Chapter Nine: The Gathering of Forces

The clouds hung heavy, obscuring the moonlight that stretched across the sky. Bereft of the moon's glow, the heavens were as black as thick ink. Two figures slipped out of Longba's territory and sped swiftly toward the southwest.

"The smell of blood." Lei Yan's brow furrowed. The moment he stepped beyond Longba's borders, a thick, cloying stench of blood assailed his nostrils. Such a powerful reek could only arise from a slaughter of massive proportions. Turning to Qing Ling, he cautioned, "Ling'er, when we get there, don't get drawn into a fight. Our only goal is to leave this place." At the same time, a reckless thought took root in Lei Yan's mind: *Even if I leave, I'll carve an indelible image of myself into their hearts.*

The pungent odor of blood made Qing Ling frown as well. She gave a soft "mm" of acknowledgment and said, "I'll stay right behind you." As they spoke, the two had already covered a hundred meters.

Sand Lion was an organization driven by fierce ambition, and its leader, Zhu Baitian, was a greedy and treacherous man. The very day Jinwei was destroyed, he had led his men in ransacking the entire Jinwei encampment. That plunder had given him a tantalizing taste of profit. The tripartite balance of the Eight Directions Path had been shattered with Jinwei's fall. With the great families meddling in the affair, Longba had become the decisive prize in the struggle between Bifeng and Sand Lion. Whoever destroyed Longba first would gain the Sun family's support, and with a great family backing them in the Eight Directions Path, supremacy would be within reach. How could Zhu Baitian let such an opportunity slip by? Even Bifeng, which had always maintained neutrality, was now stirred by temptation.

Sand Lion and Bifeng led their forces in a great, sprawling procession to the vicinity of the Poison Mist Forest. The forest that Longba's people seemed to traverse so freely had now become an insurmountable chasm for both armies. Neither side dared to be the first to lead their men into that notorious, dreaded expanse. In the end, the two forces seemed to reach an unspoken agreement: they encircled the Poison Mist Forest.

Suddenly, scattered bandits came charging out of the Poison Mist Forest. These men, who had left Longba dreaming of a better life, now stood dumbfounded. The slaughter erupted at that very moment. When Zhu Baitian saw the bulging bundles these bandits carried, his eyes went red, and without a moment's hesitation he roared, "Kill them all! Spare no one!"

A volley of arrows descended like a plague of locusts upon the bandits who had just emerged. Those who reacted too slowly were instantly pierced into the semblance of hedgehogs. The few who were quick-witted hardened their hearts and drew their blades, charging forward—but scattered ruffians were no match for these organized brigands. In the span of a single breath, they were butchered to the last man.

High above in the pitch-black sky, a man in blue robes floated with his eyes closed, standing upon a flying sword. His garments whipped and snapped in the biting wind. The carnage below drew a faint sneer to the corner of his lips. "Tedious." He then extended his spiritual sense toward the Poison Mist Forest. His awareness, spreading like an enormous net, instantly blanketed the entire forest. He clicked his tongue appraisingly. "This Poison Mist Forest is quite vast. The little ones are all running for their lives." Suddenly his brows lifted. "Cultivators—and two of them, at that." This discovery drew his full attention to the pair.

"Wait." Lei Yan, who had been moving at full speed, halted abruptly. A strange sensation enveloped his entire body—the feeling of being watched. In his past life and this one alike, this instinct had never been wrong. With a flicker of intent, his psi sense burst outward in the same instant, blanketing the entire Poison Mist Forest.

"What's wrong?" Qing Ling asked, somewhat puzzled. At her Foundation Establishment cultivation, she truly could detect nothing unusual.

"Don't speak." Lei Yan made a silencing gesture. Suddenly, a strand of spiritual sense merged with his own psi sense. Lei Yan's heart sank, and he immediately withdrew his power. A cultivator capable of releasing spiritual sense to probe was no ordinary opponent. At the very least, Qing Ling's strength was insufficient to emit spiritual sense, so Lei Yan reasoned the other party was stronger than she was—and, naturally, stronger than himself. Of course, Lei Yan was the exception here; his psi sense served the same function as spiritual sense.

Lei Yan found it strange. His psi sense had detected the other's spiritual awareness, so by all logic, the other should have detected his as well. Yet from the moment Lei Yan first felt something amiss, that spiritual sense had not wavered. *Could it be that he didn't notice?* A bold conjecture was born in Lei Yan's mind. With a flash of intent, he released his psi sense once more. This time, he was far bolder. His psi sense followed that thread of spiritual awareness upward, extending all the way to its point of origin—where it came to rest upon the man in blue robes.

"How odd. What are those two little ones doing?" The man in blue robes, floating in the sky, muttered to himself. Ever since his spiritual sense had discovered Lei Yan and Qing Ling, his attention had been fixed entirely on them—yet now they had stopped.

