Flicking a flying sword away with just one hand?
Is he still human?!
In that instant, thoughts like this surged in the minds of everyone who had witnessed the scene.
Flying swords were universally acknowledged as the sharpest and most formidable weapons at their level. Moreover, this fierce and malevolent sword-pearl had driven back Chang Huan, a titled “Juezhe,” and a female Daoist adept from the Feixia Sect capable of swallowing and controlling sword-pearls. Its quality was self-evident!
No fluctuation of Daoist techniques was displayed… The female adept, whose aura was sharp and intense, thought involuntarily.
His right hand was full of vitality, not some artificial prosthetic! Chang Huan held his breath.
The two exchanged a glance instinctively, both understanding the meaning in the other’s eyes. That young man, dressed in a green robe, with a gentle and leisurely smile, had flicked away a vicious flying sword of considerable quality purely with his physical strength. His fingers bore not a single scratch, making it seem as effortless as if it truly were easy!
Is he still human?
Even the two powerful figures, considered noble in the eyes of ordinary people, stared blankly, almost suspecting that this might be a ferocious beast wearing a human skin!
How could a human possibly resist a flying sword without relying on artifacts or Daoist techniques? No, not just resist—flick it away with a single finger so violently that its light shattered!
The passengers looked at Meng Qi’s smiling face and Jiang Zhiwei’s barely suppressed grin, then at the pitiful red sword-pearl on the ground, feeling as if they had stepped into a myth or legend.
Meng Qi patted his robe and smiled, saying, “Uncle Chang, you should retrieve the sword-pearl now. Such a malevolent object must be properly sealed.”
For him, the best scenario was to follow Xie Xian quietly into the Yongzhou City, locate the underground forces, forge false identities, integrate into this place, understand the situation, sell unique items outside, and gradually expand his influence while profiting handsomely. There was no need to act recklessly like Ze Luo, rushing to “rob” and drawing the attention and pursuit of powerful figures in this world, thus wasting valuable opportunities.
This was a prudent and strategic approach. However, Meng Qi hadn’t anticipated that the man with the sword case was surrounded by murderous aura precisely because of that flying sword. If he hadn’t intervened, Xie Xian would inevitably have been killed. Therefore, he ultimately decided to flick away the sword and test the waters.
And such a public display of prowess—how could he let Zhiwei take the lead?
I’m just that considerate of others!
His calm and gentle words broke the tension inside the carriage. The female Daoist from the Feixia Sect quickly retrieved the once-menacing sword-pearl and resealed it.
The other passengers snapped out of their daze, yet the more they regained their senses, the more the previous scene seemed utterly unfathomable. They couldn’t help muttering again:
Is he even human?
Chang Huan composed himself and clasped his hands together: “Might I ask the name of this esteemed friend? I am Chang Huan of Yongzhou.”
His left hand’s skin tone was somewhat dull, seemingly carved from wood.
Meng Qi returned the gesture: “I am Su Meng, and this is my cousin Jiang Zhiwei. We are siblings originally from an island in the South Sea, though our ancestors hailed from Yongzhou. A few years ago, we accidentally obtained an ancient cultivation lineage and developed formidable abilities. Long admiring the prosperity of the Central Land, the wonders of the Ink Palace, and the freedom of the Immortal Sects, we came seeking fortune.”
“An ancient cultivation lineage?”
“A lineage of the ancient cultivators!”
Voices burst out in succession, filled with shock. Most passengers had only just learned about the concept of ancient cultivators through Ouyang Zheng’s casual conversation. Now they had encountered one so soon?
Could this be a sign of martial artists attaining divine power?
No wonder his body could withstand a flying sword!
They were half-enlightened, half-doubtful. Several sword- and knife-wielding individuals seated in the rear of the carriage were especially wide-eyed with excitement, yet also anxious and skeptical.
There were three men and two women, all in their early twenties, full of vitality but with plain appearances and a weather-worn look, clearly living a hard life.
An ancient cultivator? Could it really be an ancient cultivator?
Just when they had lost all hope, believing the ancient cultivator lineage had perished in the Demon Tide that ravaged the land, an unexpected turn of events unfolded!
