Volume 3: Dao, Dao, Dao… Heaven’s Dao, Earth’s Dao, Human Dao, Ghost Dao— I seek only my own Dao! Chapter 148

The setting sun was like the tide, dyeing the western foothills crimson.

The bamboo grove swayed gently in the evening breeze, rustling softly. Lu Liangsheng tidied up the dinner pots and bowls, tied them onto the old donkey’s back, then took out a painting stand and set it up. Spreading out a blank scroll, he gazed toward the distant foothills bathed in the fading sunlight.

“When the chaos begins, we take the item…”

The Toad Daoist stretched lazily, having recovered some strength. He slowly rose from the ground. He had waited since morning until sunset, all to ensure the night would better suit his disciple’s plan.

Even Nie Honglian chose this moment—just as the sun dipped below the horizon—to step out, silently standing in the shadows where the light could not reach, watching the scholar over there wielding his brush, sketching upon the scroll.

“Young Master.”

“Almost done.”

Upon the scroll, there were no mountains, rivers, forests, or wilds. The tip of the brush danced, outlining dense mists rendered in rich black ink. Though one could conjure mist through spellcraft, it was neither long-lasting nor simple; if a Golden Core stage cultivator stationed at the Fire-Worship Sect’s stronghold dispelled it, all effort would be for naught.

The final ray of vermilion light sank behind the western mountains.

Lu Liangsheng added a few more strokes to the scroll. In order to ensure the plan proceeded without a hitch and that the illusion would not dissipate midway, he had to time it precisely.

…I recall that [Emerald Heart Dream Nourishment] also included enhancements for illusions.

As it happened, the [Spirit Replication Incantation] he obtained from his master’s cave abode could be put to use here as well.

Closing his eyes, he silently recalled the contents of the incantation. Then, opening them again, he dipped his brush back into the ink. Lu Liangsheng turned slightly to glance at the Toad Daoist and Honglian.

“You two go on ahead.”

The Toad rummaged through a wardrobe, pulling out a black cloth to mask his face. With a wave of his webbed hand, he signaled the little ghost girl to follow. Then they slipped into the forest and darted off toward the foot of the mountain.

“Toad Master, why are you covering your face?” In the shadows of the forest, Honglian floated alongside the short figure running below. Brushing past the drooping branches, she continued:

“No one even knows who we are.”

Below, the Toad Daoist darted over fallen leaves and leapt over stones. He gave her a sidelong glance.

“This old man once bore a fearsome name. How could I let others see me in this sorry state?”

As leaves blurred past in his vision, he suddenly recalled that among the stolen treasures was a magical artifact that could probe fortune and fate. At the thought, his pace quickened again. All four limbs flew across the ground, and beneath the black cloth mask, his tongue slipped out unconsciously, flapping in the wind as he ran.

…This old man must see clearly—who dared to act against me, to bring me such misfortune.

They followed the wild forest path downhill, crossing a small stream, heading toward another mountain. Behind them, the distant bamboo grove began to stir with the sound of wind rustling through the leaves.

Lu Liangsheng held his wolf-hair brush, circulating his qi and spiritual power. At the lower corner of the scroll, he pressed down the tip—each stroke like the weight of a thousand catties—as he painstakingly wrote two characters.

——Heaven and Earth(Qiankun)!

Whoosh!

Whoooosh—!!

Suddenly, the wind surged violently. The bamboo grove swayed madly in the chaos. Lu Liangsheng seized the scroll, his scholar’s robes and long hair whipping upward in the gale. Stepping out from the forest’s edge, he squinted toward the distant great mountain.

“Mist rises in the mountain vale—

With the brush, I summon Yin and Yang!”

His wide sleeves flared as he flung the scroll into the sky. The moment he formed the hand seal, fallen leaves were swept back from around him in a sudden burst. And in that instant, the final incantation burst from his lips—

“—Borrowing the power of Heaven and Earth!”

With his own cultivation shallow, facing a Golden Core realm cultivator, he could only draw upon the spiritual energy of the surrounding mountains and rivers to fight back.

As Lu Liangsheng’s incantation fell, the scroll floating in the air flashed once with a glimmer of spelllight, then vanished from sight. Faint wisps of azure qi slithered like serpents through the air, flying toward the mountain range ahead.

“All that’s left now is to stir up a little chaos, creating an opening for Master and Honglian. What a pity—I only have one sword to use…”

He stretched out his hand, and the Veiled Moon Sword on the bookshelf flew into his palm. Checking the time by the fading light of the sky, he sat cross-legged beneath the bamboo grove on the mountain slope. The sword lay flat across his hands as he closed his eyes and listened to all that the wind brought.

Not long after, the Veiled Moon Sword slowly slid from its scabbard.

Clang—!

The sword unsheathed with a crisp metallic ring, releasing a flash of cold light that shot toward the heavens. The scholar, seated cross-legged, shot into the air behind the blade. He grasped the hilt mid-ascent, and on the surface of the sword, cloud-carved patterns began to shift, revealing the image of a cold half-moon.

“With qi beneath my feet, I pierce the cloud-top—

Celestial Sword ascends to the Firmament!”

