Chapter Forty-Nine: A Duel Sparked by a Bath

What kind of spell did these female disciples use to summon snakes from underground? Feng Ke’er’s greatest fear was snakes. At the sight of them, her skin crawled and even her tailbone tensed in fright.

What are you hesitating for? Run!

She glanced back once at the bathhouse gate, clenched her fists, whispered an apology, then pressed off with her feet. Using both the Swift Step Technique and Dragonfly Skims Water, she retreated at speed toward the newly designated Courtyard Four in the southwest.

But just then, a commotion arose from the woods in the northwest corner of the bath area. Amid a billowing cloud of dust, a flurry of gray shapes shot forth, swift as lightning, surging toward the southeastern woods with unstoppable momentum.

Feng Ke’er was running so fast she almost collided with them. Fortunately, her reflexes were quick. With a leap, she landed nimbly in the branches of the nearest camphor tree, just avoiding their path.

What are those things? Judging by the situation, they must have been summoned by the male disciples to counter the snake formation.

Brushing away the swirling dust with her sleeve, Feng Ke’er steadied herself on the tree branch for a clearer look. There were about a hundred of these creatures, each with a large bushy tail. Aside from the tails that resembled those of squirrels, they looked much like oversized field mice—ten times the normal size.

Feng Ke’er had never seen such animals. She doubted their power; could a mere hundred of these little things really handle ten thousand snakes?

Even as she wondered, the foremost of the creatures clashed with the snake horde. What happened next left Feng Ke’er utterly dumbfounded: the arrogant snakes seemed terribly afraid of these plain-looking, big-tailed beasts. At their approach, the formation of snakes dissolved into chaos, scattering like mice before cats. The big-tails, emboldened, charged forward with shrill cries, biting viciously and with unerring accuracy.

Whether it was the precision of the big-tails or the stupidity of the snakes, Feng Ke’er couldn’t say. But every bite was deadly. Perhaps it was because the front ranks of snakes were quickly devoured that the rest panicked. Even the venomous ones abandoned all resistance, writhing and fleeing as if they had turned into monstrous earthworms, quivering in fear.

Yet something even stranger occurred: any snake killed by the big-tails immediately transformed. At first, Feng Ke’er thought her eyes deceived her—how could a severed snake become a grass root? She rubbed her eyes and looked again—still grass roots!

No wonder the snakes had come from the ground, and no wonder their numbers seemed endless. Feng Ke’er suddenly understood: these so-called snakes were all conjured by the twenty or so female disciples using grass roots as a base.

The women were using basic illusions. Feng Ke’er recalled reading about such spells in her collected notes: beginner illusions are among the simplest spells. Using an Illusion Talisman or Incantation, one can transform object A into object B at will. The transformed object adopts all the properties of its new form until the spell ends. The most popular example is the art of turning stone into gold. At first, Feng Ke’er had been intrigued, but upon reading further, she’d dismissed such illusions as mere tricks—good only for deceiving mortals, those of equal cultivation, or those with weaker spiritual power.

Yet just now, the very tricks she’d once scorned had sent her fleeing in terror. Mortified, Feng Ke’er resolved to abandon her old prejudices and watch this live performance of beginner spells with keen interest—after all, the big-tailed army the men had summoned was likely also a product of such illusions.

But what exactly were these big-tailed creatures? Now curious, Feng Ke’er settled comfortably on her branch, arms crossed, watching with relish.

The big-tails, undeterred by biting mouthfuls of grass, grew ever more enthusiastic. Clearly, they took killing snakes as a sport, as if they bore some deep-seated grudge against the serpent kind. It seemed these big-tails were the natural enemies of all snakes.

With that, Feng Ke’er ventured a guess—they must be mongoose, famed feline predators of snakes.

What their true forms were, she couldn’t discern—her cultivation wasn’t high enough. Only when the spell ended and the big-tails vanished would their real forms be revealed.

Still, she admired the male disciples’ quick thinking. The tactic of “one creature overcoming another” was brilliantly played.

As the snake formation fell apart, a clear voice rang from the southeast woods: “Change formation!”

The bamboo flute music ceased abruptly, and in a blink, the snakes vanished. But anyone paying attention would know where they’d gone—they had reverted to their original forms, becoming vines and grasses once more.

Within the woods, shadows flickered as the flute-playing women, sweat-soaked and drained of spiritual power, withdrew. They were swiftly replaced by more female disciples.

Feng Ke’er hadn’t yet seen what this new group intended when a piercing eagle’s cry shot up to the heavens. Suddenly, from the southeastern sky, a brown cloud approached.

Feng Ke’er was stunned: a massive flock of eagles, so dense it blotted out the sun. If they were real, it’d seem the world’s eagles had all convened here. But given the numbers, she concluded these “eagles” were, at best, just a horde of sparrows in disguise.

Yet the mongooses on the ground instantly froze at the sound. They rose on their hind legs, peering skyward.

“Coo-coo!” Several of the largest mongooses—likely their leaders—gave warning cries and retreated at speed.

At once, the entire mongoose army scattered, fleeing faster than they’d arrived.

What was this? The classic “fighting fire with fire!” The second round had begun, with the women conjuring an overwhelming eagle horde to counter the mongooses, and playing the game just as skillfully. Inwardly, Feng Ke’er applauded them.

If snakes fear mongooses, what do eagles fear? She racked her brains but couldn’t recall. Lazy by nature, she left the puzzle unresolved, simply folding her arms to await the answer.

Now the sky belonged to the birds of prey. Their victorious cries filled the air as they dove like arrows, targeting both mongoose and men alike.

The mongooses had no time to escape to the forest. With each swoop, more than half the mongoose army was wiped out, reverting to their true forms—field mice.

