Having traveled to Beijia, He Lingchuan's horizons had broadened considerably. He knew that some demons looked no different from ordinary humans on the outside, yet a demon was still a demon, fundamentally distinct from humankind.
And that dark silhouette on Qiu Hu—what on earth was it?
He Lingchuan had noted that it was slender, serpent-like—or perhaps rope-like—and capable of shifting between substance and illusion.
It did not look like a divine ability, nor did it resemble a summoned ghost.
Qiu Hu's cultivation far outstripped his youth. If he had not undergone a series of bizarre encounters like He Lingchuan, it could only be explained by extraordinary innate talent. Though their clash had been brief, He Lingchuan had already gauged that this youth's cultivation was not beneath Fan Sheng's!
And what sort of standing did Fan Sheng possess? He was the deputy commander of the Tongxin Guard in Lingxu City.
The Tongxin Guard was responsible for the security of Lingxu City's southern district. Anyone who could attain the position of deputy commander, aside from possessing unquestionable loyalty, was certainly no fool or incompetent.
Back then, He Lingchuan had viewed Fan Sheng as a formidable foe. Winning against him at the Lotus Palace on Chao Lake in Baishaqu had been no easy feat; it had required laying plans beforehand and turning circumstance to his advantage—commonly known as digging a pit for someone to fall into.
Of course, He Lingchuan had braved wind and waves ever since, especially after the Mount Xu incident, which had dramatically elevated both his mental fortitude and his cultivation. If they were to cross paths again in a narrow passage, defeating Fan Sheng might not be as easy as taking something out of his own pocket, but it would be practically assured.
Yet how could an obscure youth under Mount Rong be compared to the darling of the imperial capital?
He Lingchuan was genuinely astonished.
Furthermore, from their brief exchange, he could tell this youth had not only set foot on the battlefield, but also had countless lives on his hands, thoroughly versed in the craft of killing.
Fan Sheng's power and martial skills were purer, but Qiu Hu possessed a lethal agility and a ferocious aura that Fan Sheng lacked entirely.
Qiu Hu paid no mind to He Lingchuan's repeated covert scrutiny. Over the years, he had long grown accustomed to strange looks from others.
His injuries were not light. His fellow disciples had patched him up roughly, and the Mount Rong Sect's external salves were effective. But from the exertion of killing the cicadas just now, blood seeped out anew with his movements, yet he did not even knit his brows, as if numb to pain.
He Lingchuan handed him a packet of Shituo powder. "For pain."
Qiu Hu glanced at him, took it, tilted his head back to swallow it down, and gulped water to wash it down.
This signaled his acceptance of He Lingchuan's goodwill. The man's cultivation surpassed his own; if He Lingchuan wanted him dead, there was no need to resort to poison.
Qiu Hu suddenly asked, "Whose disciple are you, and where did you fight?"
Naturally, he too had sensed that He Lingchuan was an old hand on the battlefield. When He Lingchuan fought, there were no flashy tricks, only speed, precision, and ruthlessness—bold when boldness was called for, cautious when caution was needed.
"I have no master." He Lingchuan offered a faint smile. "I picked up some rough martial arts, all honed on the western battlefields."
He blurred the distinction on purpose. Having no master did not mean having no instruction; in Panlong City, he had learned diverse martial skills, sparring with teammates, guided by drill ground instructors, and attending various courses at the Martial Review Hall dedicated to insights on qi, strength, and cultivation arts.
Of course, the most important asset was the experience forged by dying on the battlefield—knowledge bought with dozens of lives, an incomparable advantage unique to him.
Qiu Hu seemed about to speak, but held back.
Before long, they arrived at the Mount Rong enclave.
They had been walking down the mountain trail all this time, and now a vast, open valley stretched before their eyes, complete with mountains, rivers, and homesteads.
Three valleys joined together, spanning the size of three cities, all bathed in continuous firelight like the stars of heaven reflected upon the earth.
Towering mountains framed the edges of the valley, where winding trails and pavilions appeared and disappeared amid pine forests and seas of mist, dotted with occasional lanterns that radiated an ethereal, flourishing aura worthy of immortals.
