Wei Yuan mentally ran through the relevant information. The Xu family was one of the Seven Surnames and Thirteen Clans, with their sphere of influence concentrated primarily in central-western Ningzhou. It had been less than two thousand years since the human race took all of Ningzhou, so the Xu family belonged to the parvenu nobility, sitting right at the bottom of the great clans in terms of strength. Several years ago, the territory stretching several thousand li west of Hanyang Pass had also fallen under the Xu family's domain; they had established a grotto-heaven there, and both local government and sects had been intricately tied to them. But after the entire territory was overrun by the Wuyu Clan, the grotto-heaven shattered, dealing the Xu family a crushing blow that wiped out fully a fifth of their power.
Wei Yuan’s only prior brush with the Xu family had been Xu Yin’an, the purple-flame youth who had crawled slowly through the air during the martial test. Brave though he was, his reach was simply too short; once Wei Yuan held him suspended on the tip of his spear, he couldn't reach Wei Yuan no matter how desperately he tried, and had departed in bitter resentment.
Yet judging from the innkeeper’s words, did the Xu family also deal in the trafficking of human heads? In the lawless Shattered Lands, where control changed hands repeatedly, brothels and similar establishments could never last long. The most reliable destination for human heads remained the Wuyu Clan. It was just unclear whether this flesh trade was the clandestine doing of a few individuals or an enduring enterprise.
“Do you have a portrait of the female cultivator?”
“That grand personage said her face might have been altered by someone, so he provided an item she wore close to her body—it carries her aura.”
The innkeeper produced a jade earring, and indeed, a faint wisp of feminine yin aura clung to it. Wei Yuan felt a jolt inside. This aura bore a distinct resemblance to Yun Feifei’s!
Feigning calm, Wei Yuan put the earring away and said, “You can consider Wang Lang dead already. What dharma artifacts do I get to choose from? Bring them all out!”
The innkeeper looked troubled. “That would hardly be appropriate, wouldn't it? That grand personage will only hand over the artifact once the goods are delivered. If you're still uneasy, how about this: if none of the artifacts suit your fancy when the time comes, I’ll add another two hundred taels of immortal silver?”
“Deal.”
With the bargain struck, delight beamed across the innkeeper’s face, and he troubled Wei Yuan no further. Yet barely had he stepped past the doorway when Wei Yuan’s sinister voice drifted from within: “That female cultivator is no ordinary figure, is she?”
The innkeeper shuddered. He had not expected this simpleton to have such a sharp mind beneath his rough exterior.
Instantly pasting on a flattering smile, he lowered his voice. “Exalted Immortal, you truly have discerning eyes! To tell the truth, that female cultivator is actually kin to the previous commandery governor. After the previous governor was condemned and executed, she somehow managed to slip away and went into hiding for several years, only to end up in Wang Lang’s hands by sheer chance and get sent right back here.
“Truth be told, her looks are mediocre, but that grand personage happens to have a taste for highborn noblewomen, which is why he’s willing to spend a fortune on this deal. Commandery governors are rare, after all, and once he gets his hands on her, it’s not as if he’ll only use her once or twice. So the lord isn't really taking a loss either.”
Wei Yuan kept a cold, silent face.
The innkeeper hastily added, “Another fifty taels!”
Wei Yuan nodded.
After the innkeeper left, Wei Yuan finished his breakfast at a leisurely pace. He then threw on a black cloak commonly seen in these parts, veiled his face, and walked out of the inn. An angler couldn't simply stay in one place; like deep-sea fishing, one had to sail all over to hook a big fish.
With his features concealed, Wei Yuan strolled aimlessly through town. Having no particular destination, he wandered wherever his feet took him, quietly listening to the sounds around him and sensing every aura in the vicinity.
“...My lord, this person’s soul is so strong. Shouldn’t we add a bit more...”
“...We move together tonight! Watch my eyes—the moment we're inside, kill!”
“Big Brother, you're blind. How are we supposed to watch your eyes?”
“...Then watch my hand gestures!”
“We head back to Ningzhou tomorrow. As long as we can capture a rogue Dao Foundation cultivator with the right natal chart, we’ll be rich.”
Out of ten overheard snippets, six or seven were tied to the flesh trade. Quite a few members of the Wuyu Clan resided in Quliu Town, and their greatest demand from the human race was people themselves. When doing business with the Wuyu Clan, human heads were naturally the quickest and most lucrative commodity.
Listening as he walked, Wei Yuan gradually pieced together a picture of Quliu Town and uncovered many well-kept secrets.
When Wei Yuan turned toward the western district, courtyards of a distinctly different style began to appear. These compounds were circular and mostly flooded with standing water. There were no paved paths from the outer gates to the main doors; the occupants simply sloshed back and forth through the water. Such circular compounds were the quintessential dwellings of the Wuyu Clan.
On the streets of the western district, many people were bundled up tightly, but plenty did not bother concealing themselves at all, exposing oversized heads, heavily wrinkled faces, and various limbs of beasts and birds. Their eyes were as large as hen’s eggs—disproportionately huge compared to their bodies—and completely devoid of pupils, showing only a uniform expanse of grey or black.
