Chapter 388: The Lowest of the Middle Three Ranks (Requesting Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 388 Of the Dregs of the Middle Third Grade (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

The arts of bug manipulation, poison, and shamanic rituals are the two greatest weapons by which the mountain clans dominate the martial world.

Bug manipulation involves bug spirits, divided into spirit bugs and poison bugs, supplemented by grotesque techniques, allowing bug masters to commune with the will of the bugs.

Spirit bugs are often used for blessings and healing.

Poison bugs, however, take the bug as the primary element, augmented with medicines, stones, and strange substances; some even require specific times and weather conditions to forge.

Not to mention the complexity of their poisons, their methods of application become more subtle, more sinister, and more impossible to defend against.

Imagine a ordinary butterfly or moth landing upon them—how could an ordinary person detect the bug poison?

Even those with profound cultivation might fall victim without intending to.

As for shamanic arts... similar to the ancient, secretive head-reading techniques of the Peach Blossom Land, their power surpasses in some ways but falls short in others.

Chen Yì clearly understood these matters, and thus was prepared.

He took the medicine bottle Water and Tong offered, examined it closely, and asked, "Can this substance repel bug poisons?"

Chen Yì then handed a bottle to each of Liu Lang and Zhang Da Bao, shook his head, and said, "It cannot repel them."

"Then you..."

"It will at least give you a few more moments to live after being poisoned."

Water and Tong laughed silently, "Brother Chen, your consideration is thoughtful. If you cannot subdue Pei Yonglin then, no amount of powder will be effective."

Chen Yì smiled and said, "I've considered all possibilities."

Without further explanation, he called for everyone to get going.

Soon, they slipped out from the southern city's Flower and Lantern Alley into the city, then took a detour heading east.

Along the way, none of them seemed to have the heart to speak, moving in silent, muted steps.

Zhang Da Bao several times tried to break the silence, but when he looked at the ahead Chen Yì, his words caught in his throat.

Liu Lang, carrying him, sensed this, and whispered softly, "Rest assured, boss, this man may be mysterious, but he's not heartless."

"He wouldn't have brought you here if he didn't intend to save your father."

Zhang Da Bao nodded lightly, "I know."

He had been traveling with Chen Yì for some time now, and he understood Chen Yì's character well enough.

But this time, it concerned his father's life and death—"one finger"—and he found it difficult to calm his heart.

Anxiety and worry, that was simply the way.

When Liu Lang saw this, he stopped trying to speak, and kept close behind Chen Yì.

Water and Tong, having heard their conversation, gave Chen Yì a thoughtful look.

He had previously encountered Pei Yonglin on a boat, and from feeling his energy, had some understanding of him.

In terms of techniques and cultivation, he was confident he could match Pei Yonglin.

But in life-and-death combat, the difference between them was like the gap between a grain of sand and the vast sky.

The mountain clan's arts of bug and shamanic manipulation were too strange, and he could not be certain there wasn't a way to counter them.

Thus, he could not say for certain what the outcome of Chen Yì facing Pei Yonglin would be.

As for Chen Yì...

His studies were scattered and varied, yet he had achieved notable results, which was also beyond Water and Tong's expectations.

Now, only time could hinder Chen Yì.

If he could give Chen Yì years to live, perhaps he would become the youngest immortal of the Great Wei dynasty.

He could not say for certain who might come after him, but absolutely no one before him.

Water and Tong thought for a moment, then spoke up, "Brother Chen, the mountain clan and the Xiao family have long been in harmony; killing Pei Yonglin would likely cause trouble."

Chen Yì slightly nodded, his voice calm, "If possible, I will spare his life."

This was precisely his hesitation.

Pei Yonglin's position as the mountain clan's patriarch was too sensitive.

If he were killed by Chen Yì, it would inevitably cause friction between the Xiao family and the mountain clan.

Even if Pei Yonglin was at fault first, it would still be so.

Not to mention Pei Yonglin was also the tiger girl's biological father; killing him would likely...

