The remaining Daoist could only stare as his companion collapsed stiffly to the ground, eyes wide, pupils trembling and contracting in disbelief.
Even without any defense prepared—he was still at the Meridian-Connecting Realm!
How could someone of that level die from an arrow?
Why did this man's arrows carry internal force? What kind of material could even hold such power?!
"Buzz—"
This time, the arrow was coming straight for him.
The Daoist dared not be careless. He drew the long sword at his waist, infusing it with internal force, and slashed toward the arrow. But the instant their powers met, it felt like he had struck a dragon emerging from the sea. The impact sent a violent tremor up his arm. The sword was nearly torn from his grasp, and he staggered backward several steps before finally steadying himself against a tree trunk.
Before he could even draw a full breath, another arrow screamed toward him.
The internal force within this second arrow was even more immense.
It didn't feel like he was deflecting an arrow—it felt like he was fighting a warrior.
A warrior with no weaknesses.
Even if he shattered the arrow, what of it? The one shooting from afar remained completely untouched.
"Buzz!"
The third arrow came.
His soft sword twisted violently under the pressure, its blade creaking and warping before the arrow punched straight through his thigh, smashing bone and leaving a gaping hole the size of a fist.
"Ahhh!"
He screamed, forcing himself into Exploding Blood state, trying to flee. But the White Swan horse had already closed the distance in the blink of an eye.
Chen Sanshi didn't even bother using his spear. He swung the iron-bellied bow like a weapon, smashing it squarely into the Daoist's chest. The man spat blood, flew backward, and crashed to the ground. His Exploding Blood state collapsed instantly, leaving him gasping and writhing weakly, unable to stand.
'These two's internal force is so weak.'
Chen leapt down from his horse. He used ordinary arrows to nail the Daoist's limbs into the ground before crouching beside him.
"You. Who are you people?"
"I'm a Daoist from Ciyun Temple!"
"Smack!"
Chen Sanshi's palm came down hard—infused with internal force—sending half the man's teeth flying. Searching the body, Chen soon found a Vajra Pestle.
"Witch God Sect?"
"Chen Sanshi, you can't escape!" the Daoist croaked, spitting blood. "Sun Xiangzong won't escape either! None of you in Liangzhou will escape!"
"Ahhh!"
Mid-sentence, the cultist convulsed violently—and died on the spot.
Chen pried open his mouth and found a hidden poison pouch wedged in his cheek.
These Witch God Sect fanatics were stubborn to the end.
'No one in Liangzhou will escape?' He frowned. What were they plotting?
He was certain the Witch God Sect had come for him because he'd uncovered the secret behind the Spirit-Nourishing Soup. But to this day, he still didn't know exactly what ingredient had been mixed into it.
And since the deaths of Qiu Mingzi and his companion, the lecture assemblies had stopped altogether—yet sect disciples kept dying.
Their blood…
Chen turned the Vajra Pestle in his hand thoughtfully. "What's their blood being used for?"
His instincts screamed that it had something to do with the sinister aura rising from deep within the Luotian Mountain Range.
If that was true… then a true master of the Witch God Sect must already be hiding within Liangzhou City, simply waiting for the right moment to act.
Where there's something this strange—there's something monstrous behind it.
And the monster of Liangzhou lay deep in the Luotian Mountains.
Unfortunately, he couldn't reach that place yet.
Profound Manifestation Realm—to cross those mountains, that was the minimum requirement.
The coming war would last at least half a year, perhaps a full one. When he returned from the eastern front, if he wasn't already in Profound Manifestation, he'd at least reach Meridian-Connecting (Major Achievement)—enough to stand firm on the final two peaks.
Chen began retrieving his arrows. On one of the corpses, he found a slim booklet titled Art of Disguise.
He flipped through it quickly. The first stages were simple—using herbs and powders to alter facial features—but the advanced chapters described bone-shrinking techniques, and later, even the concealment of one's cultivation aura.
'No harm in learning something new,' he thought. 'Might as well try it when I'm back.'
After tidying up the scene, he carried the bodies deep into the Luotian Mountains, tossing them to a pack of wolves and watching until nothing remained.
Then he hunted a tiger, slung it over his shoulder, and rode home before dark.
At the dinner table that night, he told his family he'd soon be leaving again.
"You're leaving again?"
"You just got back!"
"Papa's going to war again?"
"A man in the army doesn't get to choose," Chen said, bowing respectfully. "Ninth Senior Sister, once I'm gone, I don't know when I'll return. Please—look after my wife and children for me."
