Li Xuanfeng stood alone beneath the immortal throne. Demonic cultivators hovered in midair around the grand hall; though none dared ride the wind any closer, their covetous and lingering gazes converged upon the scene. Watching the square cauldrons, Si Yuanli swallowed hard.
Clutching the large cauldron, Si Yuanli remained silent. He understood what lay inside far better than anyone else present. His hands gripped the cyan rim until his knuckles turned pale, his expression grave.
Though Li Xuanfeng had held back in secret, he put on a grand display to deter the surrounding demonic cultivators. Striding forward as if nothing were amiss, he came before the three remaining cauldrons, surveying the dazzling array of spiritual treasures spread across the floor. He glanced back and said in a cool tone, "Fellow Daoist, it is up to you."
Meeting Li Xuanfeng’s gaze, Si Yuanli said hurriedly, "Brother Xuanfeng! How could I have the face to take any more? The finest treasure has already fallen into my hands... Brother Xuanfeng, you decide for yourself."
Li Xuanfeng gave him an assessing look, somewhat surprised, and kept a mental note of him. Looking at the man's honest and simple face, Li Xuanfeng casually swept his sleeve, taking only twenty percent of the spiritual items on the ground so as not to provoke a frenzy.
The cyan-and-white folding screen naturally fell into his grasp as well. Li Xuanfeng lingered no longer, taking Si Yuanli and riding the wind into the sky. Behind them, the swarm of demonic cultivators could restrain themselves no longer and erupted into violent combat over the hall, sending thunderous roars echoing through the air.
Like an exploding thunderclap, surging true fire erupted across the sky. A beam of golden-red radiance shot straight into the clouds, raining down sheets of flame. The fire was golden-red when it first appeared, but as it fell through the air it deepened to a dark crimson, scorching the atmosphere with a fierce sizzle.
Clad in dark crimson robes with flames swirling across his face and hands, Gao Fangjing charged out of the main hall like a demon god. A streak of purple light darted away in a frail, staggering retreat as Gao Fangjing laughed with wild abandon:
"Come! Old dog Murong, bark again for your grandpa! Do you still have the breath to talk now?!"
Gao Fangjing’s prowess was indeed formidable. He battered Murong Gong and a northern demonic cultivator until both fled in utter disarray. The watching cultivators looked on in awe as he pursued them relentlessly with his horse-chopping lance, filling the sky with fire.
The demonic cultivator fleeing beside Murong Gong had a cold, grim face and gripped a sinister saber. With a high-bridged nose and deep eye sockets, he was unmistakably from the northernmost reaches—if not Monan, then Mobei—undoubtedly bearing Hu-Jie blood.
Though Li Xuanfeng had never seen Murong Gong before, he found the man's attire and bearing matched the descriptions closely. He gazed quietly toward him, and the golden bow slung behind his back suddenly leaped into his hand.
After all, the person ahead was a demonic cultivator. Seeing Li Xuanfeng draw his bow, Si Yuanli did not find it unusual at first, but seeing his solemn expression, he assumed it was some formidable foe and murmured in surprise, "Hmm?"
"Murong Gong."
*What a coincidence. Amid the billowing demonic smoke of battle, I hunted for him so many times without finding his trace, yet here I run into him in Daning Palace.*
Si Yuanli thought irritably to himself, yet kept that same bewildered look on his face, shaking his head and replying, "Murong Gong? Who is that?"
A golden-red arrow had long been waiting; eager for release, it sprang onto Li Xuanfeng's bowstring. Li Xuanfeng narrowed his grey eyes, drew the bow into a full moon, and aimed far toward the north.
"Go."
The moment the word left his lips, the golden-red arrow vanished from the string. Far in the distance, brilliant light blossomed across the heavens. Firelight scattered like incense embers, dancing across the lake before plunging into the depths.
Si Yuanli gave a chuckle and quickly sped away with Li Xuanfeng from the cliff at the center of the battlefield. Behind them, several demonic cultivators and disciples from Purple Mansion lineages still harbored greedy designs, their hesitant gazes tracking them from afar. Si Yuanli drew his jasper sword and let out a long breath of relief.
"To let Brother Xuanfeng know, not every sect sent its direct lineage inside... Those lacking sufficient strength halted early along the perimeter to gather spiritual items and treasures; that is not a bad plan either."
"There are still people scavenging outside?" Li Xuanfeng asked, nodding in understanding.