Chang Huan and the Feixia Sect adept clearly knew something about ancient cultivators. It wasn’t so strange that someone had obtained a long-lost lineage. From his words, it seemed he intended to seek patronage from a faction rather than being one of those madmen who, after gaining some fortune, would try to overthrow the Ink Palace or the Immortal Sects.
With his demonstrated ability to flick away a flying sword, which faction wouldn’t want such a guardian?
Chang Huan suppressed his astonishment: “So, young Master Su has inherited the ancient cultivation lineage. No wonder your physical body is so formidable, rivaling even a flying sword. Yongzhou is not far from here. Would you do me the honor of being my guest?”
“That is precisely our intention.” Meng Qi replied with a cheerful smile.
Watching the handsome and graceful young man before them, Xie Xian and Ouyang Zheng had been in shock all this time, only now regaining their senses.
No wonder he dared to call himself a demon-slayer!
Not even a scratch from a flying sword!
Ouyang Zheng felt a mix of shame and anger but was deeply impressed by the image of that clean, powerful hand flicking away the sword. He thought to himself: A true man must possess such ability!
The ancient cultivators are indeed legendary!
Suddenly, he felt a surge of passion.
Xie Xian felt the same, increasingly convinced that Meng Qi and Jiang Zhiwei were truly figures of divine origin.
Chang Huan retrieved an object from his storage bag. With a creaking sound, it transformed into a mechanical item resembling a shield or a turtle. He then sat cross-legged on the turtle’s back and gestured for Meng Qi and Jiang Zhiwei to do the same, engaging them in casual conversation, deliberately bringing up the Southern Sea islands.
With Chang Huan and the female adept present, the martial artists in the rear dared not approach. They could only watch from a distance, their expressions alternating between excitement and concern.
Meng Qi spoke eloquently, describing his island as deep within the Southern Sea, vividly recounting oceanic scenery and strange creatures, leaving Jiang Zhiwei quite astonished.
When had the little monk ever been to sea?
Just by watching documentaries, hearing strange tales from Jiangdong, and using a rich imagination… Meng Qi smiled as he spun his tale, gradually dispelling the doubts in Chang Huan and the female adept’s minds.
As for the Southern Sea and certain real geographical names, he had gathered them from conversations with Xie Xian and Ouyang Zheng, mixing truth and fiction so skillfully that it sounded convincing.
The conversation flowed smoothly, and before they realized it, the ink carriage had reached Yongzhou. Chang Huan invited Meng Qi and Jiang Zhiwei to stay at the inn, saying he would go summon the local sect leader, while Ouyang Zheng hurriedly made his way to the Wanxiang Sect.
After Xie Xian reported to the Ink Palace in the state city, Meng Qi handed an object to Jiang Zhiwei.
“The Cycle Talisman?” Jiang Zhiwei’s sharp eyes, now softened, showed slight surprise as she looked at Meng Qi.
Meng Qi nodded slightly: “Circumstances have changed. We must test the waters. The upper echelons of the Wanxiang Sect and the Ink Palace might know secrets about the Senluo Wanxiang Sect. They may take hostile actions, so we must prepare.”
“Hehe, I have transformation techniques and can escape on my own. So I’ll lend you the Cycle Talisman. Just don’t forget to return it later.”
He deliberately ended with those words. Otherwise, with Jiang Zhiwei’s gentle-yet-steadfast nature, she might not accept the Cycle Talisman or choose to flee and abandon him.
Jiang Zhiwei recalled past events and chuckled: “Are you going to charge me nine out of thirteen again?”
Memories surged back, and both softened in mood. Meng Qi smiled: “The sword cultivators here are quite extraordinary. Our treasures only gain sentience at mid-grade, automatically protecting their masters. That sword-pearl was barely at the level of a treasure weapon, yet its malevolence was evident.”
“Perhaps it’s due to life-cultivation combined with blood sacrifices. Normally, sword-pearls shouldn’t be like that…” Jiang Zhiwei mused thoughtfully. Suddenly, she frowned: “I’m older than you. I should be the ‘cousin elder sister,’ not younger!”
Meng Qi chuckled awkwardly, brushing it off: “I’m older mentally…”
“What does that even mean?”
…
Outside the inn, several sword- and knife-wielding martial artists had followed the group from the ink carriage all the way here. They gazed at the tightly shut gate, the guarding soldiers, and the mechanical puppets, hesitating.
