Before departing, Qin Sang quietly circled the mountain. Waiting for prey to walk into a trap was always easier than an impromptu clash, but unfortunately, he found nothing.
In the end, Qin Sang sped off in the direction he had previously chosen.
By this time, the entire Eight Trigrams Forbidden Ground was already steeped in slaughter and bloodshed.
The core area of the Eight Trigrams Forbidden Ground was not large—a circular lake with emerald-green water, without a ripple upon its surface.
At the center of the lake stood an islet blanketed in lush greenery and teeming with flowers. Rising right from the islet's center was a colossal, sky-propping tree, its segmented roots coiled like dragons, its fiery red leaves stacked tier upon tier into the shape of a pagoda.
The Yuanzhao Sect cultivator who steered the Moon-Crossing Raft was meditating on a reef at the edge of the islet. Suddenly, his expression shifted slightly, and he opened his eyes to look up.
In the sky, the wind and clouds churned abruptly, and astral winds raged, yet they could not sway the giant tree in the slightest. Two figures, enveloped in the protective radiance of their magic tools, flew through the astral winds toward the islet.
Upon seeing their faces clearly, the Yuanzhao Sect cultivator's tense expression eased, and he asked with some surprise, "Junior Brother Yu, what brings you here? Where is Senior Brother Du?"
The arrival was a Foundation Establishment cultivator about forty years of age, followed by a young-looking man in white robes whose cultivation was only at the eighth layer of the Qi Refinement stage.
The two landed on the islet, and the young man bowed in salutation. "Zhao Yan greets Martial Uncle Luan."
The cultivator surnamed Yu smiled and said, "Senior Brother Luan, you might not know, but something seems to have happened in Senior Brother Du's clan. Before dawn broke today, his descendants rushed up the mountain in a panic to beg for help. Senior Brother Du couldn't pull himself away, so he had no choice but to entrust me with assigning chores to the newly inducted disciples."
"So that's how it is. No wonder Senior Brother Du hasn't arrived."
Luan Shan came to an understanding. Most of those inducted through each Ascension Assembly were rogue cultivators who had developed an intractable, defiant temperament out in the world, which needed to be tempered.
Thus, many arduous chores that sect disciples were unwilling to perform were assigned to them under the grand pretext of tempering their character.
Such trivial matters as distributing chores and receiving new disciples into the sect easily bred resentment and were hardly desirable tasks; Senior Brother Du had always handled them.
Now that Senior Brother Du had entrusted the man surnamed Yu to handle it, Luan Shan could not have been happier.
"Then I shall trouble you, Junior Brother Yu."
After exchanging a few more words, the three of them each found a reef and settled down to meditate, not daring to take even half a step onto the islet proper.
***
In the gorge of a desolate mountain, it was dim and damp. Moss crept across the rocks, and bizarrely shaped insects occasionally crawled through the crevices, giving off a faint, rotting stench.
Qin Sang weighed the mustard seed bag in his hand, then flicked his fingers to shoot out a jet of flame, burning the corpse at his feet.
This was the second opponent he had encountered since entering the Eight Trigrams Forbidden Ground. Though not as troublesome as the slovenly Daoist, he had still given Qin Sang a cold sweat.
First hiding in the dark, taking the foe unawares with the Purple Soul Bell to bewilder his mind, following up with a blast of Yin Thunder to heavily wound him, and then finishing with several ice spikes—the opponent had not even had time to deploy his defensive magic tool.
Qin Sang was growing increasingly proficient with this tactic.
Qin Sang had severely wounded him only to seize his jade plaque, yet he discovered that while the man pleaded for mercy, his hand was stealthily creeping toward his mustard seed bag, a faint red glow flickering in his palm. Qin Sang was instantly alarmed and infuriated. Having nearly suffered earlier from failing to cut weeds by their roots, he naturally dared not take any chances, thoroughly finishing the opponent off before feeling truly at ease.
Qin Sang opened his mustard seed bag, but after a thorough search, he found no jade plaque!
The kid's jade plaque had either been stolen already or hidden away.
There was no distinction between day and night in the Eight Trigrams Forbidden Ground. Qin Sang could only estimate that roughly two shichen had passed since he entered, yet he had obtained only a single jade plaque.
Collecting ten jade plaques was far more difficult than imagined; he could no longer afford to be this overly cautious!
Still, this person's wealth was more substantial than the slovenly Daoist's. When Qin Sang opened his hand, he found a stack of twelve talismans clutched in the palm. Taking them out for a look, they all turned out to be Fire Feather Talismans, sending a chill of cold sweat down his neck.
The Fire Feather Technique was an incantation of the fire element. Once cast, flames throughout the sky transformed into feathers that shot forth in volleys, blanketing heaven and earth. Because the fire feathers were dispersed, its power was inferior to the Gui Water Yin Thunder Incantation, but it was stronger than the ice spikes condensed by Ten Thousand Li Freeze.
Had the opponent struck with a single Fire Feather Talisman, Qin Sang naturally would not have feared it, but if twelve Fire Feather Talismans were unleashed all at once, just imagining the scene made his scalp tingle. He felt fortunate that he had not given his opponent the chance to release them.
Aside from this stack of Fire Feather Talismans, the man's magic tools were nothing extraordinary: a defensive magic tool resembling a green gauze canopy, which was not as useful as the Ice Silkworm Armor, and a blood-colored long saber, which was decent among medium-grade magic tools and barely usable.
Qin Sang picked it up and gave it a couple of swings. Finding it quite handy, he kept it.
Once the corpse had burned to ash, Qin Sang checked his surroundings, slipped into concealment, and traversed two more mountains after leaving the gorge before finding a cave to hide in.
After meditating to recover, Qin Sang gripped the blood saber blade-down and set off once more.
The mountains seemed endless, and the terrain was exceedingly complex. Qin Sang hastened his pace. After traveling for a while, he saw an isolated peak standing ahead, its summit nearly piercing the clouds. It was the highest mountain nearby, and the view from the top would surely be vast, so Qin Sang decided to head up and take a look.
In a place like this, he naturally had to be exceedingly careful. Qin Sang crept noiselessly to the mountain peak, where his gaze suddenly froze.
Upon a rock at the summit was an inconspicuous mark that only the seventeen of them could decipher—precisely the secret mark Martial Uncle Yue had agreed upon with them.
After entering the Eight Trigrams Forbidden Ground, Qin Sang had long put the secret mark out of his mind. He would never leave a secret mark for others to find him, and he assumed the others shared his thinking.
Yet unexpectedly, a fellow disciple had truly left one behind.
Was it naivety, or a trap?
Qin Sang knitted his brows tightly. Looking in the direction indicated by the secret mark, it pointed precisely along the path he intended to take, meaning that fellow disciple was very likely not far ahead.
Having been in here for so long and fought two battles only to gain a single jade plaque, Qin Sang realized that standing out in the Ascension Assembly was truly not that simple.
Compared to the consequence of failing to enter the Yuanzhao Sect, was bargaining with a tiger perhaps somewhat easier to accept?
Qin Sang's expression was hesitant. After mulling it over, he ultimately decided that each should go their own way. He did not know who lay ahead; if it was a fellow disciple at the seventh layer of the Qi Refinement stage who harbored ill intent, he would suffer heavily.
The allure of a top-grade magic tool was hardly inferior to that of a jade plaque.
As for changing directions, the far end of his vision to the left sparkled with waves, as if a great river flowed there. The riverbank was open terrain, and not far across the water lay that poisonous marshland.
After descending the mountain, Qin Sang diverted to the right, continuing to trek through the deep mountains.
Chapter 73