Chapter Forty-Five: Fatal Gossip

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The Breath Concealment Talisman was truly the perfect tool for shadowing and tailing someone. Old Scholar Chen was extremely vigilant, yet when Feng Ke’er cast her Swift Step technique to doggedly pursue him, he didn’t notice her at all.

There was something peculiar about this forest: the towering trees blocked out the sun, and the winding paths beneath formed a labyrinthine network, making it impossible to find one’s bearings.

Old Scholar Chen was clearly familiar with the place. Perhaps because it was so seldom visited, he had lost the caution he showed outside. With his arms spread and his voluminous robes billowing, he leapt nimbly through the woods like a spirit snake, disappearing into the depths in the blink of an eye.

No wonder he was a Foundation Establishment cultivator—his speed was astonishing! Any other Qi Refinement disciple would have been forced to turn back. But unfortunately for him, he’d encountered Feng Ke’er!

If she couldn’t catch up, she wouldn’t bother chasing!

Feng Ke’er found a dense thicket nearby and hid herself, sitting cross-legged. She formed a hand seal, closed her eyes slightly, held her breath, focused her mind, and released her spiritual sense to search.

Sure enough, the tactic worked.

Soon, Feng Ke’er’s eyelids fluttered—she had found Old Scholar Chen!

Deep in the woods, more than ten miles away, was a concealed stone cave. Outside, Old Scholar Chen tidied his appearance, then bowed three times and kowtowed nine times. “This humble one greets the master.”

“Did you bring the Sacred Insects?” came a man’s voice from within the cave—deep and nasal.

Clearly, some sort of magic had been worked inside, for Feng Ke’er’s spiritual sense couldn’t penetrate it. She couldn’t see the person’s true face.

Who was this mysterious figure? Her curiosity piqued, she listened intently and quickly guessed that the man inside was using a disguised voice.

Old Scholar Chen knelt, holding up a delicate little purple gourd. “Reporting to the master, I brought them.”

As soon as he finished, the purple gourd floated from his palm and hovered in the air, shaking twice.

A cold voice came from the cave. “Over thirty percent missing?”

An icy aura surged out, plunging the temperature to near freezing.

Old Scholar Chen was terrified, prostrating himself with trembling limbs as he pleaded, “Master, everything was going smoothly at first. But, but… while collecting the insects, a direct descendant of the Qin Clan suddenly advanced in cultivation and destroyed an entire room of Sacred Insects!”

“The Qin Clan? Didn’t I instruct you not to involve disciples from the Three Great Clans?” The man in the cave paused, then asked, “Who was it?”

“Qin Heng, third son of Qin Ruhua, chief steward of the Yanxia Peak Inner Hall,” Old Scholar Chen replied. Hearing no response from the cave, he summoned his courage and gave a version of events that favored himself, carefully omitting any mention of his own greed for treasure or murderous intent.

He thought the man in the cave would vent his anger on Qin Heng, but although the man was furious, he directed his ire at Chen instead. “You can’t even handle a mere boy? What use are you?”

Old Scholar Chen was stricken with terror and hurriedly kowtowed, pleading, “Master, please have mercy—”

But before he could finish, a violent gust burst from the cave. In a flash, a man in a long black silk robe, wearing a bronze demon mask with fangs, stood arrogantly before him. “Didn’t you always wish to see me in person?”

“N-no, Master, I wouldn’t dare!” Old Scholar Chen kowtowed even harder, his head thumping against the ground.

The black-robed man snorted, then removed his bronze demon mask, and his voice shifted to one as warm as polished jade. “But I wish to see you. Look up and see who I am!”

Old Scholar Chen shuddered violently, but had no choice but to raise his tear-, snot-, and sweat-streaked face. When he saw the man’s features—bronzed skin, thick brows, bright eyes, and a handsome presence—he was bewildered. “You… who are you?” The voice seemed familiar, but the face was utterly strange—he’d never seen it before.

The black-robed man curled his lips into a mocking smile and wiped his face. “How about now?”

Like a face-changing performer, his appearance transformed: the right side of his face was fair-skinned, with long brows and phoenix eyes, a rounded chin; the other half was a mass of scars, hideously twisted.

When Old Scholar Chen saw the intact half of that face, it was as if he’d seen a ghost—he shrank into himself, screaming, “You! How can it be you? You’re not dead!”

“Hahaha! Wasn’t it always me? Senior Brother Chen, how have you been?” The black-robed man laughed.

Suddenly recalling something, Old Scholar Chen frantically shook his head and waved his hands. “What happened back then… it really wasn’t my fault…”

But before he could finish, his voice was abruptly cut off.

The black-robed man grasped his throat and lifted him up, stating coldly, “I know all about that year’s events. Senior Brother Chen, you were only following orders!”

Dangling in midair, Old Scholar Chen’s eyes rolled back as he struggled desperately, clawing and kicking, like a trapped beast.

The man in black, however, was utterly at ease, as if holding a wriggling frog. With a cold smile he said, “Senior Brother Chen, for the sake of your service in hatching Sacred Insects, I’ll let you die knowing why. This is the last batch. Our master won’t need you to hatch any more, so you may rest in peace!”

With a slight squeeze, a crisp snap was heard—he broke the man’s neck.

The old man’s white-haired head drooped lifelessly, a trickle of blood dripping from his lips. After two final spasms, Old Scholar Chen was dead.

The black-robed man tossed the corpse aside in distaste, formed a hand seal, and sent a burst of fire to burn the body. He then wiped his face clean, became a handsome youth with a sunny smile, put the demon mask back on, and strode away.

