“Liusha Market” was the last settlement before heading west into the “Sea of Death.” Beyond the market, endless sands stretched out, desolate and bleak. A few resilient yet twisted green shrubs did not bring a sense of vitality; instead, they highlighted the vast, lifeless expanse of the Gobi Desert.
The “Western Regions” was a general designation for the vast territories west of the Jin and Northern Zhou dynasties, rather than a unified concept. Beyond the Yumen Pass, hundreds or even thousands of small states emerged, scattered across expansive deserts and Gobi regions. Among these, several massive deserts and Gobi areas—such as the “Sea of Death,” “Graveyard of Gods Desert,” and “Western Extremity Desert”—stretched for thousands of miles. Yet within their depths, oases and underground rivers created uniquely exotic landscapes.
In ancient times, a wandering martial artist who had explored the Western Regions once remarked, “The Western Regions can be described as oases and kingdoms enveloped by deserts and Gobi, or deserts and Gobi scattered among countless kingdoms. The sole exception is the Great Snowy Mountains in the north, stretching from the ‘Endless Abyss Sea’ to the Yumen Pass, spanning countless miles and dividing the entire Western Regions.”
Deep within the Snowy Mountains, legends spoke of the tombs of nine immortal sages from the ancient mythological era, which suppressed the “Endless Abyss Sea.” The “Snow Mountain Sect,” one of the Six Sword-wielding Sects, was said to have originated from generations of tomb guardians who grew and expanded over time.
Fierce winds mixed with sand stung like icy needles, blowing toward “Liusha Market” and shrouding the settlement in dust. Visibility was limited to within ten feet, and sounds were muffled.
“Is this a ‘sandstorm’…?” Meng Qi, who had never experienced one before, tightened his thick monk’s robe. It wasn’t the cold he feared, but the dust that would cling to his clothes, stripping him of his graceful demeanor and making him resemble an old shepherd.
Since leaving Shaolin in the autumn, Xuan Bei had traveled at a leisurely pace, giving the monks sent to inform other sects ample time. Thus, it wasn’t until the third month of spring that the master and disciples arrived at “Liusha Market.” However, in the Western Regions, March still felt as cold as winter.
Zhen Hui, with wide eyes, curiously observed the swirling sand around her, the dull and lifeless trees coated in dust, and the camels swaying their bells, occasionally letting out soft gasps of wonder.
The market was nearly deserted, as locals had retreated to their homes to escape the storm. Only merchants, wandering knights, and travelers still braved the gale, heading toward the only inn in the market.
“Senior Brother, they look different from us!” Zhen Hui finally couldn’t help but ask.
Many of the passersby had high noses and deep-set eyes, with hair and irises of unusual colors, quite different from the people of the Central Plains. Some even had horns growing from their heads and a third eye in the center of their brows, resembling demons.
Meng Qi was fascinated but didn’t know how to respond to Zhen Hui.
“Amitabha Buddha, different lands nurture different people, each with their own uniqueness. Some people of the Western Regions claim to be descendants of gods and demons, so it’s natural they possess unusual traits,” Xuan Bei calmly replied.
The first referred to normal Westerners, while the latter described those “strange beings” with horns and a third eye.
“Descendants of gods and demons, do they have any special abilities?” Meng Qi asked curiously. Could it be that the “Sixth Cycle of Rebirth Master” had hidden bloodline options like “descendants of gods and demons”?
As wind and sand surged, not a speck touched Xuan Bei, who smiled and said, “Of course they do.”
As they spoke, the master and disciples had already reached the inn. It was a three-story building with a weathered exterior, marked with signs of wind and sand, bearing the sign “The First Inn of the Sea of Death.”
Stepping into the inn, Meng Qi first noticed the counter by the door, cluttered with papers, brushes, and account books.
The innkeeper was a woman in her late twenties, dressed in a black dress. Her delicate eyebrows and phoenix eyes accentuated her beauty, blooming like a flower and exuding femininity, drawing both overt and furtive glances from passing guests.
She leaned on her right hand, lazily flipping through an account book. Her pale face, accentuated by the black dress, wore a cold expression, as if everyone in the inn owed her a hundred taels of silver.
“Amitabha Buddha, madam, we’d like to stay and eat,” Meng Qi approached, being the more reliable disciple. He really wanted to call her “boss lady,” but the master was watching from behind.
Without lifting her head, the black-dressed woman replied indifferently, “Five taels of silver per night, meals extra.”