"Don't worry," Rong Yanqiu said, picking up a piece of pastry. "Even if I have to return to Yanzhou for a while, I can always send them to the Grand Commander's residence. It's the safest place there is."
Indeed, the Grand Commander's mansion was guarded by experts of high cultivation.
Chen nodded. "That works."
"By the way," Rong Yanqiu asked, raising an eyebrow, "do you know what's happening on the eastern front?"
"I've heard some reports," Chen said, using his cup and bowl as makeshift markers on the table. "General Meng is leading the campaign brilliantly. So far, it's going well. But to reclaim all three provinces, our forces are stretched a bit thin.
"The biggest issue for the Great Sheng Dynasty is that any movement on one front pulls the others along. Western Qi Kingdom is still recovering, but Southern Xu Kingdom and the steppe tribes are watching closely.
"Especially Southern Xu. They share a border with Eastern Qing, so if this war drags on, they might send reinforcements.
"Because once Eastern Qing's three eastern provinces fall, Great Sheng will be staring straight down at Southern Xu. They know the saying—'when the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold.' They won't sit by quietly.
"If the Emperor keeps reinforcing the east, both north and south could erupt into war."
"You're right," Rong Yanqiu said, tapping her slender nail on the table. "The court's worried about that too. From what I've heard, a month ago the Prince of Zhen'nan already started a war with Southern Xu. He's keeping their two Martial Saints occupied in the south, but Southern Xu has been conserving strength for years. They can still muster plenty of troops.
"Thankfully, without their Martial Saints, the pressure is lighter. As for the steppe tribes, His Majesty left our eldest brother in the northern front—they shouldn't dare make any sudden moves."
"Still, watch for the Witch God Sect," Chen warned. "They're working with the tribes. If they start acting up again, it'll mean the tribes are on the move too."
"I know," Rong Yanqiu said with a faint smile. "You focus on the east. I'll keep watch here."
Rong Yanqiu smiled faintly. "Little Junior Brother, you'd better be careful too. Last time in Mingzhou, everyone thought it'd be a clean sweep, but look how that turned out. Anyway, I'm saying more than I need to—you're sharper than me, and with Fourth Brother there this time, things shouldn't go wrong. Same as before, I'll say it again—may you achieve heavenly merit and be rewarded at Ziwei Mountain!"
Sun Buqi raised his cup and joined in the toast.
After the wine, the group slowly dispersed.
"If Old Xu were here, we could've chatted a bit more."
"Probably won't be seeing him for quite a while."
Chen Sanshi frowned slightly. If he remembered right, east of Youzhou weren't just rebels and bandits, but also a small kingdom—Wei—caught between Eastern Qing and Great Sheng. It held only two provinces and didn't even have a Martial Saint.
That chaos over there might be tied to Wei as well.
'Forget it.'
He still had plenty of time to think about military matters. Even taking the fastest river route, it would be one or two months before he reached the front.
For now, he'd rather spend a few peaceful days with his wife and children.
After seeing off the guests, Chen Sanshi walked back to the main bedroom in the inner courtyard.
On the bed, Gu Xinlan held their baby son in her arms, while Chen Yunxi was sitting nearby, practicing her needlework.
"Shi ge'er, you're leaving again?" Gu Xinlan asked softly, her voice tinged with reluctance. "By the time you come back, our son will already be talking."
Chen Sanshi cleared his throat. "Xixi, how about tonight you and Duhe sleep in the next room, hmm?"
"Okay! Papa and Mama can sleep here."
Chen Yunxi put down her sewing and, with some effort, carried her little brother off to find Siqin and Mohua.
"Waaah—waaah—waaah!"
Little Chen Duhe clearly didn't agree with this arrangement, bursting into loud tears as he was carried away.
"Smack!"
The door shut. Chen Sanshi wasted no time climbing onto the bed.
"Shi ge'er, you—you're doing what?"
"What do you think? It's been a whole year. I've lived like a monk long enough."
It had been nearly three months since she gave birth, and her body had recovered well.
"Wait."
Gu Xinlan's face turned red as she pointed to a locked chest. "Inside—inside is what you told me to make last time… those, um, incomplete clothes…"
Later that night, damn it, Chen Duhe started crying again, forcing Gu Xinlan to get up and feed him. With no choice, Chen Sanshi rolled up his blanket and moved to the back courtyard.
By the time he fell asleep, dawn was already breaking.
He rose at first light to continue training the Sword Qi Technique.
[Technique: Sword Qi Technique (Mastery)]
[Progress: 255/1000]
Still a long way from Minor Achievement.
