Chapter 109: First Exploration

This divination result was clear: danger indeed awaited Wei Yuan. The white-bearded old man had been assassinated from behind, then slain by a powerful blood curse that also carried impurity and misfortune effects—ordinary anti-curse Dao methods could not defend against it.

Seeing the result, Wei Yuan actually sighed in relief.

Knowing the source of danger made things easier; Wei Yuan had always been cautious, distrusting everyone on this journey, and it was nearly impossible to ambush him. As for countering blood curses, the Tai Chu Palace had no shortage of methods. Though the opponent had added impurity and misfortune effects, one of the small items bestowed by the Immortal Lord was a jade ring specifically designed to block all impurity effects. As for misfortune, Wei Yuan sneered inwardly—no True Lord could break his fortune; let others try if they dared.

The reason this divination went so smoothly was chiefly due to the array disc Wei Yuan had placed within the formation. This disc was crafted by the Immortal Lord himself, instantly elevating the array’s rank to near-infinite levels—almost a true method of inquiring with the Immortals.

Yet Wei Yuan would not be blindly overconfident; he still did what needed doing. From his silk-space, he retrieved a small cloth doll and squeezed a drop of fingertip blood onto it. This doll, too, had been bestowed by the Immortal Lord; once stained with blood, it became a substitute body, bound to Wei Yuan and sharing his injuries.

That meant, if an enemy cursed Wei Yuan, they were effectively cursing both the Immortal Lord and Wei Yuan. Wei Yuan was curious to see whether they could bear the karmic retribution of cursing an Immortal.

After finishing all this, Wei Yuan gathered the array disc, scattered the ground pattern, and erased all traces left at this site. Here, rain fell daily; within a day, all traces would be washed away.

During Wei Yuan’s preparations, Xu Wenwu watched with extreme anxiety, squirming and trying to voice his opinion, but Wei Yuan showed no intention of removing the rope from his mouth.

Moments later, the three remounted their horses. Wei Yuan again sent a strand of black qi to enhance all three mounts, and they rode swiftly toward the Lan Shen Sect. An hour later, they stood before the mountain gate of Lan Shen Palace.

Lan Shen Palace was built into the mountainside, its gate constructed just outside the foot of the mountain—now only half a stone pillar remained; the rest had either crumbled into scattered rubble or vanished entirely. Behind the gate lay a gentle road leading straight to the first great hall, which now stood only as a foundation and a few charred, broken pillars. The path from gate to hall had once been wide enough for two carriages, paved in blue stone, but now most of it was covered in soil, with exposed stones thickly coated in moss.

The main hall of Lan Shen Palace stood halfway up the mountain, over ten miles from the gate. From afar, it was half-collapsed, the remaining portion stubbornly standing. But the surrounding halls had become complete ruins.

Behind the main hall rose a towering peak, steep and perilous, like a sword piercing the sky. Dormitories for disciples had once encircled the peak, but now only fragments of broken walls and ruins remained.

It seemed Lan Shen Palace had been utterly dismantled—in just a few years, only half the main hall remained, the rest reduced to ruins.

“Let’s go, take a look inside,” Wei Yuan said, stepping forward into the lifeless ruins of Lan Shen Sect.

In the northern district of Qu Liu Town, in the rear courtyard of a large mansion, a young swordsman stood before a dignified middle-aged man, slowly unwrapping the bandages from his face. A prominent wound marred his nose, exposing broken bone beneath. His forehead and cheeks bore several gashes, flesh turned outward and already whitening. As the bandages came off, foul stench filled the room—a smell like rotting waste, stagnant sewage, and spoiled food left to fester for days.

The middle-aged man’s expression grew grave as he carefully examined the young swordsman’s wounds, then selected a powder from several vials and sprinkled it over the injuries. His pupils turned silver—he had activated a secret technique, likely a method of observing qi.

After testing several powders, the man finally ended his technique and said gravely: “You’ve been wounded by an object of fortune. But this object is strange—neither real nor unreal, seemingly of extremely high rank, yet insubstantial and gloomy. It struck you directly, shattering your fortune and plunging you into a state of constant misfortune. Your wounds have also been tainted with impurity, equivalent to being cursed once again by the Wu Yu clan. Now your wounds are absorbing surrounding decay, making recovery impossible.”

The young swordsman found it hard to believe: “Such a simple flesh wound could be this complicated?”

“Your wound is more troublesome than poison. Hmm, perhaps you could call it a fortune-wind poison. What have you done lately? How did you provoke such a powerful enemy?”

The young swordsman looked deeply aggrieved: “I haven’t done anything out of the ordinary! I’ve just done the same things as always. That day, we were returning home normally, when suddenly that man attacked and killed several of my guards. I thought he wasn’t that strong, so I chased after him…”

As the middle-aged man listened, he suddenly interrupted and began probing for details, then said: “He killed nine guards in an instant, yet you felt no trace of his spiritual power or even knew what artifacts or techniques he used! How could you think he wasn’t strong? Isn’t he far stronger than you?”

The young swordsman said: “I don’t know—I just felt that way at the time…”

“Could this be fortune-fishing? Or some other divine art?” The moment the thought of fortune-fishing crossed his mind, the middle-aged man leapt to his feet: “Take my token and go find Master Mu Shang. Have him cleanse your primordial spirit!”

The young swordsman was startled: “Is it this serious? Do I really need to see Master Mu Shang?”