“What the hell, are you robbing me!” Meng Qi wanted to lecture her on “the customer is king,” but the master was watching.
Knowing there was no other inn, not even a broken temple, making it a “monopoly,” Meng Qi glanced at his master, who nodded slightly. Meng Qi then took out silver from his bag and placed it on the counter: “Fifteen taels for three rooms.”
“Only two rooms,” the black-dressed woman replied indifferently.
Meng Qi thought it was fine; the master could have one room, and he and Zhen Hui could share the other. After all, they had often slept under the stars on their journey, so having two rooms was already good: “Alright, here’s ten taels for two rooms.”
He reached out to take back the five taels.
The black-dressed woman glanced sideways at Meng Qi: “Per person.”
Meng Qi’s mouth twitched, wanting to teach her a lesson, but the master was watching.
After getting the master’s approval, Meng Qi nodded: “Fifteen taels for two rooms.”
The black-dressed woman slowly gathered the silver, not even lifting her eyelids: “The two unlocked rooms on the west side of the second floor are yours. Go yourself.”
Don’t think I won’t dare to hit you just because you’re a beautiful woman! Unfortunately, the master was watching… Meng Qi thought countless times like this, an unconscious habit formed on the journey.
The inn’s main hall had more than twenty tables, all occupied. Some were drinking and playing drinking games, others were talking loudly, and some were whispering secretly, creating a lively atmosphere.
Among the guests, some were clad in tight, short garments, unmistakably martial artists. Others bore a weathered appearance yet exuded an air of affluence in their finer details. There were those draped in scholars’ robes, maintaining an air of scholarly composure even amidst the clamor. Some were wrapped in headscarves and long robes, dressed as “sand travelers”—during the Jin dynasty, those who made their living traversing the deserts and戈壁s of the Western Regions were known as “sand travelers,” among whom many were bandits and robbers.
(Note: The term “戈壁” is typically translated as “Gobi” in English, referring to the Gobi Desert. If this is the intended meaning, it should be rendered as “Gobi” for accuracy.)
As Xuan Bei led his two disciples through the hall, many guests cast furtive glances but, seeing nothing special, returned to their noisy activities:
“Five, five, five!”
“Ha ha, three sixes! Drink three bowls!”
“Damn it, how come I lost again!”
In this noisy environment, a seemingly young man sipped his wine, frowned, slammed the bowl down, stood up, and shouted: “Innkeeper, your wine isn’t strong enough, did you water it down?”
Instantly, all sounds in the hall ceased. People playing drinking games, throwing dice, talking, drinking silently, and eating all froze in their actions like time had stopped.
The black-dressed woman, possibly the innkeeper or the boss lady, raised her head, her delicate eyebrows furrowed, and her almond eyes wide with anger:
“Drink if you like, otherwise get lost!”
Meng Qi almost spat out his saliva. This boss lady was really something!
The young man, who had complained about the diluted wine, hadn’t expected such a response and stood there, stunned.
“Ha ha.” The frozen crowd burst into laughter, as if they had anticipated this outcome.
“Ha ha, that’s hilarious. Someone actually dared to challenge Auntie Jiu.”
“Don’t talk to me, I’m about to cry from laughing. Where did this greenhorn come from?”
“Where did Jiu Aunt water down the wine? It’s more like water…”
“Don’t cover my mouth!”
“Do you want to be thrown out or drink a basin of Jiu Aunt’s foot-washing water?”
The young man, clearly a novice on the martial path, stood there, his face flushed red, unsure whether to get angry or hold his temper.
Fortunately, an old hand who often traveled here was his companion. He stood up, whispered a few words in the young man’s ear, persuading him to sit back down.
The young man lowered his head, gritting his teeth but dared not retaliate, a sight that surprised Meng Qi.
As they ascended the stairs, Xuan Bei suddenly spoke, his tone unusually carrying a hint of amusement: “Jiu Niang, with an unknown background, opened the ‘First Inn of the Sea of Death’ here ten years ago. At first, she was alone and strikingly beautiful, which brought her many troubles. However, anyone who dared to target her, whether lightly or seriously, ended up either dead outside the market or stripped naked and hung on the inn’s wine banner. None were spared. After that, the troubles decreased, and everyone knew that Jiu Niang was not someone to be trifled with, suspecting her to be an expert of the External Scenery realm.”
“External Scenery realm? How old is she exactly?” Meng Qi was startled, inwardly grumbling, Master, you didn’t show any compassion when talking about those corpses outside the market, you haven’t lost your worldly heart yet!
