Chapter 28: Illusions in the Gu Sea Barrier Forest, Another Encounter with the Holy Cult (Part 2)
by GideonClang—
A massive iron hook shot out from the dense fog, striking directly at Wen Jin.
Wen Jin shot into the air, twisting his body to dodge. The iron hook seemed to sense his movement, abruptly changing course and pursuing him relentlessly.
In the thick fog, it was impossible to tell direction, let alone how many enemies lay hidden. Wen Jin dared not act rashly, focusing solely on defense.
He stepped onto the iron hook, spinning to land on a massive tree branch. However, the moss-covered wood was slick, and he lost his footing, tumbling back to the ground. As the iron hook struck again, he gave a cold shout, instantly channeling his True Qi to unsheathe the longsword at his back: No Envy of Immortals!
The sword flashed from its scabbard. The iron chain wrapped around the blade, the collision producing a piercing shriek of metal on metal.
Wen Jin gripped the sword’s hilt and yanked back with all his might, dragging the wielder of the iron hook out of the fog.
The attacker was a young man in black. He was tall and handsome, but his skin was a bloodless, sickly pale, appearing eerie against the backdrop of the dark, misty miasma.
“Who are you? Why are you attacking me?” Wen Jin demanded, his voice low and stern as he held the sword in one hand and the iron hook in the other. “And—where have you taken Little Butterfly?”
Just as the white mist had appeared, a black shadow had flashed before his eyes. A faint fragrance wafted into his nostrils, and for a fleeting moment, Wen Jin’s mind went blank. By the time he snapped back to his senses, Meng Duwei had already vanished without a trace.
The attacker remained silent, his eyes vacant and lifeless as he stared at Wen Jin. Then, with a ghostly flicker, he appeared directly in front of him, his hand clawing straight for Wen Jin’s heart.
Startled, Wen Jin threw himself backward, narrowly dodging the lethal strike. He immediately retaliated with a kick to the man’s elbow, but the black-clad youth’s wrist hooked back, his aim precise as he lunged for Wen Jin’s chest again.
The man’s speed was astonishing. Even when Wen Jin unleashed the Avatar Art of One Qi Transforming into Three Pure Ones, the attacker systematically defeated each clone, located his original body, and attacked with the iron hook.
The poisonous miasma in the forest grew denser. Fearing that a prolonged struggle would render his Plague-Warding Pill ineffective, Wen Jin decisively shifted from defense to offense, employing the martial arts his master had taught him.
His swordplay was fierce, each strike aimed at the man’s life. Yet the black-clad assailant showed no fear. Under the oppressive weight of the Sword Qi, he resolutely hurled the iron hook, aiming for Wen Jin’s vital points.
Thanks to the two Dual Cultivation sessions with Lan Xiangru, which had bolstered his cultivation, Wen Jin’s sword strikes were swifter than ever before. He pierced the black-clad man’s left shoulder with unstoppable force.
But the assailant ignored the pain. He threw his body forward with a sudden surge, and with a dull thud, the longsword pierced through flesh and bone. He had already closed the distance, pressing himself right against Wen Jin.
Wen Jin’s heart tightened. He instantly yanked his longsword free and spun away, only to be stunned by a sight that defied belief: the blade was completely clean, without a single drop of blood.
He stared in astonishment at the man in black. The gaping wound on the man’s left shoulder was closing at a visible speed, the flesh knitting itself back together until it was restored to its original state in a mere instant.
Could this be… the legendary Corpse Puppet?!
Corpse Puppets bled not when wounded, nor did they die from mortal strikes. They could regenerate with astonishing speed, possessing terrifying combat prowess. The only way to defeat one was to kill the Spirit Lord who controlled it.
Wen Jin knew he was in grave trouble. With no clue where the Spirit Lord was hiding, his only option was to find an opening, break through the enemy’s line, and rendezvous with Meng Duwei as soon as possible to escape this godforsaken place.
At this critical moment, the Azure Nether Heart Scripture and the Falling Moon Zither-Swaying Swordplay proved their divine efficacy. Wen Jin repelled the Corpse Puppet with a series of strikes, then channeled his True Qi to shatter the iron hook in the puppet’s hand. In a flash, he circled behind the creature, the blade of his sword slicing into its neck.
The Corpse Puppet attempted to counterattack, but Wen Jin had already sealed its Jizhong and Shangqu acupoints, paralyzing it instantly.
The blade of No Envy of Immortals sank deep into the side of the Corpse Puppet’s neck. Just as Wen Jin was about to sever its head, a long arrow whistled through the air from his right. He dodged the projectile in a blur of motion, but in that single moment of distraction, the Corpse Puppet vanished into the dense fog.
