For months Zhang Lifen had been wandering the mortal world, searching for a rogue cultivator who may as well have been a ghost. It would have been kind of Yi Xiurong to at least provide some clue as to where she ought to start her search, but she supposed that would defeat the purpose. This was as much about getting her out of the way as it was an attempt to correct her missteps.
What else could it be, given that the First Disciple had taken it upon herself to oversee the development of He Yu and his friends in Zhang Lifen’s absence? At least Yi Xiurong wouldn’t do anything to undermine their development. She may even do the opposite. A fresh perspective could easily benefit at least one or two of He Yu’s friends. No, the most “damage” Yi Xiurong would attempt would be to impress upon them the importance of following the rules. Of acting within the proper bounds of a disciple of the Shrouded Peaks Sect.
In other words, make them boring. Boring, just like Yi Xiurong.
The thing that, upon reflection, grated on Zhang Lifen the most was that Yi Xiurong had been correct in sending her on this assignment. Given the nature of her cultivation, and her ability to suppress her presence beyond what was typical of other cultivators of her advancement, Zhang Lifen really was the best choice.
Which was why she now found herself back in Lenghu city, stalking the streets and asking after yet another cultivator who’d once been a member of her sect. This time, however, she had to take more care with her appearance. Rather than the typical gowns she wore back at the sect, she’d opted for the more understated look of a commoner. She also wore a broad bamboo hat, mostly so she could use it to hide her face. Nobody who got a good look at her would mistake her for an actual peasant. Which was fair, she supposed. She’d never spent even a few hours working under the sun, and her complexion showed it.
Then there was her eyes. She knew they could and did change color, mostly a reflection of her mood, but she had no real control over it. Their normal unnatural shifting and swirling blue would mark her as a cultivator the instant anyone got a good look. At least the talisman she wore around her wrist was enough to suppress the gentle drift of her clothes and hair. She could, between the outfit and the talisman, pass as a mortal so long as nobody paid too much attention.
Which was more than someone like Yi Xiurong could easily say for herself.
It was late afternoon when she finally got her first lead. The owner of a teahouse she’d spoken to managed to recall seeing someone who he thought matched Cui Bao’s description. She’d have been more skeptical of his memory—assuming he expected some coins in his pocket for being helpful to the curious stranger and her requests—if it hadn’t been for one key thing. He’d been asking after Xiao Jun.
This, the owner of the teahouse, was certain of. A cultivator the owner swore matched Cui Bao’s description had come into the city some weeks past, searching for someone. That someone could have only been Xiao Jun, based on the descriptions he’d circulated. Zhang Lifen thanked the owner and headed to the city’s main shrine.
A quick check with the priests confirmed that nobody had come here looking for Xiao Jun. So that loose end was still tied off. Not that she thought Cui Bao could rip anything out of someone who had been dead for well over a year at this point—but he might deliver the news to someone who could. With that confirmed, it left her with one final task.
Finding Cui Bao.
A few pointed inquiries and broken bones later, she left the city just before they closed the gates for the evening. The trail was cold, sure, but it was more than she had to go on at the beginning of the day. She headed south, moving as quickly as she dared. Over the next few weeks, she pieced together incrementally more.
Yes, he’d come this way. No, he had two others with him. Yes, they’d been here. No, they didn’t cause trouble. Yes, they seemed interested in keeping their heads down. No, they didn’t say they were going.
“Just two days ago,” the innkeeper said.
Zhang Lifen feigned relief as she placed a handful of bronze coins on the counter. “And which way did they go? It’s crucial I reach my brother in time. Our father is sick, and he’s desperately needed back at home.”
It was just after nightfall when she caught up with them. By now they’d traveled south for weeks, skirting the edge of the sect territory. She settled in a short distance away to watch and listen. They weren’t making any effort to hide themselves—there was no need. They were deep in unsettled territory, and relatively far from any maintained roads. Spirits and beasts were thick here. There was little chance anyone would stumble across the three cultivators lead by a very much improved Cui Bao.
He was just as she remembered him, arrogant and dangerous-looking. Clearly in charge, too. It seemed he’d moved up in the ranks of the Court since his and Sha Xiang’s departure from the sect. He was half a step into the Fourth Realm already—something that would have been alarming if not for his association with the Court. They were fond of their false dragons, after all.
No matter. They’d push him to heights that he’d never achieve on his own, and when his flame burned out, they’d cast him aside.
His companions were both firmly in the Third Realm and nothing worth mentioning. Likely subordinates of the Court, much like the gathering of sycophants and leeches Sha Xiang had been collecting before Yi Xiurong expelled her from the sect.
The next day, Zhang Lifen confirmed her suspicions. The trio made their way to a nearby basin, much like the one she’d used for He Yu’s training, and then they waited. She had to take up a position quite a ways away in order to make sure she wasn’t spotted, but her senses had sharpened to where that hardly mattered anymore.
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Soon after, another trio of cultivators appeared. There was a brief exchange, mostly pleasantries, and an exchange of packages and letters. There was also the very specific mention of one Emissary Kong. Zhang Lifen allowed herself a smile at that. The Court’s Emissary, Kong Huizhong, was still operating in the west, it seemed. Maybe she’d get her chance to face him again soon.
Cui Bao’s new orders, it seemed, were to check up on a nearby spirit stone mine. It had gone silent recently, and they feared someone had discovered it. Zhang Lifen had a feeling she might already know why.
It took another few days for them to arrive at the site. Judging by the rotting corpse of a lone cultivator, and the obvious signs of battle, the mine was a bit more than simply “compromised.” As the three cultivators spread out and searched the area, Zhang Lifen moved into a position for a better look.