Xuan Bei stepped onto the final stair: “About thirty-five or thirty-six. I haven’t checked with the Heavenly Eye Insight, so I’m not entirely sure.”
Hmm, she’s well-preserved. But an External Scenery realm expert might still look the same even after another ten years… Meng Qi nodded slightly.
Outside the guest rooms, Xuan Bei turned to Meng Qi and Zhen Hui: “I must do my evening practice; you two shouldn’t slack off either.”
“Yes, Master,” they respectfully replied before entering their rooms.
The room contained only a bed, a table, and two chairs. Though old, it was not dirty or messy. Meng Qi and Zhen Hui said nothing, one sitting on the chair and the other on the bed, beginning to meditate.
Meng Qi did not practice any other martial arts but focused on the ancestral aperture, guiding his qi upward to slowly stimulate this crucial point.
In the past six months, Meng Qi had refined the remaining three apertures of his eyes, waiting only for a few days of physical and mental adjustment before finding an opportunity to take the “Tiancong Pill” to break through.
His “Catching Wind and Grasping Shadows” had already entered the initial stage, and he had completed the first few sections of the “Muscle and Bone Tempering Manual.” Even without a breakthrough in cultivation, the power of martial arts like the Golden Bell Cover and the Arhat Fist had increased by thirty percent. More importantly, after practicing the “Muscle and Bone Tempering Manual,” Meng Qi found it easier to refine the apertures. Even the elusive and faint eye aperture seemed to be within his grasp.
Therefore, Meng Qi did not hastily take the “Tiancong Pill” to break through after refining the apertures. Instead, he patiently continued practicing the “Muscle and Bone Tempering Manual.” Recently, as the eye aperture became increasingly graspable, he began preparing for the breakthrough. This time, Meng Qi felt quite confident.
As for the “Form Changing Great Art,” Meng Qi initially had no reaction at all. After one session, he would feel very tired and mentally exhausted. However, as time passed and he persisted daily, along with the “Muscle and Bone Tempering Manual” slowly improving his body, Meng Qi gradually felt a pressure in his forehead, as if something was brewing there.
This was a good sign, but also a bad one, as it was an illusion caused by the stimulation of the forehead’s ancestral aperture. If he became addicted to this illusion, he might very well suffer a spiritual backlash. However, experiencing this illusion also meant that Meng Qi had begun to enter the initial stage of the “Form Changing Great Art.”
Thus, Meng Qi gathered his spirit, ignoring the illusion and continuing his practice methodically.
Before his tightly closed eyes, everything was dark and chaotic, like a primordial void. As Meng Qi hovered between wakefulness and sleep, he suddenly felt a thread of qi seep in, causing the chaos to split apart. Something slowly rose, round and golden, then emitted a brilliant light.
As the light appeared, Meng Qi’s forehead swelled, and faintly, images of his surroundings surfaced in his mind: a table, a bed, two chairs, his junior disciple sitting cross-legged on the bed, a teapot and teacups on the table…
This sensation vanished in an instant, leaving Meng Qi’s forehead aching, forcing him to stop his practice and open his eyes. This time, although the scene before him was the same, he felt it differently, as if seeing mountains were no longer mountains, and waters were no longer waters.
“Ha ha, the ‘Form Changing Great Art’ has reached a minor level of success,” Meng Qi thought proudly within. This was the level of Han Shi, allowing one to sense surrounding objects through the ancestral aperture’s spiritual sense and slightly interfere with others’ perceptions.
Han Shi’s martial arts skill wasn’t high; it had taken him seven or eight years to reach this minor level of the Form Changing Great Art. Meng Qi had achieved it in half a year, naturally feeling proud. Moreover, once this minor level was attained, there were subsequent cultivation chapters. Meng Qi was confident that he could perfect the Form Changing Great Art within the next year. If he could exchange for corresponding pills to aid his cultivation, it might even be faster, possibly within three or four months.
“Indeed, cultivation in the main world is much faster than in Lao Duan’s world…” Meng Qi thought as he stood up in confusion, looking around, preparing for his 103rd attempt to escape.
Now that he had reached a minor level of the Form Changing Great Art, surely he could create a flaw in his master’s spiritual lock?
He activated the Form Changing Great Art, feeling his ancestral aperture swell, his spirit spreading outward, enveloping himself. Then, cautiously, he moved toward the door.
“Senior Brother, are you going out to play, why didn’t you call me?” Zhen Hui’s voice suddenly sounded behind him.
Meng Qi’s smile immediately froze on his face.
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