Midway through his stealthy sprint, Wei Yuan suddenly felt a chill run down his spine, as though someone had laid a deep, lingering curse upon him. Moments later, violent fluctuations of dharmic power surged from far behind. That he could sense the tremors from such a distance showed just how ferocious the clash between the two was.
Moving like lightning, Wei Yuan ran along a deliberately winding path. Wherever he came upon a notable location—be it a spiritual vein, a beast's lair, or a spot where spiritual flora grew—he deposited a flying marten. These martens remained almost entirely motionless, their presence faint and elusive.
At that moment, several images vanished from Wei Yuan's divine sense at once, cutting off his view of the fierce fight between the monk and the young island master. The observation stones he had left behind had clearly been obliterated by the shockwaves of their battle.
Still, Wei Yuan had already gathered enough intelligence. Deep within the Ten Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains, the mortals threw themselves into frantic activity once more. Armed with fresh materials, self-proclaimed geniuses—veritable Crouching Dragons and Young Phoenixes—began sprouting up in droves.
More and more mortals joined the research efforts. Having received a massive bestowal of heaven and earth, the immortal plants had begun driving their respective followers to do actual work, having no interest in listening to useless prayers.
Wei Yuan felt the same way. Looking at the hundreds of idlers kneeling before his shrine annoyed him, and seeing those crowded before the Jade Toad statue annoyed him even more. If they had time for that, they would be far better off using their heads; who knew if another Crouching Dragon or Young Phoenix might be hiding among them? Besides, their so-called prayers were either begging for personal favors or secretly slandering their peers. The closer two people appeared on the surface, the more viciously they stabbed each other in the back in private.
Beyond the large contingent devoted to research, over ten thousand mortals were busily clearing land for farming—though Wei Yuan had no idea what they were actually planting.
Lastly, a small handful of mavericks spent their days poring over the cultivation records Wei Yuan had provided, and had even begun practicing.
Yet with a single glance, Wei Yuan could tell that their cultivation aptitude was mediocre at best. The truly gifted were simply not among this group.
Wei Yuan thought pensively. It seemed that even if an awkward bird took off first, an early start did not necessarily get it anywhere.
By this point, sacrificing the dharma idols had yielded a considerable amount of otherworldly fortune. If he borrowed a little more from the shadow in the moon, it would barely suffice to summon the Yin-Yang Maiden for a single strike. Even so, Wei Yuan had no intention of calling upon her unless absolutely forced to.
The Yin-Yang Maiden's methods were far too vicious, leaving no survivors in her wake. Slaying a few rogue cultivators or retainers was one thing, but if she actually killed the Peacock Buddha Mother or Zhao Fusheng, it would cause a catastrophic storm. At the end of the day, the struggle in this secret realm had not reached a point of life and death. Retainers and rogue cultivators could die without consequence, but core figures could not.
Having sacrificed a sufficient number of dharma idols, Wei Yuan finally calculated that he needed roughly four ordinary dharma idols to fund one strike from the Yin-Yang Maiden.
Even without calling upon her, however, he still held other cards in reserve; he simply had no need to play them yet. For now, the mortals were proving unexpectedly useful—in Wei Yuan's eyes, their contributions were practically equivalent to having a second Longying.
Though the Peacock Monk and Zhao Fusheng undoubtedly had backup plans of their own, Wei Yuan was not the least bit afraid.
The messier the situation became, the better. Thus, Wei Yuan pushed deeper into the territory of the Sea Li, intending to drag their entire race into the mire as well. Even if the Sea Li possessed many powerhouses, he remained unfazed; after all, two top-tier dharma idols were trailing right behind him.
If a Sea Li powerhouse at Scenery Command made an appearance, the Bao family's True Monarchs would naturally step in to deal with them. Wei Yuan was hardly worried on that score. Furthermore, a single strike from an ordinary True Monarch would not be enough to easily slap him to death.
As he pressed deeper, the surroundings grew increasingly damp. The faint, briny stench of seawater thickened, and traces of slime left behind by the Sea Li could be seen everywhere.
Suddenly, Wei Yuan darted to the side, vanishing into a small crevice and smoothly sealing the entrance with a slab of rock.