Qiu Hu pointed toward the mountain base. "We go down there."
His face was slightly pale from excessive blood loss. His fellow disciples had urged him to rest, but he had refused.
Once they entered the valley, the walking became much easier.
The group reached the foot of the mountain and stepped onto a bamboo platform. Qiu Hu pressed a mechanism, and the entire bamboo platform began to rise with remarkable steadiness.
He Lingchuan was reminded of the Jinghong Crossing, the teleportation array used for Lingxu City's Floating Isle. Its efficiency in ferrying passengers up and down was astonishing, but its energy consumption was equally appalling, burning through hundreds of jin of profound crystals a day.
How could an ordinary Daoist order squander wealth so lavishly? The Mount Rong Sect's lifting mechanism was already extraordinarily well-crafted.
The bamboo platform did not stop until it reached the mountainside. After climbing a dozen or so stone steps, they arrived before the main halls of the Mount Rong Sect.
Mount Rong disciples stood guard along the entire path. Only after Qiu Hu led the way and explained their purpose did he escort He Lingchuan and his companions all the way to Songfeng Hall on the rear peak.
After being in this world for so long, He Lingchuan finally met an elder whose appearance matched his notion of having "the bones of Dao and the bearing of an immortal."
This was Elder Dao Quan of the Mount Rong Sect.
The man wore wide robes with billowing sleeves, his hair and beard entirely white, and he was currently adding firewood to the hearth.
Seeing the wounds on Qiu Hu, he was taken aback.
After listening to Qiu Hu's introduction, he took two steps forward, scrutinizing the three guests closely. His gaze lingered longest on Dong Rui, because the ghost ape was perched quietly on Dong Rui's shoulder, utterly subdued and silent.
He Lingchuan drew out a black iron ring. At the sight of it, Elder Dao waved away all the surrounding disciples, leaving only Qiu Hu behind.
"The passphrase?"
"Lingshan boundless, peerless in the world."
As those words rang out, Elder Dao's white eyebrows nearly flew up in shock. He looked He Lingchuan up and down from head to toe, his eyes brimming with curiosity. "What did you do?"
"What does the Elder mean?"
"This is the first time I have ever heard Songyuan give someone such high praise," Elder Dao said. "He is an arrogant man of proud spirit. What could you possibly have done to win his utmost respect and admiration?"
*Ah, so that was what Fang Canran's secret code meant?* Fair enough, fair enough.
Songyuan was Fang Canran's code name.
He Lingchuan glanced left and right. Aside from the three of them, only Elder Dao and Qiu Hu remained in the large hall.
Elder Dao understood his meaning and said to Qiu Hu, "Your injuries are severe. Go to Tianyu Pavilion first for proper treatment, and get some rest early."
Only then did Qiu Hu respond with a "yes," turning to leave with his back held as straight as a rod.
He Lingchuan offered a timely apology. "Brother Qiu is tough and fierce. When sparring with him, I could not hold back. I hope Elder will forgive me."
Elder Dao let out a hearty laugh. "Blades have no eyes. Since Qiu Hu does not mind it himself, why should I take offense on his behalf?"
His seemingly open and straightforward demeanor earned a great deal of goodwill from He Lingchuan and his companions.
Dong Rui in particular had seen far too many pampered Daoist elders who constantly spoke of their sect's honor and could not endure the slightest slight.
"May I ask, is the Mount Rong Sect on the same front as Mr. Fang?"
Elder Dao froze briefly. "Indeed, though outsiders know nothing of it." He looked at the three before him. "Where do our guests hail from?"
He Lingchuan and Zhu Daniang exchanged a glance. "From the east."
*The east?*
To the east lay the Xuluo Kingdom of the northern demon kingdom. Elder Dao gave an "oh" of understanding. "Over these past few months, Beijia has been far from peaceful. Since our distinguished guests have come from there, was your journey smooth?"
"Not at all," He Lingchuan said with a chuckle. "Beijia is practically driven mad with rage—nationwide martial law, arresting people everywhere. It took a massive effort on our part just to slip away."
That single word, "slip," made their stance abundantly clear.
Chapter 749