Wen Jin did not know how much longer the Plague-Warding Pill in his body could hold out. Trapped within the Poisonous Miasma, he could no longer discern his surroundings. The forest might still harbor countless discarded Gu worms abandoned by the Heaven-Seizing Cult; if they caught his scent, he would be in true peril.
Immediately, Wen Jin stilled his mind. He swept his leg in a wide arc, tracing a Taiji Diagram Formation upon the ground. With himself as the central axis, he closed his eyes and focused his senses on the wind.
Yin alone cannot give life, nor can Yang alone flourish.
The mist was stagnant Yin; he had to seek the moving Yang.
Though the Miasma Forest held no signs of living creatures, the wind and water flowed unobstructed.
After a moment, he faintly heard the faintest rustle of air from his rear right. Wind was Xun, the element of penetration and dispersal. The direction of its flow marked the Life Gate.
Having found a glimmer of hope, Wen Jin immediately performed the Bubu Gang ritual. Using the Big Dipper’s seven stars to guide his steps, he walked the nine steps of the Luoshu’s extreme numbers toward the dispersing wind. He then paused to listen, feeling the air flow smoothly. He continued forward, and whenever he met an obstruction, he immediately turned right seven steps, following the principle of Dui and Ze giving rise to change.
After repeating this several times, Wen Jin finally broke through the dense mist and emerged into a clearing. Suddenly, a scrap of crimson fabric hanging from the branch of an ancient tree caught his eye. He flew forward to retrieve it, his brow furrowing. “It’s Little Butterfly.”
Meng Duwei swept his soft sword through the thick fog, its blade piercing the Poisonous Miasma to strike at the hidden figure within.
In an instant, his sword was halted. He focused his gaze and saw that Mo Changling had caught the blade between two fingers.
With a sharp clink, Mo Changling deflected the sword. The force of the impact surged up Meng Duwei’s arm, leaving it numb and powerless.
Mo Changling had previously lost an arm to the Mayfly Silk. Now, he had replaced it with a Vajra Iron hand, grafted onto his bone, flesh, and meridians, which he wielded with seamless ease.
“My dear disciple, you have finally returned to your master’s side.” He smiled at Meng Duwei and opened his arms. “Come here.”
Meng Duwei’s eyes widened in fury. He channeled his Qi and launched a fierce attack, his body and sword becoming one.
The Poisonous Miasma swirled, and the fog hung heavy. Mo Changling stood motionless, his gaze tranquil as he watched the young man who had been by his side for thirteen years.
Just as the blade came within inches of his throat, Meng Duwei abruptly withdrew, spinning backward.
“Why won’t you kill me?” Mo Changling asked.
Meng Duwei gripped his sword, his teeth clenched, his arm trembling.
Mo Changling touched his own face and smiled. “You can’t bear to kill your brother. Even though you know it’s me wearing his face, you still can’t bring yourself to strike, can you?”
Meng Duwei closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sight of his face.
Mo Changling slowly closed the distance, his steps deliberate. “Young Lord Feng witnessed our intimacy that day. I thought he would despise you for it, but I never expected your brother to suffer even more than you.”
“Silence…” Meng Duwei’s eyes snapped open, his sword leveled at Mo Changling. “Take one more step, and I’ll kill you!”
Mo Changling murmured, “Do you truly have the heart to strike?”
“If he cannot, then I will!”
Suddenly, a sword gleam descended from above, aiming straight for Mo Changling’s Baihui acupoint.
Mo Changling sidestepped the attack, his gaze turning icy as he locked onto the newcomer. “It’s you?”
“It is I!” Wen Jin wasted no words, immediately unleashing the Purple Qi Comes from the East technique, forcing Mo Changling back three zhang.
Mo Changling had fought this young man before and knew his strength. He instantly flung a handful of green poisonous powder from his sleeve. Surprisingly, Wen Jin did not evade. Instead, he smiled darkly. “Big Brother Feng has already prepared an antidote for me, specifically designed to counter your black-hearted poison. Bring out whatever tricks you have!”
Seeing Mo Changling hesitate, Wen Jin launched a swift attack. His powerful Sword Qi tore through the night like a meteor, scattering the mind-clouding Poisonous Miasma.
Mo Changling flashed forward to intercept the blow, channeling his entire cultivation power into his palm. Wen Jin met his attack head-on, shouting, “Little Butterfly, attack his left flank!”
Meng Duwei leaped with his sword, lunging at Mo Changling’s severed arm. Mo Changling cried out urgently, “Duwei, look closely at this face! Who is it you’re trying to kill?!”
Wen Jin threw a punch, striking him squarely in the face. A dark bruise immediately bloomed on his left cheek. “We’re trying to kill you, you vile old bastard!”
Meng Duwei refused to even glance at the face. Steeling his heart, he launched several silver needles from his sleeve. Mo Changling sneered, “My dear disciple, you’d actually use the very techniques I taught you to kill me.”
