Chapter Eleven: Is It Her?

Suspended in midair, the old Taoist’s body crackled with sharp, splintering sounds, as if a handful of dried beans had been tossed into boiling oil. In the next instant, his form began to shift; the immortal air of a transcendent sage faded, leaving behind a withered, shrunken old man. There was not an ounce of flesh on his face—it looked as though a gust of wind could topple him.

Li Zhilan caught a glimpse of him and realized that, after being flung from the ritual platform, this man had not summoned any magical treasure to support himself; he was suspended solely by a breath of true essence. Such a feat was impossible for anyone not of the Soul Departure stage—her heart skipped a beat.

Now, in his shrunken form, the Taoist robe hung awkwardly from his frame, utterly ill-fitting. Lu Zhou laughed, “When I was at Lingyun Pavilion, I heard tales of a scholar in Zhou who was versed in celestial phenomena and earthly geography, a man of ever-changing height and visage, known as the ‘Hundred-Faced Scholar,’ Old Master Yu. I never expected to meet you in person today.”

The old Taoist’s smile was cold and gloomy. “Captain Lu flatters me. I’m surprised that my name, Blind Yu, has reached as far as the Northern Barbarians. Who would have thought that even that old ghost Ebony from Lingyun Pavilion still remembers this useless relic?”

Only then did Li Zhilan notice that his eyes lacked pupils—only whites remained. She could not reconcile this blind, withered old man with the ethereal sage she’d seen moments ago. It was unknown to her that Yu the Blind, afflicted with a diseased gaze, never wished others to see his eyes and thus perfected the art of shapeshifting. Anyone who had glimpsed his true eyes did not live to tell the tale.

Lu Zhou offered a subtle smile. “My master often speaks of the heroes and luminaries of the Central Continent. Whenever he mentions you, Sir Yu, his praise is unceasing.”

Ebony was Lu Zhou’s master at Lingyun Pavilion.

“Oh?” Yu the Blind’s voice was icy. “How, pray, does that old ghost Ebony praise me?”

Lu Zhou replied with a grin, “My master says, ‘Never mind that Yu’s eyes are white—his heart is black.’”

Yu the Blind burst out laughing. “Well said! Since you know how black my heart is, let’s settle our accounts. The ritual platform I built with such effort is ruined. You’ll pay for it.”

As the word “pay” left his lips, the peachwood sword in his hand transformed into a horde of toxic centipedes, filling the air with a nauseating stench.

Yet Lu Zhou merely watched him, smiling, motionless.

“Brother, go quickly!” Li Zhilan suddenly drew her longsword. The Aura of Righteousness surged forth, true essence coiling about her blade like a spirit snake.

Lu Zhou glanced at her—who would have expected that his once frail little junior sister had reached the Return to Origin stage? But this foolish girl—did she not realize the opponent was of the Soul Departure stage?

Had he now become the damsel being rescued?

The corner of Lu Zhou’s mouth twitched. Clearly, being shielded this way made him feel utterly ill at ease. He couldn’t very well tell his junior sister, “With you here, how could I not prevail…”

“Hmm? Another Soul Departure stage expert?” Abruptly, Lu Zhou sensed a trace of aura—someone on the verge of Transcendence, their presence entirely locked onto Yu the Blind.

An ally?

Lu Zhou made his calculations. He quietly channeled his true essence, concealing his strength, so that his aura precisely matched that of the Core Formation stage.

Then he stepped forward, shielding Li Zhilan behind him.

“Brother…” Li Zhilan’s clear eyes shone with tenderness—she had not expected that, in this most perilous moment, her elder brother would still stand before her, heedless of life and death.

Yu the Blind snorted. He was convinced that with a wave of his hand, his venomous horde would consume this ill-fated pair, turning them into lost souls.

He was just raising his hand when—

“Wait!” Lu Zhou’s shout halted Yu the Blind mid-motion.

“Sir Yu, even if I am to die, I’d rather not die in ignorance. Please, let me die with clarity.”

Yu the Blind frowned. “Dead or not, what difference does it make if you’re clear or confused?”

“It makes all the difference. At least I’ll know whom to haunt for revenge. A debt has its debtor—surely I can’t trouble you forever, Sir Yu.”

“Haunt me all you like!” Yu the Blind had long ceased to fear ghosts—he’d killed so many in his life, if ghosts existed, he would not still be alive.

He held his breath, raised his hand, true essence ready; the venomous centipedes were poised to strike.

“Wait!” Lu Zhou shouted again. Yu the Blind nearly choked on his own qi, exasperated.

