Volume One: The Dragon Rises from the Wilds Chapter 85: Humility

In the guest room at the back courtyard, Yu Ye put down the wolf-hair brush in his hand.

On the table before him lay a wine jug, a clay bowl, red cinnabar, and a stack of talismans. The brush and cinnabar had been purchased by the Tianbao brothers from a small town dozens of miles away. The twenty or thirty armor-breaking talismans had taken him three days to refine, exhausting the snake skin of the spirit serpent.

Yu Ye picked up one of the armor-breaking talismans and traced it lightly in the air, then slapped it onto his chest. With a flash of light, he vanished from sight. A moment later, his figure gradually reappeared, still seated on the stool, a smile on his face as he exhaled gently.

Following the guidance of the Jiao Shadow and his own insights, he had slightly improved his talisman-crafting technique; using only two or three drops of his vital blood, he had managed to refine twenty or thirty armor-breaking talismans. He referred to the process as 'refining talismans' rather than 'drawing talismans,' since each talisman was forged with his heart’s blood.

Yu Ye gathered the stack of armor-breaking talismans in his hand.

Including those refined earlier, he now possessed thirty-six armor-breaking talismans—his greatest safeguard, and his confidence when facing formidable foes.

Putting away the talismans, Yu Ye rose and sat cross-legged at the bedside, holding a spirit stone in his left hand and rubbing his brow with his right, muttering to himself:

“How can I capture a Qi Refining master alive?”

Within his consciousness, the voice of Jiao Shadow sounded, skeptical—

“Are you mad?”

“Just talking.”

“Have you grown conceited from consecutively slaying Qi Refining masters? You ought to know your limits. Without sword energy, you can’t kill any cultivator, yet you dare dream of capturing one alive…”

“It’s only a question.”

“Capturing a Qi Refining master alive sounds easy enough—cripple his cultivation, then he’s at your mercy.”

“How does one cripple cultivation?”

“That’s even simpler—destroy the sea of qi, sever the meridians. Though life lingers, he becomes a cripple.”

“Can a storage ring contain living beings?”

“A storage ring is a void space; any living thing entering it dies instantly. Surely you wouldn’t use it to store humans? Where do you get such strange notions?”

“Just look—”

Yu Ye swept his sleeve, and several items appeared before him: a piece of white cloth, a jade token, a broken sword, and a palm-sized violet crystal.

The jade token had belonged to Old Feng the Seventh; the cloth, jade token, and crystal were relics of Elder Qiu.

“I suspect the founding of the Immortal Sect by Nanshan and Bu Yi was for the sake of treasures. Take a look—are any of these relics an Immortal Sect treasure?”

“Oh… South of the Rainbow Clouds, Vermilion Bird flies north, Golden Toad emerges from water, Heavenly Secrets can be sought? This cloth is clearly no treasure; the script seems like a verse, its meaning unclear for now…”

Jiao Shadow had never concerned itself with Yu Ye’s actions, nor had it paid attention to these items he acquired.

“The jade token resembles a pendant, slightly larger in size, inscribed with 'Heavenly Secrets' and 'Harmony.' This is a sect token for cultivators—the 'Heavenly Secrets' refers to the sect, and 'Harmony' likely denotes a name or generation.”

“Heavenly Secrets Sect? The Immortal Sect of Qizhou?”

“I know little of Qizhou… The hilt of this broken sword is also engraved with 'Heavenly Secrets.' Perhaps it belonged to the same owner as the token, but it looks odd—might have another purpose.”

“The jade token came from Old Feng, the broken sword from Elder Qiu. How could they have the same owner?”

“I’m only guessing; how could I know the details… This violet crystal is crafted and refined, resembling a star, and looks extraordinary!”

“An Immortal Sect treasure?”

“Though its use is unclear, it is undoubtedly a treasure.”

“Is it related to the treasure sought by the Qizhou cultivators?”

“To know for certain, you’d have to ask those cultivators from Qizhou.”

“Hmm, that makes sense!”

“You…”

…

Half a month later, the subterranean fires of Chenling Mountain finally began to die out. Yet within a hundred-mile radius, the land remained shrouded in gray, murky dust.

Even so, refugees had begun to return home, one after another.

On a highway dozens of miles from Chenling Mountain, figures hurried back and forth—some on foot, some by cart, some with families in tow, some alone. Some wore expressions of hope, eager for the home that lay ahead; others were sorrowful, mourning homes destroyed and the hardship of survival.

There were those who stood by the roadside, quietly observing the scene.

The hardships of the world, the twists of fate, made him reflect on the insignificance of life and the indifference of heaven and earth. He, too, was as insignificant as a speck of dust, yet like the people before him, he had never given up nor succumbed to despair; though the future was uncertain, his feet still pressed onward…

A baby's cry rang out. A woman carrying a swaddled infant stopped in her tracks. The companions by her side all smiled, their faces bright with joy.

Yu Ye reached up to lower his bamboo hat, patted the long sword at his waist, and set off toward Chenling Mountain.

He had returned once more!

Again, he ventured alone into danger.

The Tianbao brothers could not dissuade him; even Jiao Shadow could not persuade him otherwise.

He had his own convictions.

Until he uncovered the true intent behind Nanshan and Bu Yi’s founding of the Immortal Sect, even if he fled overseas or hid at the ends of the earth, he would remain troubled. Moreover, this matter concerned the fate of the entire Great Marsh—how could he let those people run unchecked? Perhaps, in the end, he would change nothing, but at least he would give his utmost, without regret!

