Once they could speak freely, soft gasps rippled through the crowd. Some couldn’t bear the nauseating scene and the foul stench of corpses, and began retching quietly.
Shen Chunyi patted one person’s back, comforting them kindly:
“Actually, it’s not that disgusting, right? You didn’t feel like vomiting when you couldn’t see earlier. Just pretend you don’t see it now—it’s the same. Come on, take a deep breath.”
After patting for a while, he continued:
“First, find a cave, light a fire, set up formations. With the mass grave here, we should be close to the center of the hunting grounds. We’ll camp nearby.”
Though called the Mass Grave Mountain, it actually only had one large, disorderly burial mound at the summit. Because this grave was quite sizable, the mountain earned its name. Setting aside this mass grave, the rest of the area had mountains, water, and rocks—just a bit heavy with yin energy, but still acceptable.
The group quickly found a cave among the scattered rocks, set up formations, and settled in. Shen Chunyi sat cross-legged on the ground, picked up a small twig and scribbled randomly, then pointed to a few disciples who appeared relatively slender, speaking gently: “How are your skills?”
These disciples, usually overlooked for major tasks due to their insufficient agility, straightened up immediately when called out by the senior brother:
“They’re passable.”
Shen Chunyi smiled: “I might need to trouble you with something here.”
“Senior brother, please speak freely.”
Shen Chunyi said gently: “Everyone should know that among the five sects, the Western Sect, Wansheng Temple, excels at attrition warfare.”
In the early days of the cultivation sects, the western region actually had no sects. Those western areas were sparsely populated, with blowing sand and rolling stones, and even plants were scarce. Thus, the current Western Sect originally belonged to the Southern Sect. Later, due to ideological differences, the Southern Sect withdrew from the world, and Wansheng Temple moved west, leading to the current division.
Located in the desolate western lands, Wansheng Temple’s cultivation methods naturally emphasized ascetic practices. Its disciples practiced grain abstinence, able to go without food or water for many days, like an old monk entering deep meditation.
The grain abstinence method is uncommon in today’s cultivation world, as it isn’t a rapid advancement technique. Moreover, appetite is human nature—cultivation can proceed normally, so why practice by abstaining from food and drink?
In previous Five-Sect Alliance meetings, this sect’s reputation was known. Wansheng Temple excelled at fighting from the shadows. The alliance meetings could last from a few days to half a month, depending on the sect competitions. Those who didn’t bring enough food supplies would eventually have to hunt to survive.
Shen Chunyi said gently: “If attrition warfare drags on and our sect lacks sufficient food reserves, we could easily fall into a disadvantageous position. So, I need a small team to scatter and hunt wild beasts separately, as our reserve food for the coming days. What do you think?”
Tong Che wanted to say that among the five major sects, aside from Wansheng Temple practicing grain abstinence, their own Taiwu Mountain also did. Though not as thoroughly as Wansheng Temple, they weren’t so lacking as to urgently need food reserves. But Shen Chunyi stood in front of him, clearly in a posture that didn’t intend to let him speak. So Tong Che shrugged, unsure what he was up to, and remained silent.
Those disciples responded in unison: “Such an important task—we will spare no effort to complete it.”
Shen Chunyi smiled: “Go ahead, thank you for your hard work. There are many wild beasts in the forest; you can check over there.”
The disciples nodded and scattered to hunt wild beasts. It took Tong Che a long moment to realize something was off. He jolted awake and exclaimed,
“You…”
Shen Chunyi looked up and said, “Look at the sky.”
In the southeastern corner, the spiritual energy from the unique indigo spirit stones of the Taiwu Mountain Sect was slowly dissipating, clearly indicating that one of their own had been eliminated.
Shen Chunyi patted Tong Che’s back and said, “Let’s go.”
Tong Che frowned but followed nonetheless. The Wansheng Temple Sect was most adept at guarding the mountain forests. They could go without food or drink for over half a month, hiding among the trees without leaving a trace of their presence. They would wait for other sects to exhaust themselves in external conflicts, hunting all over the mountains when their supplies ran low, or for unprepared intruders to stumble in. Then, taking advantage of their carelessness, they would strike decisively. Although the Wansheng Temple’s sword techniques and movement skills were not the best in the cultivation world, they still managed to secure a good ranking in every Five-Sect Alliance Conference.
Shen Chunyi had never expected them to hunt any beasts for extra provisions. Instead, he intended to use living people to pinpoint the locations of the Wansheng Temple disciples.
Tong Che followed behind him, displeased. “You’re really too unscrupulous.”
Shen Chunyi replied, “Sacrificing the few to protect the many. It’s more important to figure out where they are early on. Otherwise, if we accidentally stumble into their stronghold and get wiped out, it wouldn’t be worth it.”