The needles flew in a thousand-fold volley, and combined with Wen Jin’s Taoist swordplay, they left Mo Changling besieged from all sides. Unable to hold his ground, he immediately hurled another vial of poison at the two men, using the moment they dodged to vanish into the sea of mist.
“Little Butterfly, are you alright?” Wen Jin sheathed his sword and walked toward Meng Duwei.
Meng Duwei shook his head. “I’m fine. The Plague-Warding Pill only lasts for half a shichen. We need to get out of here quickly.”
“You know this place well,” Wen Jin said. “You lead the way.”
Meng Duwei retrieved a glass bottle from his sleeve and gently placed it on the rotting leaves on the ground. After unscrewing the cap, a purplish-red flesh-worm wriggled out and quickly crawled toward the front left.
“Follow it,” Meng Duwei instructed before following closely behind the worm.
After the earlier lesson, Wen Jin stayed glued to Meng Duwei’s side. Before long, he couldn’t help but ask, “I just encountered an incredibly powerful Corpse Puppet. Do you know its origin?”
Meng Duwei said, “The Corpse Puppet He Huanzhou is raised by Yuan Ye, the Altar Lord of the Li Fire Altar. Yuan Ye himself is a subordinate of the Xuanwu Priest, Duan Jiuyuan.”
Wen Jin added, “I heard people at the teahouse today saying that those Priests were all defeated by your Cult Leader and have already fled the Heaven-Seizing Cult. Why would Mo Changling and Duan Jiuyuan’s people still be here?”
Meng Duwei explained, “The Gu Sea Miasma Forest is the only path connecting the Wumeng Tribe to the outside world. But the Wumeng Tribe is vast, and the Heaven-Seizing Cult is not the only presence here. There are ordinary Miao people and other factions. Mo Changling and Duan Jiuyuan rebelled to seize power and are now being purged by the Cult Leader. They must be seeking a new allegiance. It’s not surprising to encounter them here.”
Wen Jin nodded as if understanding. “Oh.”
Meng Duwei asked, “You came to the Holy Cult alone as a spy. Aren’t you afraid you’ll lose your life here?”
Wen Jin replied sternly, “If I were afraid of death, I wouldn’t have set foot in this poisonous forest today.”
Meng Duwei gave a faint, knowing smile. “Young Hero Wen is truly righteous.”
The righteous Young Hero Wen asked, “Little Butterfly, what is your position in the Heaven-Seizing Cult?”
“Altar Lord of the Xun Wind Altar,” Meng Duwei said. “Below the Cult Leader are the Four Great Priests. After them are the Five Elements Banner Lords and the Eight Altars Altar Lords. These two ranks are named after the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams, making them easy to remember.”
Of course it’s easy to remember, Wen Jin thought bitterly. The Heaven-Seizing Cult names everything after either the Four Divine Beasts or the Five Elements and Eight Trigrams. A three-year-old could memorize it all.
As the two spoke, a gray figure suddenly materialized beneath a massive ancient tree ahead. Wen Jin felt a strange sense of familiarity. He focused his gaze and realized it was his master, Linghu Xuantong!
“Master?” The Poisonous Miasma still swirled around them, and Wen Jin feared this was merely an illusion. He forced himself to suppress his joy and remain vigilant.
Linghu Xuantong stood with his hands clasped behind his back, his long beard twitching slightly. “You brat, you still remember I’m your master? You dared to sneak down the mountain behind my back!”
Wen Jin was momentarily speechless. “Master, let your disciple explain…”
Linghu Xuantong drew a long whip from behind his back. “Explain my ass! Get over here!”
Wen Jin knew this whip all too well. Though his master always threatened to flay him with it, he had never actually brought himself to strike. After being apart for so long, Wen Jin couldn’t help but miss him. His nose suddenly tingled with emotion, and he strode forward.
But just then, a voice called out from behind him, “Jinjin, don’t go! This is an illusion. He is not your master!”
The voice was one he knew perfectly. Wen Jin’s heart jolted. He turned to see that the newcomer was indeed Lan Xiangru.
Before he could even speak, Linghu Xuantong demanded, “Who are you? Why do you interfere with a reunion between master and disciple?”
Lan Xiangru declared, “Jinjin is my sworn younger brother. I will never allow him to suffer any harm.”
Linghu Xuantong sneered, “And you think you can stop me?”
Seeing the two on the verge of fighting, Wen Jin immediately intervened, “Master, Big Brother, please—”
Before he could finish, their gazes sharpened. To his horror, they both attacked him at once!
Wen Jin drew his sword in a startled parry, only to feel a sudden numbness spread through his wrist. A faint voice whispered in his ear, “Wen Jin!”