These were the people of the Wuyu Clan, dwellers among waters and swamps. By human standards, they were grotesque, looking like patchwork monstrosities stitched together from birds and beasts. Yet in truth, they were born with a natural aptitude for sorcery and excelled in sacrificial rites. Certain spells that required large-scale blood sacrifices wielded the power to tear heaven and earth asunder, forcing even Immortal Monarchs to steer clear of their wrath.
Upon reaching adulthood, every member of the Wuyu Clan held a sacrificial rite, offering up victims they had captured with their own hands to pray for power. After the sacrifice, their limbs often underwent transformations, most commonly taking the form of birds or beasts. Generally, a physical metamorphosis signified a divine ability. In the Dao Foundation realm, the more an individual resembled a bird or beast—and the more bizarre their appearance—the more formidable they were.
The overall strength of the Wuyu Clan was formidable, surpassing even that of the northern Liao Clan. However, they seemed to face another powerful foe to their west, which continually tied down their main force. As a result, the conflict with the human race had remained deadlocked, with the Wuyu experiencing a slight overall retreat.
After walking in the western district for a while, Wei Yuan began to feel uncomfortable. The number of Wuyu here far exceeded his expectations. In just one block, Wei Yuan counted more than a hundred pure-blooded Wuyu, including seven or eight at the Dao Foundation realm. Such a dense concentration went beyond reason. Was some major event about to unfold, or were hostilities resuming?
Wei Yuan did not press any deeper into the western district. By now, the gazes tracking him from both open and hidden corners were plenty, and they were growing sharper by the minute. The Wuyu Clan used humans as sacrifices, and the stronger the offering, the greater the harvest. Wei Yuan walking into their territory was like a lone beauty wandering among a pack of vagrants; not drawing attention was impossible. The true quarry had not taken the bait yet, so this was no time to get tangled up with minnows and shrimp.
Wei Yuan changed direction and headed toward the northern district, and the eyes watching him gradually thinned.
The scenery in the northern district was another world entirely. Low shanties crowded every corner, packed with countless people—dozens seemed crammed into every single hovel. Sewage flooded the alleys, leaving scarcely any ground above water. Every step Wei Yuan took was a slosh through murky water, with filth floating on the surface and a sickening stench hanging thick in the air. Fortunately, Wei Yuan was currently blessed with the aura of good fortune; the floating filth drifted away or slipped past him, never once staining his boots.
As he passed by one makeshift hovel, a dozen small heads squeezed together at the door, peering at Wei Yuan in a mix of curiosity and fear. The smallest child clutched a beetle the size of a palm, several bites already taken out of its body. Fortunately, the insect appeared to have been lightly roasted. Inside the hovel lay a woman, while two men sat slumped against the wall, indistinguishable between life and death.
This shantytown alone likely harbored tens of thousands of souls. All who lived here were mortals—emaciated, sickly, and perpetually teetering on the edge of life and death. Their divine souls were so dim that even if offered to the Wuyu Clan, they would be rejected as sacrifices.
Yet right ahead of Wei Yuan stood several massive courtyards of bluestone, remarkably imposing, each spanning nearly a hundred zhang across. The foundations had been raised by three feet, completely preventing sewage from accumulating. The twenty-foot-tall courtyard walls were grand and sturdy, and the guards standing atop looked down haughtily upon the sprawling sea of low shanties just a street away. These residences were distinctly human in style, bristling with private troops.
Wei Yuan had picked up many secrets along his walk, quite a few of which concerned these grand compounds. Supposedly, they housed members of the Xu family who held no small status within their clan. Two of the courtyards were used exclusively to garrison troops, likely packing nearly a thousand formidable private soldiers. The Xu family ran numerous businesses in Quliu Town, both above and below board, and even the Wuyu Clan had to yield a step or two to them.
Frankly, Wei Yuan found the relationship between the Xu family and the Wuyu Clan difficult to comprehend. The two sides had just fought a massive war, with countless casualties and deep-seated blood feuds on both sides, yet they coexisted peacefully in Quliu Town. According to the whispers Wei Yuan had gathered, there hadn't even been any major clashes between the Xu family and the Wuyu Clan here.
The courtyard gates suddenly swung open, and several dozen Body Casting warriors poured out. Carrying vermilion boundary markers twenty feet tall, they drove stakes into the shantytown as they marched, cordoning off an area several dozen zhang across in the blink of an eye. A man resembling a head steward shouted, “Our master has claimed this land! Those within the stakes have fifteen minutes to vacate! These rations are your reward!”
Warriors hauled over several large baskets of coarse-grain cakes and dumped them directly onto the empty ground. Instantly, countless people surged forward like starving dogs to fight for them. Several senior warriors began setting fire to the cordoned-off shanties, burning steadily from north to south. The flames, stoked by Daoist arts, refused to extinguish upon hitting water; the fire line crept forward at a crawl, yet a few who were too slow to flee were still engulfed and turned into living torches.
