Chapter 18: Wanggu City

The group from the Liuyun Sword Sect stood frozen until that blue-grey figure had completely vanished beyond the edge of the clouds. Only then did they seem to shed a crushing weight, each letting out a long breath in unison.

The metallic scent of blood still hung in the air, and their faces bore an expression of humiliation and lingering dread that words could scarcely describe.

"Senior Brother, we…"

The square-faced disciple stepped forward, opening his mouth but stopping short.

Zhao Qinghe's complexion was still somewhat pale. He silently sheathed his sword, shook his head, and spoke in a voice heavy with exhaustion: "What happened today — not a word to anyone. We wait until we've reported to our master before deciding anything."

"But Senior Brother, that kid…"

Another disciple couldn't hold back, his face flushed with indignation. "He's so ruthless and vicious — he must be an evil cultivator without a doubt! Are we really just going to let this go?"

"If we don't let it go, then what?" Zhao Qinghe shot that junior brother a sharp glare.

"You want to go after him? You want to drag him back here?" His gaze swept over every junior brother and sister present.

"All of us together — how many of his punches could we even take? Have you all forgotten what happened to that Zhang fellow?"

Everyone looked toward the headless corpse hanging from the ancient tree not far away, and a collective shudder ran through them. No one could find another word to say.

Zhao Qinghe let out a sigh, his tone softening — sounding more like he was trying to convince himself: "There's much that's strange about this whole affair. That Zhang fellow was silver-tongued and fled at the critical moment. He was hardly a good person either."

"As for that blue-clad youth… with such bizarre cultivation, I'm afraid he must have trained in some kind of… wicked art the likes of which we've never heard of."

This explanation served as a face-saving step — for his companions and for himself — to make their sorry predicament at least somewhat bearable.

* * *

On the other side, Si Chen rode the wind forward, casting the recent episode out of his mind.

Just as his mother had said — things he couldn't figure out and that had nothing to do with him weren't worth dwelling on.

What concerned him more right now were his own shortcomings.

If only he had been faster, Zhang Quan would have been dealt with long ago — so why had he let all that trouble unfold afterward?

He sank his consciousness into his Storage Ring. He had never taken a careful look at what was inside before; whatever the clan had given him, he had always taken for granted.

Now, searching through it properly, he found it was practically a general store — cultivation supplies, clothing, Spirit Stones, and all manner of Artifacts piled in abundance.

Before long, he singled out several jade scrolls that recorded movement-type Divine Abilities.

Most of them struck him as either overly complicated or flawed in some way — until his attention landed on one particular jade scroll, tinted purple.

The movement technique was called "Thunder Smite Flash."

He sent his Divine Sense into it. The opening lines were direct: "Thunder shakes the nine heavens; a thousand li in an instant. Only those who possess a Lightning Spiritual Root and a body of exceptional toughness may train in this art. Otherwise, one will harm oneself before ever harming an enemy."

He happened to possess a Lightning Spiritual Root, and his body had been forged through two overlapping Body Tempering techniques — this art suited him well.

"Draw lightning as wings, tread upon arcs of electricity…"

He murmured the incantation under his breath, and the Lightning Spiritual Root that had awakened within him seemed to stir quietly in response, resonating with the thunder-force that had settled deep into his flesh and blood.

Si Chen's capacity for learning remained just as uncanny as it had been in childhood.

The moment he finished reading, he had already grasped the operational method of Thunder Smite Flash.

Yet he felt the technique still had certain flaws.

And so the remainder of his journey became a testing ground for refining it.

Among the mountain ranges, a muffled thunderclap would ring out from time to time, and a blue-grey shadow would streak across the sky like a bolt of lightning.

At first, the thunder roared without cease and the figure moved with a certain stiffness — each appearance sending the branches and leaves of the forests below trembling, startling flocks of birds into flight.

But gradually, the thunder grew quieter and quieter — from a roar to a hum, and then to a barely perceptible sharp crack of displaced air.

His movements grew ever more fluid, as though he himself had become lightning, weaving freely between the clouds and mountain peaks, his body arriving wherever his mind directed.

Before long, Thunder Smite Flash had been refined considerably, and he had cultivated it to the realm of great mastery.

His speed was now many times greater than when he had simply ridden the wind, and yet his Spiritual Energy consumption was actually lower.

* * *

Unfamiliar with the route, Si Chen wandered for several days before finally locating the city he had heard about.

Its walls rose high, and one could faintly sense the fluctuations of an Array Formation. Above the city gate, three characters were carved in bold, sweeping strokes: Wanggu City.

Before he had even drawn close, a wave of heat washed over him — a mingled rush of dust, spirit herbs, cooking smoke, and the breath of countless living beings.

The main road leading to the city was unusually crowded. There were dust-covered Rogue Cultivators, merchant caravans with armed escorts, plainly dressed Mortal farmers, and even one or two solitary travelers with obscure auras, their faces hidden beneath wide bamboo hats.

