Chapter Eighty: No Longer Able to Bear It

Today, the outskirts of the Veiled City were eerily deserted. There was no sign of the usual idlers at the city gates or the riffraff loitering in the streets. Of course, this was not a sign of improved law and order. The real reason was that the Bafang Pavilion’s grand auction was being held today, and the fate of many treasures would soon be decided.

Naturally, this meant it was time for robbery. If you couldn’t afford to buy, could you not simply take? In matters lacking all scruples, we cultivators acted with unruffled ease. Although we fell short of Master Yu’s comprehensive philosophy, we could still claim a clear conscience—more or less.

The Nine-Orifice Lotus Heart, when all was said and done, was only “ordinarily” precious, while Qingyuzi and his disciple Zhuge Qianwan were no ordinary folk. Qingyuzi himself was a master who had transcended the mundane, and their path was fraught with perils. So, not many dared to come for the prize—perhaps twenty or thirty, big fish and little fry alike, with a few crocodile-dragons among them, and of course, Wu Yue, the fallen tiger of Pingyang.

The Nine-Orifice Lotus Heart could replenish the great acupoints of the body and extend one’s life by ten years—a treasure, perhaps, or even an inestimable one.

Qingyuzi and his disciple Zhuge He hurried away, each taking a different path. The master strode out of the city at a measured pace, while the disciple slipped back into the bustling heart of the city. Qingyuzi’s steps seemed awkward, almost comical, but the deepening swirl of spiritual energy behind him lent his gait a grave and imposing air.

Wu Yue and Hongxiu emerged from the Bafang Pavilion long after, naturally empty-handed, with Wu Yue’s only possession being the Thunder Scepter gripped in his hand. Hongxiu remained silent, even in the face of such a hopeless endeavor. At the city gates, the sound of battle was already echoing, and like most who sought to fish in troubled waters, Wu Yue kept his distance.

As luck would have it, Wu Yue, wandering aimlessly, happened to run into Zhuge He. This disciple of Qingyuzi, now under heavy suspicion, hurried over, and upon seeing Wu Yue, a flicker of insincere delight flashed across his face.

As soon as Zhuge He approached, he called out loudly, “Junior brother, come here! Master has already drawn them away!”

Wu Yue was at a loss, but Zhuge He, feigning irritation, strode up to him and said in a voice pitched just right, “Don’t be afraid, little brother. The item is with me now—take it and keep it safe.” With that, he handed Wu Yue a cloth bag.

“Kill him!” Wu Yue burst out suddenly. Hongxiu paused in surprise, glancing at Wu Yue. Wu Yue sighed inwardly—so the “misfortune from the sky” was upon him.

But in that brief instant, seven figures leapt out, each masked in bronze and iron. Five of them charged the trio, clearly intent on catching them all in one net.

Feigning shock, Zhuge He ignored Wu Yue and conjured blue spiritual energy in both hands, sending spells flying. These seven were all cultivators at the Core Formation stage; five rushed in with martial arts, while two hung back, observing.

Wu Yue’s face was grim, but there was little he could do. Hongxiu wielded the Thunder Scepter, conjuring arcs of lightning that suppressed three of their attackers. But wary of harming Wu Yue, she dared not unleash her full power. Zhuge He, forced to fight two alone, appeared to be struggling. Wu Yue, watching from the sidelines, saw through Zhuge He’s pretense in an instant.

After all, in broad daylight, under the clear heavens, many ordinary folk watched the extraordinary battle from afar. Zhuge He fought and retreated, shouting as he neared a wall, “Junior brother, keep that item safe! I’ll hold them off!” With that, he fought with reckless abandon, spiritual power exploding and shattering the wall. He seemed hard-pressed, yet still found time to watch Wu Yue’s expression, and the more distressed Wu Yue looked, the more pleased Zhuge He became.

Wu Yue wanted to explain, but was powerless to turn the tide. Left with no choice, he bore the brunt of the assault. The two distant observers now also took note of Wu Yue’s unique situation, launching spells from afar—simple and widely known, yet enough to pile pressure on Hongxiu. Unfortunately, bystanders paid the price, sometimes being killed or maimed by stray magic.

Zhuge He, noticing this, sneered and drove back the two spellcasters. He thought to himself, “Let’s see how long you can hold out. In a life-or-death struggle, will your noble status save you from harm?” He recalled his master’s instructions: the more chaos, the safer they would be. If the master was safe, so would he be.

Suddenly, he shouted again, “I can’t hold on much longer, junior brother! Don’t blame Master anymore—he is your father, after all! Everything he does is for your own good!” Zhuge He’s voice was full of feigned emotion, and this time Wu Yue truly wished to curse him aloud.

Lightning flashed again and again. Hemmed in, Hongxiu’s strength began to wane.

With Zhuge He’s latest shout, three more figures appeared. Though their aim was Wu Yue, their first targets were the two spellcasters. These newcomers were stronger than the earlier seven, and their ambush was swift—at first contact, the two onlookers fell dead. Such is the fragility of life, even for Core Formation cultivators.

From afar, Zhuge He added fuel to the fire, shouting, “If it’s hopeless, junior brother, just give them the item! Your life is more important!”

True or not, Wu Yue had now become everyone’s prime target. The three new arrivals, the three masked in bronze, the Thunder Scepter wielded by Hongxiu, and the whistling sword auras—all sides now formed a precarious balance. All were Core Formation cultivators, yet their battle resembled a brawl among ordinary warriors, though its peril was no less than any grand magical duel.

Lightning erupted, and two more fell. At last, Hongxiu was exhausted, and after a final strike, she let the Thunder Scepter fall. She was, after all, a disciple of a renowned master—her spiritual power and secret techniques, even her formed core, far surpassed the rest.

In the mortal world, all ranks and distinctions are plain to see; in the world of cultivators, this is even more so. A true Core Formation cultivator’s core is the size of a thumb, while others, due to inferior methods, poor talent, or desperate measures, must force a core no larger than a soybean. Such cores grant only the barest power and are fragile. Of the three-hundred-year lifespan promised by Core Formation, half is a blessing; as for advancement, it is nearly impossible. The current combatants were all of this lesser sort.

Zhuge He, still with strength to spare, was in high spirits as he watched the chaos unfold. The outcome was nearly certain: that scion of a noble house, if not dead, would at least be gravely injured, if not ruined entirely. It was a pity about the woman, but fate was not with her. Still, this unexpected windfall was more than he could have hoped for.

A surge of azure light flared in Zhuge He’s hands, forcing back the two masked men who had held the advantage. Meanwhile, Hongxiu’s edge diminished; the two opposing factions seemed to reach a tacit agreement to finish off Wu Yue first.

Suddenly, a deafening roar split the air—a pillar of light crashed down outside the city.

At that moment, the long-suffering Wu Yue could endure no more...