Before long, every coarse cake had been snatched clean, and the cordoned shantytown had been reduced to ashes. The displaced people scattered into other shanties; some forced their way in, some begged the original occupants until they secured a spot, and most had to fight the original owners. In the resulting brawls of winners and losers, a dozen or so lives were snuffed out in a flash. The few women were taken in, and surprisingly, people were willing to take in the children as well, even though many shanties were already bursting at the seams.
The sight left Wei Yuan momentarily stunned. The refugees he had seen in his youth had already resembled wild beasts, but the people here were perhaps even lower than beasts. The donkey stables and pigsties of the Wei family were far cleaner than these hovels.
Looking at the squads of warriors setting fires and burning people alive as though it were routine business, Wei Yuan’s face darkened with chill. Wang Lang, the first fish he had hooked on his first day of angling, had countless ties to the Xu family, and Yun Feifei was most likely tangled up with them as well. Since that was the case, Wei Yuan decided to stir up the hornet's nest and see just what was hidden inside those grand mansions ahead.
Before Wei Yuan could make a move, a commotion broke out behind him as a dozen or so horsemen came galloping forward. The hooves of their warhorses sent foul water splashing in every direction, and a sheet of it flew right toward Wei Yuan’s head!
Wei Yuan was already in a foul mood; how could he tolerate such provocation? The dignity of an irritable sword cultivator would brook no trampling by trash. Above Wei Yuan's head, a glittering golden cauldron materialized out of thin air, swallowing the dirty water in one gulp before smashing violently toward the rider! A mere Blood Merging cultivator had his entire chest caved in by the golden cauldron, flying over a hundred feet before crashing into and flattening a row of shanties.
The troop of horsemen was startled. A young swordsman leading the pack glanced back at Wei Yuan and said coldly, “Kill him. Hack him to pieces!”
With that, he galloped straight toward the grand courtyard ahead without sparing Wei Yuan a second glance. Three or four riders followed him, while the remaining horsemen drew their swords and converged on Wei Yuan.
Wei Yuan stepped back calmly into the shanties behind him, concealing his aura and vanishing right before the eyes of the cavalry.
The riders were stunned, spurring their horses directly into the shanties to search. Paying no heed to how many people were packed inside, they trampled through, and shrill screams immediately erupted under the hooves.
Just then, several wisps of black qi stole soundlessly into the warhorses' bodies. Every mount neighed shrilly and reared on its hind legs, throwing half the riders to the ground in an instant. The thrown horsemen slammed heavily into the sewage, motionless. The two Dao Foundation horsemen were shocked. Managing with great effort to bring their mounts under control, they dismounted to check, only to discover that every fallen rider bore a thin cut across his throat—charred black, with an intensely blazing sword intent clinging to the wound, as though it had been scorched by a raging fire.
At that moment, Wei Yuan’s figure flickered into view at the far end of the long street. With every flash, he spanned several zhang, on the verge of disappearing past the corner in just a few strides.
The leader had already reached the courtyard gate. Looking back to see his subordinates decimated, he was seized by fury. Tossing his cloak aside, he revealed a handsome face with a tiny golden sword marked between his brows. He soared into the air, drawing his sword to unleash a crescent blade of sword qi that sheared toward the center of Wei Yuan's back in a flash!
Yet Wei Yuan's form rippled away like water, reappearing several zhang distant as he hurried forward, seemingly trying to duck into the shanties ahead.
Enraged by the miss, the young swordsman united body and blade, riding his flying sword like an arrow loosed from a bow straight at Wei Yuan!
Yet just as this lunge reached peak speed and momentum, a glittering golden cauldron appeared out of thin air right before him, slamming into the young swordsman's face with a deafening clang!
None could tell how the cauldron had appeared, but it was solid and dense, beyond all doubt far harder than his face.
The young man’s face was smashed into a bloody pulp, golden stars dancing before his eyes as he flipped backward and crashed heavily into the sewage. Murky water instantly submerged his face, and the current washed a patch of filth right over him.
Only after flattening the young swordsman did the golden cauldron slowly fade away, brimming with leisure, its clear chime echoing long in the air.
With a loud splash, the young man bolted upright from the water, a faceful of foul muck dripping from his head. Instantly wiping his face, his hand came away covered in filth mingled with blood; his complexion turned sickly green, and he nearly gagged.
Fortunately, two subordinates rushed over, pulled him from the sewage, and handed him a white towel to wipe his face. After one swipe, looking at the yellowish-green muck on the cloth, the young swordsman could bear it no longer and vomited up his entire breakfast along with the remnants of last night's midnight snack.
Staring toward the shanties where Wei Yuan had vanished, his voice turned shrill and twisted with rage as he shrieked hysterically, “Investigate! Find every bastard who uses a cauldron! Even if you have to turn the earth upside down, drag him to me!”
By then, Wei Yuan had already reached the eastern district. He didn't know whether the karmic destiny angling he had just learned was truly working, or whether the one he ran into on this outing was the fish he wanted to catch.
In his twenties, mid Dao Foundation, Heaven Tier, scion of the aristocratic Xu family, strutting around the Shattered Lands without fear...
Did that count as a shrimp?
Chapter 102