But his incense energy was clearly running low.
'When I travel east, I'll pass through quite a few prefectures,' he thought. 'There should be temples and Daoist shrines along the way—places where incense burns strong. I can gather some more then.'
He gripped the Mystic Pearl, mulling over the idea.
If his Sword Qi Technique at the Mastery level could already kill someone at the Profound Manifestation entry stage, then reaching Minor or even Major Achievement would make it far deadlier. On the battlefield, it might create results beyond expectation.
And after all, the Fragrant Fire God Sect's incense came from stealing divine power.
Stealing a bit back wasn't exactly unjustified.
Still, he couldn't help wondering—what were they truly collecting all that incense for?
That woman, Miss Ningxiang, had mentioned something important was about to happen in the capital.
But since he was heading east, he wouldn't be involved—at least not anytime soon.
'Good,' he thought. 'The less I'm caught up in it, the better.'
"It's a pity," he muttered aloud. "If only the Profound Qi inside the pearl could actually be used!"
He stared at the swirling aura inside the orb, remembering the Red Brows Army's formations. If used properly, that energy could form a devastating surprise force.
Too bad he had to keep pretending he didn't understand the Heavenly Book's military diagrams—otherwise, he could've drilled his own troops with it.
'We'll see how things go.'
This time, if everything went smoothly, he might not have much to do anyway. The eastern front already had two Martial Saints, four or five Profound Manifestation cultivators, and an army of 150,000 troops.
The east was densely populated to begin with. With reinforcements from the Central Plains, it now held roughly one-fifth of Great Sheng's total military strength. The remaining four-fifths were tied up elsewhere, meaning the east had reached its limit.
Morning sunlight spilled into the courtyard.
Gu Xinlan opened the door, carrying a neatly folded white battle robe. "You promised—before every battle, you'll wear the clothes I make for you."
Chen Sanshi smiled as he adjusted his collar. "It fits perfectly. Lan jie'er, let me comb your hair before I go."
They spoke a few quiet words together, cherishing the moment, before he finally donned his armor, took up his spear, and walked out of the courtyard.
He bid farewell to everyone one last time, then signaled at the gate.
Qianxun neighed and trotted forward obediently. Chen swung into the saddle and rode off, his figure quickly fading from sight.
"Mother," Chen Yunxi whispered, tugging at Gu Xinlan's sleeve. "Does Papa really have to fight?"
Gu Xinlan held her close. "Even your mother doesn't quite understand. Nobody wants war. But every time your father comes back, he adds more names to that ledger of his…"
"Mother, is Qing Kingdom far away?"
"Qing Kingdom…"
Gu Xinlan's eyes flickered with a subtle light. She stroked her daughter's hair gently. "It's very far. Very, very far."
At the military garrison, Chen Sanshi's voice rang out loud and clear.
"Those whose names I call—prepare for departure! We march east to subdue Qing!"
"Zhao Kang! Feng Yong! Wu Da! Zhuang Yi!"
"Here!"
"You have half a day to bid your families farewell!"
"Yes, sir!"
"Lieutenant General Chen!"
"Brother Chen!"
"Take us with you!"
Lu Shuhua, Xie Sishu, and Yan Changqing hurried over together.
"You three?"
Chen Sanshi frowned. "Technically, you're not under my direct command. Back in Mingzhou, that was just temporary."
"Fighting alongside you—it's worth it."
Lu Shuhua rarely spoke, but when he did, his words were straightforward and firm.
"Exactly," said Xie Sishu. "You're a Lieutenant General now. We're only Thousand-Commanders—you're our superior anyway. Let us follow. You can't fill twenty slots with officers alone, right?"
"Yeah, Brother Chen," Yan Changqing added. "Let me follow too—maybe I'll earn some merit this time."
"General Chen! Me too!"
Bai Tingzhi, who'd just heard the news, galloped up on horseback, shouting, "General! I'll take the rear guard!"
Chen Sanshi looked them over.
Aside from Yan Changqing, the others were all still under the Blood Oath of the Battlefield—men who'd fought to the death before. Taking them along would be a real help.
And since the order didn't restrict his personnel choices, he nodded after a brief thought.
"All right. Go pack your things. We move this afternoon."
The order had given him three days, but in war, sooner was always better than later.
Not to mention, there were still three thousand Black Armored soldiers waiting for him to train and lead.
"Lieutenant General Chen, you're leaving again?"
Thousand-Commander Li happened to pass by. "I was thinking we could go to Ciyun Temple together this afternoon."
