At Yanshan Pass.
Li Qinghong had been cultivating at the pass for only a few months when Qingchi's order arrived. It was delivered straight into the hands of Zhao Tinggui of Moon Lake Peak, who rode the wind up to the pass with an entourage in tow.
Li Qinghong emerged from her cave dwelling to greet him. Zhao Tinggui waved his hand, bidding his retinue halt before the hall, and entered alone. His expression was calm enough, and he wore white robes. Discerning his subdued spirits, Li Qinghong addressed him softly, "Fellow Daoist Tinggui."
"Senior is too polite. I dare not accept such deference."
Every Foundation Establishment cultivator under Zhao Tinggui at Yanshan Pass had been requisitioned. With no telling how many would perish at Chenshui Mausoleum, the immense pressure weighed heavily on him. He would have to answer to their families and factions—a truly senseless, thankless task. Once lives were lost, how was he to account for them? When replacements had to be drafted, it would again fall on him to offend people. Those clans would not dare hate Qingchi, but would they hesitate to hate him?
Naturally averse to making enemies, he found being forced into this corner utterly exasperating. Still, he kept his outward demeanor polite and cordial. "Having received orders from the sect to mobilize everyone, I saw how urgent the summons was and hurried straight over."
Li Qinghong voiced her assent. Zhao Tinggui sighed. "The sect's orders cannot be refused. Please take care, Senior. After all, we share common fortunes now. My junior brother has only just fallen in battle; I truly cannot bear another misfortune."
Unsure of who would lead them north or just how perilous the journey would be, she was already prepared for the possibility of falling there. Concerned about Li Yuexiang, she asked, "On this journey north, I must trouble Fellow Daoist to look after Yuexiang."
"Tinggui lost his parents early," Zhao Tinggui replied. "Though I do not claim to be a virtuous man, I treat my fellow disciples on the peak as my own brothers. Since I gave my word to your esteemed clan, I will certainly see to it."
Li Qinghong nodded in acknowledgment.
With the summons brooking no delay, Li Qinghong stepped out of her cave dwelling, summoned Li Wushao, and broke through the air, flying toward Mount Bianyan.
On the wind, Li Wushao maintained his usual silent devotion to cultivation, speaking less and less in recent years. Seizing the opportunity to speak with him, Li Qinghong said softly, "Regarding that matter with the white snake, I felt rather apologetic. After all, affection ought to be mutual..."
Li Wushao opened his eyes and replied in a low, somber voice, "We serpent-kind are not like humans; we pay no heed to mutual affection. If our scents do not arouse desire, then nothing can. Even with boundless love, if the flesh does not respond, it is all an empty illusion. There is no such thing as mutual affection—Senior overthinks it."
He continued, "Even if two serpents were fond of each other, the moment they assume their true forms, catching a whiff of each other's scent brings instant disgust and uncontrollable revulsion! That is simply how my beast kind is.
"Back when I was in the Eastern Sea, this was long known. The superior Swimming-Water White Snakes have great difficulty reproducing, keeping harems of over a hundred concubines. The inferior Mare-Water Grey Snakes and Pool-Water Dark Snakes serve as their hounds and horses, bearing young as numerous as grains of sand.
"It is manageable once cultivation is high. But when cultivation is low, even if two snakes are fond of each other, a single summons from a white snake causes the other to lose its wits and flee to become his concubine.
"Even after reaching Foundation Establishment, bloodline prejudice remains... My father once said that for our kind, the hook snakes, it would be better to remain muddle-headed. To be cursed with a human mind yet unable to resist the dictates of the beast body—that is the greatest sorrow."
Li Qinghong said solemnly, "There are indeed such rumors. Not only beast-kind, even humans are not necessarily free from it."
His words made Li Qinghong think of her clan's heir; she fell silent, turning the thought over in her mind.
Riding the wind, they soon descended into the mountains. The cultivators had nearly all assembled, with many familiar faces among them.
That earlier incident in the hook snake's world had been a minor interlude, yet it had prompted the old demoness to pay a personal visit, leaving Li Qinghong somewhat awkward. Having it laid bare now put the old demon at ease.
Li Xuanfeng had been waiting in the mountains for a short while. As the cultivators arrived on orders, he glanced over and saw that Li Qinghong and her companions had arrived; on the other side, the white snake and the woman were present as well.
Golden radiance flowed across his body. His broad, powerful hands held an exaggerated golden bow as he stood quietly alone upon a stone platform. Beside him, direct disciples of the immortal sect bowed their heads, and Foundation Establishment cultivators of various clans paid their respects.