Si Chen landed lightly in an unoccupied spot outside the city, suppressed the spiritual pressure around his body, and blended into the flow of people heading toward the gate — looking for all the world like an ordinary, clear-eyed young man.

The moment he stepped inside, a lively and vibrant clamor washed over him.

"Finest red iron ore here — perfect material for forging fire-element Flying Swords!"

"Fresh-off-the-furnace Qi-Gathering Pills — don't miss out as you pass by!"

"Fellow Daoist, please wait — I can see your bone structure is extraordinary. I have here an ancestral…"

Vendors' calls, the back-and-forth of haggling, the greetings of old acquaintances, the rumble of cart wheels — every kind of sound wove together into a single tapestry of noise.

It all faintly reminded him of his time in Yunjin City, except that here there was none of the deliberate deference that had always accompanied his status there. Instead, there was a more genuine, earthly vitality to it all.

He strolled along, following his whims.

As he walked, his nostrils twitched — an extraordinarily enticing aroma of food drifted out from a three-story restaurant ahead, its doors thronged with guests, the smell rising above everything else on the street.

The restaurant's sign read "Baiwei Zhai." Its frontage was wide and welcoming; those entering and leaving included both well-dressed Cultivators and Mortals who appeared to be quite well-off. Waiters with white towels draped over their shoulders wove between the tables, calling out dish names in booming voices — the whole place buzzing with life.

Si Chen had long since reached Foundation Establishment, but how could Inedia pills compare to real food?

Good food was one of the few things in this mortal world he had found to bring him pure, uncomplicated pleasure.

He walked into the restaurant, and a waiter immediately came trotting over with a bright smile.

Si Chen could sense a faint ripple of Spiritual Energy from the man — roughly the Qi Refining, Third Layer — which, in a city where Mortals and Cultivators mingled, made for a rather practical waiter when dealing with all manner of guests.

"Right this way, Senior!" the waiter said warmly, his eyes sweeping over Si Chen. Though the young man was unusually youthful, his bearing was exceptional — and in the cultivation world, the capable were always addressed with respect, so "Senior" was entirely appropriate.

"Will you be dining or taking tea? The private rooms on the third floor are quiet and peaceful, with a view of the street below. Our spirit-cuisine ingredients were all delivered fresh this very morning."

He led Si Chen toward the third floor, rattling off the restaurant's signature dishes with practiced enthusiasm — everything from rare mountain delicacies and seafood to dishes prepared with spirit rice and Demon Beast meat. The prices were steep, but to Si Chen's means, they were a drop in the ocean.

Si Chen followed him up to the third floor, which was indeed far more refined. Most of the patrons here were Cultivators. The waiter showed him to a window seat that looked directly out onto the bustling street below.

He had just sat down and ordered a few dishes when the sound of footsteps came from the staircase.

The world is vast — and yet, sometimes, remarkably small.

The ones coming up were none other than Zhao Qinghe and his group.

This time, however, there was an additional figure among them: an elderly man dressed in a deep-blue robe patterned with flowing cloud motifs.

The elder had a lean, sharp face, and when his eyes opened and closed, a keen light flickered within them. His aura ran deep as an abyss — utterly beyond comparison with Zhao Qinghe and the others at the Foundation Establishment Stage.

He was precisely the Core Formation Stage Elder from the sect whom Zhao Qinghe had summoned by crushing his communication jade talisman.

The Liuyun Sword Sect disciples clearly had not expected to encounter Si Chen here.

Their footsteps froze in unison, and their expressions shifted.

The junior brothers and sisters looked as though they had seen a ghost, instinctively stepping back half a pace. The square-faced disciple and the Junior Sister drained of color on the spot.

Zhao Qinghe's body gave a faint tremor as well, but as the Senior Brother, he forced himself to steady his nerves — though his right hand moved unconsciously to rest on his sword hilt.

For a moment, the Liuyun Sword Sect disciples were caught between advancing and retreating, the atmosphere stretched to an excruciating awkwardness.

Si Chen saw them too.

His expression remained neutral. He simply thought that since they had run into each other again, courtesy perhaps called for a greeting.

So he set down the teacup he had just picked up, turned toward where Zhao Qinghe and the others stood, and gave a calm, unhurried bow of the hands — a simple acknowledgment.

Then, as though nothing had happened at all, he paid them no further attention and turned his gaze back to the window, waiting for his food.

This gesture left the Liuyun Sword Sect disciples even more at a loss.

The blue-robed elder had taken in everything. His gaze lingered on Si Chen for a moment, then swept over his own disciples — who looked for all the world like birds startled by a bowstring — and inwardly, he had already pieced together a fair picture of what must have occurred.

He smiled faintly, and with unhurried steps, walked over to Si Chen's table on his own initiative. Zhao Qinghe, seeing this, had no choice but to steel himself and follow.

"Young friend, my greetings." The blue-robed elder came to a stop beside the table, his tone mild and even.

"I am Lü Yan of the Liuyun Sword Sect. It seems that a few days ago, you and these unworthy disciples of mine had something of a… misunderstanding?"