The male disciples were thrown into chaos. Faced with the descending black cloud of eagles, who could think of resistance? Especially those soaking in the open-air hot spring—they scrambled ashore, leaving clothes behind, fleeing naked for their lives.

Feng Ke’er’s heart leapt into her throat—her “meat bird,” Qin Heng, was in there too, bathing. But with so many bare, gleaming bodies, she caught only a glimpse before blushing furiously and shutting her eyes, murmuring, “What a mess.” She silently hoped her “meat bird” would be safe—he was, after all, the ancestor of all birds.

Alas, weren’t they all of the same sect? Why such fierce infighting? The female disciples had gone a bit too far!

Just then, several dozen white-clad figures leapt from among the men, stacking themselves, forming a human tower even as the eagle horde attacked.

Meanwhile, the other male disciples formed a protective ring around them, drawing bows and firing arrows in support.

Their aim was impressive. Arrows whistled through the air; eagles shrieked and fell, thudding to the ground.

At last, Feng Ke’er saw the eagles’ true forms—indeed, they were sparrows.

With that, the nine-layered human tower was completed. From the first to the eighth layer, each disciple wielded a longbow, loosing arrows with all their might. The eagle horde was so dense that, for a time, dozens were felled, clearing a path for the men.

Atop the tower stood three male disciples at the peak of the Qi Refinement stage. Feng Ke’er couldn’t gauge their power, but they must have been at the late stage.

The three formed hand seals, then thrust their arms skyward, spreading their fingers and shouting as one, “Flying Vine Technique!”

Feng Ke’er recalled reading about this—a beginner-level wood spell, not an illusion. Practitioners of wood spells, upon reaching the middle Qi Refinement stage, could plant a life-bound plant in their dantian, most often ivy, due to its vitality, ease of care, and combat use. By late Qi Refinement, the plant could divide and form a fighting group, increasing their power greatly.

Feng Ke’er had once dreamed of studying wood spells herself, but lacked the required wood spiritual root—hers was of no use.

As she mused, with a whoosh, each of the three men shot a length of thick, leafy ivy from their fingertips, which grew rapidly in the air, reaching lengths of thirty feet in moments.

Feng Ke’er could only watch in envy, eyes sparkling.

“Heavenly Net!” the three shouted, spreading their arms wide. Dozens of thick vines intertwined, forming a massive net overhead.

“Go!” they hurled the net, which hovered two yards above the crowd, spinning rapidly.

Despite the wide mesh, no eagle could pass. Whenever one tried, smaller green vines lashed out like whips, striking without fail. None survived; all crashed to the ground and reverted to sparrows.

The eagle horde, stung by defeat, dared not attack again. Reluctantly, they circled above the net, their ferocity subdued at last.

The male disciples breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Feng Ke’er wiped cold sweat from her brow as well.

But the women had not given up. From the southeast woods came another crisp eagle cry. Instantly, the eagle horde vanished, and a swarm of sparrows scattered in all directions.

Just as Feng Ke’er thought the women had conceded defeat to the men’s human tower and flying net, two figures burst from the woods.

One female disciple, grasping a white ribbon in each hand, strode to a camphor tree and began to whirl the ribbons while shouting, “Wind, arise!”

And sure enough, a gale swept through, sending sand and debris flying. Feng Ke’er, caught at the edge of the wind, nearly lost her grip. With nowhere to hide, she clung desperately to the trunk.

In an instant, several dozen male disciples were swept away. The human tower trembled like leaves in a storm, on the verge of collapse.

Almost simultaneously, the other female disciple vaulted into the treetop, stood tall, pressed her hands to her abdomen, puffed her cheeks like a frog, and shouted, “Fire, come!”

With a roar, a ball of blazing fire shot from her mouth. Fueled by the wind, it soared dozens of yards high, heading straight for the flying vine net.

The ivy, as if sentient, shrank in fear of the fire, withdrawing rapidly. In moments, the net had shrunk to a third its size.

“Withdraw!” The three male disciples, their spiritual energy spent and unwilling to risk their life-bound plants, reluctantly recalled the vines.

Emboldened by their success, the wind and fire duo set their sights on the remnants of the human tower.

“Stop, senior sisters!” A male disciple sprang forth, raising his sword above his head and declaring hoarsely, “We concede.”

Feng Ke’er recognized him—it was Senior Brother Hu, who had greeted Feng Jiu earlier. Now, she understood the rules: it seemed such face-offs between male and female outer disciples were common. The losing side merely needed to concede and accept the terms of the victors, with no interference from elders.

But what of the injured? Feng Ke’er noted this time the men had suffered greatly, more than ten percent wounded, some seriously so. Would it really end just like that?

At the declaration, the wind and fire duo ceased their spells. Instantly, the world was calm again.

The male disciples, defeated, hung their heads and put away their weapons.

Feng Ke’er could tell that every Qi Refinement-stage male disciple had exhausted his spiritual power.

Only then did the female disciples emerge from the woods, more than sixty in all, each clad in white robes trimmed with blue, all at the Qi Refinement stage. They, too, were drenched in sweat and panting, evidently drained by the contest.

Feng Ke’er couldn’t help feeling sorry for the men: to lose so badly, and concede so easily? If only they’d held out two or three minutes longer, the wind and fire duo would have exhausted their strength, and with the rest unable to assist, it would come down to a close-quarters brawl—where the men’s numbers would give them the upper hand. The outcome would be far less certain.

All in all, it was a pity to concede so soon. Feng Ke’er sighed in regret.

++++++++++ Dividing Line ++++++++++

(Author’s note omitted.)

The Supreme Celestial Codex, Chapter 49: A PK Sparked by Bathing—End of Update!