The sight of him instantly sent Li Qinghong back decades in memory—to when her father Li Xuanling was still alive, and Li Xuanfeng was the most brilliant genius of the clan, freshly emerged from seclusion and brimming with heroic vigor. She had followed her eldest brother Li Yuanxiu down the mountain, while her second brother Li Yuanjiao had laughingly told tales of Li Xuanfeng's miraculous archery. Before even laying eyes on him, Li Qinghong had already harbored deep admiration.
"Zhongfu..."
Li Qinghong gave a soft instruction, and her clansmen naturally complied. Both Qingchi and Kongheng had sent guest elders—veterans from various regions who showed great deference and respectfully drew near.
Li Qinghong lowered her eyes and thought, *Uncle has perhaps made another breakthrough.*
On the other side stood several cultivators from the Ning family, two disciples of Moon Lake Peak, guest elders recalled from the Eastern and Southern Seas, and three sent by Qingchi Sect—eighteen Foundation Establishment cultivators in all.
As for Qi Refinement and Embryonic Breathing disciples, only a modest number were requisitioned from the mountain. For one, they were of little use in battle; for another, Qingchi refused to dispatch its own disciples, while its subordinate territories, worn down by continuous turmoil over the years, simply had few left to draft. Moreover, the clans under Qingchi had yet to recover from the persecution and struggle following Chi Wei's death. Their earlier geniuses had been wiped out, and subsequent ones were not willingly sent to Qingchi. With fortunes waxing and waning, even their numbers of Foundation Establishment cultivators differed vastly.
Qingchi differed from Yue: it maintained looser control over cultivation manuals and Suiyuan Pills, levied lighter exploitation from above, and rarely restricted clan consolidation, leaving many centuries-old clans whose Qi Refinement disciples clearly outnumbered those of other lands.
Li Xuanfeng had observed them for a time. The guest elders sent by Kongheng were naturalized cultivators from the Eastern Sea of ordinary strength, yet they at least had experience dealing with demonic cultivators and possessed adept self-preservation arts. Though lacking supreme combat power, they could at least stall a few demonic cultivators.
Only the three sent by Qingchi Sect were of any note. One carried a talisman sword on his back, calling himself Zhuang Cheng from the Guyan Desert; another was an elder over two hundred years old, also from Guyan, named Gu Lanying. It was rumored that Yue's Daoist traditions mostly stemmed from the Seven Sons of Chongming Hall, of superior quality and fierce competition, so those who stood out often surpassed those of Wu... Whether true or not, these two appeared capable. The last was an old Daoist who seemed merely present to make up numbers, having just broken through to Foundation Establishment with an unstable aura, calling himself Bai Yinzi of Guyan, his face filled with bitterness.
Standing slightly behind Li Xuanfeng, Ning Heyuan stepped forward and took a jade vessel from his sleeve—Ning Wan's Evergreen Flowing Cloud Ship. He tapped it in the air, expanding it into a great vessel, and everyone boarded. Ning Heyuan threw out a sheet of gauze, cloaking everyone's figures, and smiled. "Midnight approaches. Everyone, depart with me."
Li Qinghong nodded, the emerald hairpin swaying behind her hair.
Li Xuanfeng unslung his bow and said in a heavy voice, "Everyone, going to Chenshui Mausoleum this time is to do battle with the demonic cultivators of the Murong family. These are no ordinary demonic cultivators; all of you must be vigilant."
Ning Heyuan waited a moment before speaking in a grave tone. "Although the true Murong direct line will be dealt with by Li Xuanfeng, Tang Shedu, and the others, the remaining demonic cultivators are no rabble either. You must take care. The Murong family's Human Head in Belly is renowned, and many of their arts excel at fighting outnumbered. Exercise great caution."
Li Qinghong had seen Murong Xia, the Maha reincarnation, years ago. The human heads released from that monk's belly were not so monstrous; they spat out the living souls of people who could speak, laugh, and even thank Murong Xia. Observing this, she said solemnly, "Murong Xia was a Maha, after all; his belly had been refined to the level of a blessed land. The current Murong direct line is far inferior, clearly practicing some kind of demonic art."
"As for Chenshui Mausoleum, do you all know of it?"
