Chapter Eight: Fierce Battle

At this moment, Liang Yan’s heart was in turmoil. His intention for this trip had been to purchase some pills suitable for consumption at the first stage of Qi Refinement. When the old man produced the wooden fish for display, Liang Yan had paid little attention, but then, quite suddenly, his dantian gave an abrupt jolt, setting off a faint tremor throughout his entire body.

Liang Yan was greatly startled, and before he could react, a strange urge surged up inside him—a compulsion to acquire the wooden fish at any cost. The feeling was bizarre indeed; though his mind remained clear and attempted to resist, the desire to possess the wooden fish only grew stronger the more he fought it.

While the old man waited for bids on the wooden fish, the audience showed little interest, yet within Liang Yan, a fierce conflict raged. In the end, he could not overcome his desire and called out to claim the item.

The red-nosed elder was overjoyed, counting aloud three times, then beaming at Liang Yan with a kindly, almost familial gaze. “This fellow cultivator truly has keen eyes. Congratulations on acquiring this treasure—please come backstage to complete the transaction.”

The people around glanced at Liang Yan as if he were a fool, some even pointing and whispering mockingly. Liang Yan himself was filled with regret, but his words had already been spoken; to renege in such a setting would surely invite the wrath of the Foundation Establishment cultivators present, who would not hesitate to act against him.

He could only shake his head with a bitter smile, following a woman in green backstage. There, a middle-aged man greeted him with a gentle face. Liang Yan, feeling pained, took out his storage pouch and handed over fifty spirit stones. The man smiled and carefully presented the wooden fish to him.

Having suffered such a loss, Liang Yan had no further interest in the rest of the auction. He took the wooden fish and turned to leave. As he reached the exit, the middle-aged man called after him, “Young man, you have a discerning eye for treasures. Your future is limitless!”

Liang Yan rolled his eyes at this, silently grumbling, and strode out of the cave toward the small town midway up the mountain, never once looking back.

The cave hosting the auction wasn’t far from the town. Liang Yan followed the mountain path for about half an hour, gradually calming down and reflecting on the strange urge from earlier, suspecting it was triggered by the anomaly in his dantian.

“When my dantian pulsed, that overwhelming desire swept in—could there be something hidden within my body that I don’t know about?”

At this thought, Liang Yan broke out in a cold sweat. The loss of fifty spirit stones was nothing compared to the fear of harboring something unknown within himself, something that had eluded even the old monk. The more he pondered, the more horrified he became, resolving to seek answers from the monk upon his return.

Lost in thought, he was suddenly enveloped by a faint, delicate fragrance.

Looking up, he saw a girl in red, graceful in form, her brows and eyes full of springtime charm, standing at the crossroads with a bright smile.

Liang Yan’s cheeks flushed under her gaze, unable to meet her eyes, casting his glance aside to the roadside as he stammered, “Where are Chen and Xu?”

Tang Yan laughed lightly, “Why bother with those two burdens? They’re dull as can be.” She sighed, “Does Young Master Liang not wish to spend a moment alone with me?”

Liang Yan’s heart raced, quickly waving his hand, “Fairy Tang, that’s not what I meant. I mean, it’s nice for just the two of us to be together. No, that’s not it either—please don’t misunderstand me.”

Seeing his flustered demeanor, Tang Yan couldn’t help but laugh again, rolling her eyes, then saying softly, “It’s all your fault, little brother, for being so handsome. From the first moment I saw you, my heart was captured. No one else compares to you—not even a finger. If you wish it, I am willing to do anything for you…” Her face grew even redder, her voice faltering until it was barely audible.

Though Liang Yan was only a boy of ten or so, he was tall and precocious. Caught off guard by Tang Yan’s heartfelt confession, her blend of shyness and mature allure stirred his own emotions, making it impossible to restrain himself. He blurted, “I feel the same! Whatever you wish of me, I shall do—through fire and water, I will not hesitate!”

Tang Yan’s eyes lit up with boundless joy, and as their gazes met, Liang Yan felt his soul drawn in. He heard her whisper, “Then, Young Master Liang, please hold me…”

Liang Yan nodded, walking forward like a puppet on strings, reaching out to embrace Tang Yan.

Just then, the nameless technique imparted by the old monk suddenly activated within his mind. A warm current surged from his dantian, coursing along his meridians to fill his limbs and finally gathering at the crown of his head.

Liang Yan’s mind instantly cleared. Within ten yards, he could see every falling leaf and hear every insect’s chirp. He looked up to find that Tang Yan’s eyes were no longer gentle, but instead gleamed with the excitement and urgency of a hunter eyeing her prey.

Alert, Liang Yan leapt back. His ears twitched, and as he spun in midair, he barely evaded a brush dart aimed at his dantian.

The brush struck the ground before him, bursting in a cloud of dust. Immediately, another whistle sounded from behind—a projectile hurtled toward him. Without time to turn, Liang Yan swung his fist backward, shattering the object, only to be assaulted by a foul stench that left him dizzy and disoriented.

Tang Yan was surprised. She had originally been an outer disciple of a minor sect, but due to her poor aptitude, was expelled. By chance, she had found a dual cultivation manual in a cave, and after diligent practice, her charm techniques improved. Since then, she had seduced many young disciples from small sects, leaving countless victims in her wake.

“All those Qi Refinement stage disciples succumbed to my charms—yet this one regained clarity. He must have some secret. I’ll need to explore further.” Tang Yan thought to herself.

At that moment, two figures emerged from the woods—Chen Chong and Xu Kun! The three formed a triangle, trapping Liang Yan in the center.