"Oh?"
Chen Sanshi raised a brow. "Something happened?"
"More or less."
Li nodded. "Remember those two old Daoists from before? They've disappeared. Supposedly went off 'wandering,' but it doesn't add up. They'd only just returned a few days ago—felt more like they came back to pick something up before running off again. Could it be evidence tied to the Witch God Sect?"
"Maybe."
Chen Sanshi knew perfectly well—they came back to collect incense.
"Then I won't hold you up. Wishing you victory, Lieutenant General. I'll get back to my patrol."
Li clasped his hands and left.
Chen Sanshi mounted his White Swan horse and rode toward the Seeking Immortals Tower.
Through the familiar back entrance, he entered the fragrant, smoke-filled chamber. He took out a small box sealed with special clay to preserve the freshness of the Severed Renewal Grass, handing it personally to the woman waiting inside.
"I knew General would find it," Ningxiang said with a soft smile, opening the box and peeking inside. "But tell me—why come to me in full armor, and in such a rush? Don't tell me… you're heading off to war again? The fighting in the east—are you joining the campaign against Qing Kingdom?"
"Mm."
Chen Sanshi didn't deny it. "Miss Ningxiang, if you come across any more of that special iron like before, please help me collect some."
After all, not every battle left him time to recover his arrows.
To an archer, arrows were like bullets to a marksman—the more, the better.
"Understood. I'll see what I can find for you."
Ningxiang carefully set the grass aside. "Funny you mention it—your posting to the eastern front coincides with where the Fragrant Fire God Sect is most active. Lately, they've been acting strange. You should keep your eyes open."
"Fragrant Fire God Sect…"
Chen leaned forward. "Do you know what kind of techniques they use? You, for example—you can charm and cloud a person's mind with illusions. What about them? When they 'enter the Dao,' what powers do they gain?"
It wasn't just curiosity. He already had entanglements with them. If he met their followers again, he wanted to be ready.
"Entering the Dao isn't something just anyone can do," Ningxiang explained. "You might think collecting incense is easy, but it's actually far weaker than spiritual qi. Even after gathering for a year or two, the energy doesn't last long. After all, it's born from mortal flesh, not heaven and earth. Its quality can't compare."
She leaned closer. "That's why, even though the Fragrant Fire God Sect collects incense all across the land, most of their lower members aren't qualified to practice true cultivation methods. Like those two—Qiu something and his partner—the ones who died in prison."
Chen Sanshi nodded. He'd already learned firsthand how quickly incense power burned away. It drained faster than Spirit Sand—by many times over. Mortal incense was simply too weak. Only through massive accumulation could it transform into something substantial.
"As for the rest…"
Ningxiang plucked a grape and lifted it to his lips.
Chen checked it briefly before eating it.
"It's like I told you," she continued. "We still don't fully understand them. But I can say this—their higher ranks, like their leader, have indeed entered the Dao. The rest…"
Her sharp nails brushed lightly under his chin. "They're not worthy. Over the last hundred years, the Seeking Immortals Tower and the Fragrant Fire God Sect have clashed several times. Their upper members, like branch masters, practice what's called a 'Body Protection Method.'
"Think of it as Body-Protection Qi. Some are even weaker than a real cultivator's gang qi, and many can be shattered by a Meridian-Connecting Realm warrior's internal force. Their strength depends entirely on how much incense they've absorbed—and their own cultivation base."
'Incense Body-Protection Technique…'
Chen memorized that detail.
He gently pushed her arm away. "I still have military matters to handle. I'll take my leave."
Seeking Immortals Tower truly was invaluable—he'd learned more through these women than through half the city's scouts.
If the Fragrant Fire God Sect was running wild in the east, there'd be plenty of incense for him to harvest along the way. That wasn't a bad deal at all.
After packing his things, Chen rode to the Liangzhou city gates, where his twenty men were already waiting. They'd ride to Qinghe Prefecture, the nearest transport hub under Liangzhou's jurisdiction, and from there take the waterway.
Unlike the grand departure of last time—tens of thousands marching, hundreds of thousands of families waving them off—this time, only a few dozen people came to see them go.
Among them stood Martial Saint Shao Yujing, master of Lu Shuhua, practically his father in all but blood.
"Leaving is good," Shao said grimly. "Lately, too many young martial artists have died in the city. You may be enlisted, but you're still of the sect. Better to be out training under Chen Daren's command than waiting around to die here."
"Master," Lu Shuhua bowed deeply. "Take care."
