A faint, almost imperceptible golden shimmer flashed and vanished from the waist of the headless crimson-robed swordsman’s corpse.

The severed head, which had rolled away, revealed a single drop of blood, slowly coalescing between its brows.

Chen Pingan turned to look at Lu Tai perched on the high branch. The latter raised an eyebrow, extended a finger, and gently twirled it. A “thread” of golden luminescence danced around Lu Tai’s fingertip, slowly revolving. Had Chen Pingan’s eyesight not been exceptional, he would have missed it entirely.

The golden robe, “Golden Dew,” Chen Pingan wore – the one that “revealed the truth” – had already self-repaired the tear on the shoulder where the swordsman’s sword-light had struck. It was now flawless.

An Upper Five Realms immortal’s relic, worn by an old Nascent Soul stage dragon for years, was no ordinary robe. Even “Ink Bamboo Forest,” the robe belonging to the Jade Decree Sect’s Nascent Soul offering on Guihua Island, paled in comparison to this Golden Dew.

It was like a glimpse of breathtaking beauty, quickly withdrawing behind a screen, concealing its captivating form. Chen Pingan’s attire reverted to a simple white robe.

Two Decaying Well talismans exploded in mid-air.

First and Fifteenth, the two flying swords, were now free, unburdened.

Chen Pingan could clearly sense First’s furious divine intent. This was understandable. Even Fifteenth, with its gentle nature, sent forth an emotion filled with indignation.

Chen Pingan could only murmur in his heart, “Don’t rush. The enemy might have a contingency plan.”

The flying sword First darted wildly through the air, leaving behind trails of white rainbow sword-light, a sight to behold.

The emerald-green flying sword Fifteenth, seemingly aggrieved, orbited Chen Pingan slowly, filled with confusion.

They were, without a doubt, first-rate natal flying swords.

However, they were not Chen Pingan’s own natal treasures.

Their relationship was not one of lord and servant, but rather like Chen Pingan guiding two newly awakened children, one quick-tempered, the other gentle and docile.

But Chen Pingan thought this was not bad.

The atmosphere in the forest was heavy and treacherous.

The crimson-robed swordsman, who had been the anchor of their plan, was dead, killed decisively. If not for his imposing arrival, transformed into a rainbow, and the brilliance of his heart-piercing sword, everyone would have thought him a charlatan, a fraud.

The burly man who had invoked divine descent, his silver eyes gradually dimmed, returning to normal.

This man, who had previously been the most imposing, riding the crest of the wave, now looked pale and trembling, a pitiable sight, wanting to speak but unable to.

He glanced at the two iron whips in the distance, daring only to stand still, afraid to pick them up. He feared that the next moment, a flying sword would pierce his heart.

The middle-aged swordsman’s eyes were dim and uncertain, already contemplating retreat.

His hands hung limply. The clear light that had filled his sleeves was gone.

Only the willow-leafed sword, with its hollow jade hairpin sheath, hovered above his shoulder, like a loyal watchdog, protecting its master.

A hunt that was supposed to be a leisurely outing had turned into a tragic scene of death and injury.

And the two young outsiders, one unscathed in battle, the other untouched on the tree.

At this moment, these cultivators, who were used to having their way in their respective domains, felt a surge of fear towards the immortal dwellings on the mountains, a fear that had been dormant in their hearts.

The old array master felt his heart turn to ash. The array was only a little bit from completion, but it had been completely destroyed by this damnable sword cultivator.

He had tried to steal a chicken, only to lose the rice used to lure it. His two prized disciples had also died on the spot. Those two unfortunate children might not have had exceptional talent, but they were obedient and easy to command.

The old array master retrieved the treasures he had stored in his sleeves, forming arrays one by one, creating a protective grand array from smaller ones.

He stood ready for battle.

The Qi cultivator who cultivated the Five Elements Wood art remained silent.

This type of cultivator, capable of both offense and defense, could move mountains and uproot trees, and also raise flower demons, insect pets, and plant spirits, like auxiliary soldiers on the battlefield. They were often skilled in healing and dispelling poisons. They often could not decisively determine the outcome of a battle, but they were a popular type of Qi cultivator.

If choosing a trio to travel together, the best combination for Qi cultivators to venture into the world, exploring far and wide, would be a sword cultivator with maximum lethality and unbreakable defenses, a soldier cultivator who was almost unkillable, plus a farmer-pharmacist, a Daoist alchemist, or a Wood art Qi cultivator. There was almost no better combination.

No one wanted to speak first.

Everyone had their own agenda.