Two Sea Li appeared at the junction ahead, slithering forward on long, serpentine lower bodies. Both possessed human torsos. One had an ordinary pair of arms, while the other bore an additional, much smaller set.
The Sea Li could dwell on land or in the ocean. Their physical might was relatively straightforward to gauge, determined primarily by their size and number of limbs. As a rule, the larger the body and the more arms they had, the more terrifying their strength.
Both of these scouts were at the Dao Foundation level. Wei Yuan waited until they had slithered past his hiding spot before leaping down, knocking them unconscious with casual strikes, and dragging them into the shadows for interrogation.
During instruction at the Palace of Grand Beginning, the languages and scripts of major non-human races were emphasized heavily. The scripts of different races differed not only in shape and meaning, but also in the dharmic power woven into them, relying on completely different principles to channel it. To master a language was tantamount to mastering a distinct system of Dao arts.
Owing to their environment, the Sea Li were proficient in water and wood arts, excelling particularly at water manipulation.
After reviving the two scouts, Wei Yuan questioned them in the Sea Li tongue. "Where is your camp? How many of you are there, and how many powerhouses do you have?"
The entire interrogation played out before the mortals within the Ten Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains. Several individuals with an exceptional knack for languages had been cramming the Sea Li tongue for days, while Wei Yuan diverted a wisp of divine sense to translate the exchange into the human tongue.
The Sea Li with the extra pair of arms refused to cooperate, instead spitting right at Wei Yuan.
Wei Yuan tilted his head, easily dodging the spit.
Just then, one of the Crouching Dragons and Young Phoenixes offered a suggestion: *The Sea race thinks far too highly of themselves. They're arrogant and conceited, so trying to reason with them will take too long. Why not slice them into sashimi?*
Always open to good advice, Wei Yuan produced a flying sword. He scraped away a single scale from the serpentine lower body, studied the grain of the meat, and sliced horizontally with the blade.
The Sea Li scout was horrified, panic and terror flooding its eyes. Beside it, the weaker scout's pupils dilated wide, its dorsal fins folding flat against its back—the ultimate display of sheer dread.
The meat of the Sea Li was remarkably tender and fresh. The higher their cultivation, the sweeter the flesh became, and those with serpentine lower bodies were considered a premier delicacy.
Generally speaking, an unwritten rule existed throughout the human cultivation world against consuming intelligent races.
Yet rules were rigid, whereas people were flexible. From ancient times to the present day, there had never been a shortage of those willing to break rules. Some even took pride in flouting conventions, using it to flaunt their uniqueness.
Consequently, the private banquet tables of wealthy merchants and high-level cultivators in the State of Wu had never lacked Sea Li delicacies. Capturing the Sea Li had evolved into a massive industry, sustaining countless cultivators.
The Sea Li had waged countless wars over this practice, with both sides suffering grievous losses time and again. The treaties prohibiting the consumption of the Sea race signed between the State of Wu, the Eastern Sea islands, and the Sea Li numbered in the dozens, if not hundreds. Yet every few years, those agreements became nothing more than waste paper.
Many of Wu's upper echelon not only indulged themselves but also exported Sea Li meat to other states, where it was widely acclaimed. Some cultivators prided themselves on righteousness and refused to stain their own hands with the karmic sin of slaughter, giving rise to another thriving trade in Wu: proxy execution.
Those engaged in the proxy trade were bottom-rung cultivators, and sometimes even mortals. All they had to do was deliver the final blow to a Sea Li, shouldering the karmic sin in exchange for one liang of immortal silver per strike. Naturally, people flocked to the trade.
The technique Wei Yuan demonstrated now was the standard method for filleting fish. Both Sea Li recognized it instantly, grasped their impending fate, and began to tremble violently.
At truly elite banquets, proxy killers were not used. To preserve the fresh, original flavor, spells were cast to keep the ingredient alive while flesh was sliced off and served directly to the table. At the most refined banquets, no more than three breaths were permitted between the stroke of the knife and the meat touching a guest's lips.
In the eyes of the two Sea Li, Wei Yuan was preparing to carve them alive for the table.
Unable to bear the terror any longer, their resolve shattered completely, and they confessed everything they knew. Once he had his answers, Wei Yuan released two beams of dharmic power, shattering their seas of consciousness.
