Rubbing the mother bear's fleshy head, Lian Youming rose to his feet and used his foot to nudge aside the cub, which was still gnawing on a chunk of Solomon's seal.
"That thing has quite some strength. Phew, she nearly took my life."
Only after his breath settled did he bend down to dig up pieces of Solomon's seal from the soil. Eating as he dug, he casually called out to the King of Scraps, "What herbs did you gather?"
The old man carried a cloth sack—not particularly large, but bulging. "Angelica, eucommia bark, deer antler, codonopsis..."
He rattled off more than a dozen medicinal ingredients in one breath.
Chewing on the Solomon's seal, Lian Youming felt a slight bitterness on his tongue that quickly gave way to a sweet, refreshing aftertaste. It did not have much juice, but its flavor was wonderfully rich.
"Why are there more than what was written on the prescription?"
The items the King of Scraps listed clearly included five or six more than what Yan Lingyun had set down.
The King of Scraps tossed the sack over and explained, "That girl's grasp of medicinal properties has reached a decent level. But these herbs differ across the four seasons, and growing in different geographical environments yields different potencies. Just tell me, do you want them or not?"
Thickening his skin, Lian Youming quickly swallowed the Solomon's seal in his mouth, tied the cloth sack around his waist, and chuckled. "Of course I want them. How could I say no?"
Once the Solomon's seal reached his stomach, his drained stamina and weary body began to recover rapidly.
Before the mother bear could clamber back to her feet, Lian Youming deftly dug up another thirty or forty jin of the root, leaving more than half behind. Then, beneath the mother bear's disgruntled roars, he hoisted the King of Scraps onto his back and darted into the mountain forest.
Seeing that the youth had harbored no thought of stripping the Solomon's seal to the very last root, the King of Scraps nodded. "Not bad. You're not greedy."
Lian Youming rolled his eyes. He was utterly exhausted. Being able to brawl with a mother bear for over half an hour and take her down was already proof of his surging capability.
The King of Scraps murmured, "The rare herbs and treasures of this world are finite. Only through the long accumulation of countless ages can the wonders of nature materialize, and they are things left behind by those who came before for those who follow... a heritage of sorts."
Lian Youming hesitated. "Won't the rest just be eaten by that bear?"
The King of Scraps sighed meaningfully. "It only digs what is right before its eyes."
Lian Youming nodded, only half-understanding.
Leaving the ruined Daoist temple behind, the two took a wide turn through the mountains. Guided by the old man, Lian Youming walked and observed, taking in many Daoist relics.
Yet they were merely relics.
Sects like Louguan, Danding, and Quanzhen were rattled off by the old man like familiar family heirlooms.
"Since ancient times, Mount Zhongnan has been home to many immortals. Too many unknown secrets lie hidden in these mountains. You can at least catch a glimpse of them today, but in a few more years, perhaps everything will turn to dust and return to the earth."
The King of Scraps suddenly grew nostalgic.
"Secrets? Where are there any secrets? How could a godforsaken dump like this hide secrets?" Lian Youming glanced left and right. Aside from a few dilapidated Daoist temples and some broken stone carvings, there wasn't even a living soul in sight.
His mood ruined, the King of Scraps smacked the back of Lian Youming's head and scolded, "Short-sighted!"
Talking as they walked, they navigated the rugged mountain trails, at times bickering and trading barbs, at times reciting the stone carvings on the cliff faces.
Some of the carvings were gathas, some were poems of enlightenment, and others were ancient stele inscriptions. The calligraphy was variously upright and graceful, lively and flowing, or sharp and piercing—ever-changing and profoundly subtle.
Among them were Daoist scriptures carved by masters of old, obscure and profound. Though steeped in deeper resonance, they were exceptionally difficult to comprehend, giving Lian Youming a headache just reading them.
The King of Scraps spoke with heartfelt gravity: "On the path of martial arts, you cannot look only at yourself. Widen your horizon. Look at others, and look upon all living beings... Writing carries the Dao. What these stone carvings pass down is not merely words, but the state of mind of the ancients. Your realm has not yet reached it, so you cannot discern their subtleties. But remember this path well. When your cultivation hits a bottleneck in the future, walk it often, and perhaps you will find your breakthrough."