Chen Pingan held the crimson-robed swordsman’s sword in reverse grip, looking down at it.

The blade was like a pool of autumn water, reflecting the sunlight through the leaves, rippling with watery patterns.

It was definitely a good sword.

He just didn’t know how much it was worth.

The heretical cultivator was the only daring one who made a move. He was stealthy, his hand behind his back, holding up a silver-white porcelain bottle, a foot tall, with a narrow mouth and wide belly. Grotesque faces roamed constantly across the surface of the porcelain, like a cruel prison imprisoning souls.

The man chanted incantations, attempting to use the spiritual artifact in his hand to secretly collect the soul of the crimson-robed swordsman after his death. This was a rare opportunity. If he succeeded, his strength would explode. A Sixth Realm peak martial arts grandmaster had a thick soul. If he successfully refined it into a Yin soldier or Yin general, and nurtured it properly, going to mass graves and ancient battlefields, constantly allowing it to absorb Yin energy, it might return to the Sixth Realm, and possibly be crafted into a Seventh Realm heroic spirit.

At that time, why would he need to be at anyone’s beck and call?

Even the rulers of those small countries would have to look to him for guidance.

Lu Tai saw through the heretical cultivator’s little trick at once, and roared, “You dare steal from under my nose?!”

The natal flying sword, named “Needle Tip” but immense, fell straight down on the heretical cultivator’s head.

The heretical cultivator hurriedly fled, also putting away his family treasure silver porcelain bottle, and had to give up the idea of collecting the soul, using the Yin objects collected in the black pottery pot to resist the pursuit of the terrible flying sword, no matter how the heretical cultivator turned and moved, the flying sword Needle Tip always followed him like a shadow.

This siege, if including the mastermind Ma Wanfa, and if the old array master’s array was completed successfully, and if the crimson-robed swordsman had not died suddenly, and everyone was united in their resolve to die, then dealing with a Golden Core cultivator would be more than enough. If everyone was not afraid of death, they could probably take on two Golden Core cultivators and not suffer any losses.
The world, alas, rarely offers second chances.

To put it bluntly, a band united by profit is ferocious as tigers when the wind is at their backs, but should fortune turn, they crumble, a disorganized rabble.

The burly warrior, nearing his end, suddenly beamed with joy, shouting, “My master says he’s on his way! He’ll personally deal with the two of you! And he’s promised that besides Dou Zizhi’s sword, ‘Chixin,’ we’ll divide his spatial artifact and all his worldly possessions amongst ourselves!”

The hulking man roared, nearly expending his last breath, “Wealth is found in peril! Will you cower in the dirt like rats, or seize the chance to stand shoulder to shoulder with immortals? This is your moment!”

The middle-aged swordsman, his face a mask of icy resolve, declared, “I agree! These two brats deserve death!”

With a flick of his wrist, a blue aura shimmered from his sleeve, poised to strike.

The aged array master smiled faintly, “The Mountain-Shifting Array nears completion. We can fight! Just delay them for a bit, half an incense stick at most!”

The rogue cultivator, chased ragged by the flying sword, yelled, “Count me in! But I call dibs on old Dou’s soul, on top of my share of the loot! No one touches it!”

The wood-element qi refiner nodded, his expression as stern as ever.

The burly warrior laughed towards the heavens, grabbing the two iron whips from the ground, and strode towards Chen Ping’an.

His master had indeed used a secret communication technique to tell him that he was personally coming to slay these two lambs for the slaughter.

Almost simultaneously, the middle-aged swordsman swept his sleeves and vanished like a startled swan.

The aged array master used multiple shrinking earth talismans, appearing dozens of feet away with each blink, disappearing into the depths of the forest.

The wood-element qi refiner tapped his toes and leaped backward, seemingly crashing into a large tree, yet vanished without a trace.

Only the rogue cultivator was still heading towards Chen Ping’an.

The hulking warrior froze, cursing under his breath, realizing he was no longer strong enough.

His own strength was insignificant in the face of the true threat.

His act was nothing more than a lure.

Chen Ping’an was first taken aback, then understood, thinking this makes more sense.

He learned another lesson.

Lu Tai took a deep breath and told Chen Ping’an, “The mastermind just fled. I’ll chase him. You can handle things here. I’ll come back for you later.”

Lu Tai first retrieved the feckless flying sword “Needle Tip”.

Around his wrists and ankles, four violet-gold lotus patterns were blooming, each just beginning to unfold.

Lu Tai whispered, “Bloom.”

The four lifelike lotus flowers instantly burst open.

Lu Tai gritted his teeth, leaped high, and rode the wind.