"Just as I thought." Down below, joy flickered in Lei Yan's heart. The blue-robed man's words confirmed his suspicion: the other had indeed failed to detect his psi sense. At once, Lei Yan used his ability to probe the man's strength. There, in the man's qi sea acupoint, he saw a sphere radiating a brilliant golden light, and around that sphere coiled a wisp of purple aura.

"A Golden Core stage cultivator." Lei Yan's heart felt as though a basin of ice water had been poured over it, extinguishing his brief elation. From that gleaming golden orb, Lei Yan could easily judge the blue-robed man's approximate cultivation. Whether he was in the early Golden Core stage or another phase, Lei Yan could not determine.

Disparities in cultivation directly translate to disparities in strength. For two half-baked cultivators like Lei Yan and Qing Ling to run into a true cultivator—even with matching cultivation levels—they would be hard-pressed to escape death. And this opponent was far above them in power. Anxiety churned in Lei Yan's chest. Then, abruptly, a thought struck him, and he cursed inwardly: *Damn it all, what am I thinking? If he wanted us dead, he'd have come down long ago.*

"Don't say a word. Stay close to me." Lei Yan locked onto the blue-robed man in the sky with his psi sense, speaking to Qing Ling. He dared not explain to her; the blue-robed man's spiritual sense would surely overhear. So he could only tell her to follow. With that, Lei Yan's form suddenly accelerated, charging toward the outskirts of the Poison Mist Forest.

Though Qing Ling had no idea what was happening, she knew Lei Yan must have his reasons for not explaining. She didn't press the matter, merely nodded and followed after him.

Moving at extreme speed, Lei Yan and Qing Ling soon reached the forest's edge. At a distance of a hundred meters, Lei Yan could see clearly with his sharp eyesight: a row of bandits surrounded the forest's perimeter, their eyes burning red like flames, fixed intently on the Poison Mist Forest. In each of their hands gleamed arrow shafts, cold and deadly, as though waiting to fly forward—to fly into the forest.

"Loose!"

"Kill!"

The two commands rang out almost simultaneously from separate locations. As the words faded, another storm of arrows shot toward Lei Yan and Qing Ling like a shower of meteors.

"Ignorant." The blue-robed man in the sky sneered, evidently filled with disdain for those mortal warriors below.

Hearing this, a slight curve appeared at the corner of Lei Yan's mouth. He had originally assumed the blue-robed man was allied with these bandits, and had abandoned the outlandish idea brewing in his mind. But now—now he would plant his image indelibly in the hearts of these brigands. With a flicker of intent, he released his true essence outward, forming a semicircular barrier before him. The hail of arrows failed utterly to shake that barrier, visible even to the naked eye.

"Innate protective qi!" Zhu Baitian, mounted on horseback not far away, exclaimed in shock. In his mind, anyone capable of projecting inner energy outward was a peak Innate Stage master. The thought of cultivators never even crossed his mind.

"Fu Yi, take some men and seize that man for me. And the woman too." Zhu Baitian's voice was cold. If a peak Innate Stage master could be made to serve him, what a magnificent prospect that would be. He was confident that once he captured them, he would find plenty of ways to make the man yield. And that graceful Qing Ling—the mere sight of her stirred a primal urge. If he could have a woman of such strength pinned beneath him, what a delight that would be.

The bandit called Fu Yi acknowledged respectfully and led a hundred men charging forward.

*Crack...* The sound of bones snapping was drowned out by the mournful neighs of horses. Lei Yan had reached his limit of speed, the roar of wind filling his ears. Every time his hand reached out, another bandit's neck was twisted and broken. Qing Ling followed close behind; with Lei Yan clearing the path, she saw little need to lift a finger herself.

Zhu Baitian rubbed his eyes, refusing to believe the sight before him. Yet rather than rage at the death of his men, his heart thrilled: "A master. A true master." But as the moments passed, his expression changed. The hundred-odd bandits Fu Yi had led were already dead at Lei Yan's hands—and he had caught sight of one of Lei Yan's gestures: the slow, casual lick of his fingers. It was a gesture of lingering appetite, of utter disdain. Zhu Baitian's heart trembled. *What kind of man is this? Even a peak Innate master couldn't kill that many people in an instant.*

"A cultivator." The realization struck Zhu Baitian's mind like a clap of thunder. His face went pale, the fingers gripping the reins began to tremble faintly, and the corners of his mouth twitched. "I... I actually tried to subdue a cultivator..." He bit the tip of his tongue, forcing himself to stay calm. A man who had hovered at the edge of life and death for so long knew that if he didn't think of something now, he would die—and, worse, Bifeng would reap the benefit for free. His mind raced. Spotting Fu Zhong nearby with his bloodshot eyes, he immediately conceived a scheme. In a cold voice, he said, "I didn't expect him to be a peak Innate master. Fu Zhong, take the thousand men in the rear and kill him. Tire him out if you have to. This place is yours now. I'll lead the brothers back first."