Lian Youming nodded. "Alright, I've got it down."
Looking at the fading, withered forest, the King of Scraps said with waning spirits, "So many things are gone... Let's head down."
"Wait for me a moment."
Lian Youming grinned, his eyes sweeping across the mountains. Setting the old man down first, he dashed into the forest like a hungry tiger pouncing on sheep. A commotion of squawking and barking ensued, but he was merely off to catch wild boars.
***
Dazhuang and Xiaozhuang had hitched their horse cart early and arrived at the foot of the Qinling Mountains as agreed.
They had not expected Lian Youming to arrive even earlier.
Yet when they saw his beggar-like appearance, both brothers jumped in fright.
"Brother, what happened to you?"
Lian Youming's face flushed. His clothes and trousers had been completely shredded by the mother bear; had he not been nimble on his feet, he probably wouldn't have even had enough fabric to cover his rear.
"Don't look at me, look at the ground."
Lying in the weeds were two wild boars weighing over a hundred jin each, blood trickling from their snouts, along with seven piglets beside them. An entire family, neat and complete, swept up in one haul by Lian Youming over five back-and-forth trips.
"I'm keeping one big one and one small one. Take the rest back to the village and let my uncle-in-law divide them among the villagers."
The moment Dazhuang and Xiaozhuang saw the wild boars, their eyes were glued to the ground. Hearing that meat would be shared, they grinned from ear to ear and readily agreed.
"I won't head into the village. When you two go back, bring me a pair of pants."
The two brothers were in no mood to dally. Loading the wild boars, they hurried toward the village.
By the time they returned, it was already three or four in the afternoon.
Beneath the westward-slanting sun, the party drove the horse cart, making their leisurely way back to the city.
***
The South Gate barbican.
Dusk was falling, and the setting sun cast a blood-red glow over the horizon.
Song Xiehu looked at his groaning brothers strewn across the courtyard, his face dark and grim.
Standing opposite him was a young man clad in black, with deep-set eye sockets and slanted, narrow brows.
The young man's cheeks were slightly sunken, his gaze hawkish, and his face an unearthly, bloodless pale. His ten fingers twitched faintly, each joint exceptionally strong and potent; with the slightest curl or stretch, the sinews and bones stood out sharply.
"I told you to find him, yet you dared pass along a message for him. Do you take my Eagle Claw Sect for soft clay?"
The young man's voice was shrill, his gaze laced with murderous intent.
Clutching twin blades, Song Xiehu spat a mouthful of bloody saliva onto the ground, his eyes smoldering. "I run my own turf. I'm not part of your Eagle Claw Sect. If you've got the guts, go deal with him! What kind of man bullies me and vents on my brothers? You're real impressive, aren't you?"
Though he cursed aloud, Song Xiehu was cursing Lian Youming in his heart just as fiercely.
Hadn't that brat said he would come sell the gold bars today? Why had there been no sign of him? Furthermore, he hadn't anticipated the Eagle Claw Sect would arrive so quickly. The message had only been passed this morning, yet someone had come that very afternoon to make an example of him.
He had carried out the task; he shouldn't have to bear the fallout all on his own.
"Brother-in-law, why waste your breath on him?"
Song Xiehu's brother-in-law suddenly burst in from outside. His face was stark white, but he held a bundle of homemade dynamite in his grip and a torch in his other hand. His lips trembled as he spoke: "Brother-in-law, I know I'm stupid. This is all my fault. Don't be rash. Take good care of my sister! Today, I'm blowing this bastard to kingdom come!"
Song Xiehu's expression changed drastically. "Xiaowu, don't do anything stupid! Listen to me, put out the fire!"
The black-robed youth's eyes narrowed slightly, and he sneered, "Go ahead and try lighting it. When it goes off, I'll slaughter every last one of you scumbags."
Xiaowu, who had been lacking courage to begin with, widened his beady, rat-like eyes at the provocation. Blood rushed to his pupils as he roared, "Who are you calling a scumbag? You wicked bastard, I'll blow you to pieces right now!"
Yet his movements were too frantic. Careless in his agitation, the fuse brushed against the torch as he spoke, instantly catching fire.
Song Xiehu roared in panic, "Xiaowu, it's lit!"