Chen Yì shook his head in thought, walking one step at a time, thinking further would be of no use.

Water and Tong understood his thoughts, sighed, and said, "This is the martial world—there are always some things that one cannot help but face."

Just as Pei Yonglin, for the sake of the mountain clan, became the patrol officer of the Jingzhou Merchant Guild's Zhengzong Hall.

Just as Song Jin Jian and the good fortune he once enjoyed, due to being besieged and dying from evil cults and foreign forces, took refuge with the Cao family of the clear river, who had saved his life.

Just as the "Snow Sword Master" Ye Luan Xian...

The things they had experienced, in the eyes of others, might seem to violate righteousness, to breach ethics, or to be the deeds of evil men.

But if you replace "others" with their situation at that time...

The mountain clan had endured hardships and needed to sustain the elderly, the young, the sick, and the disabled.

Pei Yonglin, besides selling his strength and having some legal methods to do?

Perhaps he did, but absolutely not as quickly as the silver from the Bright Moon Tower.

Similarly, Song Jin Jian, Ye Luan Xian were the same.

Such burdens as mountains.

Some people, some things, were not simply matters of right and wrong, but of conscience.

Chen Yì fell silent for a moment, then smiled, "A person eats five grains and miscellaneous foods—it is difficult not to be burdened by seven emotions and six desires."

Water and Tong nodded, agreeing, "Yes, that is the way."

While continuing their journey, he paid attention to sounds and movements around them, then said, "In three days' time, the master's disciple will meet with Ye Qian Pei for a sparring session."

"How do you plan to proceed, Brother Chen?"

"To go."

Chen Yì paused, thinking of Xiao Jing Hong, far away at the Meng Shui Pass, and had some hesitation.

"Perhaps not."

Water and Tong guessed his thoughts, and laughed silently, "Brother Chen seems to live freely, but in truth, he also bears some unspoken sorrows."

Seeing Chen Yì smile but say nothing, he turned to him, "Your master has been to Wudang Mountain these past few days; if anyone there asks about the mountain clan, your master should be able to explain a few things."

Chen Yì turned his head toward him, "Is Master White and the mountain clan on good terms?"

Water and Tong smiled and nodded, "When he was young, he traveled with the mountain matriarch across the martial world, so they are old acquaintances."

"This time, Pei Yonglin killed the 'little road deity' Hua Huiyang; if Wudang Mountain were to blame the mountain clan, your master should be able to mediate a bit."

Chen Yì understood this silently, "In the end, they still need to subdue Pei Yonglin."

"If he escapes, the Xiao family, Wudang Mountain, and even the court will all be hard to account for."

“Indeed…”

As he was about to speak, Liu Rong suddenly caught himself, rubbing his hands together. “Boss, you can go watch that sparring match?”

Chen Yi glanced back, nodded, and said, “Yes…”

“Then…”

“Water Brother mentioned earlier that if you help him take a step forward in the sparring, he’d take you over there to join the commotion.”

“This…”

“If it were me, I’d do the same. Why don’t you try letting me move aside?”

Liu Rong’s entire face crumpled at once, and he could only shake his head.

Though he couldn’t beat either of them, he’d rather spar with Water and be compared to Chen Yi. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about his life.

As they spoke, Chen Yi suddenly saw golden letters flash before his eyes:

【Daily Intel·Lower Grade: In the eastern part of Shu Prefecture, the Jizhou Merchant Guild’s Pei Yonglin, along with the demonic outsiders from Moonlight Tower, plan to ambush and kill Chen Yi, the stepson of the late Duke Yuan Hou, as well as his companions Water and, Liu Rong, and Zhang Da Bao. Abundant opportunities await.】

Jizhou Merchant Guild, Moonlight Tower…

Chen Yi furrowed his brow slightly and asked, “When Water Brother encountered Pei Yonglin, did he notice any other high-ranking experts with him?”