Tong Che said, “If the stalemate drags on too long, they’ll relocate their stronghold.”
Shen Chunyi nodded. “True, but they haven’t moved yet, have they?”
Tong Che frowned. “What are you planning to do?”
Shen Chunyi led Tong Che to the spot where the spiritual energy had dissipated earlier. There, towering trees rose from the ground, lush and densely packed, forming a sprawling forest.
The trees here grew abundantly, and it was obvious what nourished them. Shen Chunyi rummaged in his sleeve and pulled out two earplugs.
“Put these on.”
Though Tong Che didn’t understand why, he respected Shen Chunyi’s methods and cautiously accepted them.
“What, are you going to force them out with some kind of piercing sound? They’re not idiots—they’ll plug their ears too.”
Shen Chunyi scoffed. “Different trades have different expertise. If you don’t understand, don’t comment.”
With that, he turned and vanished into the forest. Tong Che waited outside, utterly baffled but obediently staying put. Soon, Tong Che caught a faint whiff of smoke outside—like mint, mixed with the scent of burning wood, slightly pungent.
Not only could he smell it, but he could also see it. The entire forest was filled with a pale green toxic smoke, as if announcing to the world that someone was poisoning the air.
He truly had no idea what Shen Chunyi was thinking. When others released poison gas, it was usually colorless and odorless, undetectable. But Shen Chunyi’s toxic smoke was so glaringly green it was unsettling—anyone with half a mind could see it.
The Wansheng Temple disciples might practice fasting, but they hadn’t fasted their brains along with it. With such conspicuous poison gas, who wouldn’t be prepared?
Yet, surprisingly, they weren’t prepared at all!
Shen Chunyi emerged, fanning himself with a folding fan, and nudged Tong Che.
“Go on, go clean up. They’re all on the ground.”
Tong Che couldn’t hear him clearly and shouted, “What—did—you—say!”
Shen Chunyi yanked out his earplugs and repeated, “Clean up. Everyone inside is on the ground.”
The moment he pulled out the earplugs, a dizzying sensation of the world spinning violently washed over him. Tong Che nearly lost his balance, but fortunately, Shen Chunyi swiftly plugged them back in and patted his shoulder, saying,
“Cleared out, all on the ground.”
The cultivation disciples hidden in the forest, those with weaker willpower, crawled out half-conscious, only to have the spiritual stones in their chests pierced by Shen Chunyi’s flying needles, which had been lying in wait outside. Some managed to crawl a few more steps before Tong Che shattered their spiritual stones with a single sword strike.
Those with unwavering determination, unwilling to emerge, had already been rendered unconscious by Shen Chunyi’s poisonous miasma. They plummeted straight from the trees, blending into the chaotic corpses on the ground, making it momentarily impossible to distinguish who was dead and who was not.
For a moment, spiritual energy dispersed above the forest like fireworks, creating a spectacular sight.
Tong Che sheathed his sword and asked curiously, “Since the disciples of Wansheng Temple knew how to hide, they should have anticipated someone using poison and brought antidote pills. How did you manage to render their antidotes useless?”
Shen Chunyi exaggeratedly mouthed the words:
“Step—farther—away—and—I’ll—tell—you.”
Given that Tong Che had always regarded Shen Chunyi’s methods with a peculiar reverence best observed from a distance, he cautiously walked all the way back to their previous campsite before removing his earplugs and asking,
“How did you do it?”
Shen Chunyi took his earplugs and crushed them, saying, “I told you to read some medical texts too. Practicing sword techniques day in and day out without broadening your knowledge won’t get you far. This is called ‘ear-poison miasma.’ Ever heard of it?”
When ordinary people encounter miasma, their first instinct is to cover their mouths and noses. But Shen Chunyi’s poison was different—its primary target wasn’t the heart or lungs but the ears.
As the saying goes, pathogenic wind in the ears can cause dizziness. Those whose ear passages are injured lose their ability to maintain balance, let alone perform tasks like lurking in trees, which requires exceptional equilibrium. And Shen Chunyi’s poison precisely targeted the ear passages. Because no one’s first reaction upon encountering poisonous gas is to cover their ears.
Tong Che said, “Since you have a way to counter it, there’s even less need to rely on those disciples to scout and figure out the terrain. They came here for training too—what’s the point of knocking them out before the first day is even over? Why didn’t you go lure the snake out of its hole yourself?”
Shen Chunyi replied, “Do you think this stuff is easy to refine? It’s precious. If I had enough, wouldn’t I want to cast a wide net? But if it’s released in an uninhabited area, it would be a wasted opportunity. I’d love to sacrifice myself for the team’s ranking, but without me, could you all even win?”