"Already connected your meridians?"
A cold voice cut in. Wen Zhi appeared silently, his eyes sharp as blades. "Good. You'd better die on the battlefield, then. Because if you keep progressing like this, in a few years you'll reach Martial Saint—and I'll have to kill you myself."
Chen Sanshi gave a faint smile. "Then I'll make sure to come back alive—for you to do it yourself, Master Wen."
Without another word, he turned his horse toward the open plains. Nineteen riders followed close behind. Within moments, the road was swallowed by clouds of pale dust.
"Old Shao," Wen Zhi growled, his face dark. "Any leads yet?"
Shao Yujing's expression didn't change.
"These cult bastards are going too far," Wen said through clenched teeth.
"Where are they hiding?" He slammed his fist into his palm. "Even Meridian-Connecting experts are dying now. That means the enemy isn't weak—and there's a lot of them. Yet we can't find a single nest. The city guard sends out thousands of patrols every day—searching day and night—and still nothing!"
"Do you really think," Shao said slowly, each word deliberate, "that they want to find them?"
"You—" Wen Zhi froze. "You're saying… the Liangzhou Army is colluding with the Witch God Sect?"
"I can't say for sure if they're working together," Shao replied, narrowing his eyes. "But one thing's certain—Sun Xiangzong knows more than he lets on."
"That old bastard."
Wen Zhi spat to the side. "We've given him everything he's asked for—silver, grain, even the best medicine from our own stock—and he's still not satisfied? Why won't he care about our people dying?!"
Qinghe Prefecture.
At the docks, a massive ship was already moored and waiting.
The Tongtian River ran from north to south—one of the Great Sheng Dynasty's most vital transport routes.
Chen Sanshi led his men aboard. Their destination had plenty of warhorses already, so aside from Qianxun, the rest of the mounts were left at the Qinghe Prefecture post station.
And there, he spotted familiar faces.
Cao Fan and Sha Wenlong were also present.
He clearly remembered hearing that Cao Fan had submitted his resignation and was preparing to return to the capital. Yet here he was—reassigned to the eastern front at the last minute. That, at least, gave Chen another opportunity to observe him closely.
But something felt off.
In Cao Fan's cabin, Chen sensed a powerful aura.
A Martial Saint!
Only, this Martial Saint seemed to be deliberately concealing himself—unwilling to show his face.
"Pei Tiannan?"
Chen's brows furrowed slightly.
There were only a handful of Martial Saints in the north.
If Pei Tiannan was being sent east as support, that made sense—but why the secrecy?
Unless… he wasn't officially assigned on the military orders.
"Didn't you say you were going back to the capital…"
Cao Fan muttered, frowning. "Why would the Ministry of War suddenly send us to the eastern front?"
"I think…" Sha Wenlong guessed, "it's to give His Highness a chance to earn merit. This eastern campaign is a big deal—not just about reclaiming the Three Provinces, but also about Ziwei Mountain and the Old Temple of the Ancestral Shrine. Whoever manages to reclaim Ziwei Mountain and restore the ancestral shrine to its rightful ground will earn the right to share worship at the shrine. That's an honor beyond words."
"With Grand Commander Meng leading the army, how could any of that fall to us?"
Cao Fan's tone was flat, but his gaze was sharp. "And why would Lord Pei disguise himself as a guard?"
From the shadowed corner of the cabin came a low chuckle.
"Of course, to secretly protect His Highness," Pei Tiannan said cheerfully. "I would ask that His Highness not make my presence known."
"Is that so?"
Cao Fan didn't press further. But from the recent personnel transfers in the capital, he couldn't shake the sense that something larger was brewing. When this war ended, something significant might follow.
The ship continued south along the Tongtian River. The journey would take nearly two months.
Life aboard was dull and repetitive.
[Technique: Dragon Spear of Nation-Suppression — Meridian-Connecting (Beginner)]
[Progress: 255/500]
Every morning at the Mao hour (around 5 a.m.), Chen Sanshi would rise and train on deck, and in the afternoon, he'd brew medicine and refine pills.
He had come prepared. When departing Liangzhou, he'd brought the Black-Iron Furnace Cauldron and loaded several horses with medicinal herbs. That way, he could improve his Medicine (Mortal) proficiency while also strengthening his men more quickly.
"Incense is almost gone."
Back in his cabin, Chen Sanshi tucked away the Mystic Pearl. "I'll need to find a place to replenish it."
The journey was long.
