Chapter Forty-Two: A Secret Passage Through the Hidden Path

After Tang Diexian disguised herself as a man and caused a commotion at Taiping Residence with Liang Yan, she followed the pebble path out of Yongle Town, heading toward the thatched cottage they had purchased earlier.

Seated atop her horse, Tang Diexian asked, "That Imperial Scholar Feng—was he the target we were seeking?"

Liang Yan nodded. "Yes. They all wear jade pendants that conceal their cultivation, but such tricks cannot deceive my senses."

"Then he should be able to sense my cultivation as well, shouldn't he?"

"Indeed. At this time, any cultivator at the fifth level of Qi Refining wandering about town is, in their eyes, almost certainly an investigator from the Star Pavilion."

"Then all we need to do next is wait for the prey to come to us." Tang Diexian smiled sweetly. "But I never expected you'd be able to compose poetry."

Liang Yan gave a wry smile. "When I was young, my father hoped I'd earn honors, and pushed me to study, but I was too fond of play and never took it seriously. Now, I can only use it to deal with these impoverished scholars."

Tang Diexian asked curiously, "You've walked the path of immortality for six years now. Do you ever miss your father?"

Liang Yan's eyes dimmed at her question. He said nothing, silently leading the horse by its reins.

Tang Diexian, seeing his sudden silence, asked cautiously, "Did I say something wrong?"

Liang Yan shook his head, his voice strained. "My father... passed away..."

Tang Diexian's heart tightened. "I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

Liang Yan waved it off. "It's not your fault. It's me—unable to let go of the past. People say mortals and immortals are worlds apart, that once you enter the gates of immortality, all former ties are mere illusions. Yet I can never forget the days in Huaiyuan Town. Maybe that's why I was stuck at the third layer bottleneck in Qi Refining—the burden in my heart wouldn't let me move forward."

Tang Diexian said, "I grew up in the Star Pavilion. My family elders all succeeded in cultivation, and I was raised with high expectations, but never had any freedom. They say cultivation transcends time, but honestly, it's dreadfully dull. Why don't you tell me about your childhood?"

Liang Yan turned and glanced at her. Her innocent face, with those big, sparkling eyes, seemed to urge him to speak faster.

He cleared his throat. "Alright, let me think where to begin... Ah! Let me start with Zhang Daniu, the town's lovable fool..."

As the sun sank behind the western hills, along the ancient road, a young man and woman traveled together—one leading the horse, the other riding. The youth spoke at length, while the maiden lay atop her mount, resting her chin on her hands, listening intently and occasionally offering a knowing smile. Yet as his tale neared its end, her brows knit ever tighter.

"...Later, that master taught me the basics but refused to let me call him 'teacher.' Instead, he recommended me to the Star Pavilion."

By the time Liang Yan finished recounting his story from childhood through youth, night had fully fallen. Though he hadn't intended to mention the massacre at Huaiyuan Town, as he spoke, he found himself unable to hold back. Six years of cultivation had left these memories buried deep within, but in front of Tang Diexian, he could not restrain himself, letting it all spill forth.

Of course, he said nothing of the Heavenly Pearl, and glossed over the old monk, merely labeling him a formidable master. Aside from those two secrets, he laid bare every other detail of his life.

He had expected to feel grief, but as he spoke, he grew strangely calm, and by the end, it was as if he were recounting someone else's story—one that didn't concern him at all.

When at last his tale was done, he drew a deep breath, feeling an astonishing serenity, as if a heavy burden had been lifted from his shoulders. With nothing more to say, the person behind him remained silent, and for a moment, the air was still and quiet.

Suddenly, a fragrant scent wafted from behind. He was tugged backward by someone grabbing his arm and found himself pulled onto the horse.

A girlish, flowery fragrance enveloped him, and soft hands wrapped gently around his abdomen from behind. Warm breath brushed his ear, and a clear, crisp voice whispered tenderly, "Silly, don't overthink it... You’ve played the servant all day... Let this last stretch be your reward."

...

The two rode in silence along the mountain path outside the quiet town. That night, Liang Yan felt his heart calmer than it had been for over six years.

After settling in the thatched cottage, their days passed peacefully—either meditating and cultivating, or venturing into town to gather information, as though investigating something. Three tranquil days slipped by.

