Chapter 460: Mi Shan Shiren

Upon hearing the scarred giant’s words, most of the cultivators at Lingxi Bay changed expression again.

Then, from the three spirit rafts, the cultivators all flew out and spontaneously stepped aside, revealing a white-haired elder in the center, his face glowing red, clad in a black robe.

“Lu Bafang.”

Upon seeing the white-haired elder, the cultivators of Lingxi Bay all turned their gazes upon him, and someone involuntarily whispered his name in fear.

The white-haired elder merely flicked his sleeve, releasing a spiritual pressure far exceeding Late-Stage Qi Refinement, and sneered coldly:

“You didn’t expect it, did you? At my age, I’ve still broken through the Late-Stage bottleneck—I’m now at the peak of Qi Refinement, no longer afraid of that beast.”

“Now, you have two choices: either leave immediately and surrender Lingxi Bay, or I’ll cut you down one by one and leave all your corpses here.”

As soon as he finished speaking, he flipped his wrist, and a pale red long-blade appeared in his hand; he dragged a finger across its edge.

“Whoosh.”

A flame several feet long erupted from the blade, rolling outward in a wave of searing heat; the rapidly rising temperature in the surrounding air sank the hearts of the Lingxi Bay cultivators.

The cultivators of Qixing Pond seized the moment to press in from both sides, subtly surrounding the entire group of Lingxi Bay cultivators.

“Hmph, noisy.”

At that moment, a man’s cold sneer suddenly echoed through the nearby void—soft in volume, yet icy and piercing, clearly reaching every ear.

Above, high in the sky, a silver-gleaming small seal suddenly appeared with a “puff,” swelled instantly upon the wind into a massive five or six zhang tall, and crashed down like a mountain.

This sight horrified both sides; they all recoiled in unison, each scrambling to summon their artifacts or activate escape techniques.

At that instant, thirty-six fist-sized silver inscriptions surfaced on the bottom of the silver giant seal, emitting a low humming sound.

“Second-rank artifact—second-rank mid-grade artifact.”

The scarred man, moments ago filled with ruthless fury, saw this and his courage shattered; he frantically shot toward a nearby spirit raft—but an overwhelming force had already swept down from above, engulfing all the Qixing Pond cultivators, making their bodies as heavy as Mount Tai, unable to move an inch.

Only Lu Bafang screamed in terror, “Elder, spare me!” and suddenly threw out an old, worn yellow talisman.

The talisman unfurled in the wind, releasing a surge of green light that enveloped the elder, barely breaking the crushing force in the void and fleeing far away.

“Hmm? Second-rank talisman.”

Another voice, tinged with surprise, echoed from the void—but the next instant, a streak of dark light flashed through the air; the elder screamed like a bird struck by an arrow, tumbling out of the wind and crashing heavily onto the river below.

A few breaths later, his corpse floated to the surface, face upturned to the sky, a jet-black flying dagger embedded in his brow, two-thirds of its length buried deep.

This elder, who had just broken through to the peak of Qi Refinement, was now dead.

Seeing this, the other Qixing Pond cultivators turned pale; no one knew who started it, but all dropped to their knees and shouted toward the giant silver seal above: “Elder, we surrender! We pledge allegiance to you!”

“Elder, I also submit.”

“It was Lu Bafang who misled us—we would never dare offend you!”

…

In an instant, all the Qixing Pond cultivators knelt in midair, none daring to rise.

The Lingxi Bay cultivators, realizing they were unaffected by the silver seal’s power, were stunned with joy; they stopped fleeing and turned to gaze at the silver seal.

“Since you surrender, I’ll spare your lives—stay here quietly and await my next orders.” The man’s voice echoed again through the void.

The silver seal rolled, shrank rapidly back to its original size, trembled slightly, then dissolved into a silver glow and shot away.

At the same moment, the black flying dagger embedded in Lu Bafang’s corpse leapt free, transformed into a streak of dark light, and followed the silver glow.

Only the low-level cultivators remained, staring at each other in stunned silence.

The silver glow and the dark streak howled straight toward a stone hut deep within Lingxi Bay, vanished in a flash, and disappeared into the sleeve of a young man seated in meditation on the bed.

The young man was naturally Wang Yu, who had nearly fully refined the pills and recovered most of his injuries.

Before him stood the two sisters, Shi Qiuping and Shi Hongyao, obediently standing by the bed; Shi Qiuping’s eyes held a faint glimmer of excitement, as if she had already guessed the outcome on the river, while the young girl Shi Hongyao wore a look of utter confusion, unaware of what had just happened.

The two large and small iron-headed crocodiles lay quietly in the corner of the room.

“Shi Xianzi, take Da Lv and a few others and seize Qixing Pond for me.”

“Hongyao, take Xiao Bai and bring all those Qixing Pond people here—keep them under control.”

“Also, isn’t there another cultivation faction nearby called ‘Bailin Ao’? I’ll be back shortly.”

After Wang Yu spoke calmly, he formed a hand seal; a gentle breeze swept before him, and he vanished with the wind.

“Yes.”

“As you command.”

Though startled, the Shi sisters bowed quickly and replied, each taking one of the beasts and hurrying out of the stone hut.

…

More than a month later.

A piece of news spread through the many cultivation factions along the Hanlan River.

It was said that in a minor, low-tier faction downstream, a Foundation Establishment elder had appeared, swiftly absorbing five or six nearby small factions and gathering over two hundred scattered cultivators, proclaiming himself “Mi Shan Shiren” and raising the banner of the “Mi Shan Sect.”

“Mi Shan Sect? Foundation Establishment elder?”

In the upper reaches of the Hanlan River, dozens of li from the riverbank, within a valley where monkey cries echoed endlessly, in a house of red brick and blue tiles.

A yellow-haired old man, broad-shouldered and burly, with pointed ears and a monkey-like face, muttered a few words, rubbed his hands together, and the letter he had just read turned to ash, scattering on the floor.

His eyes flickered, but his expression remained unchanged.

…

In the center of an unusually wide stretch of the Hanlan River, on a small island no more than a few li across, within the underground chamber of a jet-black fortress.

“Xin’er, what do you think of this newly emerged Mi Shan Shiren?”

A young man with shoulder-length yellow hair, having just finished reading the letter in his hand, said nothing, but turned to a refined middle-aged man standing respectfully beside him and asked.

“Father, this Mi Shan Shiren is likely no friend.” The middle-aged man, clearly already aware of the letter’s contents, replied respectfully.