Chapter 21: Journey through the Mountains

Liu Xiaolou tied a few lengths of green vine together, making a rope about seventy or eighty feet long. He secured one end to a nearby tree trunk and gripped the other in his hand. Then, with a leap, he jumped off the cliff. When he was still about thirty feet from the ground, the vine reached its limit. Letting go, he aimed for a protruding rock below, landed on it with both feet to slow his fall, then launched himself downward again. On his next jump, he landed on the root of an old tree. But the root was rotten and gave way under his weight, sending him plunging straight down. After ten years of training, though, he didn’t panic. His hands formed a clawing shape, searching for anything he could grab—grass, a rock, a crack in the cliff. He caught himself a few times this way. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that the bottom of the ravine was only about fifteen feet away. He flipped once in midair and dropped into the stream below, sending up a spray of water. He hadn’t jumped off enough cliffs to be good at it yet. The landing was off, and he hit the water butt-first, pain shooting through him. He gritted his teeth and winced. Rubbing his backside, Liu Xiaolou caught his breath and got moving again. After a few steps, he began climbing. Climbing up was easier than going down for someone at his level of cultivation. It took time, but it was much steadier. After about fifteen minutes, he reached the old pine tree at the top. With his true qi flowing smoothly, he flipped himself up and over the edge. He looked back at the steep cliff he had just climbed as if it were flat ground. A sense of pride rose in his chest. Just as he was feeling pleased with himself, a green vine suddenly flew toward him from the opposite side. It coiled a few times around a branch of the old pine beneath his feet, then pulled tight. A figure came gliding across the vine as if walking on air. The man wore a wide bamboo hat that hid his face. He glanced at Liu Xiaolou and said, “On the road?” Without waiting for an answer, he continued on his way. Liu Xiaolou let out a surprised “Ah,” staring at the man’s graceful retreating figure. Then he looked at the vine that now formed a makeshift rope bridge. Patting his forehead, his earlier sense of pride vanished without a trace. He turned and continued on his way. But after only a few steps, he saw that the straw-hatted man had stopped ahead, now eyeing him with a suspicious look. Liu Xiaolou’s instincts kicked in. His true qi started to flow, and he prepared for a possible fight. “Don’t think just because you can toss a rope bridge that I’m scared of you. Worst case, we throw down!” “Brother Liu?” the man suddenly called out, then burst into laughter. “It’s so dark out, I almost didn’t recognize you. It really is you!” As he spoke, he took off his bamboo hat. Liu Xiaolou froze for a second in surprise. “Lord Zuo? Well, this is... something.” The man was none other than Zuo Gaofeng, a fellow rogue cultivator of Wulong Mountain. His training cave was in Banmu Gorge, about seventeen or eighteen li from Liu Xiaolou’s Qianzhu Ridge, separated by five or six mountain ranges. They rarely crossed paths. Under normal circumstances, running into Zuo Gaofeng would have meant nothing more than a nod in passing, maybe not even that. But six months ago, both of them had been conned out of their gifts by Wei Hongqing, and that shared misfortune had formed an odd sort of bond between them. “It’s been half a year,” Zuo Gaofeng said. “How have you been, Brother Liu?” “Thanks to you, Lord Zuo, I’ve been getting by.” “And what brings you out in the middle of the night?” “I’m heading to eastern Xiang to visit a friend. What about you, Lord Zuo?” “Family visit in Shimen. What are the chances we’d run into each other tonight, haha.” “Talk about fate,” Liu chuckled. “Well then, shall we travel together?” “I’d be honored.” And with that, the two set off side by side, crossing the Wuling Mountains together. The forest was thick with snakes and insects, and along the way, they ran into quite a few. Zuo Gaofeng was at the seventh level of Qi refinement, four levels above Liu Xiaolou, so traveling with him made the journey much easier. Most of the creatures posed no real threat. But there was one exception: a steel-headed silver-ringed snake. It was truly a nasty one. Had Liu Xiaolou been alone, he might have been in serious trouble. But with Zuo Gaofeng there, it was manageable. One of them drew it out