Chapitre 33: How is this a reconnaissance spell?
The explosive impact of the green swallow's attack lasted over five minutes before it finally began to dissipate. The tremors and widespread destruction gradually subsided, leaving behind a massive cloud of dust that stretched from the attack's epicenter to a half-mile radius, its height nearly reaching the clouds.
It took some time before the dust settled, revealing a 700-meter-wide crater over 200 meters deep, with the deepest point marking the spot where the Tupelo tree and the Ao Yin had been. The Ao Yin's silhouette had completely vanished, leaving behind only the bone saber in its original pure white form. However, unlike its earlier refined and smooth appearance, it now carried an impure, coarse shade of white. A small indentation marked the spot where the green feather had struck it.
Just ahead of the bone saber was a tiny golden barrier, flickering weakly and riddled with cracks. By the looks of it, even the faintest breeze could shatter it. As if on cue, a soft gust of wind swept through, delivering the final blow. The barrier disintegrated into countless motes of light that flickered briefly before fading away, revealing an almost withered tree and two old men leaning heavily against its bark for support.
The Tupelo tree, though still standing tall, had shed most of its leaves, leaving fewer than two hundred behind. Its earlier vibrant luster was gone, replaced by the ordinary appearance of a tree with smooth white bark. The once-colorful leaves—alternating shades of red, orange, and green—were now uniformly green, many marred with brown patches, brittle like dried leaves. As for Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen, they looked utterly spent. Both men slumped to the ground like felled logs, their pale skin and sweat-soaked robes evidence of severe qi depletion. Their labored breathing and trembling limbs spoke volumes of their exhaustion.
When the attack fell, the first three barriers had been shattered instantly, leaving only three remaining. The fourth barrier broke mere seconds later, while the fifth was already riddled with cracks. In a desperate effort, Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen poured every ounce of qi they could muster into the Tupelo tree, employing every method at their disposal. Some of these methods involved forbidden techniques that exacted a steep price, including sacrificing their lifespan for a short burst of qi. Yet, neither man hesitated—survival was not their priority. Their sole concern was preserving the Tupelo tree, even at the cost of their lives.
Their combined efforts, though negligible against an attack teetering on the edge of palace-realm power, were not in vain. Thanks to their desperate contributions, the Tupelo tree didn't have to expend all its reserve energy and sacrifice every leaf to withstand the green swallow's assault.
Despite the outcome, Peng Zhen couldn't hide the regret etched on his face as he struggled to turn his head and glimpse the state of the tupelo tree. Before this ordeal, the tree had been at a critical juncture in its evolution, a period that required hibernation. The more energy it retained during this phase, the greater its chances of successfully advancing. Now, with only a quarter of its original reserves remaining, Peng Zhen knew the odds of the tree awakening once it went under were slim. Evolution, once triggered, could not be undone. The path was set, and the outcome would soon reveal itself.
Peng Zhen craned his neck upward, his eyes locking on the source of the devastating attack—the green swallow. It hovered silently in the sky, its gaze cold and unflinching. A bitter sigh escaped his lips as he reflected on his own powerlessness.
"If just someone's technique could bring us to the brink like this, what would have happened if the person behind it were here?" He shook his head, banishing the thought. Dwelling on such fears served no purpose. Instead, he redirected his focus to his most pressing concern—Dong Yanlin's whereabouts.
With the last remnants of his strength, Peng Zhen scanned the battlefield. His eyes first fell on the bone saber lying flat on the cracked, sandy ground, surrounded by streams of water that had broken through from below.
Refusing to stop there, his gaze swept the area until it caught on a small object perched atop one of the sand pits. It shimmered faintly, encased in a layer of green, wavy energy. Peng Zhen froze, disbelief flickering across his face.
"Is that...?" he whispered hoarsely. "It can't be. Can it?"
The object had survived the onslaught completely unscathed. Peng Zhen stared at it, recognition dawning.
"Dong Yanlin's leopard storage pouch... I knew it was special when it could store the tupelo tree, but to think it could withstand this. Its defenses must be beyond even that of the bone saber. Could its rank be even higher? How does Dong Yanlin possess treasures like these? Is he some elder's child from the Blood Ghost Hands?"
