Where Immortals Once Walked

He Lingchuan had been to Beijia once and had broadened his horizons considerably. He knew that some monsters looked no different from ordinary people on the outside. However, monsters were monsters. At their root, they were fundamentally different from humans.

What exactly is that black shadow on Qiu Hu?

He Lingchuan had noticed that it was a long, slender strip, snake-like—or rather, rope-like—and that it could switch between corporeal and incorporeal.

It did not resemble a divine technique, nor did it look like some summoned ghostly creature.

Qiu Hu’s cultivation far surpassed his age. Unless he, like He Lingchuan, had encountered all sorts of extraordinary opportunities, the only explanation was exceptional innate talent. Their clash just now had not lasted long, yet He Lingchuan had already tested him enough to know that this man’s level was no lower than Fan Sheng’s!

As for what level Fan Sheng is, well, he is the deputy commander of Lingxu City’s Tongxin Guard, and the Tongxin Guard was responsible for security in southern Lingxu City. Anyone who can sit in that position must not only possess unquestionable loyalty, but also definitely could not be useless.

Back then, He Lingchuan had regarded Fan Sheng as a formidable enemy. Defeating him at the Lotus Palace of Chao Lake in Baishajue had not been easy. He had laid the groundwork in advance and played it smart—commonly known as leaving a pit for the other person to step into.

Of course, after that, he had ridden the wind and broken through the waves all the way forward, especially after experiencing the Mount Xu incident. Throughout all that, both his state of mind and his cultivation had greatly improved. If they were to meet again on a narrow path, defeating Fan Sheng might not be as easy as reaching into a bag, but he was still ninety percent certain of victory.

Despite that, a nameless young man of the Rongshan Sect could actually be compared to a proud son of the imperial capital?

He Lingchuan was very surprised.

Moreover, the moment he exchanged blows with Qiu Hu, he knew that this young man had not only been on a battlefield, but also had many lives on his hands, and was highly proficient in killing techniques.

Fan Sheng’s strength and martial technique were purer and more refined than his, but the kind of clean, decisive movement and that fierce, ruthless presence—qualities which Qiu Hu had—were exactly what Fan Sheng lacked.

Qiu Hu paid no mind to He Lingchuan’s several quiet appraising glances. After so many years, he had long since grown used to strange looks from others.

The injury on his body was not light. His fellow disciples had already helped him treat it roughly, and Rongshan Sect’s trauma medicine was also effective. But after exerting himself to fight the cicadas, blood had seeped out again as he moved. Even so, his brow did not so much as furrow, as if he did not know pain.

He Lingchuan handed him a packet of Stone Lump Powder and said, “For the pain.”

Qiu Hu looked at him, accepted it, tipped back his head, and swallowed it. Then he gulped down water to wash it down.

This counted as accepting He Lingchuan’s goodwill. The other party’s cultivation surpassed his; if he wanted to kill him, there was no need to use medicine.

Qiu Hu suddenly asked, “Where did you learn, and where did you fight?”

Of course, he had also figured out that He Lingchuan was likewise an old hand on the battlefield. When fighting, he did not bother with empty flourishes, only speed, accuracy, and viciousness. When it was time to be bold, one had to be bold. When it was time to back down, one had to back down.

“I have no master.” He Lingchuan smiled faintly. “I learned some crude martial techniques, all of them honed on the western battlefield.”

He was muddling the concept. Having no master did not mean no one had guided him. In Panlong City, he had learned all sorts of martial techniques. Not only had he sparred with squadmates and comrades, but there were also training-ground instructors, and even the various courses at the Martial Review Hall specifically taught insights into qi, strength, and cultivation techniques.

Of course, the most important thing was still the experience wrested from death on the battlefield. He had traded dozens of lives for that, giving him a uniquely blessed advantage.

Qiu Hu seemed to want to speak, but stopped.

Before long, they arrived at Rongshan’s encampment.

They had been walking downhill the entire time, and now, before their eyes, there lay an extremely open expanse of mountain valley, with mountains, water, and homes.