By instinct, they should now boldly approach, even offering to become servants, to obtain the cultivation techniques of the ancient cultivators. But the inn was unusually well-guarded. If they approached recklessly, they might be driven away immediately.
“Why not sneak in?” whispered a dark-clad man with a scar on his forehead.
Their leader was a woman. Her individual features were decent, but altogether, they appeared somewhat rough and masculine: “What if we’re discovered? If pursued by the Ink Palace and the Immortal Sects, we’d have to flee to the Southern Sea.”
“What’s there to fear? If we miss this chance, Su might head to the capital to receive a noble title. Then his name would spread across the land, attracting countless talented martial artists. Where would that leave us?” a square-jawed man added.
“Exactly!” said another man with a facial scar: “I’m sick of the contemptuous gazes from the Ink Palace’s artificers and the Immortal Sect’s cultivators. I’m tired of living a life of mediocrity, running around just to make ends meet!”
“But we still don’t know for sure if Su is truly an ancient cultivator…” a petite woman interjected.
A more composed man, with premature white hair, said: “The Ink Palace and major Immortal Sects will surely verify it. Let’s wait. If confirmed, no matter the risk, we’ll give it a try!”
“Let’s do it,” the leader woman took a deep breath, suppressing her inner agitation.
…
Deep within the Yongzhou Ink Palace.
Chang Yong stood before an elderly man with snow-white hair.
The old man wore the long robe of a Mohist, his aura flickering like a candle in the wind, yet strangely vibrant with vitality. Every part of his body exuded an aura of danger as he paced back and forth, listening to Chang Yong’s report.
“Zong, their background isn’t clear. The sudden emergence of an ancient cultivation lineage is indeed suspicious,” concluded Chang Yong.
Zongzhe stopped pacing, his voice devoid of emotion: “Among the current Immortal Sects, aside from the Wanxiang Sect, aren’t the other two major sects and all the minor ones established upon lineages accidentally obtained from ancient sects? As long as he is truly a cultivator and willing to pledge allegiance to our Ink Palace without withholding his teachings, why should we concern ourselves with how he acquired them?”
“The priority now is to confirm whether they are truly cultivators and gauge their real strength. Don’t report to the higher-ups only to discover later that they’re not as formidable as they seem, causing the Divine Masters to laugh at us.”
Chang Yong hesitated: “Senior Zong, with my current abilities, I’m afraid I can’t gauge his true level.”
“Hmm.” Zongzhe nodded and walked toward the door with his hands behind his back.
As he reached the doorway, the light shifted, and a massive figure appeared before him. It was a terrifying mechanical dragon, over ten zhang long, covered in golden scales, with Sun God Stones for eyes and claws forged from pure metal essence.
Upon seeing the mechanical dragon, Chang Huan couldn’t conceal his envy. Only by becoming a Zongzhe could one inherit one of the Ink Palace’s thirty-six secret artifacts—possessing power comparable to that of deities!
Zong stepped onto the golden mechanical dragon and seated himself in the indentation on its back. Chang Huan quickly climbed on, gripping the dragon’s back.
The dragon soared into the sky, clouds swirling around it, flying toward the inn.
…
Inside the Wanxiang Sect’s temple.
Guo Tian Master, stationed in the state city, listened impassively to Ouyang Zheng’s report.
“You say you first encountered them at the foot of the Fire Mist Mountain?” Guo Tian Master repeated.
Ouyang Zheng, puzzled but certain, affirmed: “Yes.”
The Fire Mist Mountain was located along the Southern Sea coast.
Guo Tian Master nodded: “The Sect Leader instructed us to monitor any unusual activity near Fire Mist Mountain. This counts as one such case. You may go claim your reward. I will report to the mountain.”
Ouyang Zheng was first delighted, then confused: “Tian Master, they seem to wish to pledge allegiance to either the Ink Palace or the Immortal Sect. Should we…”
“Not knowing how much of the cultivator’s lineage he has obtained…” Guo Tian Master, dressed in deep blue Daoist robes, mused: “I will first report to the Sect Leader, then go and test them myself. We cannot let the Ink Palace take advantage.”
As he spoke, he formed a hand seal, and clouds gathered beneath his feet, lifting him into the air.
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