On the third night.

It was deep into the night; all the lights in town were extinguished, save for a few places still lost in revelry.

Yet in the southeastern woods, far from Yongle Town, several masked figures in black had gathered for reasons unknown. Each wore a jade pendant at their waist, and before them stood an unremarkable thatched hut.

One among them spoke, "Number Five, is everything ready?"

The one called "Number Five" replied, "Everything is in place. The Nine Flames Fire Array can be activated at your command. With all six of us here, even if they are Star Pavilion disciples with extraordinary means, they cannot escape the array’s flames and our encirclement."

The questioner nodded. "Thank you for your efforts." With that, he strode toward the cottage.

He stood at the gate and called loudly, "Star Pavilion friends inside! You are trapped within the Nine Flames Fire Array, and we number six. You have no hope of victory!"

He paused, then continued, "We are all mere rogue cultivators—none wish to become enemies of the Star Pavilion. If you obediently swallow the Corpse Brain Pill I have here and agree to aid us in the Pavilion's investigation for one year, I promise to hand over the antidote after that time. We will not touch a single spirit stone from the mine. Everything will return to normal, you will keep your lives, and you can answer to your sect!"

He waited, but the cottage remained silent—no response at all.

The masked man's face darkened, a hint of viciousness in his gaze. He turned to his companions. "It seems these two are not as wise as hoped. Let us send them into reincarnation."

"Number Five" nodded, forming a spell seal in his hand. Instantly, nine pillars of flame rose within a few miles of the cottage. He chanted and swung the array flag; the nine pillars roared, shifting their positions.

With another wave, the flames occupied every spot within the array, burning hotter and fiercer, as though they could boil mountains and seas.

The black-clad figures retreated outside the array, eyes fixed on the cottage, awaiting a desperate struggle from within.

Yet still, nothing stirred. Suddenly, a sound split the air, and a shadow appeared before them. The masked men focused their gaze and saw another black-clad, masked figure, with a jade pendant at the waist marked with the character "One."

"Number One!"

A masked man with a "Number Two" jade pendant exclaimed in surprise, "Why are you here? Six of us are more than enough!"

The so-called "Number One" shook his head, drew a black-cloth-wrapped item from his storage pouch, seemingly to show it, and approached.

"Number Two, be careful!" A cry sounded from behind.

Startled, "Number Two" instinctively dodged aside, but "Number One" had already stripped away the cloth, revealing a sword carved with blossoms. She formed a spell seal and tapped the sheath—a sharp clang! The sword shot out, aiming straight for "Number Two."

Though alarmed, "Number Two" did not panic. He flipped backward, forming a spell seal, and shouted, "Rise!"

A black, hexagonal shield materialized before him—pitch-dark, unadorned.

The sword struck the shield with a metallic clash, sparking; the shield quivered, forcing "Number Two" several steps back, but he withstood the blow.

"That’s not Number One!"

A masked man wearing a "Number Six" pendant shouted, reaching for his storage pouch to summon his artifact, but another surprise erupted.

Two muffled groans sounded behind him, followed by a whistling attack. Alarmed, he barely rolled along the ground as a gleaming dagger stabbed into the earth behind him.

Glancing back, he saw two of his own lying collapsed, blood pouring from their mouths.

"Number Four, what are you doing!"

"You still don’t see? He’s not Number Four—he’s the one we’re supposed to be fighting."

The speaker was "Number Three," who had also been attacked by a flying dagger. Less fortunate than "Number Six," the blade grazed his waist, slicing open his abdomen.

His robes torn, he ripped off his mask, revealing the scholar’s attire beneath—none other than Imperial Scholar Feng, whom Liang Yan had met in Taiping Residence.

Liang Yan sighed inwardly, "What a pity..."

He had disguised himself as "Number Four," infiltrating their ranks. When he struck, he unleashed flying daggers imbued with spiritual power at the farthest two, while secretly using the "Indifferent Heart Technique," landing two palm strikes on those nearest, shattering their hearts and killing them instantly. The two struck by daggers at a distance suffered little harm.

The one posing as Number One was, of course, Tang Diexian. Now, the black-clad cultivators remaining were "Number Two," "Number Three," and "Number Six." Thus, the situation was still two against three.