Chapter 86: Yu in Peril

The river surged violently.

Qingyuan submerged himself beneath the surface, moving downstream with the current. Harnessing the force of the water, he channeled his vital energy from the soles of his feet, letting it flow from his palms as well, so that his whole body shot through the water like a darting fish.

Once or twice, he overtook passing fish, but thankfully encountered no river monsters along the way. After all, spirit beasts capable of intelligence were rare in these waters.

He followed the current, unimpeded and swift.

At first, Qingyuan had considered going upstream. Ordinarily, when fleeing by river, the best choice was to ride the current; one could escape more swiftly with the water’s aid. Swimming against the current was slower and made one easier to catch.

But if Qingyuan went against the current, he would be defying expectation—his pursuers might not anticipate such a move. Moreover, his original destination lay upstream, making it a logical choice.

Yet, this very reasoning might occur to Lu Yushuang from the Lianhua Pavilion as well.

So, heading downstream was still the safer bet.

He pressed low beneath the water, letting the current carry him away. Having reached the peak of the Second Heaven, his control over his body was masterful; he could hold his breath for long periods, turning to internal breath with ease.

After a long while, the further he drifted downstream, the more tributaries split away, and the current lost its wild edge.

He judged he had gone far enough. The water no longer lent him speed; he broke the surface and scrambled up onto the bank, exhaling deeply, his hair and garments utterly soaked.

Drawing on his vital energy, he set his blood moving, and a sudden white mist rose from his body; his hair and clothes dried, if only a little.

He glanced about, then leapt once more into the woods. Turning back, he used his vital energy to sweep the riverbank, washing away any sign of his coming ashore.

“That was close—far too close,” Qingyuan murmured as he surveyed his surroundings. This stretch of river was unfamiliar; he had not passed this way before.

Yet again, he found himself in unknown territory and would need to consult his map to confirm his whereabouts.

“My cultivation is still too shallow,” Qingyuan sighed.

He had only traveled a short distance along the river, and already he had faced numerous obstacles. Second Heaven practitioners were manageable, but should he encounter someone of the Third or even Fourth Heaven, he would stand no chance.

Against an ordinary cultivator of the Third Heaven, Qingyuan might stand his ground, but faced with a true disciple of the Dao Ancestor from the Lianhua Pavilion, even fleeing required cunning and guile.

Within these mountains, the strongest cultivators reached the Fourth Heaven, and the weakest were of the Second. Qingyuan knew he was still on the lowest rung.

Though he had perfected his physical form and reached the peak of the Second Heaven, he was far from condensing his own Dharma Intent. Without extraordinary fortune, this could take years of slow, steady enlightenment.

He pondered this: even if the path to Dharma Intent were clear of obstacles, the breakthrough would require at least three to five years.

Unless, of course, he found a great stroke of fortune.

And what greater fortune could there be than the supreme treasure left behind in these mountains by the ancient Immortal Lord Guangyuan?

But to claim that treasure would be perilous. He had only just begun his journey, and already he had faced formidable adversaries. The road ahead was unpredictable, and if he encountered a Fourth Heaven master, even escape might be impossible.

Moreover, the wards surrounding the treasure were said to be set by the Immortal Lord himself—who knew how to overcome them and seize the prize?

One thing was certain: the treasure remained somewhere in these mountains. Yet whether it had already been discovered or taken by another, none could say.

“In the end, my cultivation is still too shallow,” he mused.

Condensing Dharma Intent was a goal for the future. For now, perhaps there was still a way to strengthen his own abilities.

With that thought, he looked at his Ancient Immortal Pouch.

Inside, there was still a crimson Divine Thunder.

But what kind of thunderbolt was it, exactly?

...

“Senior Sister, did he escape?”

A girl named Yuling came running up, calling out.

“Yes,” Lu Yushuang replied, nodding. “He knows the Daoist art of making paper horses. While not especially profound or a secret technique, it’s not something just any clan or sect could acquire. He must have some background—or perhaps he’s a wandering cultivator who happened upon it by chance.”

Her gaze fell upon the Iron Spirit Guts lying on the ground.

That artifact ought to belong to the Sun family from Luoyue County.

But the Sun family, a minor lineage, was at best the third rank among sects. Their patriarch’s cultivation was only at the Fifth Heaven, with limited vision and knowledge, and their training methods were unremarkable.

That young man’s cultivation was low, but he was extraordinary in every other respect.

By rights, the Sun family should not have produced such a remarkable junior.

“He can wield the Iron Spirit Guts of the Sun family.”

“He can perform the paper horse technique.”

“And the iron staff in his hand—able to clash with my Frostlight Sword without suffering harm—must be crafted of rare materials.”

Lu Yushuang thought to herself, “Are there such figures in these mountains beyond the orthodox cultivators? A pity his cultivation is so low…”

The sword in her hand was called Frostlight.

It was her master’s early treasure, said to have been forged by her grandmaster from white clouds gathered in the heavens, crystallized with frost.

Her master had bestowed it upon her so she might better cultivate a technique known as ‘Soaring Frost.’

Though not yet a true Dharma treasure, the sword was a top-grade spiritual weapon, and its extraordinary materials, forged by an immortal, made it nearly as powerful as a treasure.

In ordinary duels, common spiritual weapons snapped at a touch.

Yet that young man’s iron staff had withstood the sharp edge of her sword.

Lu Yushuang found herself mildly curious, but her nature was cool and aloof, and she paid it no great heed. After a moment’s quiet contemplation, she glanced over to see her junior sister squatting, studying a wooden carving on the ground.

Yuling sighed with regret, “So it was just a paper horse? What a pity it’s ruined.”

She scratched at her cheek, leaving two bright red marks, though she seemed not to notice, and asked, “Senior Sister, my mother always said locust wood was no good. If he uses such things, does that make him a bad person?”

Lu Yushuang shook her head slightly. “Though locust wood has a sinister reputation, the method of its forging isn’t inherently evil.”

“Oh…” Yuling thought for a moment. “Should we chase after him?”

“Collecting Divine Thunder is a task for the senior sisters. I’m just here to keep you company,” Lu Yushuang said with a laugh as cold and pure as a lotus blooming in ice. “If you wish to give chase, then let us chase him.”

Yuling asked, “Which way should we go?”

Lu Yushuang replied, “He likely fled downstream, where the current would speed his escape. But he might also have gone upstream.”

Yuling’s eyes widened in wonder. “Upstream? Wouldn’t that make it easier for us to catch him?”

Lu Yushuang nodded, “He might think we’d expect that, and so do the unexpected. After all, his original direction was upstream.”

Yuling made a sound of understanding and, pointing to the river, asked, “So should we go upstream?”

Lu Yushuang answered softly, “Downstream.”