Even large vessels required supplies. At nearly every major city along the river, they stopped to restock, giving the crew and soldiers a chance to stretch their legs. As they traveled south, the air grew warmer, the dialects changed, and so did the customs.
During the idle hours, Chen Sanshi began studying "Art of Disguise."
Using herbs and materials he'd gathered earlier, he crafted various disguising tools and started experimenting on himself.
He decided to try something radically different—an ugly, bald-headed pockmarked man.
A disguise like that contrasted heavily with his real appearance and was more difficult to pull off—perfect for honing his skill.
With a bronze mirror in hand, he adjusted and reapplied layer after layer.
He was no stranger to herbs, so the process wasn't difficult. Slowly, his reflection grew unfamiliar, until a completely different face stared back.
[Technique: Art of Disguise (Beginner)]
[Progress: 0/500]
[Effect: Alter appearance; voice matches the person being imitated.]
He'd mastered the entry level right away.
Now, when conducting covert work, he could act more freely.
The only downside was his weapons—they were too distinctive. The long spear, great bow, and Mountain-Suppressing Sword—anyone could identify him at a glance.
Fortunately, his blade technique had already advanced to the Meridian-Connecting Realm, and he'd prepared a mystic long blade forged from Spirit-Grain Steel. That would suffice for field missions.
"Boom, boom, boom—"
A deep, rhythmic drumming echoed from outside.
Chen wiped the disguise from his face and stepped onto the deck to see what was happening.
They'd been traveling for over a month now.
Here, the Tongtian River narrowed sharply. On both shores, tens of thousands of people had gathered. Many were bare-chested men with red headbands, beating drums and gongs in perfect rhythm, moving in unison as if performing a great ritual.
"Tongtian Dragon King," said Yan Changqing, watching from beside him. "Folk customs differ across the land. People in the southeast depend on the river, so they worship the Dragon King for protection."
"Tongtian Dragon King…"
Chen Sanshi recalled reading about it.
Legend said that ten thousand years ago, a divine dragon fell from the heavens and crashed into this very land. Its body became the river, and its spirit turned divine. From that moment, life in the Central Plains began to flourish, and humanity multiplied.
He looked at the scene ahead, his eyes narrowing. "Are they using live sacrifices?"
On the riverbank, rows of bound captives were lined up—boys and girls, young men and women—all alive.
"I remember reading that the grand sacrifice was held once every three years, with nine boys and nine girls each time. Why are there so many this time?"
"No idea," Yan Changqing said with a lazy yawn. "Who cares? If they want to worship, let them."
"Yeah," Chen Sanshi murmured, his gaze darkening.
If the common folk were truly offering sacrifices of their own free will, then the government couldn't really interfere—unless there was something hidden behind it.
"Linjiang Prefecture is a big place."
Yan Changqing stretched lazily. "We'll be docked until tomorrow morning. Want to head to the brothels for a bit of fun? A month on this damned boat—my back's sore, food tastes like dirt, and I can't sleep worth a damn."
"No."
Chen Sanshi refused flatly. "You all go."
"Suit yourself. You've got Miss Ningxiang, so no surprise you're not interested in common powder and rouge. Me, I'm off to chase some romance!"
Soon after, the ship docked.
Yan Changqing, along with Zhao Kang and the others, went into the city to find amusement.
Chen Sanshi, however, stayed in his cabin, quietly keeping an eye on Cao Fan and his group.
Pei Tiannan remained close at their side the entire time—there was no opening to make a move.
With a Martial Saint guarding them, even spellwork would be useless. Saints were far beyond human limits; the weakest incantations couldn't possibly touch them.
He'd seen that clearly back when he first met his eldest senior brother by the Hongze River.
A Martial Saint's body was already something transcendent.
Only, people like Ning Changqun had dragged down the prestige of the title "Martial Saint" in everyone's eyes.
'Forget it,' Chen thought. 'Once we reach the east, I'll have my chance.'
Seeing they had no intention of leaving the ship, he quietly exhaled, then slipped off into the night under Breath Concealment. Finding a deserted corner, he changed his appearance again—turning into a bald, pockmarked rogue with a long blade at his waist. He looked every bit a wandering scoundrel.
In the entire eastern region, the people all worshipped the Dragon King.
Naturally, there were Dragon King temples everywhere.
Before heading over, Chen had already asked around about the local sacrificial ritual.
It turned out that these large-scale offerings had only started in recent years. Supposedly, the Dragon King had grown angry—claiming the people's past offerings were insufficient.
"How exactly did the Dragon King show his anger?"
Chen, speaking in the coarse voice of his disguise, asked a fisherman who had just finished hauling his nets. "Tell me in detail."