Just as when he escaped Spirit Jiao Town, he would never simply leave or hide away.

After traveling more than twenty miles, he reached another crossroads.

A crowd had gathered there, arguing loudly, while several martial men waved their blades to drive people away.

“By the orders of the Daoist Master, no one may approach Chenling Mountain within three months. Please, all of you, leave at once…”

Beyond the crossroads, another twenty miles, lay Chenling Mountain. The dust overhead had grown thicker, so dense it seemed as though night had fallen, cloaking the world in darkness.

Yu Ye pushed through the crowd.

A man brandished his blade to block him: “Go no further, or else…”

Yu Ye bowed his head and spoke in a low voice, “I have matters to report. May I ask where the Daoist Master is?”

“The masters are still in the mountain. And you are…?”

Yu Ye brushed aside the blade before him and strode forward boldly. The martial men assumed he was a newly initiated sect disciple and did not stop him further.

He went another three or five miles, seeing no one ahead or behind.

Yu Ye quickened his pace.

His conversation with the martial men had only been to probe for information, but he unexpectedly learned the whereabouts of several cultivators, prompting him to change his plan.

What were the cultivators hiding in Chenling Mountain up to?

Was Nanshan among them, or Bu Yi?

Soon, the canyon appeared ahead, shrouded in dust and darkness. Yet the distant sky remained bright—daylight above, darkness below, as if yin and yang stood opposed, day and night coexisting.

Beyond the canyon, the scene changed.

Yu Ye paused and looked around.

A choking atmosphere rushed at him.

In the night sky, wisps of dust still drifted down.

The river to the right had dried up, the houses to the left reduced to ruins. The once bustling town was gone, even the streets buried beneath thick layers of ash.

Yu Ye gazed upon the desolation and silence, sighing inwardly.

A single outbreak of subterranean fire had destroyed everything. The overwhelming power of heaven and earth made one feel small and powerless. Perhaps this was the mercilessness of the Dao. Yet those who lived, still pressed onward…

As Yu Ye pondered, his expression grew serious.

On the dust-covered street, faint footprints could be seen—Qizhou cultivators must have passed this way. Though they used lightness techniques, traces remained.

Yu Ye looked down at his feet.

The dust was a foot or two deep, like snow, but gray and powdery; a step left a deep pit.

Yu Ye activated his true qi to shield himself, tapped his toes, and soared three yards into the air. Before landing, he tapped again, leaving only a faint print below. He seized the momentum and sped forward, swift as the wind.

In an instant, he reached the foot of the mountain.

The mountain stood as before, but its trees were barren, the slopes covered in ash, all silent and dead.

Before long, he was among the mountains, surrounded by devastation, but now enveloped in drifting smoke—fortunately, his true qi shielded him, and the old paths were still faintly recognizable.

Yu Ye moved through smoke and ashes, like a lone bird in the night, searching for a spark of life amid desolation, seeking the light at the end of darkness.

And the end of darkness seemed close at hand.

A thousand yards ahead, thick mist billowed upward, reaching the sky. Though still far, and his true qi shielded him, the heat was intense, daunting even from a distance.

Around the mist, heaps of black stone were piled high, like flowing mud, now solidified and radiating scorching energy.

Yu Ye landed on a protruding stone.

The former ridge was gone. The mist, encircled by mud and stone, marked the site of the extinguished subterranean fire.

Yet he saw no one.

Could the Qizhou cultivators be elsewhere?

Yu Ye was about to turn back when he glanced behind.

A hundred yards away, stones stood tall. In the darkness, a figure flashed and vanished.

Yu Ye turned and rushed over.

The standing stones had not been swallowed by mud, but split open, revealing a gap—a pitch-dark cave of unknown depth.

Yu Ye approached silently, surveying his surroundings, peering into the cave, but found nothing unusual. After a brief hesitation, he stepped inside.

The cave was taller than a man, descending deeper underground. Within, the heat became even more intense, but his true qi shielded him well enough.

Yu Ye slowly searched his way downward.

After ten yards, the cave opened into a cavern, splitting into several tunnels leading in all directions below.

Yu Ye paused before one tunnel.

With his spiritual sense, the darkness was as bright as day. Yet before the myriad tunnels, he was still unsure which way to go.

Bang, bang—

Just then, the sound of someone striking stone echoed nearby.

Judging by the sound, it was not far.

Yu Ye moved quietly.

He passed through two tunnels, and to his right, another cavern appeared.

A middle-aged man was swinging a sword at a block of black stone, complaining, “The spiritual veins here are thin, destroyed by the fire—can’t find even a few spirit stones…” Suddenly, he stilled his sword, surprised, “Who goes there?”

A figure appeared two yards away—not a familiar companion, but a martial wanderer with a bamboo hat, bowing low: “Disciple requests to see Daoist Master Nanshan!”

“Nanshan is a senior, he would never lower himself to come here!”

The middle-aged man scolded, then looked puzzled, “You’re not a martial wanderer…”

Yu Ye raised his head and smiled, “Hey, you don’t recognize me, brother?”

The man frowned, “You are…”

“I am…”

Yu Ye pretended to report his name, raising his hand in salute, but suddenly flicked his finger. The man was caught off guard, unable to withstand the fierce sword energy; his brow burst open with a bloody hole. Yu Ye seized the short sword and storage ring, then called out, “I am Gan Xing!”

But before he finished, someone shouted,

“Gan Xing is here—who dares impersonate me…”