The enmity between humanity and the Sea Li spanned at least a hundred thousand years. Putting ancient history aside, in the past century alone, the Sea Li had conquered three large islands in the Eastern Sea, slaughtering nearly ten million inhabitants down to the last person. They had also summoned massive tsunamis that submerged the coastlines of Wu, with casualties running into the millions each time.
By now, the tangled debts of blood between them were impossible to settle, and Wei Yuan had never been a soft-hearted man. Upon entering the secret realm, he knew one of his primary tasks was to purge the Sea race from the area—a crucial step toward winning over the elders of the Bao family.
As for whether the Peacock and Zhao Fusheng would catch up, Wei Yuan was not in the least concerned—not unless the Peacock Monk managed to find the real flying marten.
Consuming the aura of the Langya Divine Wood had not been for nothing; the marten's fortune had been significantly bolstered by it. On top of that, Wei Yuan had secretly blessed the creature with several wisps of azure qi. Though it resulted in a rather bizarre mixture, the creature's karmic luck had surged as a consequence.
The Peacock Monk had clearly inherited a predecessor's dharma idol, binding himself to destiny and karmic cause. Individuals of his kind could often transcend the five elements, remaining untouched by worldly influences, but the price was an inability to augment their own karmic luck.
Over the past few centuries, karmic luck had surged across the world. Most sects had benefited, with the Palace of Grand Beginning and the Four Sages Academy—both adept at harnessing luck—soaring to new heights, while the Great Treasure Radiance Pure Land began to show signs of decline.
Thus, even if the Peacock Monk managed to catch the marten, the chances were high that it would simply slip through his fingers.
At that very moment, the Peacock Monk did indeed spot a flying marten. However, it was curled up beside a ferocious beast, its presence utterly masked by the beast's aura. Looking at the hundred-zhang-long python coiled there, the Peacock Monk could not help but frown.
Serpents possessed tremendous tenacity; taking down such a beast would be no easy feat.
The Peacock Monk shifted his gaze. At the far edge of his vision, another small marten was crawling sluggishly along, its clumsy movements identical to the one beside the giant python.
The monk let out a soft sigh. Along the way, he had already seen no fewer than ten fake martens. They were so glaringly counterfeit that it took no thought at all to see through them.
The Peacock Monk shook his head. Though he did not know Wei Yuan's identity, his opinion of the fellow dropped another few notches. Needless to say, these fake martens were the work of that same scoundrel. The rogue even knew to imbue each fake with a wisp of genuine marten aura, proving the real beast had already fallen into his hands—how else could he have obtained its scent?
Once the Peacock Monk departed, the clumsy little marten crawling beside the giant python suddenly lifted its head. It glanced in the direction the monk had disappeared, then vanished in a flash.
On a different path, Zhao Fusheng advanced with a shroud of black qi swirling around his body to conceal his naked form.
He had brought only a few basic necessities into the secret realm. To his fury, his storage treasure had been obliterated by the flying swords, dumping all its contents into the void. Aside from his dharma idol and the great axe in his grip, he was left with nothing, forced to use dharmic power merely to cover himself.
He harbored a bone-deep hatred for the thief responsible for his humiliation, driving him to pursue the culprit relentlessly.
Yet just as he stepped past a junction, his brow furrowed as he detected the thief's aura.
Zhao Fusheng swept his divine sense outward and pinpointed the source. Triggered by his divine sense, the observation stone released its stored image, and Zhao Fusheng found himself staring at his own likeness.
It was not an image of Zhao Fusheng under normal circumstances. It showed him right after tripping the sword-mines—freshly stripped clean by the flying swords, his body as smooth and pale as jade. The image was frozen at the exact moment he had laid eyes on the Peacock Monk: his face flushed with mortified rage, his hands not yet in place to cover his privates.
Zhao Fusheng's vision went dark, and he nearly passed out on the spot!
This was one of the New Thirty-Six Stratagems devised by the Crouching Dragons and Young Phoenixes of the Ten Thousand Li of Rivers and Mountains, drawn from the records left by Xu Wenwu: *Before the great battle, shatter their mentality.*
Chapter 400