Leaning forward, squinting into the distance, his sleeves billowed, his hair disheveled.

He looked left and right, then chose a direction and sped off.

The rogue cultivator swallowed hard, holding a jar filled with resentful spirits with one hand, and made a Buddhist gesture with the other, flattering, “This sword immortal, it was all a misunderstanding! A blunder! Next time, I’ll definitely avoid you from afar. And if, at that time, you need me to do something trivial, I’ll be at your service!”

As he spoke, the rogue cultivator kept a close watch on the white-robed youth’s eyes and expression, backing away rapidly.

He was decisive in his escape, shattering the black jar of resentful spirits, releasing a cloud of black smoke.

A gecko’s sacrifice.

A thin golden ray darted through the roiling black smoke, the thick, inky miasma dissipating at a visible rate.

But it would still take some time to completely dispel the vile smoke.

Chen Ping’an frowned, rushing forward and leaping onto the canopy of a large tree.

He could see a faint grey wisp of a figure fleeing into the forest.

Chuyi was already in pursuit.

Chen Ping’an’s thoughts flickered, and Shiwu followed suit.

Chen Ping’an floated back to the ground, and while still in the air, rotated his wrist, replacing the wooden sword with the Red-Clad Swordsman Dou Zizhi’s immortal sword, holding it in a normal posture.

Though it was much heavier than the Jujube wood sword, Chen Ping’an still felt it was too light.

The burly warrior looked up at the direction Lu Tai had disappeared, then looked down at the iron whips in his hand, and smiled bitterly.

He knew he was doomed.

Resentment, disappointment, rage, all welled up, then faded away.

His life had been lived in misery, and at the very least, his death will be heroic.

The burly man threw the two iron whips to the ground and began his third spirit invocation. He stomped his foot, clasped his hands together, eyes bloodshot, face pale, and laughed, “Dare to wait a moment, so I can die fighting?!”

Chen Ping’an casually tossed the “Chixin”.

It pierced through the burly man’s heart.

The sword embedded itself in the trunk of a tree.

After successfully piercing the warrior’s heart, Chen Ping’an saw the red light flowing along the blade, a fleeting moment, like a hungry man satisfying his appetite, like a drunk taking a swig.

Chen Ping’an resolved to find an immortal ferry or a shop on the mountain to sell this sword.

The golden ray was still diligently dissolving the black smoke.

Worthy of being a high-grade magic item made from an old dragon’s whiskers.

Two were already this powerful. He wondered how mighty the whisk in the hands of the Dragon True Monarch, the old Taoist on Upside Down Mountain, must be.

Chen Ping’an shook off his thoughts, hesitated, then retrieved the longsword, picked up a tree branch as thick as his arm, sharpened it with the sword, and silently dug several large pits, burying the Red-Clad Swordsman, the burly warrior, and the array master’s two disciples, covering them with dirt, hiding the traces as much as possible, so that anyone passing by would not notice anything amiss.

Chen Ping’an sat on a high tree branch, patiently waiting for Chuyi, Shiwu, and Lu Tai to return.

The sheathed “Chixin” lay carelessly across his lap.

In the distance, the black smoke of resentment, still fighting the golden light, was gradually losing ground. Though they had lost their minds, the instinct to survive was still there, even among the dead.

A large cloud of black smoke began to leave the area, fleeing to wreak havoc elsewhere.

Suddenly, he remembered there was a castle in the distance.

If it were targeted, the non-cultivating mortals would be affected.
Chen Ping’an, gripping his sword, rose to his feet. After a sweeping glance to ensure nothing was amiss, he infused his soul’s true essence into the golden liqueur of his Daoist robe. In an instant, a towering, ethereal dharma body, tens of zhang tall, materialized. Its face was indistinct, yet it radiated a dazzling golden light. The dharma body hung in the air, a stalwart barrier against the encroaching black smoke. With a sweeping gesture of its sleeves, it ensnared the wailing souls within. The specters, as if plunged into a lake of lightning, crackled and hissed before vanishing into nothingness.

Chen Ping’an slumped back to his original spot, his face ashen and his head throbbing with pain.

Unleashing the full power of the golden liqueur robe had cost him a full breath of true qi, and he felt as if he was teetering on the brink of exhaustion.

In a true life-or-death struggle, unless absolutely necessary, it was best to avoid such a tactic. If his opponent possessed some unforeseen trump card, Chen Ping’an would be practically offering his head on a platter.

But to be honest, the sensation of being detached from his body, of his soul wandering afar, was profoundly mystical.