"Floods," the fisherman sighed, setting down his bamboo basket. "Three years ago, a massive flood. After that, fishermen began dying—vanishing on the river one after another. For a while, it was bad. Many lost their livelihood. Then the temple's abbot said it was because we'd been too stingy with our offerings to the Dragon King. He ordered more sacrifices—more people, more ceremonies. Once we obeyed, the river went calm again. No more accidents… but now, the number of offerings has become too high. Every prefecture has to send over a hundred people a year. Last year…"
His voice choked, "…last year, my daughter was one of them."
Chen raised a brow, mimicking the raspy, mocking tone of his disguise. "Oh? You sound heartbroken. So why offer your own daughter, huh? Putting on a show?"
"We had no choice!"
The fisherman's voice cracked with grief. "It's by rotation. Every village, every neighborhood, every year, someone must go. If your turn comes and you refuse, you'll be beaten to death. Unless you bribe the village chief—you can delay it a few years. But we fishers barely feed our families. How can we afford bribes?"
"Dragon King, my ass!"
Another fisherman, overhearing, spat in fury. "It's river demons killing people, not the Dragon King's wrath! The abbot's lying to squeeze more silver. You haven't seen it—his house in the city's bigger than the magistrate's!"
"Shh! Don't talk nonsense!"
His companion quickly clamped a hand over his mouth. "If the abbot hears that, he'll throw your son in the river to 'appease' the Dragon King!"
"Hmph. Take this."
Chen Sanshi flicked a silver ingot from his belt toward the first man.
"Ah! Thank you, good sir!"
From the direction of the altar came a desperate cry—
"Son! Father's coming to save you!!"
The ritual was still underway.
A man had broken free from the crowd, charging forward with a kitchen knife—but he was quickly beaten down by guards.
Clearly, not everyone here was willing.
Chen's hand brushed the hilt of his blade as he turned to leave.
From what he'd gathered, the entire situation stank of manipulation. This wasn't divine wrath—it was human greed, someone deliberately provoking fear to increase incense power, just like how Ciyun Temple had used its "Nourishing Spirit Soup" to boost its fame.
By now, Chen had no doubts about the existence of immortals—or dragons, for that matter. But there were obvious holes in the fisherman's story. The number of offerings had been fixed for centuries. If the Dragon King truly cared, he would've "grown angry" long ago.
To confirm whether this was man-made or divine, all he had to do was inspect the Dragon King Temple itself.
If he found an incense burner siphoning incense, it would surely be connected to the Fragrant Fire God Sect.
And sure enough—it was exactly as he expected.
Inside the Dragon King Temple, before the great statue of the Dragon King stood a massive incense burner, almost identical to the one at Ciyun Temple.
Wisps of purple energy coiled from it, shimmering faintly. Each time a worshipper bowed, a thread of incense aura rose from their crown and was instantly drawn into the burner—like a greedy beast swallowing its prey.
The statue of the Dragon King, with its bulging bronze eyes, could only glare—receiving not a single wisp of true incense.
That confirmed it.
The Fragrant Fire God Sect had installed these burners to steal incense under the guise of worshipping the Dragon King—using terror and blood sacrifices to draw more believers.
But what they were doing with those massive sacrifices remained unclear.
"These incense flows…"
Chen Sanshi didn't act immediately. Instead, after offering his bow like an ordinary pilgrim, he quietly stepped outside and began observing the surroundings of the Dragon King Temple.
The night wind blew across the river. The sound of drums and chants echoed faintly—an eerie mix of reverence and dread.
Unlike Daoist temples or Buddhist monasteries that belonged to organized sects, Dragon King temples were usually built spontaneously by local residents. Normally, there would only be one or two temple keepers maintaining the place—but here…
Chen Sanshi made a rough count. There were at least thirty people.
Most of them were ordinary folks without any cultivation at all. Only three to five were at the Organ tempering Realm, while the abbot himself was at the Transforming Force Realm. Yet there was no trace of purple incense aura in his body—clearly, he was just a low-ranking leader of the Fragrant Fire God Sect.
Once Chen Sanshi had the situation figured out, he quietly withdrew without drawing attention.
It wasn't until late into the night that he returned. Moving like a shadow, he slipped into the temple once more. Standing before the giant incense burner, he took out the Mystic Pearl and, just like in Ciyun Temple, absorbed every last wisp of incense energy until the burner was completely drained.
"Who's there?!"
A shout rang out behind him.