Shu He thought for a moment and shook his head. “Just some mid-tier third-rank remnants.”

As he finished speaking, he suddenly remembered that Chen Yi’s cultivation was also only mid-third rank, and quickly added, “Far behind Chen’s brother.”

Chen Yi smiled and didn’t mind his words. He was about to hurry and gather more information about the situation ahead when his foot suddenly stopped.

Shu He beside him also halted.

Liu Rong noticed this and approached them, puzzled. “Boss, why aren’t we moving?”

Chen Yi raised a hand to signal silence, his gaze sweeping southeast, his brow furrowed. “Remnants?”

Shu He, too, had sensed the hidden presence ahead, and let out a hollow laugh. “We’ll see if he’s a remnant or not.”

Before anyone could respond, he leapt into the air, heading southeast.

The moment he launched his punch, it erupted, freezing the air within ten miles in a stillness that seemed to halt time itself.

A deep bellow echoed from the mountains ahead: “This kind of fist technique—Chen Yu of Bai Caobang?”

“Kill him!”

“Wait—run, run! He’s not the owner of Bai Caobang. He—he’s Shu He!”

“Go!”

A cacophony of voices rose from the mountains—some panicked, some disdainful, others trembling with fear.

But as Shu He’s fist neared, all those voices transformed into screams.

Intermixed with the strumming of strings.

Tinkling, tinkling, like a storm of rushing waters.

Yet these low-quality techniques had no effect on Shu He at all.

He couldn’t even move aside a single step.

Chen Yi stood still, watching, a faint smile on his face. “Monstrous outsiders from Huan Yin Sect?”

“Shu Brother’s arrival was indeed brutal.”

Shu He’s martial arts emphasized spirit over form, power over force, stirring the very essence of the world with true intent. Its might surpassed that of ordinary techniques.

Some of it resembled Chen Yi’s own “Falling Dragon Spear,” both being Heavenly Step techniques.

His own “Crushing Peak Fist” was also a Heavenly Step technique, but its foundation was shallow, only reaching the level of emphasizing spirit over form. Its power was inferior to Shu He’s.

Liu Rong and Zhang Da Bao had only just noticed the situation ahead, and they could only mutter in amazement:

“Not to be surprised—Shu He, the ‘Fist that Dominates Thousands of Miles of Mountains and Rivers,’ his fists… truly formidable.”

Especially Liu Rong. He’d never seen Shu He unleash his full strength in a hundred sparring matches.

Now, seeing Shu He’s fists and feet sweep through the air like a storm, devastating those above the fifth rank, his heart was somewhat complex.

Chen Yi didn’t look back, but he knew what they were thinking. He spoke calmly, “Watch well, study well.”

“Your blade is also heavy on spirit over form. My fists and your blade share common ground.”

Liu Rong nodded, eyes fixed on the mountains ahead, absorbing the shifts in the world’s energy, his grip on his blade trembling slightly.

After waiting a while, Shu He descended, his fists now calm, no longer radiating the killing intent he’d shown before.

He gestured toward the mountain ahead. “Indeed, they’re remnants.”

Chen Yi smiled lightly. “Must be from Moonlight Tower.”

Shu He nodded. “Just a rabble of rogue forces, a mere mob.”

Huan Yin Sect lies in the western prefecture, far less active than those rogue outsiders roaming the central plains.

They weren’t worth his attention.

Chen Yi scanned the area, signaling to continue onward.

Shu He, Liu Rong followed closely behind, heading east.

After they departed, a peak nearby quietly rose—Liu Zhao Xue emerged from behind the rocks, watching them from afar.

She looked at the backs of Chen Yi and Shu He, her face inscrutable.

“Shu He of Fengyu Tower, Chen Yu of Bai Caobang… these two people actually walked together…”

Thinking of Shu He’s overwhelming power in that fight, her heart was filled with awe.

Besides Song Jin Jian and “Little Ruler” Hua Huiyang, she’d never seen another above-third-rank martial artist with such force.

