Chapter 511: Probe

Pan Yun showed no mercy, knowing he was fast at forming hand seals, so she closed in for direct assault.

As she drew near, she heard a soft laugh.

Pan Yun whirled around—dozens of fireballs instantly appeared, surrounding her completely.

The commotion was too great; even though the two had deliberately kept their distance and erected a barrier, Wang Cong and the others by the fire still saw it.

They sprang to their feet at once, tiptoeing to strain their eyes toward the distance.

"Boss, what's going on over there? Fireworks?"

"Bullshit—who sets off fireworks in the wilderness at night? Besides, that doesn't look like fireworks at all—it's more like fireballs floating in the air."

"Could this… be ghost fire?"

"Aren't ghost fires blue? This isn't blue, and it's floating way too high."

Wang Cong's heart pounded violently; he grabbed Hu Jing and pulled him aside. "They're cultivators—but I don't know who or why they've come. They won't kill casually, of course, except for demonic cultivators. I'll give you a horse—run now."

Hu Jing: "Are they after me?"

"Who knows?" Wang Cong said. "If they're not after you, then you run and we're safe. If they are after you, we're still safe."

Hu Jing: …

Wang Cong pulled all his talismans from his body and shoved them into Hu Jing's hands. "Run fast."

"What about you…"

Wang Cong: "No more talk—if they're after you, I can still buy you a moment."

Hu Jing gripped the talismans tightly, frowning. "Can you hold them off?"

"I can't hold them, but if they're after you, they won't dare touch me," Wang Cong said. "My father still has some reputation in the cultivation world."

He led over the best horse and was about to shove Hu Jing onto its back when his heart lurched—he spun around—and saw a figure hurtling toward him from midair with crushing force…

Wang Cong didn't even catch the person's face—only five fingers rapidly reaching for him. Without thinking, he slashed his hand before his chest—a Taiji Yin-Yang symbol materialized instantly. At the same time, he slapped his waist—a glowing peach wood plaque flared to life, shielding him and Hu Jing.

The movements seemed numerous, yet only a breath had passed. After completing his defense, he was about to counterattack when—BOOM—Pan Yun shot in like a meteor, seized Zhang Ziming's descending hand, and yanked him away with a sharp WHOOSH.

Wang Cong and Hu Jing stared upward, dumbfounded.

Pan Yun's voice echoed in their ears: "Keep roasting your fire. Leave at dawn. This has nothing to do with you."

Wang Cong and Hu Jing watched the two figures flash across the sky; the fireballs above slowly faded, and all returned to stillness.

The attendants still gazing upward knew nothing of what had just happened—it had been too fast, their attention still fixed on the floating fireballs.

Now that the fireballs vanished, they turned their eyes back and saw Wang Cong holding a horse's reins. "Boss, are we leaving tonight?"

Wang Cong silently released the reins, patted the faintly glowing peach wood plaque at his waist. "No. I was just wondering if the horse was hungry—it's been neighing all along. Nothing's wrong. Everyone, rest up. We leave at dawn."

Hu Jing silently sat back down by the fire.

After a long silence, Wang Cong finally asked: "Hu Daxia, when will you leave?"

Hu Jing: "Are you driving me away?"

Wang Cong hurriedly said: "No, I just wanted to prepare myself mentally—I've set aside some silver for you…" "No need," Hu Jing said. "I promised Pan Yun I won't run off."

That meant he intended to stay with him indefinitely.

Wang Cong fell silent.

Hu Jing also remained quiet for a long while before speaking: "How strong is your junior uncle in your line?"

Wang Cong, proud: "First Marquis."

Hu Jing lowered his gaze: "We martial artists don't have clear divisions like you do. We just fight—challenge one by one, clan by clan. Whoever wins is stronger; a draw means equal. Unlike you—word is, high-level cultivators can glance at someone and instantly know their realm."

Wang Cong said: "It's not quite that powerful, but we do have clear divisions—because the opening of meridians and acupoints determines how Qi flows through the body, and that's immediately apparent."

"We cultivate to comprehend the Dao, to seek truth—not for combat, not for fighting. We don't judge strength by duels. In a true life-or-death struggle, the First Marquis might still kill the Second Marquis—experience and ruthless heart give extra advantage."

Hu Jing pondered.

Wang Cong, seeing his interest, added: "Though you martial artists have no formal ranks, we've assigned you ones anyway."

Hu Jing raised an eyebrow: "Oh?"

One mistake, one misstep, one misjudgment—content in one glance!

Wang Cong said: "We classify you by the depth of your internal force."

Hu Jing scoffed: "Some barely train internal force at all—they excel in external arts. They can still kill those with internal force."

Wang Cong nodded: "So it's only our own standard—not one we force upon martial artists."

He said: "This is the classification system of Long Hushan Academy—it's meant to warn students that beyond heaven there is higher heaven, beyond people there are greater people."

Our third- and fourth-year students must go out to train in the mortal world—they must interact with martial artists."

"Most of our students train internal force, with external arts limited to swordplay and fist techniques, and the rest are spells. Honestly, in spells, we can't match you."

Hu Jing looked skeptical: "Just now, your junior uncle and Zhang Ziming's move…"

Wang Cong: "How many people in the world are like my junior uncle? Zhang Ziming is the Zhang Yuanzhu of the Ten Hua Courtyard—he's the head of the academy!"

Hu Jing finally felt a chill.

Wang Cong smiled: "You don't need to fear, Hu Daxia. According to the Five Times and Seven Marquises system, your skill—whether internal or external—falls in the Fourth Time. In our classification for martial artists, you're already a second-tier expert. Push further, and you'll reach first-tier."

Hu Jing's eyes flickered: "And beyond that?"

"That depends on your talent and fortune. With the right opportunity and insight, you might even enter the Dao through martial arts—become a supreme-tier warrior, even rival the First Marquis."

Hu Jing's eyes blazed with brilliance; he bowed. "Brother Wang, I look forward to your guidance."

Wang Cong quickly returned the bow: "Hu Daxia, you're too kind—we'll just train together, train together."

The two exchanged smiles. Wang Cong didn't know what Hu Jing was thinking, but his face beamed while his heart snorted inwardly.

Clever old fox. The Five Times and Seven Marquises system may be unrecognized by martial artists, but any seasoned veteran knows the cultivators' combat ranking.

What's all this pretending to be clueless?

He just wants to pry out my Dao-seeking methods and climb higher by clinging to my junior uncle.

Wang Cong lowered his arm, exchanged a glance with Hu Jing, and both chuckled softly before turning their heads together toward the firepit, each harboring secret intentions.

I wonder how Little Master Shu is doing. (End of chapter)