A night patrol disciple of the Fragrant Fire Sect had noticed the disturbance and rushed over.
Clang!
The Spirit-Grain Long Blade flashed from Chen Sanshi's waist. In one smooth strike, he cleaved the man clean in two—from cheek to hip—blood splattering across the stone floor.
"Someone's destroying the incense!"
"Get him!"
Five or six Organ tempering disciples, along with the Transforming Force abbot, charged in—but against a Meridian-Connecting Realm cultivator, they didn't stand a chance.
Within a few breaths, the Dragon King Temple was filled with the sound of steel and screams.
Moments later, silence.
Bodies littered the floor.
The abbot, half-dead and trembling, crawled backward until he hit the wall, stammering in terror. "Y-you… who are you?! How do you know the art of incense?"
"I am Zhang Laizitou!"
Chen Sanshi's high-pitched, mocking voice echoed through the burning temple. "Go tell your sect master or whoever's leading you—this Laizitou can't stand your Fragrant Fire God Sect's dirty tricks. So tonight, I'm acting in the name of justice to burn down your filthy temple!"
He kicked over the candelabrum, and flames roared to life, quickly spreading through the wooden structure.
Shhhh—whoosh!
Under the horrified gazes of onlookers outside, Chen Sanshi swung his blade one last time—cleanly decapitating the abbot. Then, without a sound, he vanished into the dark, leaving no trace behind.
Judging from what he'd seen back in Liangzhou, the Fragrant Fire Sect was harvesting incense everywhere. If he wanted to strike, he had to do it early—delay would only make things worse.
The fire blazed sky-high, lighting up the night. Within moments, chaos erupted across dozens of miles.
Hundreds of city guards rushed out to investigate.
With the sect's enforcers dead, the unfinished sacrificial ritual by the Tongtian River fell apart. No one was left to keep the people in line, and the ceremony had to be abandoned.
The inferno burned until dawn before it finally died down.
Meanwhile, deep in a forest not far from the city—
"Helmsman!"
Ling Xuzi came running, breathless and alarmed.
"Well?"
Just arrived from Liangzhou, Yunxiaozi stepped forward urgently. "Have you found out who did this?!"
"Zhang Laizitou!"
Ling Xuzi gritted his teeth. "Countless witnesses saw him last night! That same Laizitou must have been the one who stole the incense in Liangzhou too!"
"Laizitou…"
Yunxiaozi frowned. "Where did such a person come from? And for him to drain three months' worth of incense in one night—he must have deep mastery of incense arts."
"What should we do, Helmsman?"
Ling Xuzi's face turned grim. "He's clearly following us, planning to steal more incense. Even if we warn the local branches, it'll take time!"
"There's no time for that."
Yunxiaozi replied, "We're getting on the ship."
"You mean…"
"Pei Tiannan and the others are sailing east. Their ship's still docked. We board directly."
"But Cao Fan doesn't know about this yet—"
"It doesn't matter. He'll find out sooner or later. He's one of us anyway."
"Understood. Let's move now."
Morning broke.
On the passenger ship, the sun rose from the east.
Chen Sanshi, pretending to have just woken, went to the deck and began practicing his spear technique.
A short while later, Lu Shuhua and the others returned from the city, still buzzing with excitement.
"My lord! Did you hear what happened last night?"
"The Dragon King Temple—it burned down! Some wandering hero set it on fire!"
"I heard his name's… Zhang Laizitou!"
"They said he killed all the temple's abbots, who turned out to be impostors from the Fragrant Fire God Sect!"
"Damn," Xu Bin muttered, rubbing his head. "Why does that name sound so familiar?"
Wu Da frowned. "Wasn't there a guy named Laizitou in Yanbian Village?"
Zhuang Yi chuckled. "Could he be some hidden master in disguise?"
"Don't talk nonsense," someone snapped. "No way."
In truth, aside from Zhao Qiao, who had stayed in Liangzhou for logistics, none of them were from Yanbian Village. Even if they'd heard of Laizitou, they'd never actually met him.
While the men were joking about the burning temple, Chen Sanshi's eyes shifted slightly.
Two strangers had just boarded the ship—heading straight toward Cao Fan's cabin.
And from their bodies… faint traces of purple incense aura flowed.
Yunxiaozi.
Chen recognized them instantly.
But why were they approaching Cao Fan?
No wonder the incense burner found in Cao's residence hadn't caused any reaction before.
Could the Fragrant Fire God Sect actually be working for the emperor?
Or did they have another backer?
And gathering everyone in the east… what exactly were they planning?