“Sir Yu, I still feel wronged…”

“It’s the Embroidered-Clad Investigator. Now you can die!” Yu the Blind lost all patience—his skeletal hand swept downward and the venomous swarm surged out, a stench filling the air as they rushed towards Lu Zhou.

At that moment, a jade-green flute descended from the sky, blocking the onslaught before Lu Zhou.

He exhaled in relief—it was indeed an ally.

He’d been testing the situation; each time Yu the Blind tried to strike, the hidden expert’s aura would fluctuate, ready to intervene. Clearly, this person meant to protect Lu Zhou.

But who was it?

Of course, Lu Zhou also considered that the hidden expert might be Yu the Blind’s accomplice, waiting for an opportunity to strike.

He was prepared for anything.

For example—

“Brother, I feel faint… Did the blind man poison me, brother…” Li Zhilan’s voice trailed off weakly.

Yu the Blind paused. When did I poison her?

Lu Zhou caught her as she collapsed, her delicate fragrance like lilies drifting to his nose. “Junior sister, didn’t your elder brother tell you? One must always be cautious in the martial world to live long and safely, like a dog…”

Lu Zhou glanced at the jade flute. Its clear notes rang out and, as if intoxicated, the swarm of venomous creatures circled in the air, then dropped to the ground.

But Lu Zhou’s attention was drawn to the hand grasping the flute.

That hand… looked familiar.

He looked up and saw a woman in a light blue robe standing before him, her face veiled in gauze, her features indistinct.

It was her.

Lu Zhou recognized her instantly—she was the girl trimming dead branches in the governor’s courtyard.

Why was she here? Had Chao Lu sent her? Could she be one of the Six Captains?

“Thank you for saving us,” Lu Zhou murmured, unable to bow with Li Zhilan in his arms.

Chao Jin’er gave a soft, barely audible acknowledgment.

Yu the Blind, seeing his venomous horde annihilated, felt a pang of loss. Yet the strength of his adversary was clearly beyond his control. To think, a single Core Formation brat had drawn out so much trouble.

Fortunately, he was prepared.

He coughed lightly, a bit embarrassed. “You’ve watched enough of the show. Time to lend a hand. Once we finish off these three, we still need to help those others drag Shen Changbai back.”

As he spoke, two figures leapt down from a locust tree, and the Daoist boy who’d fled from the ritual platform now emerged from the village, a wicked grin on his face. Even under the bright midday sun, Lu Zhou felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of the trio.

Before they appeared, Lu Zhou had not sensed their cultivation at all.

Clearly, like Yu the Blind, they carried treasures that hid their true strength. Only after they revealed themselves did Lu Zhou realize that the two from the tree were both at the Soul Departure stage.

They wore full beards but were clad in red bellybands and green tiger-head shoes, their broad cheeks and merry eyes making them a grotesque sight—enough to make one lose their previous meal.

The only one who looked remotely normal was the Daoist boy.

Yet in Lu Zhou’s eyes, the boy was the most dangerous.

For the Daoist boy was Yu the Blind’s “eyes”—and the only one among them at the second level of Transcendence.

Lu Zhou had always suppressed his cultivation to the first level of Transcendence. If he clashed head-on with the Daoist boy, the outcome would be uncertain.

He had no intention of facing him directly.

The Daoist boy said nothing, forming a seal with his fingers. A flying sword, crackling with lightning, shot from behind him straight toward Chao Jin’er.

The two “red bellybands” each hurled a fiery lotus pod.

Yu the Blind drew another peachwood sword from his qiankun pouch, which transformed into a swarm of buzzing venomous insects, flying straight ahead.

In an instant, evil spirits danced around Chao Jin’er. She raised her jade-green flute, and its music formed a curtain of light, blocking all four attacks.

Lu Zhou’s mind turned to retreat.

A wise man does not stand under a crumbling wall—especially when burdened with an “overly round and heavy” encumbrance.

He quietly shifted his grip around Li Zhilan.

“Put more effort in! This little lass is tricky!” the Daoist boy cackled. With his guidance, Yu the Blind was no longer blind—the venomous swarm moved with uncanny precision.

Lu Zhou glanced at the embattled woman, hesitating for a moment.

“Well, since you just saved me, I’ll help you out this once. Then we’ll be even.”

Muttering, he produced two pitch-black pills and tossed them toward the four foes. The pills moved slowly, plainly visible.

“Mere tricks!” One of the red-bellied men laughed and slashed at it with his sword.

“Don’t!” the Daoist boy shouted.

But it was already too late.