Chapter Fifty-Seven: Variables

These words were chillingly cold and ruthless, their indifference so pronounced that even Huang Hao, a man steeped in villainy for years, was taken aback. Not only were the so-called Seven Sons of Southern Miao astonished, but even the exquisite lady on the flying carriage, veiled and regal, furrowed her brows slightly, turning her gaze toward them.

As for the girl in green, she could not restrain herself from stamping her feet repeatedly, her round face flushing a deep purple-red.

“You brat, is that your true thought? What a merciless heart!” Huang Hao, recovering from his shock, clapped his hands and laughed. “Not to boast, but if your words are sincere, you’re born to be a rogue of the demonic path! You belong with us: feasting on meat and wine, robbing and killing without remorse! How about this—give me five hundred talisman coins as tribute, and I’ll introduce you to the Patriarch. Then the Seven Sons of Southern Miao will become Eight, and together we’ll share women and brotherhood. What do you say?”

Huang Hao was not joking; he truly entertained the idea. After years of pillaging, he’d seen everything. The young heroes, stirred by beauty, whose blood rushed and courage soared, only to throw themselves to their deaths—too many to count on fingers and toes. None met a good end.

Yet one as discerning as this was rare, prompting Huang Hao to inwardly praise him as a remarkable person.

Upon hearing their leader’s invitation, the other Seven Sons clamored, laughing wickedly and releasing ghostly black flames that billowed and smoked, creating a scene of utter chaos.

At that moment, dozens of cultivators flew in from all directions. Seeing the scene, they inwardly cursed their luck, not daring to interfere. This path led to Floating Jade Marsh, their destination for the ceremonial gathering, but none expected to encounter the bandits of Southern Miao Peak.

The Patriarch of Southern Miao Peak possessed a third-tier Foundation Establishment cultivation, a notorious outlaw wielding the “Fivefold Rising Sun Banner,” whose hands had ended countless cultivators. His infamy was unparalleled.

Moreover, after repeatedly escaping death at the hands of high-level Purple Palace experts, his demonic reputation grew, forcing several small sects in Dan Sui Kingdom to submit and become mere echoing insects.

“The Lord of Huaiwu Cave is an alchemist at the Cave Profound Realm! How dare the old monster of Southern Miao act so recklessly—is he courting death?!” A younger cultivator protested, but his companion quickly covered his mouth.

“It’s because the Lord of Huaiwu Cave has arrived. The old monster of Southern Miao knows his days are numbered, so he’s taking a desperate gamble, trying to seize one last fortune!” someone sneered quietly. “Since the Lord has chosen Floating Jade Lake as his venue, intending to rebuild the Golden Valley Market, he’ll surely sweep the area clean—razing temples and mountains, slaughtering all demonic cultivators and monsters nearby!”

The young cultivator was stunned.

“That’s the only way to ensure the Golden Valley Market remains tranquil, and to remind the southern domain’s cultivators of the Lord’s power!” the speaker continued. “But with that, what chance does the old monster of Southern Miao have? He can only flee for his life. This looting spree is just a last, desperate act for survival!”

“…”

The young cultivator grew despondent. “So our luck is truly rotten, to stumble upon these ravenous jackals? If we’d taken another path, maybe we wouldn’t have lost our talisman coins… Heaven help me, I haven’t even set foot in the Golden Valley Market, and my fortune is already gone—what sense is there in that?”

This time, no one replied. Hearing voices, several Southern Miao Peak cultivators cursed and swooped over, demanding talisman coins as ransom.

Faced with overwhelming force, the gathered cultivators dared not resist, lining up to pay the ransom while suffering humiliations.

On the other side, seeing no response from the flying vessel for so long, Huang Hao grew impatient, abandoning his intent to recruit.

“You brat, since you won’t answer, you must look down on the bandit’s trade!” He swung his ornate axe and shouted, “I don’t blame you for your shallow vision. Get out here, pay your ransom, and begone—don’t be an eyesore!”

“Talisman coins?” A calm voice sounded.

Huang Hao focused his gaze. From the flying vessel, a tall man pushed open the cabin door, his tone placid and without emotion.

“How much must I pay,” he asked, “to buy my life here?”

“You…” Huang Hao felt an inexplicable surge of annoyance and disgust.

Due to a mishap in cultivating poisonous arts, he had nearly lost his life; though the old monster of Southern Miao saved him by chance, his face was ruined, uglier than before—pitted with pus-filled sores, yellow and brown, some as large as turtle eggs, others the size of fish roe. With sunken eyes and a hideous visage, he could not bear the sight of handsome men; whenever he met one, he had to torture and kill them to vent his bitterness.