To look down upon the rivers and mountains from such a lofty vantage point…

Chen Ping’an reached out, gently pinching the corner of his robe. The fabric was smooth and supple, emitting a wave of coolness. This life-and-death struggle, primarily a test of nerves, had nearly depleted his mental reserves. Feeling a wave of drowsiness, Chen Ping’an leaned against the trunk of the large tree and closed his eyes to recuperate.

Roughly half an incense stick’s worth of time later, Chen Ping’an had calmed his mind and his breathing had returned to normal.

On Chen Ping’an’s wrist was a golden knot, formed from the refined Binding Demon Cord.

Soon, a dazzling white rainbow and a somber green light streaked back, swift as lightning. Though the two flying swords were exceedingly small, the trails they left behind stretched for tens of zhang, making them quite eye-catching. The two swords plunged into the Sword Nurturing Gourd.

Feeling their intent from within the gourd,

It seemed they had successfully slain their targets.

With that, Chen Ping’an was at ease.

First and Fifteenth were separated from Chen Ping’an for such a distance for the first time.

But this also led to a conclusion: while these rogue cultivators might not match the combat prowess of disciples from established immortal sects, when it came to running and escaping, each and every one of them was a master.

Was he not the same?

Since there was nothing else to do, Chen Ping’an began to practice the Sword Furnace Standing Post technique while seated.

Carrying a sword was cultivation, wearing clothes was also cultivation.

The golden liqueur robes, which had accompanied immortals for centuries, even millennia, were like miniature blessed lands for Qi Refiners, capable of gathering spiritual energy.

But for a pure martial artist, while the golden liqueur was still a rare protective treasure, it also presented a minor inconvenience. A pure martial artist, from the very beginning, had to resolutely disperse all spiritual energy in their Qi Reservoir to truly be considered pure, to truly embark on the path of martial arts.

In Upside-Down Mountain, because the spiritual energy there was abundant, resisting it was quite arduous. After leaving the Treasure Devouring Whale, walking through the mountains and forests was much easier, as the spiritual energy in ordinary wilderness was thin, mostly negligible.

Chen Ping’an waited for nearly an hour before Lu Tai swaggered into the forest, hurrying towards Chen Ping’an. He was covered in dust, but thankfully, there was no trace of blood.

And he looked like a man returning with a bountiful harvest.

As he approached the tree where Chen Ping’an was, Lu Tai casually collected the many array flags left behind by the old array master, stuffing them into his sleeves. Lu Tai curiously asked, “You have the heart of a Bodhisattva. Why not let the corpses rot in the sun, for beasts to gnaw and birds to peck? That’s the end they deserve. Why pity these villains?”

Chen Ping’an shook his head. “I don’t pity them. I just care about the principle of ‘respect for the dead, may they rest in peace.'”

Lu Tai shook his head, too lazy to think too much about it. He suddenly turned and ran towards the “grave mound” with the strongest scent of blood. After asking Chen Ping’an for the approximate location of the buried corpses, Lu Tai solemnly promised to refill the graves later. Before Chen Ping’an could agree, Lu Tai slapped the ground with his palm, sending dust flying, and scurried over to the task of looting the corpses. He even spared the old array master’s two disciples. It was hard to imagine that someone who loved rouge and powder, who enjoyed drawing his eyebrows, could be so skilled at this grave-robbing business, with no apparent mental burden.

Lu Tai inevitably got covered in blood and dirt, but with the five-colored silk cord treasure wrapped around his arm, his entire body was quickly cleaned and tidied. Immortal treasures possessed all sorts of incredible uses.

Lu Tai muttered to himself, “You’re a grandmaster of the martial world, but you’re such a pauper! Look, this is Ma Wanfa’s spatial artifact, filled with gold and silver. Look at you, you should be ashamed enough to come back to life just to die again.”

“Ah, I’m not talking about you, but compared to your master, the wealth you carry is truly meager. Only this stack of silver notes can solve our urgent needs. When we go shopping down the mountain, if we give the shopkeeper this little, they’ll want to beat us…”

“You two star-crossed lovers, if you’re reborn in the next life, remember to find a better master. Even if they’re less capable, don’t find one like this again.”

Chen Ping’an didn’t disturb Lu Tai’s work.

He simply looked at that figure, feeling a sense of estrangement.

Finally, Lu Tai refilled the graves, patted his hands, and looked at the smooth ground, feeling quite satisfied.

“The mastermind behind all this is dead! All’s well!”

Lu Tai walked back to Chen Ping’an under the tree, refusing to climb the tree again. He tilted his head back and waved, “Time to divide the spoils!”