The middle-aged man’s face darkened: “You might still have a hook embedded in you—who knows what foolish thing you’ll do next!”

The young swordsman turned pale. At that moment, the steward entered and said: “Master, someone outside wishes to see you—he claims to be from the Tai Chu Palace.”

“Go to the back chamber,” the middle-aged man told the young swordsman, then sat upright. Soon after, a female cultivator entered, dressed in dark red robes, with willow-like eyebrows, pale skin, and an innate, alluring charm.

The woman bowed and said: “I am Zhu Yuanjin of the Hao Tian Pavilion, Tai Chu Palace. I greet Elder Xu.”

“I am Xu Zhiyuan, a scattered cultivator of a branch line—I do not deserve such honorifics.” After exchanging polite formalities, they sat. Xu Zhiyuan asked: “This is a ruined place, devoid of spiritual energy. Why have you come here, Immortal Miss?”

“Several senior brothers came to Ningxi to investigate, but vanished after arriving. So the Palace sent me and others to find out what happened.”

Xu Zhiyuan raised an eyebrow: “How many companions did you bring? Why haven’t they entered?”

“They split up to investigate other leads. Since my master had old ties with Elder Xu Guanwen, I first paid my respects to him, and Elder Guanwen directed me to you.”

Xu Zhiyuan nodded: “Since Sixth Elder instructed it, I will fully cooperate. Whatever you need, say it—I’ll handle what I can. You may stay in the courtyard these days; the outside is truly unpleasant.”

Zhu Yuanjin’s face brightened: “That’s perfect—I’ve been soaked through these past few days.”

Xu Zhiyuan smiled: “Don’t worry—I’ve set up the Shaoyang Warm Wind Array in every guest room; none will ever feel cold or damp, no matter the season.”

Zhu Yuanjin added: “By the way, I’ve heard your son Xu Jingfeng is exceptional in swordplay and Dao arts. Might I ask if he could accompany me these days? I’m unfamiliar with this place and could use an expert’s guidance.”

“That’s unfortunate—my son was injured recently, and his wound is complicated. I’ve sent him to an old friend’s for treatment; he left yesterday.”

“Ah, how terribly unlucky! I’ve long heard Master Xu is a high-level cultivator of the Heavenly Tier, with peerless sword mastery and a noble appearance—I was eager to see him!”

Seeing the woman’s slightly frivolous tone, Xu Zhiyuan’s mind stirred: “Actually, I have a young clan relative—also talented in his youth, and not unattractive. Would you be willing to have him accompany you for now?”

!.

Zhu Yuanjin’s face lit up: “Thank you for your thoughtfulness, Elder Xu!”

Wei Yuan stood atop the ruins of Lan Shen Sect’s front hall, gazing at a stone bas-relief on the ground. It depicted a massive white serpent coiled around seven naked women, its tongue slithering over their bodies.

“Oh! This is so… lewd…” Xu Wenwu blurted out, then remembered Xu Waner was nearby and hastily corrected: “I mean—the carving is… well done…”

Wei Yuan infused the rope with more Dao power, sealing Xu Wenwu’s mouth again.

Once the surroundings fell quiet, Wei Yuan raised a finger and cast a water spell, washing away accumulated soil and rotting leaves, revealing the full bas-relief.

The serpent coiled around seven women, each with a distinct expression and allure, lifelike in every detail. The serpent itself seemed ready to emerge from the stone—its left eye oozed lewdness, its right eye radiated brutality, each gaze different.

Seeing this image, Wei Yuan’s mind stirred. In the idle tales from the Liangping Inn, there was one about a giant serpent that cultivated into human form, becoming a scholar heading to the capital for the imperial exams. On the journey, the scholar met seven young ladies—each as charming as spring orchids or autumn chrysanthemums, each lodging experience uniquely delightful, each impossible to forsake.

On the morning of departure, the scholar told each lady he loved only her, swore he would return to marry her after passing the exams, and vowed a terrible curse upon himself: if he broke his word, he would suffer endless torment and die.

At the capital’s results, the scholar failed the exam.

It wasn’t that he intended to break his vow—the imperial examiners’ questions were too obscure. The serpent, newly transformed, had never encountered human deceit, and answered disastrously. Since he failed, the vow was naturally void.

The serpent transformed back into the scholar and decided to return home leisurely, planning to retake the exam next year, hoping to meet more different ladies along the way. Soon after leaving the capital, he saw a grand estate. A maid, familiar with the place, beckoned him inside, saying the lady waited in the back garden for a night of passion.

The serpent, familiar with the tale, gladly entered the rear mansion—only to find himself in a lavishly decorated hall where all seven ladies sat together at the table. That night, heat rose, spring bloomed, and joy filled the room.

Serpent meat was highly nourishing; all seven ladies blushed with pleasure, leaving half the serpent uneaten.

The tale ended abruptly. Wei Yuan had originally read it as mere entertainment, a disguise for studying rogue minds in his spiritual sea. But now, he saw this exact bas-relief on the ruins of Lan Shen Palace—and it was carved on the floor of the main front hall, a position of great significance.

Lan Shen Sect was a fourth-tier sect, barely one step from third-tier blessed land, its grounds spanning a hundred li—not a minor sect. Even now that it lay in ruins, dozens of human villages still surrounded it, housing tens of thousands. Such a sect would never waste great effort carving an idle tale into the floor of its main hall. More likely, the bas-relief came first, and the tale was inspired by it. The carving must conceal a deeper story.

(End of Chapter)