Weiyuan leisurely finished breakfast, then donned a common black cloak from the region, covered his face, and left the inn. Fishing can’t be done in one spot forever—like sea fishing, you must sail around on a boat to catch the big fish.

Xiang Weiyuan concealed his face and wandered aimlessly through the town. He had no goal, going wherever he pleased, silently listening to surrounding voices and sensing all nearby auras.

“...My lord, this man’s soul is so strong—shouldn’t we add more...?”

“...Tonight we act together. Watch my eyes—go in and kill!”

“Big brother, you’re blind—how are you going to watch your own eyes?”

“...Then watch my gestures!”

“Tomorrow we return to Ningzhou. If we capture just one Dao Foundation cultivator matching the destiny pattern, we’ll strike it rich.”

Of all these voices, six or seven out of ten related to the head trade. Qu Liu Town housed many Wu Yu tribesmen, and their greatest demand from humans was humans themselves. Doing business with the Wu Yu tribe meant heads were the fastest and most profitable commodity.

As Xiang Weiyuan walked and listened, he gradually came to understand the entire Qu Liu Town, and learned many hidden secrets.

When Xiang Weiyuan turned to the west quarter, he noticed distinctly different courtyards. These courtyards were circular, mostly filled with water; there were no paths from gate to main house—residents simply waded through the water. These circular courtyards were typical Wu Yu dwellings.

Along the western street, many people were tightly wrapped, but many others showed no concealment—revealing enormous heads, wrinkled faces, and limbs resembling birds or beasts. Their eyes were the size of eggs, grotesquely oversized compared to their bodies, lacking pupils—just patches of gray or black.

These were the Wu Yu people, living amid waters and swamps. To human standards, they looked monstrous, like grotesque hybrids of birds and beasts—but in truth, they were naturally gifted in magic and excelled in rituals. Some rituals required mass blood sacrifices and could unleash apocalyptic power, forcing even Immortal Lords to avoid their Fengmang .

Upon reaching adulthood, every Wu Yu person held a ritual, offering sacrifices they personally hunted, seeking power. After the ritual, their limbs often changed—most commonly into bird or beast forms. Such physical transformations generally indicated spiritual abilities; among Dao Foundation cultivators, the more bird- or beast-like and bizarre their appearance, the stronger they were.

The Wu Yu tribe’s overall strength was formidable, even surpassing the northern Liao tribe. But they apparently had another powerful enemy to the west, constantly tying down their main forces, so their advance against humans had stalled, and they had slightly retreated overall.

As Xiang Weiyuan walked through the west quarter, he gradually felt uneasy. The number of Wu Yu people here far exceeded his expectations. After passing just one street, he had counted over a hundred pure-blood Wu Yu, including seven or eight Dao Foundation cultivators. So many Wu Yu defied logic—was some major event about to happen, or was war about to reignite?

Xiang Weiyuan did not press further into the west quarter. Already, too many eyes—overt and hidden—were fixed on him, growing sharper. The Wu Yu sacrificed humans, and the stronger the offering, the better the result. Walking through their territory was like a lone beauty strolling among a pack of vagrants—impossible to avoid attention. The main target hadn’t bitten yet; now wasn’t the time to tangle with these small fry.

Xiang Weiyuan changed direction and headed toward the north quarter, where watching eyes gradually diminished. The north quarter’s scenery differed entirely. Here, low hovels crowded together, each packed with dozens of people. The streets were flooded with sewage, with almost no dry ground visible. Xiang Weiyuan waded through water with every step, and the surface floated with filth, reeking terribly. Fortunately, Xiang Weiyuan was currently blessed by fortune’s aura—this filth drifted toward other directions or brushed past him without touching his boots.

Passing a hovel, a dozen small heads pressed against the doorway, watching Xiang Weiyuan with curiosity and fear. The smallest child clutched a palm-sized beetle, its body already bitten through in several places. Fortunately, the insect had been roasted. Inside the hovel lay a woman, and two men leaned against the wall, dead or alive, unknown.

Just this hovel district likely held tens of thousands. Those living here were all mortals—weak, sickly, perpetually teetering on the edge of death. Their souls were dim; even the Wu Yu wouldn’t accept them as sacrifices.

But ahead of Xiang Weiyuan stood several grand stone courtyards, magnificent and imposing, each nearly a hundred zhang across. Their foundations were raised three chi, completely immune to sewage accumulation. The courtyard walls stood two zhang high, sturdy and grand, with guards atop them, overlooking the vast expanse of low hovels just one street away. These residences clearly followed human architectural style, with private soldiers stationed everywhere.

As Xiang Weiyuan walked, he’d heard many secrets, several concerning these courtyards. It was said they housed members of the Xu family, and of high standing. Two of the courtyards were used exclusively to stockpile troops—likely housing nearly a thousand formidable private soldiers. The Xu family had many businesses in Qu Liu Town, both open and covert, and even the Wu Yu tribe gave them some leeway.

Frankly, Xiang Weiyuan didn’t understand the relationship between the Xu family and the Wu Yu tribe. They had just fought a massive war, killing countless each other, accumulating deep hatred—yet in Qu Liu Town, they coexisted peacefully. According to rumors he’d overheard, there had been no major conflicts between them at all.