The cultivators remained silent, save for the aged Gu Lanying, who raised his eyelids and rasped, "It is the royal mausoleum of the State of Ning. Originally protected by ancient formations, several centuries ago Duke Xu united the clans of Daxu to breach the formation and plunder its spiritual treasures clean. After all, Duke Xu died abruptly shortly after breaching the formation. This Chenshui Mausoleum must harbor numerous anomalies. If those demonic cultivators exploit them, suffering some hardship is a small matter, but if the situation is reversed, it will be disastrous."
Ning Heyuan nodded. "Senior is truly knowledgeable."
Gu Lanying smiled softly and replied, "Fellow Daoist Zhuang's thought is sound. Daxu's immortal path began its gradual decline from that time, worsening by the day. Even the once-prosperous Tangjin Gate slowly fell into ruin, which later led to the Buddhist cultivators heading south... and True Monarch Shangyuan stepping in..."
Mention of True Monarch Shangyuan stirred complex emotions in several present. Gu Lanying, belonging to the sect, felt it less deeply, but many present had participated in resisting the Buddhist cultivators and witnessed Shangyuan's strike, filling them with sentiment. Back then, Shangyuan was still a Real Person, but now having attained True Monarch, he had become a legendary existence.
Gu Lanying added, "In my early years I trained there. Rumor has it that Ning had a grotto-heaven, and someone once entered it from Chenshui Mausoleum, though whether true or false is unknown. In the ancient altars, it was not called Chenshui Mausoleum, but Anhuai Commandery of the State of Wei. It seems the State of Ning only established its kingdom hundreds of years ago and made this its royal tomb. Back then, several sects counterbalanced one another here and were very polite to Foundation Establishment cultivators like us. There should be several earth veins that allow passage, containing many cave dwellings. Now it should be an empty shell, but rich in spiritual opportunity. The original sects fled overseas, making it an ideal place to harbor demons."
Gu Lanying's deep knowledge genuinely surprised Ning Heyuan; what began as polite flattery now held genuine respect.
Gu Lanying stroked his beard and fell silent, while Zhuang Cheng, carrying the talisman sword on his back, spoke in a deep, forceful voice. Qingchi and the others were experienced, and Gu Lanying was an elder of over two hundred years; they soon struck up a conversation with the Eastern Sea guest elders, gradually coming to know one another.
As Li Qinghong pondered and Li Wushao and the others introduced themselves, Bai Yinzi's eyes lit up. He leaned close to Li Qinghong and whispered, "My lord, this lowly cultivator is from that small desert temple... Senior Chen Donghe visited back then! He even guarded it for a time..."
Li Qinghong immediately realized that this was where her clan collected Golden Yang Huangyuan. Having never met the man before, she could not judge his veracity and simply nodded to let it pass. Seeing her polite reserve, Bai Yinzi could only sit back down and listen to the others converse.
Amidst the chatter, Li Qinghong listened in silence. Soon, the clouds outside the ship thickened, demonic qi drifted, and hills rose and fell. The lightning pool in her Qi Sea surged restlessly, stimulated by the overflowing demonic aura. Observing the terrain, she realized she had been here before—when using the altar to pray for lightning, she had visited many possible places in Daxu to gather thunder.
Through the mist, her pupil technique faintly caught sight of broken walls and ruins below, with several demonic lights rising and falling in the clouds, wandering back and forth as if searching for something. The demonic cultivators were likely inside. This place was also very close to Tangjin Gate's Mountain of Blades.
The vessel fell quiet. Li Xuanfeng gazed down intently with his bow on his back, the command token in his hand pulsing with light as if guiding them. Soon, the radiance on the token reached its peak, revealing floating talismans. Li Xuanfeng read them carefully, calculated the distance, unslung his bow, and gripped it firmly, saying in a heavy voice, "Prepare yourselves. Tang Shedu and the others have not yet arrived..."
"Impudent!"
Just as his voice fell, black light rose from the mist ahead. A massive black human head ascended into the sky, glaring with two enormous pale-blue eyes, while two bloodshot red eyes stared outward, dripping with blood and tears. Its rows of stark-white fangs gleamed coldly. The giant head opened its mouth wide, its teeth parting like heavy doors, and spewed out a dense swarm of pale-blue motes of light. The motes swarmed forth, turning into snakes, insects, ants, and scorpions that rained down with a clatter, sprouting wings as they scattered in search of prey.
Yet the middle-aged man slowly raised his golden bow. A golden arrow leaped from his waist onto the string. The golden bowstring was drawn taut, and a piercing hum rang in everyone's ears.
Chapter 569