Si Yuanli replied, "There are many northern cultivators gathered here. Brother Xuanfeng's strength is immense, so naturally you have no fear, but who can guarantee there won't be some bizarre art that is hard to guard against? It is not advisable to stay long... Just now, on our way here, we passed several small palaces on the lake. Though there may be nothing extraordinary inside them, they have the advantage of being safe and convenient. Why not go take a look? Why not find another place to rest and wait for the Real Persons to summon us out?"
Li Xuanfeng raised his sharp brows, not in the least hurried. A flash of mockery gleamed in his grey eyes. Listening clearly, he did not believe Si Yuanli's explanation for a moment, yet it confirmed his suspicion: *There is certainly an arrangement here. Whatever his mouth claims, I will simply accompany and protect him. Earlier, this old fellow looked so reluctant, as if he were dropping a watermelon to chase sesame seeds. Turns out the thing the Real Person tasked him with is inside one of those small palaces on the lake!*
Since Si Yuanli had put on such an act, Li Xuanfeng cooperated with a frown and said in a heavy voice, "It is all up to your arrangement, Fellow Daoist!"
"Then please follow me!" Si Yuanli nodded hastily, putting on a timid, cowardly display.
He glanced about, searching for the palace across the lake, his thoughts churning. *The direction is right. The Real Person said a small palace on the lake holds something belonging to my family, yet we almost missed it... The Real Persons are watching from above the water, so I cannot make it too obvious. Earlier, to avoid drawing public wrath, I pushed things back to Li Xuanfeng. Making him slightly suspicious isn't a bad thing—after all, up to now he is on our side... If I go with the flow, it will be easier to manage.*
*The Si family is low-key, but we are no fools. Although I've never heard of this Brother Xuanfeng before, Real Person Yuan Xiu secretly gave him that Lord-Invoking Gold-Wielding Talisman, so there must be a reason. If this matter could be resolved so easily, why give him a talisman at the Shakya level? Real Person Yuan Xiu is uniquely renowned in the art of talismans; this talisman is no ordinary object, so why give it away for nothing?*
*No wonder Master Yuansu valued him so highly and gave him a kinswoman in marriage. Once Yuansu fell, our sect's Real Person immediately brought him into service. Capable in battle, knowing when to yield and when to stand tall, worldly-wise, and able to recognize the times—no wonder he is so valued by the Shakya and Daoist seniors alike. Yu Su is greedy to the core; Tang Shedu disregards kin; Lingu Rao is formidable, but the Lingu family is too deeply tied to Great Raven Hollyhock Monastery. Only Li Xuanfeng has outstanding ability yet values sentiment, making him easy to handle. Were I a Real Person, I too would feel most comfortable employing him.*
As they flew over the lake, Li Xuanfeng's fame had long been forged in the conflict between north and south. His renown had spread far beyond Jiangbei; even the powers between Yan and Zhao had heard of him and knew such a man existed. That renown came from slaying Murong Wu and shattering Yuqian's Dharma body. It was true martial glory, but the northern lineages he had offended numbered far more than ten fingers—Li Xuanfeng himself had lost count. The lofty Purple Mansions and Mahas might not care, but he had slain their direct descendants, kin, and allies, entangling interests and offending a vast swath of northern cultivators.
Li Xuanfeng understood the mountain of grudges he had accumulated. By now, he cared nothing about offending another northern sect. He struck with full strength from the outset, the bow hum echoing through the air.
The Shakya cultivator before them was somewhat unusual. He lacked any eerie, corrupt aura; instead, his presence resembled Luejin of the Damu Dharma Realm, with a far softer Dharma light that was nearly akin to Kongheng's.
The monk did not appear evil, but since he barred their path without cause, Li Xuanfeng had no reason to stay his hand. The moment the Shakya cultivator emerged, Li Xuanfeng merged five arrows into one, shooting straight for his Dharma body.
"Buzz!"
A burst of golden radiance exploded before Li Xuanfeng, scattering like falling petals accompanied by a sharp, piercing screech of shattered stone and metal. The burly monk's eyes lit up. The golden kāsāya draped over him fell loose as he chuckled, "This humble monk is Jiana. I have long heard of your immortal arrows, Patron. After deep contemplation, I devised this art specifically to counter them, and have been waiting for your golden arrows!"
He had already hitched up his sleeves and raised the golden kāsāya high, turning the side woven with golden patterns outward. Golden disks with round perforations hung along its hem, spewing billowing white smoke and golden mist as he chanted Sanskrit scriptures:
"Venerable Great Capacious Heaven-Reception, come!"