From the half-moon carved on the blade, a pale blue radiance slowly bloomed.

Yingshi Mountain—surrounded on all sides by steep cliffs—was a place ordinary folk could not climb. From distant peaks, one could faintly glimpse the outline of a shrine or temple at its summit.

As night fell, mist gradually rose along the cliffs and forested slopes. Inside a four-cornered pavilion, a cultivator clad in a golden-patterned Daoist robe stepped out with four attendants. In the creeping mist, strands of spiritual energy flickered in and out of perception. With a few metallic clinks, a small bell slid out from the cultivator’s sleeve into his hand.

“Heh… As expected, they’ve come. Paltry tricks!”

The middle-aged cultivator in the golden robe gently shook the bell, and its jingling rang out continuously. The surging mist abruptly halted as if blocked by some invisible force. But moments later, it began to stir again—slower this time—creeping over the courtyard walls.

Behind the middle-aged man, the voices of his four subordinates sounded with unease:

“It can’t be stopped?” “How is that possible? Brother Bingzhang is at the Golden Core stage…Could the intruder’s cultivation be even higher?”

“Should we notify the Mingzun?” “I fear it’s already too late!”

The cultivator in the golden-patterned Daoist robe was named Qi Bingzhang. He had cultivated for over twenty years. After reaching Foundation Establishment, he found his progress stalled, unable to advance a single step further. It was only after joining the Fire-Worship Sect that his cultivation began to improve.

Though he could not compare to others in the sect with greater talent and cultivation, his cautious nature and years of experience in the Dao earned him the role of guarding this particular outpost.

Gazing at the thick mist swirling all around, Qi Bingzhang narrowed his eyes and sneered coldly.

“A powerful cultivator? Hmph—more likely, they fear their strength alone is lacking and must borrow the ambient qi of the mountains. For this place, I alone am more than enough. You four—go guard the treasure vault.”

“Yes!”

The four attendants clasped their hands in salute and turned to leave. After only a few steps, one of them suddenly stopped and tilted his head, looking up at the night sky.

“What is that up there?” “Does anyone recall a spell that descends from the heavens?”

The other three followed his gaze, and even Qi Bingzhang—who had been preparing to activate his soul-ringing bell—raised his eyes toward the sky. Outside the courtyard walls, hidden in the woods and unaffected by the mist, the Toad Daoist and Honglian also felt an oppressive pressure descend, as if the sky itself were collapsing—it was hard even to breathe.

A pale blue radiance flickered across the night sky, streaking from the distant foothills to hover above Yingshi Mountain in only a few breaths.

Ding ding ding ding…

Within the shrine below, the wind-chimes mounted at the corners of the loft rang out wildly. Even the Soul-Shaking Bell in Qi Bingzhang’s hand began to tremble and chime in unison.

“You four! Guard the vault!” he shouted.

At once, he raised the bell high, formed a hand seal, and began chanting incantations under his breath. His long robe and flowing beard stirred without wind.

Above the shrine.

The clouds in the night sky scattered and swirled as Lu Liangsheng, gripping the hilt of his sword, tore across the firmament. His azure robe and wide sleeves fluttered furiously. In the next instant, his eyes opened, locking onto the shrine below.

——Sword-Control Art: Celestial Sword Formula!

The sword’s entire body flared with brilliant light. The compressed air around it formed a hurricane-like astral wind, unleashing a deafening roar as it plunged downward.

Wummm——!

The air collapsed under pressure, booming as it fell. Inside the shrine, the four cultivators were deafened by the overwhelming noise; the magic artifacts in their hands trembled uncontrollably. The astral wind descended like a crashing wave. Amid screams of “Ahhh—!”, the four were slammed flat to the ground.

Not far off, Qi Bingzhang was still muttering his incantation. But as the pale blue glow in the sky neared, his scalp tingled and he realized—he could hear nothing at all. Then the final chime from the bell in his hand faded.

Above the courtyard, a faint crimson barrier formed in midair, marking the boundary of the shrine grounds.

“Fortunately, I came prepared…”

His two decades of cultivation had brought many trials. He had long been accustomed to such moments and was confident in his measures.

The next instant, the pale blue light flooded the heavens.

A longsword gripped in a man’s hand descended from the sky like divine judgment—

BOOM!

The sword tip struck the barrier. Spiritual power collided and burst outward, rippling visibly in all directions. One of the high pavilion corners—several zhang above the courtyard—was instantly shattered and hurled away. The clear chimes of the magic bells were cut off with a sharp crack. Enormous pressure and spiritual force came crashing down with the sword, forming a devastating surge of power.

The four men flattened on the ground were crushed directly into the white stone floor, leaving behind four clear depressions. The one with the weakest cultivation had his flesh and bones ruptured under the weight.

Bang!

The barrier let out a crisp crack and shattered into scattering motes of starlight. Qi Bingzhang looked up toward the sky—just as the magic artifact in his hand was blown from his grasp. The overwhelming sword intent and crushing pressure raised a storm of dust that swept forth like a tidal wave—

Engulfing everything in its path.