A mixture of relief and apprehension coursed through him. "At least the sect treasures are safe."
"Gui... Gui, the treasures are safe. I told you I had the best luck," Peng Zhen rasped, his parched voice barely audible.
Beside him, Gui Bingwen could only manage a weak groan, his body too drained to move or respond.
"They're s...a...f...e," Peng Zhen murmured as his eyes fluttered shut, drowsiness finally overtaking him.
Moments later, the sound of wings slicing through the air heralded the arrival of a dragonfly. A figure leapt gracefully from its back, landing softly within the crater.
"Made it just in time, but what in the world caused this level of destruction?" Feng Xin muttered as his sharp eyes scanned the battlefield. His gaze swept over the deep crater and the surrounding devastation. "Did Yang Qing tweak the technique? What reconnaissance cultivation spell carries destructive power like this?"
Feng Xin frowned, shaking his head as he recalled the sly grin Yang Qing had worn while helping him craft the talismans. "That sleazy judge... I knew something was off when he was so enthusiastic about the task. He must have done something to the others, too."
With a sigh, Feng Xin dismissed the thought, refocusing on the present. His eyes locked on the bone saber lying amidst the rubble, untouched despite the cataclysm. Its survival intrigued him. For an object to withstand an attack nearing the might of a palace realm expert, it had to be no ordinary weapon.
"A monarch-level artifact," Feng Xin mused, his curiosity deepening as he approached the saber.
As Feng Xin scrutinized the bone saber, the green swallow descended swiftly toward him. He paid it little attention, knowing it was responding to the object he carried—a beacon embedded with Yang Qing's qi signature. Cultivation techniques that produce sentient spells, especially when cast through talismans rather than directly by their owners, required such items to prevent mishaps or loss of control.
Feng Xin remained engrossed in the saber, curiosity etched on his face. He extended a sliver of his spiritual sense to probe its inner structure. However, the moment his sense penetrated the saber, an unexpected event unfolded.
His vision twisted, and he was abruptly pulled into a dark, oppressive realm reeking of death and malevolence. The air itself seemed steeped in bloodlust and despair. Within this nightmarish domain, a hulking, bull-like creature emerged, its roar shaking the heavens as it charged directly at him.
Feng Xin instantly recognized it—the Ao Yin. His instincts screamed danger as he severed his spiritual sense from the saber, retreating just in time. Despite his quick action, the creature's thunderous roar rippled through his mind, leaving him momentarily disoriented, as though he'd been struck by a colossal club.
For an ordinary Core Formation cultivator, such an assault would have inflicted severe damage to their soul. But Feng Xin remained unharmed, his years of training as an inquisitor paying off. Soul meditation techniques, mandatory for all in his line of work, fortified his spirit against attacks like this and strengthened his spiritual sense in the process.
"Who in their right mind would forge a weapon from the remains of an Ao Yin?" Feng Xin muttered, his voice tinged with incredulity and wariness. His gaze lingered on the saber, now more sinister than before. "And not just any Ao Yin, but one at the middle levels of the palace realm. Aren't they afraid of being corrupted by its murderous spirit? Or worse, enslaved and turned into a furnace by it? Truly insane."
Wasting no time, Feng Xin retrieved a coarse, brown cloth from his storage ring. He approached the saber cautiously, wrapping it tightly with the cloth. The moment the saber came into contact with the material, it trembled violently, as though attempting to flee.
But its resistance was short-lived. Four chains erupted from within the cloth, binding the saber with an unyielding force. Each chain bore seals representing four elements: water, light, earth, and wood. These seals, designed to counteract the saber's dark nature, pulsed faintly as they suppressed its malevolent energy with ease.
Feng Xin exhaled softly, his wariness still present but momentarily quelled. The saber was restrained, but its danger remained palpable.
"Figures the Four Element Life Divergent Seals would work so well against something so drenched in blood and murder," Feng Xin mused silently as he stashed the tightly-bound bone saber into his storage ring. He turned toward the area where Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen lay but quickly spotted another intriguing item—the leopard pouch, half-buried in the ground and faintly glowing with a greenish hue.