The black-robed youth's eyes widened, but without the slightest panic, he casually scooped a man off the ground. "Throw it and see. He dies too."
Startled by Song Xiehu's shout and looking down at the hissing, smoking explosive in his hand, Xiaowu turned pale as a sheet. Frozen in terror, he stood entirely paralyzed.
Seeing the fuse burn down to its last bit, just as Song Xiehu's eyes bulged in absolute horror, a large hand suddenly reached out from behind Xiaowu and pinched out the burning fuse.
"What's the situation here?"
Lian Youming stepped out from the twilight.
"You bastard, you finally showed up!" Song Xiehu cursed at the top of his lungs.
"Sorry, I was a bit busy today. Just took a bath and changed my clothes. Here, I even brought you a pig leg." Lian Youming surveyed the scene in the courtyard, then glanced at the black-robed youth, his expression turning playful. "Looking for me?"
The black-robed youth tossed aside the man in his grip and said in a chilling voice, "You're the blind fool who killed my junior brother? You even dared send word that you'd come to Cangzhou to cross hands? Who do you think you are?"
Lian Youming shoved the pig leg into the rat-eyed youth's arms. After a few seconds of thought, he answered with certainty and a touch of mockery, "Can't you tell? I reckon I'll be the undisputed number one under heaven in this jianghu."
At the end of his sentence, Lian Youming smiled. Had he remained expressionless, it would have been fine, but the moment he smiled, a savage glint entered his eyes, contorting his features into something feral. A reckless, unbridled madness bloomed between his brows. "Though I suspect you won't live to see it."
Seeing this, Song Xiehu did not hesitate for a second. He barked out rapid orders: "All of you, get out!"
He himself backed out swiftly as well.
The black-robed youth remained expressionless. "I won't give you the chance to go to Cangzhou."
Showing up at someone's gates to cross hands, regardless of victory or defeat, was a profound humiliation to a sect.
All the more so when it came from a nameless newcomer like Lian Youming.
A slap to the face was a grudge to the death.
"See? I told you that you were looking to die."
Standing with his back to the setting sun, Lian Youming cast a tall, imposing shadow that stretched out like a clawing, snarling tiger, reaching all the way to the feet of the black-robed youth.
Without a word, the black-robed youth slowly raised his arms. His joints rippled section by section like a python shuddering its scales. With a twist of his torso, the force within his sinews and bones surged instantly into his hands, forming a pair of eagle claws.
Their gazes locked. Feeling the pervasive murderous intent pressing in from all sides, Lian Youming said nothing more, offering only a cold sneer.
His hands hung naturally at his sides. Without pausing, he strode forward. As he moved, his frame uncoiled, and the spine along his back undulated like a rearing dragon or serpent. Ridges and furrows suddenly rippled beneath his clothes, as though living creatures were writhing within.
Neither spoke a word.
Separated by three to five meters, both figures suddenly accelerated in unison, charging forward without dodging or flinching, like swordsmen crossing paths on a narrow lane in days of old.
In an instant, claw shadows struck the face, fists snapped outward and drew back, garments snapped with force, and violent gusts tore through the air.
Yet it all flared and faded in a flash.
The setting sun dipped beneath the horizon, plunging the world into deep night.
When vision cleared, the two figures had already passed each other.
Lian Youming's expression was grave. Raising a hand to stroke the claw marks on his neck, he tasted a faint hint of sweet blood in his throat, and two holes had been torn into the sleeves at his wrists.
As for the black-robed youth, his face had turned even paler. A hidden grimace of agony twisted his features, and a massive fist mark had caved into his back—a bowl-sized hollow struck squarely and dead-center against his spine.
"What a Taiji hammer!"
With a faint murmur, the youth took a few steps forward on residual momentum. Yet with every step, the vertebrae in his back issued a sequence of unsettling, disjointed cracks. The moment he stepped out of the small courtyard, he collapsed to the ground with a dull thud, kicking up a cloud of dust.
Song Xiehu and his men were nowhere to be seen.
From the thick darkness, someone darted out swiftly to carry the youth away, leaving behind a raspy voice:
"On the final day of the year, the Eagle Claw Sect shall await your arrival!"
Chapter 71