By now, Fu Zhong had gone mad with grief. Seeing his eldest brother slaughtered by Lei Yan's hands, he had long wanted to charge forward, but without orders he could only endure. Now, hearing Zhu Baitian's words, he let out a furious roar. "Brothers, charge!"

Watching Fu Zhong charge forward, Zhu Baitian sneered twice and thought to himself: *Even a cultivator must eventually exhaust his true essence. A thousand men will wear you down even if they don't kill you. And if they can't... well, I'll be long gone.* With a wave of his hand, he led a contingent of men in a swift retreat from the Poison Mist Forest.

Facing a thousand men, Lei Yan showed no signs of tension. He had no intention of grinding through them all. His true essence suddenly flared outward, lifting his entire body into the air. He grabbed Qing Ling behind him and shot at terrifying speed toward Zhu Baitian.

"Loose!" Fu Zhong charged forward only to see the two figures take to the air. He knew nothing of cultivators, his mind consumed by a single thought: avenging his elder brother. He gave the order at once.

A storm of arrows flew toward Lei Yan and Qing Ling. Lei Yan waved a hand, and a surge of true essence deflected the incoming shafts. His momentum did not diminish in the slightest.

Fu Zhong barked an order and spurred his horse forward at the head of his men. The thousand-odd soldiers followed behind, kicking up clouds of dust into the pitch-black night.

"Interesting. Very interesting." The blue-robed man in the sky watched the scene below with evident amusement, murmuring his admiration.

Zhu Baitian, galloping at full speed, seemed to hear sounds behind him. He didn't dare turn back. He lashed his horse's flank with his whip; with a shrill neigh, the steed surged faster. But how could a horse outrun a cultivator's pursuit—even a Foundation Establishment cultivator's?

*Bang.*

Flying directly above Zhu Baitian, Lei Yan reached down like an eagle snatching its prey—a fierce grab, a sharp twist. The horse crumpled to its knees under Lei Yan's force, and by then, Zhu Baitian's head had already left his body. The headless frame pitched forward and slumped over the horse's back.

Lei Yan hurled Zhu Baitian's head violently toward Fu Zhong, who was charging from behind. The head, arcing like a basketball, tore through the air under Lei Yan's true essence, speeding straight at Fu Zhong. Quick of eye and hand, Fu Zhong swung his iron hammer up horizontally to shield his chest.

*Bang.*

Zhu Baitian's skull smashed against the iron hammer, sending a spray of red-and-white matter splattering in all directions. At the same instant, Fu Zhong was blasted backward off his horse.

"Amitabha." A deep, low voice came from all directions. "Sinful. Sinful. Young benefactor, your karma of slaughter runs too deep."

"Here I was enjoying a fine show, and that old bald donkey from Huayan Temple has to ruin it." The blue-robed man in the sky gave a derisive snort.

"Huayan Temple." Lei Yan repeated the name silently, searching his memory for anything connected to it. But nothing surfaced. As he pondered, a middle-aged monk draped in a kasaya walked slowly toward him, followed by two young monks in yellow temple robes.

The monk was just about to speak when his brow furrowed and he looked up at the sky. Lei Yan and Qing Ling instinctively looked up as well.

Flower petals drifted down like snowflakes, and a burst of fragrance filled the air. Then several women in rainbow silks descended from the sky like celestial maidens. The moment their feet touched the ground, the silk scarves in their hands snapped outward simultaneously, weaving together in the air to form a palanquin. As soon as the palanquin was complete, the women bowed in unison and intoned, "We greet the Flower Immortal."

*Whoosh, whoosh.* A figure in red seemed to tread upon the air itself, striding into the palanquin.

"Flower Immortal!" The blue-robed man in the sky gasped in recognition. With a downward point of his right hand, the flying sword beneath his feet shot downward, and a voice rang out from the sky: "Flower Sister, so you've come too! I've been missing you to death!"

"Oh, and who do I hear? If it isn't my old nemesis." A childlike voice emerged from within the palanquin.

Lei Yan's heart quivered. He couldn't make out the woman's face inside the palanquin, but from the figure he had glimpsed, she was certainly no child. Yet her voice was unmistakably that of a child—cloying and coquettish in a way that sent a chill down Lei Yan's spine.

Lei Yan pulled Qing Ling and headed toward the Eight Directions Town. His mind was in turmoil. Above him, a Golden Core stage cultivator. Below him, a monk of unknown power. And now this Flower Immortal. If he lingered any longer, who knew what other figures would appear.