Several miles away, on the observation platform. The elders sat solemnly before the observation platform, watching the scenes transmitted by the Water Spirit Mirror. Seeing Shen Chunyi force the Wansheng Temple disciples out with poisonous miasma, the crowd erupted in a mix of reactions—some roared with laughter, others gloated, and a few were filled with anxiety. The majority were the former, exclaiming with delight that the most difficult faction to deal with this time had been the first to be eliminated. The latter were fewer, worried that Shen Chunyi’s methods might also harm their own disciples.
There was another attitude among the crowd. After noticing that the sect leader of Taiwu Mountain was sitting together with the elder of Wansheng Temple, they felt the spectacle had become even more intriguing. They all eagerly suppressed their excitement, eager to hear what drama would unfold.
The sect leader of Taiwu Mountain, Dongfang Zhen, and the sect leader of Wansheng Temple, Master Suhui, were actually not far apart in age, both around two hundred years old, with Suhui possibly a few decades older than Dongfang Zhen.
Of course, theoretically speaking, if a cultivator can refine their spiritual energy to its peak, they can enjoy an endless lifespan. So how long one lives ultimately depends on their own abilities.
However, after reaching a certain level of cultivation, cultivators can freely retain their appearance at different ages. For example, some powerful masters enjoy masquerading as childlike elders, like the legendary “Heavenly Mountain Child Elder.” As for someone like Dongfang Zhen, he greatly prefers presenting himself as a middle-aged man in his thirties or forties, with slightly graying but not fully white temples. According to him, this look exudes more authority, perfectly suiting his role as a sect leader.
Naturally, different people have different interpretations of the word “authority.” Take Master Suhui of the Wansheng Temple, for instance. He holds the saying “a beardless man is unreliable” as an absolute truth, firmly believing that only a long, flowing beard can convey the dignity befitting a sect leader. Thus, he often appears as a venerable elder with graying hair and beard, exuding an air of serene wisdom.
Dongfang Zhen wore a brown-gold robe with one half resembling a long gown and the other half resembling leather armor. He stared at the images transmitted by the Water Spirit Mirror, silently taking a sip of tea, treating the surrounding gazes as nothing more than buzzing flies.
Beside him, Master Suhui, the elder of Wansheng Temple, also watched the Water Spirit Mirror for a long while before letting out a snort that made his goatee tremble three times. “Sect Leader Dongfang’s beloved disciple truly possesses remarkable talent.”
Anyone with eyes could tell there was a deeper meaning behind these words, yet Dongfang Zhen shamelessly pretended not to notice and replied modestly,
“You flatter me.”
The onlookers secretly chuckled, thinking to themselves,
“This is going to be interesting!”
Seeing Dongfang Zhen’s unusually calm demeanor, Suhui pressed on with his veiled remarks.
“I wonder, what is the name of Sect Leader Dongfang’s beloved disciple?”
This was truly a pointless question. Who in the cultivation world didn’t know about the disciple from the Taiwu Mountain Sect who caused an uproar two years ago by insisting on studying the forbidden Blood Poison Arts? Moreover, even though Shen Chunyi had strayed eight hundred miles from the orthodox path, Sect Leader Dongfang Zhen showed no intention of stripping him of his title as the head disciple. This had left everyone astonished, with rumors spreading that the entire Taiwu Mountain Sect might be turning to heretical practices. The cultivation world was abuzz with wild speculations.
This knowingly asking the obvious was likely another attempt to mock the disciple’s unorthodox ways, both openly and subtly. Dongfang Zhen simply acted as if the old man genuinely didn’t know and kindly explained, “Shen Chunyi.”
On the Water Spirit Mirror, Shen Chunyi’s cold, sharp eyes and brows seemed to gleam with schadenfreude, as if rejoicing in others’ misfortune. After a moment of silence, Dongfang Zhen almost thought Suhui had given up on his sarcastic remarks. Unexpectedly, the elder continued with his insinuations.
“Which three characters are those?”
Dongfang Zhen’s face was thick as a wall. Watching Shen Chunyi on the Water Spirit Mirror unleash a barrage of poisonous insects, miasma, and all sorts of unorthodox techniques, he remained unruffled and unabashedly fabricated an explanation. The ‘Shen’ as in a stone sinking into the vast Liaohai Sea, ‘Chun’ meaning pure-hearted devotion to the Dao, and ‘Yi’ meaning untainted by a single speck of dust.”
The surroundings seemed to freeze for a moment before quietly erupting into muffled laughter and murmurs. The name was utterly incongruous with reality. Just look at the person’s behavior in the Water Spirit Mirror—what part of it resembled “calm and composed”? And as for the unorthodox methods he employed, how could they possibly be associated with “pure-hearted devotion to the Dao” or “untainted by a single speck of dust”? Even the most absurd names would seem fitting in comparison to this!