Gao Long, Xiahou Ren, and Yang Shao congregated a short distance away from the Cloud Ship and the wrathful inner disciple standing upon it. Ren passed Shao the iron staff, which was stained with wolf blood and marked with dozens of deep scratches from the wolves’ hard teeth.

“What was that?” Ren asked as he got within earshot of Shao. “No Lianqi should be able to move that fast.”

“I stole the white wolf’s technique when I ate its heart,” Shao explained quickly. “When I ate the black wolf’s heart, I gained its power to strengthen itself by screaming.”

Xiahou Ren looked closely at Shao’s chest and tapped his own chin a few times. Lost in thought, Ren said, “Most of your meridians are dilated. I’m not an expert on the topic, but it seems that your yang pathways are running at an enhanced capacity.”

“I don’t understand.” Shao expressed his confusion.

“It basically means your strength and speed should be much higher, but your fortitude should be the same. Do you feel any pain in your arm or numbness on one side of your body?”

“Not at all. In fact, I’ve never felt better.”

“That’s good,” Ren said, clearly worried. “Ki deviation of this magnitude often comes with severe physical backlash. It could cause ki to pool in your brain or heart, which could result in a heart attack or stroke.”

Shao had heard many stories of old people in his village dying of heart attacks, and the news made him very worried.

“Really? Is something wrong with me?”

Ren scratched his chin as he looked closely at Shao’s chest. “Strangely, no. All your yang pathways are evenly dilated, so none of your ki is pooling anywhere. Wow, it would be tough for a Jindan to exert such granular control over his meridians.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Shao reminded the scholar. “This is all the work of the black wolf’s technique. I don’t know why it works this way; it just does. By the way, how long…?”

As Shao spoke, he was struck by a sudden wave of lightheadedness, and the sensation almost drove him to his knees. It was quite similar to the adrenaline crash Shao experienced when he confirmed his grandmother’s safety after his fight with the demonic cultivators.

“That long,” Ren answered Shao’s unspoken question. “Your yang pathways just contracted back to their original state. Honestly, as far as ki deviation is concerned, you got off really lightly. The contraction occurred simultaneously throughout your body, so there was no time for ki to pool anywhere.”

“It’s quite impressive that a wolf came up with this technique, isn’t it?”

“Something like this could only be created by a divine beast. It has a simplistic elegance that any human cultivator would probably miss.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

As if Xiahou Ren’s words reminded Gao Long of a half-forgotten memory from his childhood, Gao Long recited three simple words. “‘Action without action.’”

“‘That is the core of all things, fellow Daoist,’” Ren recited as if he was quoting an ancient master. “Cultivators should strive to be like the mindless beasts that crawl upon the ground; at least, that’s what the philosophers tell us.”

The last time someone mentioned the Dao in Shao’s presence, his clan was slaughtered less than an hour later. Shao didn’t really understand what the Dao was, but he wasn’t much of a fan.

“One of these days, I’ll figure out what the Dao is,” Shao muttered.

Ren sighed as if Shao had just said something of outstanding significance. “Me too, I hope.”

“Have you made a new plan yet, Xiahou Ren?” Shao asked.

“Essentially.” Ren sighed. “It’s not nearly as good as my Plan A or Plan B, but I suspect it’s our best chance presently.”

“What was Plan B?” Shao asked.

“Poison.”

“Ah.”

“Now, Plan C is quite a bit more complicated,” Xiahou Ren began. “Essentially, we’re going to use a binding ritual to hold Wei Fenhua in place. Then, when she’s immobile, I’ll use a Xiahou Clan secret technique to knock her far enough away that we’ll all have enough time to get through the Southern Gate.”

“How do you plan to target her with a binding ritual?” Gao Long asked, clearly doubtful at Xiahou Ren’s plan. “I doubt she’ll just stand in place while we draw a circle at her feet and place four candles in the four cardinal directions relative to her position.”

Silently, Shao made a mental note of how binding rituals worked. When he was strong enough for people to consider binding him, he would have to make sure to look out for candles.

“Actually,” Ren began with a mischievous smile, “the Franconians made an altered form of the binding ritual that will serve our purposes much more readily. Allow me to explain. There are four elements to a binding ritual: anchor points, target, handseal, and incantation. In an Eastern binding ritual, the target is determined by the intersection of four anchor points. The Franconians, however, have figured out that the target can be made into a line if you weaken the binding power and make your anchor points much more fragile.”

“Could you explain it in a way I can understand, please?” Shao interjected.

Xiahou Ren withdrew two small paper boxes from his pocket and held them out toward Shao. He opened a compartment within one of the paper boxes, revealing about a dozen small wooden sticks that each had a small red orb at one end. Ren drew one of these small sticks out of the paper box and struck its red orb against a strip of rough material on one of the boxes. The orb caught fire, and Ren was suddenly holding a burning stick.

“This is called a ‘match,’ and the box is called a ‘matchbook.’ The Franconians use these to light fires. The fire of a match lasts for about fifteen seconds. If you use such an ephemeral fire as an anchor point in a binding ritual, you only need two of them, and the line between the two matches becomes the ritual’s target.”

“I think I’m starting to understand,” Shao said as realization dawned on him.

“The two of you will have to stand on opposite sides of Wei Fenhua and light your matches simultaneously. As you do that, I will form the handseal and chant the binding incantation.”

“But that means…” Gao Long began to say.

Xiahou Ren finished the sentence. “That means one of you will have to get past Wei Fenhua before we can use the ritual. Yang Shao, how do you feel about putting the white wolf’s technique to good use?”