head-on, while the other circled behind to strike. After a short fight, they managed to take down the venomous spirit snake. Liu Xiaolou was given the snake gall, and he didn’t waste a second—he swallowed it in one gulp. It was the most spiritually potent part of the steel-headed silver-ringed snake. As soon as it went down, a surge of dense spiritual energy coursed through his body. After he refined it into true essence, it rushed straight to his eyes and concentrated at the Jingming acupoint, actually breaking through and opening the acupoint. The Jingming acupoint was part of the Foot Greater Yang (urinary bladder) meridian, a path Liu Xiaolou hadn’t cultivated yet. He hadn’t expected that a single snake gall would open one of its gate acupoints. For a moment, he felt both joy and uncertainty. Would this affect his future cultivation along the Foot Greater Yang path? He carefully recalled his cultivation method. As far as he could tell, there didn’t seem to be any danger in it. Only then did he let himself relax. The rest of the snake, everything but the gall, went to Zuo Gaofeng, who stuffed it into the pack on his back. He planned to use the snake’s skin and tendons to craft a magical artifact. Each man got what he needed, and both were satisfied. Around midday the next day, a tiger appeared in their path. The two men and the beast stared each other down in tense silence. “Lord Zuo,” Liu Xiaolou whispered, “there’s something strange about this tiger. Have you ever seen one so big? And its tail; it’s unusually long…” Zuo Gaofeng’s expression turned serious. “It is strange. I can’t quite figure out what it is yet.” “What should we do?” “We’ll take our time and think this through,” Zuo Gaofeng replied. “But whatever happens, we can’t show weakness.” Just as they were discussing a plan, the tiger suddenly lashed its tail. With a sharp crack, it snapped a tree as thick as a bowl in half. Liu Xiaolou was stunned. He drew the Three-Mystery Sword from his back and spun it in front of him, sending shimmering arcs through the air. Zuo Gaofeng pulled out a hand axe and made fierce gestures toward the tiger, shouting and roaring as he did. Liu Xiaolou swung his sword to the side. True qi surged through the blade, and the sword light sliced through a nearby tree of similar thickness, cutting it clean in two. Zuo Gaofeng, meanwhile, was hacking wildly at the vines around them, his axe flashing with light and leaving a swath of destruction in its wake. As both sides continued to threaten and size each other up, the tiger slowly began to back away. With a sudden leap, it sprang into the treetops and vanished after a few bounds. Both men were soaked in sweat, their clothes clinging to them. After that experience, they became much more cautious on the road ahead. In the forest, night always seemed to fall a little earlier. The sun was still hanging low over the mountains, but the woods had already grown dim. The two walked side by side, each keeping watch on one side, alert to any danger that might lurk nearby. Unfortunately, their eyes were too focused on the distant trees. They didn’t notice what was beneath their feet... until suddenly, Zuo Gaofeng let out an angry roar as a hidden net burst from the ground and hoisted him high into the air. He thrashed wildly inside the net, hacking at the ropes with both hands gripping his axe. But the net wasn’t ordinary; it wouldn’t cut. Liu Xiaolou rushed forward to help, but just then, a shadow dropped down from the trees. The figure was masked with a black cloth and wielded a heavy iron staff. With a sharp yell, he swung the staff down hard toward Liu Xiaolou’s head. “In the dark, I’ll still beat you down!” The blow came with terrifying force. The wind howled as it came down, laced with a faint flash of energy; this was evidence that the attacker had reached at least the mid-stage of Qi Refinement, likely layer five or six. There was no time to dodge. Liu Xiaolou gripped his sword with both hands and poured all his true qi into the blade. Dropping to one knee for support, he raised the sword upward with everything he had. “—Break!” the masked attacker roared, and the staff smashed straight into the Three-Mystery Sword. Liu Xiaolou felt a violent shock shoot through his hands, his body nearly collapsing under the force. The sword was driven down until it nearly scraped his scalp. His left foot and right knee sank three inches into the soft forest floor. No matter how clumsy or desperate it looked, he had managed to stop the strike.