Now, he saw that the man emerging from the vessel, though masked with bamboo and wood, exposing only his eyes, was evidently noble and elegant—like a crane among chickens, extraordinary in bearing.

Huang Hao’s expression darkened. Seeing the veiled lady also glance over, his murderous intent flared hotter, unable to be concealed.

“Very well, very well. You seem amiable, so I’ll give you a big discount,” he sneered. Two cultivators at the sixth layer of Qi Refining understood, advancing with secret smiles to flank Chen Heng.

“Strike!” As they drew near, both shouted, drawing talisman weapons to strike at Chen Heng’s arms.

On the left was a beast-headed blade, dark red and erupting with blinding blood light and a foul stench, threatening to muddle the mind. On the right was a yellow-skinned gourd, palm-sized but crushingly heavy, its whistle compressing the air so that even metal would be shattered by its blow.

Before the talisman weapons could strike, their wielders already wore confident smiles. Both were sixth-layer Qi Refiners, their breath deep, and their ambush so sudden that even eighth or ninth-layer cultivators might fall prey, unless Huang Hao insisted on killing personally. They believed this would suffice to reduce their target to a pulp.

But suddenly, Chen Heng flexed his arms, effortlessly deflecting the weapons.

The two cultivators’ smiles faded, and Chen Heng’s face showed a hint of mockery. Now at the fifth layer of the Profound Realm with his Supreme Jade Body, even mid-grade talisman weapons could barely harm him, let alone these inferior tools.

To attack him at this range was to court death.

Within the span of a breath, he lunged, grabbing both men by the throat as easily as snatching chicks, his fingers tightening until their heads were severed, and they died instantly!

“You!” Huang Hao was terrified. He never expected two sixth-layer Qi Refiners to die so easily, as if crushed like insects.

This was no feeble youth, but a murderously powerful mountain demon, exuding a chilling aura!

He was experienced in countless battles. Seeing the situation turn hopeless, he instantly released a brownish smoke, wrapping himself to flee without hesitation.

Chen Heng sneered, throwing the Thunderfire Pearl, its energy fully unleashed. With a deafening roar, it struck Huang Hao, who screamed and spat blood, falling from the clouds, his fate unknown.

In a flash, Chen Heng had eliminated two sixth-layer cultivators and severely wounded Huang Hao.

The remaining Southern Miao Peak bandits were aghast.

In so brief a time, the Seven Sons had become Five; if Huang Hao died, only Four!

Four exchanged glances and simultaneously unleashed blazing golden flames, setting the clouds alight with dazzling heat.

Chen Heng retrieved his flying vessel into a storage pouch, needing no talisman defense. He focused his breath and shouted skyward like rolling thunder.

Boom! A wild surge of energy swept the area, scattering clouds and causing excruciating pain in the ears. The golden flames lasted only a moment before dispersing; the four bandits felt dizzy and oppressed, their breath reversing painfully through their meridians.

Barely regaining their footing, another wave of force pressed upon them, white and overwhelming.

“We’re finished…” Despair settled on their faces.

Chen Heng roared thrice more, and the four plummeted from the clouds in disarray.

“Spare me…” A yellow-faced cultivator coughed blood, struggling to rise, but before he could draw breath, Chen Heng landed before him. Terror barely appeared on his face before Chen Heng slapped him, driving his head into his chest—a gruesome sight.

Chen Heng repeated the gesture on another, killing both with ease.

His indifferent ruthlessness terrified the remaining two Southern Miao Peak bandits and the dozen cultivators blocked earlier, who dared not breathe, fearing he might slaughter them next.

“The Supreme Jade Body performs admirably in combat. No wonder even Tong Gaolu’s mere presence unsettled the Rong clan,” Chen Heng mused quietly, brushing his sleeve. “With this physique, few in the Qi Refining realm can rival me. Condensing Divine Talisman Fire will be as easy as reaching into a pocket. Excellent, excellent!”

He strode forward, and the last two bandits panicked.

“Spare us, fellow Daoist! I’m willing to serve as your slave, at your command!” cried one—a dark-skinned man—and the other, a voluptuous and alluring beauty.

The man, less injured, saw Chen Heng approach and fled in terror, crawling for his life.

“Fellow Daoist…” The beautiful woman, her legs broken, forced a pitiful smile. “Please have mercy.”

Chen Heng paused, noticing her left hand hidden in her sleeve, obviously concealing a talisman. He smiled faintly, raising a brow.

The woman, seeing him pause, felt hope of survival. She was startled and delighted, noting his tall stature and, despite the bamboo mask, the clear, dark eyes like snow on mountains and wind under moonlight.

In a daze, she thought, “Perhaps following him wouldn’t be so bad?” As Chen Heng drew near, she subconsciously loosened her grip on the talisman.