"Interesting storage pouch," Feng Xin murmured, picking it up and brushing away the dirt. His movements were cautious, his eyes scanning the pouch for traps or tricks that might have been laid upon it. His careful inspection soon uncovered a trace locator array, deeply concealed within the pouch's structure.
"Hmm... this array seems to have been drawn by someone at the Palace Realm," Feng Xin muttered, his tone assessing. "But their skill in formations is mediocre at best compared to a true master of that level. Breaking it with a monarch-tier weapon should suffice."
He unsheathed his sword with a fluid motion, its blade gleaming with a sharp, deadly light. Forming a series of rapid hand seals, he compressed their energy into the sword's tip, which glowed with a pure white brilliance. When satisfied with the intensity of the seals, Feng Xin slashed downward toward the pouch.
The resistance was minimal but palpable, the sword's tip sizzling as it burned through the array's layers. With each sizzle, the blade pushed further until it finally completed the cut. The lingering glow of the array dissipated, leaving the pouch free from its tracking mechanism.
Feng Xin sheathed his sword with a quiet clang, a faint smile of satisfaction tugging at his lips. "That should take care of whoever planted that."
Turning his attention back to the leopard pouch, Feng Xin's expression shifted to one of delighted surprise as he examined its properties more closely.
"This is top-tier stuff," he whistled, his voice laced with genuine excitement. "A storage pouch capable of holding living objects, and with an internal space the size of two living rooms? Must be how they transported that tree. What a steal!"
Unable to hide his glee, he twirled the pouch around his index finger before securely tying it to his waist.
Then his demeanor changed. The light-hearted excitement drained away, replaced by a cold, calculating air that made Haishi, standing silently behind him, instinctively flinch.
"Now, what to do with those two?" Feng Xin muttered, his voice low and frigid. "Only one might be needed for the case."
He approached the trio—the two unconscious men and the withered Tupelo tree—with slow, deliberate steps. His gaze lingered on the tree as he reached out to brush his fingers against its remaining leaves, the gesture oddly gentle despite the glacial chill in his aura.
Chapitre 34: Contacting the branch
"This tree is truly something to have withstood an attack of that level and even protect these two. But it seems to have paid a heavy price for it. I wonder if it was worth it," Feng Xin sighed as he examined its current lackluster state. Once a towering presence, the tree now resembled a mere shrub, standing less than a meter tall, with nearly half of its remaining leaves tinged with dryness.
After a moment of contemplation, Feng Xin stored the tree in the leopard pouch before squatting down beside Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen. Placing both palms on their backs, he began channeling his qi into them, working to revitalize their dried-up meridians and empty dantians.
At a glance, he could tell they were suffering from severe qi drain. While they would recover naturally given time, Feng Xin didn't have the luxury to wait. Both men had answers he needed, and there were questions of his own demanding clarity—chief among them, the identity of the bone saber's owner.
The signs were all too telling: not just anyone could possess an Ao Yin's corpse, let alone refine a weapon from it. And the leopard storage pouch? That was the clincher. Life-nurturing storage treasures of that caliber were exceedingly rare—items that even rank 3 sects might not possess. Such a treasure, coupled with a monarch-grade weapon, pointed to someone with significant backing. The sooner Feng Xin uncovered their identity, the better he could prepare his next moves.
Minutes passed as Feng Xin continued channeling qi into the two elders. Slowly, their ashen complexions gave way to a healthy rosiness. Peng Zhen groaned, showing the first signs of waking.
He stirred, feeling a cool, gentle flow of qi coursing through his body, washing away fatigue and pain. It was the most comfort he had felt in a long while. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned to the source of the soothing sensation.
At first, his blurry vision made out only the vague outline of a male cultivator. Panic flickered in his heart—his first thought was Dong Yanlin. But cool reasoning quickly took over. It was highly unlikely to be him.
For one, even if Dong Yanlin had survived the second attack, he wouldn't have the energy to spare. Moreover, as a member of a bloodthirsty sect, benevolence wasn't in his nature.
Reluctantly, Peng Zhen decided to go along with the situation. In his weakened state, even a body-refining stage cultivator could easily kill him, let alone the man before him. The vibrant and pure qi coursing through his body made it clear this person's cultivation far exceeded that of Cheng Yuan.
