Chapter Forty-Three: Fierce Battle

Lu Qian swiftly gathered the fire dates and tinder into the jade bottle, then summoned his true qi and leapt onto the wreckage of the destroyed raft. Before leaving, he made sure to obliterate the remaining debris. The plank beneath his feet was barely half a man wide, but at his current cultivation level—though he could not yet fly—crossing a river atop a reed was hardly a challenge.

Ao Yin might yet catch up, but Lu Qian no longer worried; he only needed to outrun the other two.

Watching the two men on the island, cursing furiously, Lu Qian called out at the top of his voice, “Fellow Daoists, you must hold on! Return and find me, Li Lin, and we shall share this treasure equally! Ha ha, I’m off!”

With a surge of true qi, the plank shot toward the shore like an arrow. Ma Heng, consumed by anxiety and hatred, sneered coldly. “Damn it! He thinks he can escape this way? Just wait until I—”

A thunderous roar cut him off. Ao Yin had caught up. Seeing the empty fruit tree, he pounded his chest and stamped his feet, rage surging to the heavens. Catching sight of the two men, Ao Yin charged at them like a mad beast, intent on tearing these two damned thieves to shreds.

“It wasn’t me!”
“That man’s up ahead!”
“He took the thing!”
...

Once ashore, Lu Qian ran with all his might. His body was nothing like that of an ordinary Daoist—his full speed far surpassed even the legendary blood-sweating steeds that could travel six hundred li in a day. When exhaustion overtook him, he would pause, cut out a paper horse with corpse-mallet paper, and ride it onward.

He returned to his mountain cave, stripped off his clothes beneath a tree, changed into a fresh set, and incinerated the cave behind him. From his cloth bag, Lu Qian retrieved a delicately crafted paper bird. He took out his most precious ink, drawn from the eyes of a toad, and dabbed it onto the bird’s eyes.

A violent gust of wind swept through. A pigeon, pure white and with pitch-black eyes, appeared in the clearing, its wingspan stretching over five zhang—a true behemoth. Lu Qian climbed onto its back.

Another great gust. The white pigeon soared skyward.

Lu Qian lay silent atop the bird, confidence swelling in his chest. This bird was his trump card for this excursion. Few in the Qi Refining stage possessed the means of flight.

Only upon reaching the Spirit Nurturing stage, when the Yin Spirit could leave the body and possess objects, did flying techniques become numerous—like riding a sword, for example.

“They never expected I’d fly home,” Lu Qian mused silently.

In truth, it was his first time flying as well. He’d always been uncertain—paper birds were light, but could carry little weight. With a man on its back, the wings had to be greatly extended. The larger the body, the more true qi was consumed—by geometric multiples. Even with his abundant true water energy, it was barely enough to sustain the flight. He estimated he could manage only one or two hundred li. If need be, he could use the natural dispersant he’d purchased at the temple to instantly replenish his true qi; as for minor corpse-poison, he could dispel it with a wave upon his return.

Still, there was no need to rush back to the sect. He suspected Li Lin and the others might have further tricks up their sleeves, perhaps lying in wait along the road. It was better to hide for ten days or half a month before returning.

In the city of Shadowed Night, chaos reigned. Leaders of two of the three great clans had returned in disgrace, heavily wounded. Their rage was boundless as they turned the city upside down, apparently searching for a man named Li Lin.

In the city lord’s mansion, Ma Heng changed into fresh clothes, but his right arm hung empty at his side. On the other side, Jia Dao’s face was half torn and bloody. Only Ao Yin’s grievous wounds had allowed them to escape that place by a stroke of luck.

“Find him—at any cost, bring back Li Lin!” Ma Heng’s eyes were bloodshot as he smashed a cup. Then he looked to the other Daoists.

“I beg you all—so long as Li Lin is found and the divine medicine recovered, I will offer my entire fortune.”

“No need to plead, fellow Daoist. I will do my utmost to assist.”

“We will surely help you find him,” the others vowed, each patting their chests, though all harbored secret intentions.

Ma Heng understood well—who could remain unmoved by such a treasure? But for now, the first step was to recover it, then discuss how to divide it. This was something he must have, at any cost.

After years of stagnation—even at the late Qi Refining stage—Ma Heng knew he was still worlds away from Spirit Nurturing. The appearance of the fire dates had rekindled his ambitions. He recited an incantation, and in the empty air, an upright yellow weasel appeared.

“Great Weasel Immortal, I ask you to find someone for me…”

The weasel sniffed the air, its paw pointing southeast.

“Let’s go!” Ma Heng’s eyes shone with ferocity. The whole group set out in force.

...

In the depths of the misty forest, the air hung thick with dampness. Dense fog curled between the trees, within which ghostly figures could be faintly discerned.

Among them was a spirit whose features bore a resemblance to Li Lin. This was Li Lin himself. After Lu Qian left the mountain, Li Lin had immediately set about trying to eliminate him. But Lu Qian was cunning; once gone, he vanished without a trace. Even sending men to Shadowed Night City yielded no news. Helpless, Li Lin could only wait along the road back to the mountain—Lu Qian would not simply disappear unless he intended to defect. And unless a disciple had committed unspeakable crimes, few ever wished to flee; the sect’s resources, accumulated over centuries, were far beyond what a mere rogue cultivator could gather. Even if one had to earn them through effort, there was always hope. Without a complete cultivation method, a rogue would never rise far.

“Master Li, could that boy have died out there?” a ghostly voice asked gloomily.

“No,” Li Lin shook his head. He looked down on Lu Qian, but grudgingly admitted the man had a certain cunning—he would not die so easily.

“When you see Lu Qian coming, kill him on the spot—no need for talk. Understood?”

These ghosts were all Li Lin’s subordinates. Their corporeal forms were present as well; to resolve the matter quickly, even Li Lin’s true body had come.

“We understand!”

With a swish, the figures melted back into the black mist.

Meanwhile, the group from Shadowed Night City was in pursuit.

“Fellow Ma, this path seems to lead to Tongyou Temple,” Jia Dao said, a note of concern in his voice.

“What of it?” Ma Heng ground his teeth. “We’ll intercept him at the gates; don’t alert their superiors.”

Compared to Tongyou Temple, they were like ants shaking a great tree. But Ma Heng was unwilling to let this rare opportunity slip by. With the treasure in hand, he could break through to Spirit Nurturing. Even if it meant offending the temple, the world was vast enough for him.

“Li Lin…” Ma Heng muttered the name, hatred boiling within him.

Suddenly, Ma Heng looked up.

“Stop! Someone’s lying in ambush ahead!” he called urgently.

The mountain path ahead was eerily silent, flanked by greenery and a faint mist. To others, it might have seemed ordinary, but to Ma Heng, it was a scene of towering yin energy.

“Which fellow Daoist waits ahead? I am Ma Heng and wish to pass,” he said courteously, not wanting unnecessary trouble.

“We are under Master Li Lin’s command. All idle people, leave at once!” a voice shouted from the woods.

“So, Li Lin’s reinforcements after all. Kill them!”

“No, maybe they’re Lu Qian’s reinforcements—attack!”