As they passed each other, she collapsed, her head twisted at a strange angle, dying with an incredulous expression.

Chen Heng released his fingers, glanced at the fleeing man, and transformed into light to pursue him.

Within half a stick of incense, he returned, a fresh bloodstain on his robe.

After collecting all the bandits’ storage pouches, he looked toward where Huang Hao had fallen.

On a small hill, the veiled lady wielded a delicate treasure mirror, revealing a golden maze that trapped Huang Hao. No matter how he struggled, he remained confined within ten paces like a furious, trapped beast.

As Chen Heng approached, she withdrew the maze and said coolly:

“This junior brother seems particularly bloodthirsty. I spared his life for you to finish him yourself—what do you think?”

“It’s not bloodlust, merely poverty; occasionally I rob the rich to aid the poor, a kind of demon-slaying,” Chen Heng replied, smiling as a massive hand of vital force emerged from his crown, crossing dozens of yards in an instant to seize Huang Hao.

Boom!

Just freed from the maze, Huang Hao couldn’t even catch his breath before a giant hand struck from above. He quickly formed a seal, summoning a blood-red protective aura.

But with a squeeze, the aura shattered, and Huang Hao was flung through the air, bleeding from nose and mouth.

“It seems today all seven of us will perish here. I was wrong, my vision failed me…” Huang Hao, his clothes torn, rose and surveyed his fallen comrades with bitter despair, asking Chen Heng, “At the brink of death, I have one last question. You seemed uninterested in meddling before—it was only when I threatened you that you struck. If I’d let you go, would you still have acted?”

“Who knows?” replied Chen Heng, calmly producing the Thunderfire Pearl and tossing it skyward, releasing a cacophony of thunderous blasts.

Thunder and fire mingled, and after half a moment, Huang Hao’s defenses were exhausted, his vital force nearly spent.

His eyes flashed with ferocity as he drew a dragon-toothed warship—a mid-grade talisman—from his pouch and hurled it at Chen Heng.

“Self-destruction?”

Sensing the chaotic energy within the talisman, Chen Heng was familiar with the tactic. He blurred into light, retreating dozens of yards.

The veiled lady likewise floated back, landing nearby.

The next instant, a torrent of flames exploded, leveling the hilltop, its shockwave rippling outward. Even Chen Heng had to retreat further to avoid it.

The blast lasted over ten breaths before subsiding, and when the light faded, Huang Hao was gone.

“Decisive, but still unable to escape death,” Chen Heng said coldly, removing his shattered bamboo mask and tossing it aside.

Nearby, the lady’s veil was swept away, revealing a radiant face, dazzling as a celestial maiden.

“You…”

Seeing Chen Heng discard his mask, she was curious. She had never seen such a man; in terms of appearance, he was her equal. This was… intriguing.

Chen Heng glanced at her, then pointed to draw a drop of Huang Hao’s blood.

At this moment, the cultivators heading to Floating Jade Lake stirred in excitement.

They had been stunned by the talisman’s self-destruction, but as the flames faded, the man and woman standing side by side were as striking as morning sunlight on snow, like ancient immortals atop Misty Mountain. Instinctively, they wanted to applaud.

“You’re taking his blood to perform a curse ritual?” the lady asked, watching Chen Heng produce a scroll depicting a faceless woman. Upon dropping the blood, Huang Hao’s features slowly emerged, matching the attire on the scroll in an eerie fashion.

“This talisman is rather crude; of its seventeen restrictions, four are incomplete. It can only curse Qi Refiners, not break a Foundation Establishment cultivator’s protective energy,” she remarked, shaking her head.

Chen Heng gave no reply.

This Azure Maiden scroll, acquired from Tong Gaolu, required only a drop of the target’s blood for their visage to appear. After three quarters of an hour, once the face was fully portrayed, the victim would die. However, it was slow and inconvenient, unsuitable for direct combat, so Chen Heng seldom used it.

“Why did you not spare that woman earlier? She seemed quite attractive,” the lady pressed.

Chen Heng remained silent, prompting her to ask, “You—”

“Is this how you always chatter, senior sister?” Chen Heng finally faced her, tone indifferent. “I need to perform a ritual. Please be quiet.”

She stared at him, incredulous, until his gaze remained calm as still water, leaving her amused and annoyed. She moved away a few steps.

At that moment, the chubby girl in green hopped over, glancing between her mistress and Chen Heng, head tilted in thought.

After half a cup of tea’s time, as Huang Hao’s face neared completion on the Azure Maiden scroll, a sudden, piercing scream echoed from the horizon—so desperate it made one’s hair stand on end.

Chen Heng looked up, his expression shifting.

He and the lady exchanged glances, reading shock in each other’s eyes.

“What is that?”