As if responding to Peng Zhen's unspoken thoughts, Feng Xin softly spoke,
"Nice of you to wake up, Peng Zhen. I hope you've had sufficient rest, because you'll need it for the journey ahead." Feng Xin's voice was calm but carried a sharp edge.
"You and your friend here will accompany me back to the Cultivation Order courts. There are some matters to address—chief among them, your audacity in using the Order as a pawn in one of your schemes. You've got quite the nerve. I almost can't help but admire it."
Feng Xin's cold gaze bore into Peng Zhen, leaving him suffocated. For a fleeting moment, he felt his lungs freeze before the sensation mercifully subsided. The oppressive aura emanating from Feng Xin was just as suffocating as the murderous intent he had felt from the Ao Yin.
"I will do as you say, esteemed master," Peng Zhen replied humbly. Internally, he sighed, but his composure quickly returned. He had anticipated this outcome. From the moment his plan was set into motion, this scenario had always been among the likeliest.
In fact, being apprehended by the Order was one of his best-case scenarios. His only regret was how poorly things had played out—particularly the Tupelo tree's diminished state and the unexpected revelation of Dong Yanlin's intimidating background.
Feng Xin observed Peng Zhen with a calculating eye, noting how swiftly the man regained his composure. Despite himself, Feng Xin felt a measure of respect for the elder's mental fortitude.
"This kind of resolve is what allows cultivators to endure the trials of their path," he thought.
"The world romanticizes us as lofty individuals defying fate and challenging the heavens. But the truth is simpler: cultivators are just people striving to improve their quality of life. The road is riddled with obstacles, and only those with the grit to take the hits—yet keep rising, keep trying—can continue forward. When talent and resources fall short, sheer determination carries the day."
Moments later, Gui Bingwen stirred. At first, his bleary eyes reflected confusion at how quickly he had awakened, but that gave way to panic. The elder scrambled backward on his knees, his mind leaping to the assumption that Dong Yanlin had come for him.
Only when his gaze finally cleared and he got a good look at Feng Xin's face did he begin to calm down. Yet his unease lingered, and questions swirled in his mind.
Turning to Peng Zhen, Gui Bingwen's expression silently asked who this man was. Peng Zhen responded with a bitter smile and a shake of his head. That gesture alone told Gui Bingwen everything he needed to know.
Someone from the Order stood before them.
"Good. Now that both of you are awake and in decent shape, it's time for us to leave," Feng Xin said as he gestured toward the spirit beast. "Haishi, come here. We'll be heading southwest, toward the outskirts of the green fog region. There's someone we need to pick up along the way."
With that, he leapt atop Haishi, carrying Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen with him. The two elders stared in astonishment at the spirit beast. To their surprise, Haishi's strength seemed on par with Cheng Yuan's, and the qi she exuded—amplified by the primal lotus dew effect—only deepened the air of mystery around her. They couldn't help but wonder if this unusual vitality was a unique trait of hers.
Haishi swiftly took to the skies, flying in the direction Feng Xin had indicated. The green swallow flew alongside them. From its expenditure, the spell would only remain active for a few more minutes.
During the journey, Feng Xin seized the opportunity to question Peng Zhen about the owner of the bone saber. What he learned caused the pieces to finally fall into place.
Dong Yanlin's ties to the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands Syndicate came up. In terms of rank, they were equivalent to rank 1 sects, though their wealth and resources likely surpassed a few of their peers born from their endless cycle of robbery, murder, and pillaging.
It made perfect sense now how someone like Dong Yanlin could possess such high-level treasures. The bone saber, refined from the corpse of a bloodthirsty Ao Yin, was an extraordinary weapon, even by monarch-ranked standards. What made it truly terrifying was that the weapon refiner had trapped the Ao Yin's spirit within it, turning it into a spiritual monarch weapon.
A spiritual weapon of this caliber had the potential to grow beyond its current rank over time, as it could operate autonomously just like a cultivator. Its sentience allowed it to absorb ambient qi autonomously, and learn and grow just like a cultivator.