Three valleys were connected together, as large as three cities, all stretching with continuous lamplight, like the stars of heaven reflected upon the earth.

Tall mountains lined the edges of the valley. Footpaths and buildings appeared and vanished between pine forests and seas of mist, dotted with a few lamps, carrying the lush grandeur of an immortal sect.

Qiu Hu pointed at the foot of the mountain. “There.”

His face had gone somewhat pale from excessive blood loss. His fellow disciples wanted him to rest, but he refused.

Once they entered the valley, the road became easier to walk.

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, quite steadily.

He Lingchuan thought of Startled Swan Crossing, the teleportation array used by Lingxu City’s floating islands. Its passenger capacity going up and down was astonishingly efficient, but its energy consumption was also astonishingly high—several hundred kilograms of profound crystals per day.

How could an ordinary Daoist sect spend so extravagantly? Rongshan Sect’s lifting mechanism was already very well-made.

The bamboo platform rose all the way to the mountainside before stopping. The group then climbed another dozen or so stone steps and reached Rongshan Sect’s hall.

After entering this world for so long, He Lingchuan finally met an elder whose image matched his idea of “Daoist bones and immortal air.”

This was Rongshan Sect’s Elder Dao Quan.

The man wore loose robes with broad sleeves, his beard and hair completely white, and was currently adding firewood to the fire inside the room.

When he saw Qiu Hu’s injuries, he was startled.

After listening to Qiu Hu’s introduction, he came forward two steps and carefully studied the three guests. His gaze lingered longest on Dong Rui, because the ghost ape was perched on his shoulder, sitting there honestly without making a sound.

He Lingchuan took out a black iron ring. When Elder Dao saw it, he waved away all the disciples to his left and right, leaving only Qiu Hu behind.

“The passphrase?”

“The Spirit Mountain is immeasurable, first grade in all the world.”

The moment those words were spoken, Elder Dao’s white eyebrows nearly flew up in shock. He looked He Lingchuan over from head to toe, his eyes filled with curiosity. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean?”

“This is the first time I’ve heard Songyuan give anyone such a high appraisal.” Elder Dao said, “That man is proud and arrogant. What did you do to make even him admire you so thoroughly?”

Oh, so that’s what the code Fang Canran gave me meant? Fair enough.

Songyuan was Fang Canran’s code name.

He Lingchuan looked around. In this large room, aside from the three on his own side, there were only Elder Dao and Qiu Hu.

Elder Dao understood his meaning and said to Qiu Hu, “Your injuries are serious. Go to Heavenly Rain Pavilion for proper treatment first, then rest early.”

Only then did Qiu Hu answer, “Yes.” He turned and left, his back still perfectly straight.

He Lingchuan then apologized, “Brother Qiu was tough and ferocious. When I exchanged moves with him, I had no way to hold back. I ask the elder to forgive me.”

Elder Dao laughed heartily and said, “Blades and swords have no eyes. Qiu Hu himself doesn’t mind, so why should I stand up for him?”

His seemingly frank temperament won quite a bit of goodwill from He Lingchuan and the other two.

Especially Dong Rui, who had seen far too many pampered Daoist elders. The moment they opened their mouths, it was always about their sect’s reputation and not tolerating the slightest offense.

“May I ask, is Rongshan Sect on the same side as Mr. Fang?”

Elder Dao paused for a moment before answering, “That is correct, but outsiders do not know of it.” He looked at the three people before him and asked, “And where have our guests come from?”

He Lingchuan and Zhu Daniang exchanged a glance. “The east.”

The east?

East from here is the State of Xuluo of the northern monster state. Elder Dao then said, “Oh, Beijia has hardly been peaceful these past few months. Since our honored guests came from there, was the journey smooth?”

“Nope.” He Lingchuan smiled and said, “Beijia is nearly mad with rage. The whole state is under martial law, and they’re arresting people everywhere. We also had to expend tremendous effort before we could slip out.”

That word “slip” made their positions clear.