In an instant, the figures of Linghu Xuantong and Lan Xiangru vanished. Wen Jin snapped back to his senses, only to realize he was standing on the precipice of a bottomless chasm. Meng Duwei had used a vine to bind his arm, preventing him from falling.
“Your Plague-Warding Pill has worn off. We must leave this place immediately!” Meng Duwei yanked the vine, pulling him back. The two then used their Lightness Skill to soar away, quickly returning to the surface.
Once they emerged from the Gu Forest Miasma Sea, a vast, verdant landscape unfolded before them.
The Wumeng Tribe, located in Qianxi, was a settlement of the Miao people. The two arrived at a mountain village, where Meng Duwei spoke with the locals in their language for a moment. He successfully purchased two fine horses from them to continue their journey.
“You know the Miao language?” Wen Jin asked in astonishment.
Meng Duwei nodded. “A little.”
“Then teach me!”
“What do you want to learn?”
Wen Jin’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm. “Just say, ‘Young Hero Wen is truly a peerless hero of unparalleled handsomeness, unmatched martial arts, and boundless chivalry!'”
Meng Duwei replied impassively, “I don’t know how to say that.”
Wen Jin’s face fell. He let out a huff of indignation.
The two ceased their bickering and spurred their horses forward. After half a day’s ride, they finally reached Heart-Breaking Cliff, located just outside the Heaven-Seizing Cult.
The Cult’s main headquarters was built atop the very cliff.
Wen Jin gazed up at the sheer precipice, over a hundred feet high and shrouded in mist. “How are we supposed to get up there?” he asked, bewildered.
Even with his exceptional Lightness Skill, it would be impossible to scale such a smooth, barren rock face.
Meng Duwei dismounted, placed two fingers to his lips, and let out a sharp, low whistle.
In an instant, the piercing cries of eagles echoed through the valley. Two majestic Azure Eagles suddenly appeared from the mist-covered cliffs, circling in the air before swooping down toward the base of the cliff.
As they landed, the powerful beat of their wings kicked up a gust of wind that nearly blew the hair ribbon from Wen Jin’s head. He shielded his face with his sleeve to block the swirling dust and remarked in astonishment, “Are we really going to ride birds up there?”
The Azure Eagle slowly folded its wings and gently nuzzled Meng Duwei’s palm.
With a graceful leap, Meng Duwei settled onto the eagle’s back. Seeing this, Wen Jin felt an irresistible itch of curiosity. He followed suit, leaping onto another Azure Eagle and settling into a cross-legged seat.
“Sit firmly,” Meng Duwei instructed. He then patted the eagle’s neck and said softly, “Go.”
The Azure Eagle understood his command. With a long cry, it beat its wings and took flight. Before long, it carried the two of them to the summit of Heart-Breaking Cliff.
Wen Jin had expected a grim and eerie demonic lair atop the cliff. To his surprise, the place was lush with vegetation and carpeted in blossoms, resembling a secluded peach blossom spring of breathtaking beauty.
They crossed a stream and walked forward onto a vast, endless meadow. Only after cresting a steep slope did they glimpse the Holy Cult’s plaza, with a colossal stone statue of Nuwa standing tall upon it.
Meng Duwei explained, “The Miao people revere Nuwa. The Heaven-Seizing Cult’s successive sect leaders have all been Miao, so they erected this statue for sacrifices and prayers.”
Behind the plaza lay the stone steps leading to the Holy Cult, with guards holding swords standing watch on either side.
Meng Duwei was Mo Changling’s disciple. After Mo Changling’s betrayal, Meng Duwei should have been barred from returning to the sect. Yet, as he led Wen Jin up the stone steps, the crowd cried out in unison, “Welcome back, Altar Lord Meng!” It was clear the Sect Leader had already made arrangements. Meng Duwei escorted Wen Jin to Baluo Hall, settled him in, and then went alone to meet the Sect Leader.
An hour later, Meng Duwei returned to Baluo Hall. He found Wen Jin leaning by the window, admiring the scenery. “Those who join the sect must undergo rigorous trials,” Meng Duwei explained. “Even with my recommendation, no exceptions will be made. You will wait here for the Sect Leader’s instructions.”
Baluo Hall was Meng Duwei’s residence, a quiet place where few ordinary disciples ever came.
Wen Jin nodded. “I see.”
After a moment, he couldn’t resist asking, “Little Butterfly, I’ve heard your Sect Leader always wears a demon mask because his face is too hideous—have you ever seen his true features?”
Meng Duwei nodded. “I have.”
“What does he look like?” Wen Jin asked curiously.
Meng Duwei thought for a moment before replying, “Thick eyebrows, a square face, eyes like copper bells, lips like cured sausage, and a bulbous, red nose. He isn’t particularly handsome.”
Wen Jin: “…”
How is that even remotely close to “handsome”?
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