Someone had smashed and scattered a small collection of huts. Black scorch marks scored the ground, forming starburst-like spots in the dirt. A single, flame-aspected technique had utterly obliterated a nearby hill. She recognized the evidence of He Yu’s combat arts—the evidence of lightnings strikes was unmistakable. The hill was most likely Tan Xiaoling’s doing then. As there were no real traces of the battle left other than the physical evidence, it must have taken place some weeks ago.
“You there,” came a voice from the bottom of the hill Zhang Lifen had taken up her watch on. “Come down here and explain what you’re doing out here.”
She stiffened and cursed to herself under her breath. How had one of them gotten behind her? How had she not heard or sensed him? When she turned around and got a good look at the Third Realm standing in the gully running between the hills, she got her answer.
A black mist spread across the ground around his feet, reaching up to about his knees. His presence, ill-defined as it was, gave the impression of a starless night, deep shadow, and silence. Shadow. Perhaps the only aspect better at hiding itself than her own water aspect was.
Figuring she’d best play along for the time being, she held up her hands to show she was unarmed. “Don’t hurt me, my lord,” she said, doing her best to sound meek as she slowly descended the hill towards him. She wasn’t so prideful that she was above playing a helpless mortal should she need to.
“Are you one of the miners? Tell me what happened here.”
Miners? Were they using low realm cultivators? Mortals? She couldn’t think of any other reason he’d think her a miner. Were it her, she’d have assumed anyone this far away from a settlement was a cultivator. Mortals wouldn’t survive on their own out here.
She scrambled for an answer. If she told him she was a miner, he’d expect her to recount the battle. She could sling little lies with the best of them, but she was afraid he’d want to take her to Cui Bao if she pretended to know anything of use. She couldn’t allow that to happen. If she claimed she was just in the area for whatever reason, well, that wasn’t suspicious at all, was it?
“Lift your head. Let me get a look at your face,” he said as she drew near.
She grimaced, keeping the brim of her bamboo hat low. She’d hoped she could get a bit closer before he wanted to “get a look at her.”
“This one offers her apologies,” she said, trying to sound as obsequious as she could manage. “I didn’t know this was somewhere I shouldn’t be.”
“I shouldn’t expect some woman to know any better, I suppose,” he said. “But do as you’ve been told. Show your face.”
There was really nothing for it, and she’d gotten close enough, anyway. Zhang Lifen inclined her head and met his gaze.
“You’re immortal?” he asked in disbelief.
“Unfortunately for you,” she said.
With the barest flicker of movement, she crossed the distance between them in a step. Her hand closed around his throat, and she squeezed. Restrained and restricted as she was, she’d still formed a Nascent Soul. She was still two full realms higher than he was, and she had the strength to match.
The automatic reflex kicked in, and her prey reached up to grab her wrist. Despite his cultivation, he couldn’t pry her grip from his neck. She continued forward, forcing him back and further away from the mining camp. The others would come looking for him eventually, and the further out they had to go, the better for her.
Then his presence flared out. He’d gotten over his initial shock and brought his panic under control. A ji halberd, cut down for one-handed use, fell into his grip. He swung at her, activating a technique that shrouded the ji’s bladed spike in an umbra of shadow qi. It ripped through her clothes, mundane and unfortified as they were. The strike had meant to disembowel her.
It didn’t even leave a scratch.
“You’re lucky these aren’t my good clothes,” she said as she pushed him back up against a boulder.
He disappeared, turning to smoke in her grip.
Zhang Lifen cursed and spun. She caught him by the wrist as his next strike came for her head. A twist, and he dropped his weapon. A shove, and he tumbled to the ground.
A shout went up from the direction of the camp. Although she’d been careful to ensure her presence had remained restrained, her opponent hadn’t. He reached for his weapon. She kicked him in the face.
Two presences flared. She guessed they’d covered roughly half the distance between the mining camp and her position. One was certainly Cui Bao, given its familiar, well-defined impression of a flaming leopard eager for violence. The other was less defined, and a mix of earth and wood. She had mere moments before they found her.
She glanced down at the shadow cultivator at her feet. He’d seen her, and she knew that Cui Bao would recognize her from his description alone. Who else with shifting blue eyes would be out here, following him? She picked up his ji, and buried it in his skull.
As she dashed for a clump of dense undergrowth, a shout came from above. “Over here, I see someone!”
She cursed a second time. Normally she avoided such language, but the situation more than called for it. As she backed further off, hoping to lead her pursuer away from the mine and Cui Bao, she wracked her memory. Had she ever used her bow around him? She discarded the thought. It didn’t matter. Even if he didn’t recognize it, simply taking it out of her storage treasure would be a beacon that pointed right at her. Then there was the fact she wouldn’t actually be able to use it without releasing her presence. Cui Bao would no doubt recognize her then. As much as she loved the weapon, it was wholly unsuitable for anything that approached subtlety.
The earth and wood cultivator erupted into the thicket she’d hid within. His presence was a riot of vibrant life and growth. This time, she didn’t hesitate.
She was on him in an instant, tackling him to the ground. Again, she easily overpowered him without releasing her presence. Levering herself on top of him, she pinned his arms down with her legs. She clamped one hand over his mouth, a formation scripted knife appearing in the other. The edge parted the flesh of his throat like paper. Blood spurted from the wound, pulsing with the pump of his heart.
The light left his eyes, and she faded further back into the undergrowth, mentally kicking herself as she did. Cui Bao was coming this way, his presence growing by the second. If she could keep hidden long enough, she might slip away. Get somewhere that she could settle in and watch—waiting until he finally let his guard down again.
Then she could follow him, and perhaps learn something useful. Maybe, if she could manage that, she could salvage this absolute disaster she’d created. Again.