Chapter 132: Again...

The profound crystal was, in essence, condensed heaven and earth spirit qi. Hence, it should be entirely capable of replenishing a spellcaster’s true energy. And the profound crystal He Lingchuan had produced was of fine quality.

The moment the spellcaster drew breath, the spirit qi within the profound crystal transformed into pure true energy, flooding straight into his dantian.

It felt as though he were a dry cistern suddenly filled to the brim. He nodded eagerly at He Lingchuan.

Just then, one of the wagon backboards was smashed to pieces. With a savage shove, Lu Yao sent the planks flying. His vision cleared in an instant.

From his vantage point, the slope above lay exposed in full.

These dogs are still setting up more obstacles?

Lu Yao roared in fury, his gaze fixing on He Lingchuan, the one giving orders.

Brat. Still playing these endless obstacle tricks? Do you really think that my temper is infinite?

With the profound crystal’s support, ice spread across the road with astonishing speed.

In the blink of an eye, the first layer was completed.

It looked smooth enough, but He Lingchuan was not satisfied. He ordered the spellcaster to reinforce it.

Again.

And again.

By the third pass, the slope gleamed under the morning light, the frozen surface shining white, dazzling in its brilliance.

The spellcaster, however, was pale and trembling. They looked like they would collapse at any second, perhaps even sent sliding down the slope at the slightest gust of wind. Even with the energy from the profound crystal, humans were still limited in their mental capabilities. This was his first time casting at such intensity. In less than a minute, he felt utterly drained, his spirit withered, his mind barren. At this moment, he wanted nothing more than to collapse and sleep for three days and nights.

He Lingchuan held out his hand. “Give me back the rest of the profound crystal.”

The profound crystal returned to him was nearly two sizes smaller.

Mao Tao hefted the exhausted spellcaster onto a horse and prepared to retreat with the others.

No one noticed that, behind the last barricade, Lu Yao had suddenly halted. He beckoned to his men. “Bow!”

At once, a subordinate presented him with a bow.

He summoned an archer and pointed directly at He Lingchuan on the slope. “Shoot down that He brat! You know the one! The most arrogant one!”

The archer dared not hesitate. He drew an arrow, set it to the string, and aimed up the slope.

This bow was unlike ordinary ones. Its design was flamboyant and heavy, and its frame flared like the wings of a bat. The exaggerated curve of the “ears” only heightened the effect, while the “head” of the bat sat at the grip, where bow and arrow met.

But as the archer sighted down the string, He Lingchuan’s figure wavered and blurred. He could not pin down his target.

It was like staring into the rippling surface of a lake, unable to catch a glimpse of what swam beneath.

Origin energy!

The bow was a genuine magical artifact, but the enemy’s origin energy disrupted its effect, blurring its aim and barring it from being able to display its full power.

That was the brigands’ disadvantage. They were outlaws of the

jianghu

, without origin energy to steady them.

The archer tried twice more. He still could not lock on. Cold sweat broke out across his brow.

Lu Yao glared beside him, voice harsh as he roared, “What are you waiting for? He’s getting farther every second!”

He no longer had any more time to continue trying to lock on. Gritting his teeth, the archer shouted, “I offer three years of my life as sacrifice!”

At once, a sharp hook sprouted from the bow’s grip. It was impossible to say whether it was a claw or a fang. In a flash, it pierced the archer’s palm.

The archer himself felt nothing, not a trace of pain. His hands stayed rock steady. On the contrary, his spirit surged, his vision snapped into piercing clarity.

Those watching saw it too. Before the bow’s grip, a ghostly eye appeared. The eye was a deep red, slit-pupiled, and veined with streaks of blood.

The ghostly pupil swiveled twice, then snapped wide open, gleaming like a cat’s eye in the dark.

Through it, the archer suddenly saw He Lingchuan’s back as clear as day!

The haze was gone. There was no longer any distracting light, no blurring shadows, only a single, simple target.

Now!

He took aim at the young man’s lower back and loosed.

Thwip!

The arrow shrieked from the string.

Barely two breaths later, He Lingchuan’s form grew indistinct once more as origin energy reasserted itself.

That was the bow’s trick. It allowed its user to exploit the brief gap in the origin energy’s interference and unleash a killing strike.

The moment the shot was fired, the archer staggered, gasping like a man who had just sprinted twenty kilometers. His earlier poise was gone, his lips blanched, and his face was now ashen.

He was a lanky man in his forties, sallow-skinned. And before their eyes, he changed.

The crow’s feet[1] at his eyes deepened. His gaze grew clouded. His jaw sharpened, his frame gaunter.

In mere breaths, he looked three to five years older.

That was the price of the shot. Lu Yao had no intention of paying it himself, so he let others bear it on his behalf.

The ghostly eye vanished. Lu Yao snatched the bow from the spent archer and handed it off to be stored. “Smash those wagons to splinters!”

* * *

One more bend and they would be safe, beyond the reach of the brigands’ arrows.

He Lingchuan was just about to spur his horse when the broken saber at his waist vibrated violently. At the same instant, a chill raced up his spine, seizing his heart.

Every instinct shrieked at once that something dreadful was bearing down from behind, and fast!

With no time to think, and no time to turn to look at what was coming. He Lingchuan wrenched his shield free and flung it backward.

In his mind, a firm and steady voice rang out.

“Jump!”

And without hesitation, he obeyed.

Thud!

The shield, crafted from hundred-year-old ancient vines from a remote mountain, which were then steeped in tung oil, and hardened through nine steams and nine bakes, shattered into pieces on impact.

That shield was prized for its strength and toughness. Left to axe or blade, it would take a long, hard effort to split. Yet now, it failed to even take a single shot.

The thing that struck it only slowed for an instant before surging forward again.

By then, He Lingchuan had already leapt, tumbling off his saddle. He nearly slammed face-first into the dirt, but his body was quick and supple. A few awkward, ungainly, and staggering steps later, and he managed to brace against a boulder at the cliff’s edge.

Beyond that stone yawned a bottomless abyss.

That was too close.

Why not jump the other way? Impossible. That side was a chaos of pounding hooves. Dropping there would mean being trampled to paste.

He Lingchuan was still congratulating himself on his choice when the ground betrayed him.

The rock underfoot shifted.

Weathered by years of sun and storm, it was a hollow shell. It crumbled at once into four or five chunks, tumbling away into the void, along with the young man who had set foot upon it.

“Fuck!” He Lingchuan spat a crisp curse.

Why is it always a cliff? Can’t I die some other way?

Was the only difference between him and the body’s original owner that one had already died from a fall, while the other was now midair on the way down?

Even as he raged and plummeted, he glimpsed a white blur flash past his horse’s back. An instant later, his mount’s throat erupted in a cloud of blood.

1. These are wrinkles, not actual crow feet. ☜