Such ruthless betrayal! Feng Ke’er was aghast, quickly withdrawing her spiritual sense. She wiped the cold sweat from her brow—her palm was soaked!

So Old Scholar Chen had been hatching insects for this man, who in turn served a mysterious “master” behind the scenes.

She hadn’t expected such complexity behind this affair. Everyone here seemed so bloodthirsty. A single misstep, and she’d witnessed a deadly secret. Fortunately, the Breath Concealment Talisman was powerful enough to keep her hidden.

She smacked herself lightly. “Serves you right for being nosy—trying to tempt fate, huh!”

Just the memory of the black-robed man snapping Old Scholar Chen’s neck made her eyelids twitch uncontrollably.

With a sigh, Feng Ke’er decided to recite the Purifying Heart Incantation to calm herself. Besides, her spiritual sense was drained from maintaining her focus at such a distance for so long. After three days in seclusion, she’d found that every time she finished the incantation, her mind felt clear and refreshed, her spirit greatly improved. In three days, she’d practiced it nine times, and her spiritual sense had noticeably strengthened. Clearly, this incantation was specifically for honing spiritual power.

So she straightened up, placed her five hearts upward, closed her eyes, gathered her spirit, circulated her true energy, and practiced the Purifying Heart Incantation.

When she finished, her eyes were clear and tranquil. Her heart was calm—what was there to fear? She was Qin Heng now. If the sky fell, her “Great Aunt” would hold it up. If her “Great Aunt” couldn’t, the Qin family would.

So why pretend to be low-key anymore? She might as well live boldly and freely!

By now, Feng Ke’er was no longer the ignorant girl she once was—her insight far surpassed the ordinary. Even the tangled paths in the woods couldn’t confuse her. After two rounds, she found her way out with ease.

At the same time, she’d grown much more adept at using “Swift Step” and “Dragonfly Skims Water.” Her body control and speed were more than twice what they’d been before.

Circulating her qi and gathering her strength, she dashed up the mountain almost like the wind.

At the foot of the mountain, a patrol of Qi Refinement disciples happened by. They caught sight of her and were all dumbfounded. “Heavens, who is that? How can someone run so fast?”

“He’s wearing a blue cloth robe—must be Qin Jun’s younger brother, Qin Heng!”

“Qin Heng? The one who advanced in under half a year?”

“Tch, even Qin Jun was considered a prodigy, but his younger brother is even more impressive…”

…

Feng Ke’er heard every word and couldn’t help but smile to herself in satisfaction.

On a quiet side peak, she decided to test the power of the Ice Spike Spell. The results were pleasing: compared to the Ice Orb Spell, they consumed a similar amount of spiritual power. At her current level, she could use the Ice Spike Spell ten times. But its power far outstripped the Ice Orb—it was faster, stronger, and acted like a homing missile, locking onto its target. Once fired, the ice spike would relentlessly track its prey until it struck. Moreover, once it hit, the spike would burrow into the prey’s body and instantly freeze it into a pale violet block of ice!

Of course, this had its pros and cons: the advantage was that she no longer had to worry about preserving her catch in the summer heat; the downside was that the huge chunks of ice were heavy and cumbersome, so she couldn’t simply tie up a bunch of chicken feet with cloth strips and carry off a dozen at a time as before.

It seemed the “meat bird” had been right—she really did need to get a storage pouch or something similar.

When she killed a wild chicken, she still felt a warm current flow into her lower abdomen, though far less than before. It was rather unsatisfying—clearly, this place no longer offered much for her advancement. She needed to find an area with higher-level monsters!

With that thought, her enthusiasm for hunting waned. Carrying a frozen wild chicken, she hurried down the mountain.

Along the way, she attracted a great deal of attention.

Listening to all the murmurs and whispers, Feng Ke’er broke out in a cold sweat. Sometimes, having such sharp hearing wasn’t such a blessing.

At the gate of the new Number Four Courtyard, she ran into Steward Elder Shen Ping.

She promptly tossed aside what she was carrying and stepped forward to salute.

Shen Ping had heard that Feng Ke’er had emerged from seclusion and had come especially to deliver her advancement provisions. In the Qingyun Sect, after a new disciple advanced, they were entitled to a set of supplies: a basic storage pouch, a white short robe with blue trim, a pair of blue cloth shoes, and one pill each of Spirit Infusion, Rejuvenation, and Restoration.

His gaze lingered on the two blocks of frozen wild chicken at her feet, and he marveled inwardly: What treasure had the Qin Clan given this boy? He must be one of the Qin family’s new generation of elites!

With that thought, his smile grew even warmer. He handed over a sky-blue storage pouch. “Qin Heng, here are your advancement supplies. You didn’t go to the Steward Hall to collect them because you were in seclusion, so I brought them to you myself. How are your injuries—fully healed?”

“Thank you, Steward Elder. I’m completely recovered,” Feng Ke’er replied, delighted—just what she’d wished for! Her heart sang with joy.

“That’s good.” Shen Ping looked her up and down, nodding repeatedly. “Now that you’re out of seclusion, go to the Steward’s Institute tomorrow to register and arrange for new lodgings.”

“Yes, Elder. I obey.” Feng Ke’er bowed with her fists.

“Excellent.” Shen Ping, satisfied, walked off with his hands behind his back. This kid knew how to behave—his special trip hadn’t been in vain. (To be continued)

Tongtian Codex, Chapter 45—the Deadly Gossip—complete!