Even from dozens of miles away, she could feel Shu He’s fearsome fists.

“If Song Jin Jian hasn’t returned yet, Pei Yonglin alone might not withstand Chen Yu and Shu He…”

After some thought, Liu Zhao Xue made up her mind, heading toward Pei Yonglin’s location.

Now, without the protection of her family in Jingzhou, without the retreat to Xinglin Pavilion, she had only a few relatives left.

If she lost Song Jin Jian, her pillar, she might spend her entire life stumbling.

That was a life she did not wish to lead.

…

Beneath the dark clouds that hovered over Shu Zhou, the rain began to fall more heavily.

The sound of raindrops pattering and drumming rose and fell, creating a commotion yet holding an inexpressible tranquility.

Pei Yonglin sat inside a hastily erected wooden hut, gazing at the iron pot simmering over the fire before him.

Steam rose, and the lamb stewing within the pot began to bubble and churn.

After a moment,

He picked up a bamboo skewer and poked at the lamb. Seeing it easily give way, he reached out and plucked a leg of meat to eat.

As he ate, he muttered, "We should eat some, eat and drink our fill first, then we'll have the strength."

His voice was deep, mingled with the sound of chewing, making it hard to hear clearly.

Yet some things responded to his words.

In the midst of rustling and fidgeting, a black shadow poured from his body, swarming into the iron pot.

In the blink of an eye, the pot was as empty as before.

No meat, no broth.

Pei Yonglin silently looked on. With a wave of his hand, those black shadows gradually scattered in all directions—some ducking into puddles, some hiding beneath the eaves, others flying out of the hut into the night.

But that was not all.

Pei Yonglin then withdrew a black cloth bag from his chest, pulling out a wad of cinnabar paper.

By the firelight, the bright red on the paper looked like fresh blood.

He cast his eyes aside, and from the unconscious "Yī Zhi" beside him, he separately took some hair, fingernails, and a drop of blood, placing them upon the cinnabar paper.

Then he bit his finger and drew a grotesque talisman on the paper, muttering incantations:

"Shaman, soul gathering, soul-seeking..."

Suddenly, the forces of heaven and earth descended, settling upon the cinnabar paper. There, the hair, nails, and blood of "Yī Zhi" each transformed into drifting ash.

And that cinnabar paper soon morphed into a human form.

Faintly discernible was the shape of "Yī Zhi."

Pei Yonglin looked at the paper effigy in his hands, his gaze falling upon the real "Yī Zhi." A look of complexity crossed his face.

After a moment, he regained his composure, tossed the paper effigy aside, and called out sharply:

"Rise!"

The crimson paper effigy immediately stood on the ground.

So did "Yī Zhi" as well, upright and straight.

As if becoming aware, he blinked open his eyes, though turning his head was difficult.

His eyes caught sight of Pei Yonglin beside him. Suddenly understanding, he groaned, "You bastard Pei, you... you put a curse on me?!"

Pei Yonglin glanced at him, then gently pinched the paper effigy's mouth.

"Yī Zhi" instantly fell silent, only blinking and staring at Pei Yonglin with wide, twisted eyes, his mouth whimpering.

Pei Yonglin knew well that the things he said were unbearable to hear, his tone cold:

"If everything proceeds smoothly, you and your apprentice will be reunited."

"But if anything goes wrong, you will die before me."

He then controlled the paper effigy to take a few steps. Yī Zhi's body, watching his form, walked out of the hut and vanished into the rainy night.

Pei Yonglin watched his silhouette, sighed, and continued his activities inside the hut.

At times he drew several talismans on the wall corner, at others he dug up a shovel of soil from the ground...

Not something else—these were the secret art passed down by the mountain people: the art of the Yi Sheng.

About half a cycle of the big dipper later,

He had just risen, staring straight toward the western direction, and spoke with a hint of thought: "The winds and rain, the tower and the flood..."

"The man by day—he was him... no wonder..."

(The chapter ends)