The courtyard gates suddenly opened, spilling out dozens of Casting Body warriors. They carried crimson poles two zhang tall, planting them as they marched through the hovel district, quickly fencing off a patch of land dozens of zhang across. A steward shouted loudly: “This land is claimed by our master! All within the poles must vacate within one quarter-hour—these rations are your reward!”

Warriors dumped several large baskets of coarse grain cakes onto the open ground. Instantly, countless people surged forward like starving dogs to fight over them. Several high-ranking warriors began setting fire to the enclosed hovels, burning from north to south, slowly advancing. The magical flames refused to be extinguished by water, the fire line inching forward—but a few slow runners were engulfed, becoming human torches.

Soon, the grain cakes were gone, and the enclosed hovels reduced to ash. The displaced scattered into other hovels—some forcibly squeezed in, some begged their hosts for a corner, most had to fight for space, winning or losing, and within moments, another dozen lives were lost. The few women were taken in; surprisingly, even the children found people willing to shelter them, even if the hovels were already packed with kids.

This scene left Xiang Weiyuan stunned. The refugees he’d seen as a child had been like beasts—but these people were worse than beasts. Even the Xu family’s donkey sheds and pigsties were cleaner than these hovels.

Watching the warriors who burned people without a second thought, Xiang Weiyuan’s expression turned icy. His first catch, Wang Lang, was entangled with the Xu family; Yun Feifei was almost certainly tied to them too. If so, Xiang Weiyuan decided to poke the hornet’s nest—see what secrets lay hidden in those grand courtyards ahead.

!.

Before Xiang Weiyuan could act, a commotion erupted behind him—over a dozen horsemen galloped toward him. Hooves splashed sewage everywhere, and one splash flew straight toward Xiang Weiyuan’s head!

At that moment, Xiang Weiyuan’s temper was already low. Such provocation was intolerable—the dignity of a furious sword cultivator could not be trampled by trash. Instantly, a golden, radiant cauldron appeared above his head, sucking up the sewage in one breath, then slamming it violently down upon the rider! The mere Blood-Refining cultivator’s entire chest caved inward from the impact, flying over ten zhang away and crushing a row of hovels.

The entire cavalry unit was startled. The young swordsman at their head glanced back at Xiang Weiyuan and coldly ordered: “Kill him. Dissect him.”

He then rode straight toward the courtyard ahead, not even sparing another look. Three or five riders followed him, while the rest drew swords and surrounded Xiang Weiyuan.

Xiang Weiyuan stepped slowly backward into the hovels behind him, his aura vanishing—disappearing right before their eyes.

The riders were stunned, immediately galloping into the hovels to search. They didn’t care how many people were crammed inside—they trampled through, and screams erupted beneath their hooves.

At that moment, several dark auras silently entered the horses’ bodies. All the steeds reared up with piercing neighs, throwing half the riders into the sewage. The fallen riders landed hard, motionless. Two Dao Foundation riders were shocked—they barely controlled their mounts, then dismounted to check. They found every fallen rider had a thin wound at the throat, blackened and still radiating fierce sword intent, as if scorched by blazing fire.

At that moment, Xiang Weiyuan’s figure appeared at the far end of the street, flickering constantly—each flash carried him several zhang forward, and in a few steps, he vanished at the street’s end.

The young swordsman, who had already reached the courtyard gate, turned and saw his men slaughtered. Furious, he flung off his cloak, revealing a handsome face with a golden miniature sword on his forehead. He leapt into the air, drawing his sword and slashing out a crescent-shaped sword aura that instantly sliced toward Xiang Weiyuan’s back!

But Xiang Weiyuan’s figure dissolved like ripples, reappearing several zhang away—and he quickened his pace, trying to vanish into the hovel district ahead.

The young swordsman, enraged by his failed strike, merged with his sword, flying like a released arrow straight at Xiang Weiyuan!

But just as he reached peak speed and momentum, a golden cauldron suddenly materialized before him—CRASH!—smashing directly into his face!

No one knew how the cauldron had appeared, but it was thick and hard—undoubtedly harder than his face.

The young man’s face exploded in a spray of gold sparks. He toppled backward, crashing heavily into the sewage. The filth instantly submerged his face, and a wave of garbage pushed against him.

After smashing him, the golden cauldron slowly vanished, calm and composed, its resonant chime lingering in the air.

With a splash, the young man sat up abruptly, his face covered in filth. He instinctively wiped his face—his hand was smeared with blood and waste. His face turned green, and he nearly vomited.

Fortunately, two subordinates arrived, hauling him from the sewage and offering a white cloth. After wiping his face, he saw the cloth stained yellow and green with filth—and finally, he vomited everything he’d eaten for breakfast and last night’s leftovers.

He stared at the hovels where Xiang Weiyuan had vanished, his voice shrill and twisted with rage: “Find him! Track down every single person who uses a cauldron! Turn the ground upside down if you have to!”

At this moment, Xiang Weiyuan had reached the east quarter, unsure whether his newly learned fortune-fishing technique had worked—whether the fish he’d encountered was the one he’d intended to catch.

Twenty-something, Heaven Grade Dao Foundation mid-stage, from the aristocratic Xu family, daring to act recklessly even in the shattered lands... is he even a shrimp?

(End of Chapter)