Liang Yan understood the situation, but asked coldly, “What is the meaning of this?”

Chen Chong laughed, “Why feign ignorance, fellow Liang? We were only after a bit of profit, but as a rogue cultivator, you shouldn’t have much to offer. Who knew you’d spend fifty spirit stones on trash? Clearly, you’re wealthy.”

Tang Yan covered her mouth, giggling, “Young Master Liang, don’t struggle. You’ve already been poisoned by my incense, and now by Xu’s venom. Your spiritual power is likely less than thirty percent. The more you fight, the worse the poison becomes—soon your organs will rot from within. It’s unsightly. Better to hand over your storage pouch quietly; we’ll let you die whole, so you can reincarnate. What do you say?”

The three spoke as if Liang Yan were already in their grasp, delaying only to let the poison take effect.

Liang Yan said nothing. Suddenly, he dropped and rolled on the ground, left hand over his head, right hand clutching his left knee in a peculiar pose, as if throwing a tantrum.

The trio watched, wary of a last-ditch attack, but his strange behavior left them puzzled. Tang Yan frowned, “How could someone as striking as you behave so disgracefully? A man should die with dignity, not like this. Sister is starting to dislike you.”

“Wait, look!” Chen Chong pointed. Tang Yan and Xu Kun followed his gaze, noticing that wherever Liang Yan rolled, pink and black spots appeared on the ground. Where he first started, the spots were dense, but after several rolls, they thinned out and soon vanished.

A strange thought crossed their minds: “Is he expelling the poison?” Before they could react, Liang Yan sprang up, eyes flashing at the three. He showed no signs of poisoning.

“Not good! There’s something strange about him—don’t hold back, attack together!” Xu Kun shouted, slipping on a pair of iron knuckle-dusters and charging ahead.

The move Liang Yan used was one of eight postures taught by the old monk—the “Rolling Posture.” Though bizarre, each had its own marvel. After a year of cultivation, Liang Yan had grasped some essence; now, he expelled all the poison from his body into the earth.

Seeing Xu Kun rush him, Liang Yan focused and prepared to defend. Xu Kun was a body refinement disciple, skilled in tempering flesh. If he got close, even a second-stage Qi Refiner might not win. The two clashed, fists whistling through the air, locked in a fierce, evenly matched struggle.

Chen Chong, surprised to see Liang Yan hold his own against Xu Kun, formed hand seals and sent his brush flying, circling Liang Yan and striking whenever an opening appeared.

Meanwhile, Tang Yan took out a bamboo flute and began to play—a mournful, plaintive melody. Liang Yan felt his mind cloud, his thoughts sluggish. His moves became full of flaws, and in moments, he was in peril.

The other two seemed unaffected, clearly prepared with pills to steady their minds.

As danger mounted, Liang Yan suddenly reached into his storage pouch, flinging five stone-like objects toward Chen Chong.

Though a cultivator, Chen Chong was only at the second stage of Qi Refinement. His body was barely stronger than an ordinary person. Seeing the rapid projectiles, he dared not take them head-on, rolling aside to avoid them. When he looked back, he saw five spirit stones embedded in the ground.

Liang Yan forced Chen Chong away and turned, unleashing his full strength with a punch at Xu Kun. Xu Kun, delighted that Liang Yan dared to challenge him physically, countered with his own punch. The two fists collided with a dull thud.

Xu Kun’s face twisted in disbelief as he flew back, crashing into a boulder with a crackling sound—bones surely shattered.

Liang Yan had barely caught his breath when a whistling sound came from behind. He dodged right, but was a moment too slow; a brush pierced his left arm, leaving a bloody hole.

Chen Chong grew grim, rapidly forming seals as his brush darted again and again at Liang Yan’s vital points. Seeing Liang Yan’s physical prowess, he resolved never to engage him up close, instead pouring all his spiritual power into long-range attacks.

Tang Yan, witnessing Liang Yan’s strength, dared not relax. Her flute’s mournful notes grew louder, unceasingly disturbing the mind.

With his left arm injured and movements impaired, Liang Yan grew increasingly agitated under the flute’s influence. Suddenly, he planted one foot and leaped skyward, right hand behind his back, left arm hanging, head thrown back in a long, piercing howl—the “Cursing Posture,” another of the eight.

The howl thundered in Chen Chong and Tang Yan’s ears like a celestial lightning strike, shaking their organs and bones.

Tang Yan’s flute snapped in her hand, silencing her music. Glancing around, she saw Xu Kun vomiting blood, eyes wide open—dead.

“He was severely injured by Liang Yan’s punch; that howl must have finished him off!” With this realization, Tang Yan lost all will to fight, thinking only of escape.

Liang Yan, his chest cleared of frustration after the howl, turned and gave Tang Yan a cold look. With a stomp, he appeared before her instantly.

“Wait! Let’s talk—” The words were not finished before Liang Yan seized her throat and twisted, snapping her neck.

He cast aside Tang Yan’s corpse and turned to Chen Chong. To Chen Chong, Liang Yan’s gaze was that of a vengeful ghost. Screaming, he cried, “Don’t kill me! If you do, you’ll die! Cousin, save me!”

Liang Yan sneered, charging forward and smashing his right fist into Chen Chong’s chest—crushing his heart, ending his life.

As Liang Yan withdrew his fist, a sudden warning flared in his mind. He twisted his waist, lying flat just as a black dagger whistled past his face, reeking of poison. The attack was so abrupt that before he could react, a cold, searing pain stabbed at his abdomen. Looking down, he saw a blue ice spike impaled through him…