This realization deepened Feng Xin's frown as he recalled the trace locator array he had disabled from the leopard storage pouch. Though the array's complexity was lacking, the residual strength within it had the aura of a palace realm expert. He couldn't help but wonder if the saber and the pouch belonged to the same person.
Although Feng Xin was confident in his ability to handle opponents at the peak of the core formation realm, palace-stage cultivators were an entirely different matter. The gap between a peak core formation expert and a first-stage palace realm expert was like that between a pebble and a mountain.
Despite his sturdy foundations and deep accumulations that let him wipe the floor with core formation experts, the same advantages would not be there for Feng Xin when facing a palace realm figure. Relying solely on his strength would not bridge that gap, not in the slightest.
If he wanted to get out alive he would have to rely on external means, and while he had those means, he would have to pay a price to use them and even then the best result he would be aiming for would be to flee with his life intact.
"Even then those means are likely only to work for those at the early stages.. If they are in the middle stages or worse the late stages, best I can do is wash my neck.." thought Feng Xin as he smiled faintly hoping his luck wasn't that bad.
...
After listening to Peng Zhen's full account and sorting through the tangled mess of details, Feng Xin shook his head in exasperation.
"How does a case that starts with a squabble between a sect master and his spirit beast over food spiral into this many twists and complications? Someone in your sect must have the worst luck imaginable," he muttered, his tone a mixture of disbelief and begrudging admiration.
Gui Bingwen coughed, clearly trying to stifle a laugh, as he shot Peng Zhen a mocking look. Peng Zhen, catching the glance, decided to embody the stillness dao, his expression unyielding and unmoving. Feng Xin noticed their antics but dismissed them with a wave of his hand. He had more pressing matters to attend to and was already debating whether to call for backup from the nearest Order branch.
The local branch would likely have at least one palace-stage expert, and even if that individual wasn't available, a team of late-stage core formation experts would suffice to hold their ground against an early-stage palace realm cultivator.
"If you can pull in more people to make your work light, do it. No need to break your back," Feng Xin mused with a faint smile, recalling one of Yang Qing's favorite sayings.
He reached into his storage ring and retrieved a detailed map, its surface marked with eagle-shaped symbols scattered across the southern continent. These symbols represented the branches of the Cultivation Order. Feng Xin traced his current location with his finger, pinpointing the nearest branch. Satisfied, he pulled out a communication talisman attuned to that branch, activating it with a small burst of qi. The talisman quickly established a connection.
"Hello, this is Inquisitor Feng Xin, numeral IV, of the Superior Core Court attached to the main headquarters," he announced.
"Hello, Feng Xin. What is the mantra of the day?" A young male voice responded from the other end.
"The blue dipper downs the raging storm," Feng Xin replied smoothly.
"Mantra confirmed. My name is Long Song, numeral III inquisitor and the officer in charge of branch communications today at the Green Mountain Branch. How may we assist you, Inquisitor Feng Xin?"
"No need to be so formal, Long Song," Feng Xin said with a chuckle. "I may require assistance handling a potential rank-3 issue. While I'm not entirely certain yet, it seems I may have attracted the attention of a palace-stage cultivator during the course of my duties."
"A rank-3 issue, huh? Sounds serious. Let me call the boss—he'll want to weigh in on something like this. Luckily, he's available."
Moments later, a mature calm voice replaced Long Song's.
"Greetings. This is Branch Leader Hu Fang. I understand you're dealing with a potential rank-3 threat. Provide your current location, the background of the situation, your proximity to the branch, and your means of travel," Hu Fang said, his tone direct.
"I've just left the Green Fog Region and should be approaching from the south of your location. The case I'm handling may involve members of the Scarlet Blood Ghost Hands Syndicate. One of the perpetrators involved in my case was a core formation expert from the sect.
The reason I suspect palace realm involvement is due to the treasures I confiscated. One of them is a monarch-stage artifact, and it had a trace locator array inscribed by someone at the palace stage. I've already destroyed the array and sealed the other treasure to minimize tracking risks, but this is the Blood Ghost Hands we're talking about—I'd rather not take any chances. I'm currently about 200 miles away, traveling with a cloud-swallowing kite at the late stage of core formation," Feng Xin explained calmly.
