Chapter Seventy-One: A Clever Plan Gone Awry

The woman in red was stunned by Liang Yan’s question. She scrutinized his expression and found genuine surprise on his face—it didn’t seem feigned. Suspicion crept into her heart: “Could this man have some connection to my Fragrant Sect? I wonder if it’s friendly or otherwise. I’d better probe his intentions first.”

With her mind made up, she smiled at Liang Yan and said, “The three of us are indeed disciples of the Fragrant Sect. I am Nangong Xiaomei.” She gestured to the swordswoman and the girl in green. “These are my junior sisters, Yue Xiaozhu and Li Xiaosong. May I ask your name, sir? Do you perhaps share some history with our sect?”

Liang Yan listened to her introduction and thought, “Senior Brother Zhuo warned me before descending the mountain that the Fragrant Sect is composed mostly of women, skilled particularly in unorthodox arts. The girl and the swordswoman both use poison expertly; even I fell victim to their tricks. Perhaps they truly are from the Fragrant Sect!”

With this in mind, he was nearly convinced. He quickly jumped down from the tree, bowed in apology to the three, and said, “To be honest, I am Liang Yan, a menial disciple from the Star Pavilion. I’ve come down the mountain on a private matter and hope to discuss it with members of your sect.”

But before he could finish, Li Xiaosong interrupted, “I don’t care what sect you’re from! Is the Star Pavilion supposed to be impressive? Are all your sect’s members as sour-faced as you?”

Liang Yan was momentarily taken aback, but since he had first spoiled their plans and now needed something from them, he had no choice but to apologize. “I was indeed reckless, and ruined your scheme. That was my fault. If you have any requests, please speak them plainly—if it’s within my power, I’ll do my best to help.”

Nangong Xiaomei saw his courtesy and found herself unsure how to proceed. She asked, “Let’s set aside requests for now. What is it that you seek from us?”

“Did any of you bring your sect’s Enchanting Incense?”

At this, Nangong Xiaomei’s expression became guarded. She thought, “Enchanting Incense is a secret of our sect, coveted by many. This man asks for it immediately—perhaps he’s been plotting all along.”

She quietly stepped back a few paces, shielding Li Xiaosong and Yue Xiaozhu behind her, scanning the surroundings as if searching for Liang Yan’s accomplices.

Seeing her wariness, Liang Yan silently cursed himself, “I asked too abruptly, eager for the incense. Now they’re suspicious and likely won’t sell it to me.”

Sure enough, Nangong Xiaomei said, “You want Enchanting Incense, but instead of attending the Screen Mountain exchange, you seek us out privately. Why is that?”

Liang Yan gave a bitter smile. “It concerns a personal ailment—an urgent matter. I must obtain the Enchanting Incense at any cost. Name your price; I’ll spend everything I own to buy it.”

Nangong Xiaomei sneered, “If I refuse to sell, will you try to take it by force?”

“I wouldn’t dare!” Liang Yan replied solemnly.

“In that case,” Nangong Xiaomei said coolly, “let’s meet at the Screen Mountain exchange. There are rules for everything. We’ve come here at the invitation of the Qishan Sect, and promised them we’d auction the Enchanting Incense at the exchange. Selling it privately would violate the alliance’s rules.”

---

Her words were impeccably spoken, but Liang Yan could see she still resented him for injuring her junior sisters. Yet now she’d made her position clear, leaving no room for negotiation. There was no hope of obtaining the incense ahead of time.

Resigned, Liang Yan sighed, “Very well. I’ll attend the Screen Mountain auction as scheduled. I trust your sect won’t break its promise.”

“That’s certain; you needn’t worry,” Nangong Xiaomei replied with a gentle smile. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my unruly junior sisters and bid you farewell.”

Liang Yan nodded, clasped his hands in salute, and said, “Until we meet again.”

Nangong Xiaomei returned his bow, then led her two junior sisters away. Li Xiaosong, before leaving, turned back and bared her little tiger teeth at Liang Yan, shaking a fist at him in playful defiance.

Watching the three women depart, Liang Yan laughed at himself. “So much for cleverness—I ended up shooting myself in the foot.”

He stood in place for a moment, muttering, “I’d best head to the exchange at Screen Mountain’s summit. There are still three days, but I’m unfamiliar with the area, so early preparation can’t hurt. I must not fail this time.”

---

Screen Mountain towered into the clouds, and near its peak, white mist had gathered who knew when. Not only mortals, but even birds and beasts would lose their way here, forced to retreat in vain.

Along the mountain path came a youth in gray, wearing straw sandals and carrying a straw hat on his back—it was Liang Yan, hurrying onward.

Reaching the mist, he took a talisman from his storage pouch and tossed it into the air. The talisman caught the wind and ignited, spinning down in front of Liang Yan, then burrowing into the mist as if guiding the way.

The sight reminded Liang Yan of his first time at the Emerald Mountain auction, when others had used such “road guides.” Back then, he’d had the old monk to lead him and hadn’t needed one himself. Now, as memories resurfaced, he felt a pang of bitterness.

“I wonder how the old man is now. He said he’d leave me when he met a formidable foe… Old man, don’t die too soon…”

He was lost in sentiment, but the road guide talisman floated ahead, disappearing into the mist, barely visible.

Suppressing his thoughts, Liang Yan hurried after it.

He followed the road guide through the mist for half a stick of incense’s time. The mist ahead suddenly thinned, the talisman burned out, its flames extinguished, and it fell to ash.

---

Liang Yan stepped forward, and the mist vanished completely—he was startled to find himself atop Screen Mountain. Blue sky and white clouds, gentle wind swirling, filled him with a sense of serenity, almost as though he’d ascended to immortality.

Looking around, he saw no small town of cultivators as he’d imagined, but already many had gathered. Some were whispering in small groups, others sat alone on giant stones, meditating with eyes closed.

“It’s only a gathering by some minor sects—the facilities won’t be grand,” Liang Yan thought.

After all, once a cultivator reached mid-Foundation stage, they could found their own sect. The strongest in most minor sects were merely Foundation stage. In Zhao, if a sect produced someone who reached the Gathering Essence realm, they could evolve into a medium-sized sect. Super sects like the Star Pavilion were rare—hence its reputation as the premier sect of Zhao.

But most cultivators cared little for material comfort; as long as their needs were met, all was well.

Liang Yan found a giant stone near a cliff and sat cross-legged. Outwardly, his eyes were closed in meditation, appearing as still as a monk. In reality, he silently circulated the “Muddled Arts,” amplifying his senses to the utmost, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes of gathering information about the exchange.

Unfortunately, though the discussions were many, most knew little of the auction’s contents—he found nothing of value.

Thus, Liang Yan feigned sleep for three days. By the third morning, the number of cultivators atop the mountain had swelled, and few new arrivals emerged from the mist. Clearly, nearly all participants had arrived.

Suddenly, a hearty laugh echoed from the mist, and a burly man in yellow strode forth. He had thick brows and eyes, a bushy beard, and wore wide sleeves, looking every bit the wandering hero.

Liang Yan narrowed his eyes. “Foundation stage cultivator!”

Following the burly man were three junior cultivators. The first, clad in white, was handsome, lightly waving a folding fan with great poise. The second wore blue and carried a blade at his waist, his gaze fierce and unyielding—he never glanced at anyone present. The last was a woman in a splendid red dress, with a redwood hairpin and a gentle, appealing smile that instantly won favor.

To Liang Yan’s surprise, he recognized this woman—it was none other than Nangong Xiaomei, with whom he’d clashed three days prior!