As he uttered the sacred sounds, the layered golden lattices upon the kāsāya lit up in unison, sharply defined and pure, looking as though they could contain infinity while flowing with golden runes.
The incoming golden light hummed in the air and plunged straight into the robe. Jiana gripped each corner of the kāsāya; as his arms bore the weight, blue veins bulged across his flesh.
The golden kāsāya billowed in the air, wrapping tightly around the blast. A massive bulge thrashed and leaped within it, like a violent serpent caught in a sack struggling desperately for its life, pulling at the fabric until Jiana's face flushed red. All his magical power surged into the kāsāya, temporarily arresting the projectile. The monk possessed slender brows and a clean, shaven head; beneath the howling wind, dense, pale-gold runes surfaced across his scalp.
Standing behind Li Xuanfeng with the cauldron in his arms, Si Yuanli eyed the kāsāya with worry. *How peculiar. It looks like a unique magical artifact combined with a matching art specifically designed to counter incoming projectiles. This bald donkey is no simple opponent; I wonder if Brother Xuanfeng can subdue him...*
Si Yuanli lowered his gaze; he was not nearly as helpless as he appeared on the surface. The jasper sword at his waist twitched slightly, its blade already subtly pointed toward the monk.
Having just arrested the golden light, Master Jiana showed a flicker of smug satisfaction. His thin brows twitched upward, and he lifted and pinched his hands together, intending to shake the golden light away elsewhere. But then he heard a low voice, cold and unyielding as iron:
"Fall."
A sharp shriek pierced his ears, and his entire body suddenly seized up. The fierce man in golden armor had already closed the distance! The golden bow was slung over his back, glowing brightly. Master Jiana recoiled a step in horror.
Li Xuanfeng had been barely five feet away—a single stride for him. The monk had been overly conceited, focusing all his attention on bracing against a second arrow; how could he have anticipated this sudden charge?
In the next instant, Li Xuanfeng's straight fist drove into his chest and punched through his back, spraying a burst of multicolored radiance. The dull thud was not loud, yet it sounded exceptionally harsh.
Li Xuanfeng stood right before the monk, his tiger-like eyes wide and terrifying with grey pupils. One hand locked around the monk's throat while the other seized the gleaming kāsāya. White-gold radiance blazed across his arms as he exhaled with a thunderous roar:
"Ha!"
Jiana thrashed twice, his limbs flailing as he spun on the spot, but his neck was crushed like rotten wood, releasing a crisp series of snaps.
"Pfft...!"
The sound of vomiting blood drifted back on the wind. Jiana's body collapsed like wet mud, but his severed head moved the fastest, leaping a li away in an instant and staring back in sheer horror. The moment Li Xuanfeng closed in, the head had rolled off and hastily taken to the air to flee, while the kāsāya dimmed and dissolved into scattering golden motes.
Jiana desperately tried to weave another kāsāya from his magical power, but how could a hastily conjured shroud compare to the one he had prepared beforehand? Like a wolf tearing through a thatched hut, Li Xuanfeng's force shredded it after a single breath, sending gold light flying across the sky.
A rain of delicate, multicolored petals drifted down, drifting in all directions. Five golden arrows reappeared beside Li Xuanfeng, while Master Jiana was nowhere to be seen.
Jiana was clearly an elite among Shakya cultivators, with escape and self-preservation arts to match. His aura bore resemblance to ancient Buddhism, free of foul corruption, so Li Xuanfeng had ultimately stayed his hand at the final moment, choosing not to strike him dead.
Li Xuanfeng swept away the lingering golden light. Five spirit arrows emerged, lined up head-to-tail like five obedient fish with golden scales, swimming smoothly around his palm before vanishing into his hand.
The glow on his bow finally dimmed, and the white-gold patterns on his face slowly receded. A number of cultivators hovered in the sky nearby with varied expressions, but whenever their gazes met his sharp eyes, they quickly looked away, not daring to meet his stare. Muffled murmurs rippled through the spectators: "He truly lives up to his reputation; that monk was so naive he turned into a laughingstock."
Si Yuanli rushed over and asked in a low voice, "Brother Xuanfeng! Is that bald donkey Jiana dead?"
Li Xuanfeng looked toward the distant sky where the monk had vanished, his tone chillingly calm: "Fellow Daoist, since you came with the heart to duel, why shrink back upon facing battle and depart without taking your leave?"
Chapter 590