"Blood Ghost Hands, huh? Hmm… this is troublesome," Hu Fang replied after a pause. "It's better if I handle this personally. Based on the speed of your kite, we can meet halfway in twenty minutes or less. Since you're attached to a Superior Core Court judge, I assume you have safety measures in place until then. By the way, who are you attached to?"
There was a noticeable pause before Feng Xin responded, his voice uncharacteristically quiet and tinged with embarrassment. His hesitation drew curious glances from Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen, who exchanged puzzled looks.
"Hello? Are you still there?" Hu Fang prompted when the silence stretched too long.
"Ah, sorry. Got momentarily distracted," Feng Xin replied, clearing his throat. "I'm attached to Yang Qing."
"What?! La—" Hu Fang quickly cut himself off, coughing to mask the slip. "Ahem… you mean Judge Yang Qing, who's about to be promoted to the Palace Realm Courts?"
"Yes, him," Feng Xin sighed, deliberately ignoring whatever Hu Fang had been about to say. Yang Qing's reputation—equal parts infamous and absurd—was well-known throughout the Order, from the main headquarters down to its smallest branches. His antics were a favorite topic during tea breaks.
"Ahem. I see. I'll head out immediately. See you soon, Inquisitor Feng Xin," Hu Fang said, hastily cutting off the connection.
Feng Xin sighed in relief, grateful the conversation had ended. He slumped slightly, rubbing his temples.
"Why couldn't I have a normal boss?" Feng Xin lamented internally, conveniently ignoring his own notorious reputation as a food fiend within the Order.
It took over twenty minutes before they neared the area where he and Ellie had separated.
Suddenly, a massive black shadow charged at them from one of the clouds, halting a few meters above their heads and casting an immense shade over Haishi and the rest.
Haishi's body froze midair, her frame trembling violently under the oppressive aura emanating from the shadow above. A primal, instinctive fear gripped her. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to flee, but her legs felt as though they were shackled by invisible chains. On her back, Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen were flattened against her abdomen, while Feng Xin remained seated, unnervingly calm amidst the chaos.
"Ellie, quit the theatrics. We need to leave—fast. There's trouble brewing, and even I'm not confident about handling it," Feng Xin called out nonchalantly. He waved his hand, dissipating the oppressive pressure that had gripped Haishi. "Oh, and you can't eat her. I plan to introduce her to the Beast Tamer Hall and have her inducted into our unit. She'll be your partner from now on."
The pressure lifted, but Haishi's body continued to tremble like a leaf in a storm. Feng Xin wasn't surprised—it was a natural reaction. Spirit beasts with higher bloodlines could suppress those with weaker ones simply by releasing their presence. This suppression was potent enough for a spirit beast at the fifth stage of the foundation realm to dominate another beast at the peak of the same realm if their bloodline was superior. However, the suppression weakened if the gap in cultivation realms was too vast.
In Haishi's case, she faced the worst of both worlds: Ellie not only possessed a higher bloodline but also vastly superior cultivation, standing at the eighth stage of the core formation realm. It was a suppression on two fronts, one that Haishi's instincts were powerless to resist.
"Everyone, get on the kite. We'll be using her for the journey back. You too, Haishi," Feng Xin ordered as he leapt onto Ellie's broad back. The kite was enormous, with ample space to accommodate them all and then some.
Still trembling, Haishi meekly followed suit, with Peng Zhen and Gui Bingwen trailing behind her. The two elders exchanged uneasy glances. They had heard of the Order's power, but witnessing it firsthand was something else entirely. An unshakable worry began to fester within them. Had they inadvertently provoked a force that could raze their sect to the ground?
Once everyone was aboard, Ellie shot off without hesitation, her speed a hundred times faster than Haishi's. Feng Xin had to erect a spiritual barrier to shield the others from the ferocious winds that threatened to tear them apart or hurl them into the skies.
...
Outskirts of River Amber
"I hurried here as fast as I could when I sensed the Ao Yin's aura from the broken first seal," a voice said, cutting through the desolate ruins. "But it seems I was still a step too late."
Cadeaux
-- Cadeau
reçu État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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