The council hall of Beiman Mountain was nestled deep within the mountain.
Surrounded by hard stone walls, it was connected to the outside world only by a narrow stone staircase.
He was now disguised as 'Iron Ox,' his face smeared with wood ash to mimic the scar that ran from Iron Ox's brow bone to his jaw, even his voice was hoarse and rough.
Upon reaching the entrance of the council hall, he saw two bandits leaning against the stone door, one of them gnawing on half a hard, dry wheat cake, crumbs scattered on the ground.
Qing Chen took a deep breath, calming himself.
He knew he had to remain calm at this moment; any hint of panic could expose his identity.
"Brothers, the shift work must be tiring, right?"
Qing Chen steeled himself and walked over, deliberately stomping heavily, mimicking Iron Ox's shrewish manner, reaching out to pat the bearded man's shoulder.
But just as he raised his hand halfway, the bearded man abruptly stopped talking, holding the wheat cake in mid-air, squinting at him:
"Fifth Chief? What happened to your face? You weren't this dirty yesterday."
Qingchen's heart skipped a beat.
He quickly withdrew his hand, cursing, "Damn it! The outhouse in the back mountain collapsed, splashing mud all over me! What? You dare to pick a fight with me?"
The tall, thin man took half a step forward, his hand still rubbing against the hilt of his knife: "Not picking a fight, Fifth Chief. The Big Chief just told you this morning to guard the back mountain and keep an eye on Young Master Zhao, why are you running to the front mountain now?"
His eyes swept over Qingchen's waist; Tie Niu always carried a short axe, but Qingchen only had a ring-pommel sword hanging from his belt.
Qingchen's back was soaked with sweat.
He suddenly raised his voice, deliberately adopting Tie Niu's volatile temper:
"Guard my ass! The vanguard is practically storming the mountain gate, and Young Master Zhao is cowering in his hut like a turtle. What could possibly go wrong?
I'm here to get the deployment map, to go to the front mountain and chop off a few heads to establish my authority! If you two keep babbling, believe me, I'll slap you both across the face!"
The bearded man frowned, about to speak, when the tall, thin man pulled him back, gesturing towards the council hall:
"Fifth Chief, the deployment map is on the table, but..."
Before he could finish, Qing Chen suddenly moved.
Qing Chen had already clenched his fist, gathering all the internal energy of his Jade Forging Technique at the base of his palm.
His left hand shot out like lightning, the base of his palm pressing against the tall, thin man's temple.
He didn't dare use his full strength, afraid of causing external injury, only channeling his internal energy into the man's skull.
The tall, thin man's eyes widened suddenly, his mouth gaped open, but no sound came out. His body went limp like a noodle, sliding down the stone doorway.
The bearded man, just as he reacted and reached for his knife, was kicked in the knee by Qingchen's right foot!
With a soft "crack," the bearded man knelt on one knee. Before he could even cry out in pain, Qingchen's right palm struck him in the chest.
The instant the internal energy penetrated, the bearded man's face turned deathly pale, and a mouthful of black blood gushed from his mouth, but Qingchen covered it with his hand, preventing a single drop from spilling out.
In less than two breaths, both bandits were dead.
Qingchen, panting heavily, dragged the two men to either side of the stone doorway and returned them to their original positions:
The bearded man stuffed the wheat cake back into his hand, his mouth still munching on it;
The tall, thin man's hand remained on the knife hilt, his head tilted to one side, looking as if he were dozing.
He then pulled out a rag and wiped the black blood from the corner of the tall, thin man's mouth.
He breathed a sigh of relief; thankfully, he hadn't sustained any obvious injuries, and no one would notice for a while.
Pushing open the door, the council hall was larger than he had expected. In the center stood a blackened wooden table, on which sat a half-empty jug of sorghum liquor.
Scattered nearby were several crumpled pieces of paper, bearing crookedly drawn topographical maps—the sentry posts marked by the bandits.
The most striking feature was the "Northern Mang Eagle Map" on the wall, depicting an eagle with outstretched wings and sharp eyes.
He searched carefully and finally found the somewhat peculiar claw.
Compared to the rest, its lines were bolder, and its color slightly different.
Following the method taught by the wandering swordsmen—"three to the left, two to the right, slowly twist"—he pressed the claw with a specific technique.
With a creak, the tiger-skin chair behind the long table suddenly sprang up, revealing a hidden door about two feet square.
The inside was pitch black, as if it hadn't been opened in a long time.
Qingchen didn't rush in. He first went to the doorway and listened. It was quiet outside; the two bandits' postures hadn't given them away.
He bent down and slipped through the hidden door, pushing the chair back into its original position.
Once inside, Qingchen immediately flicked his tinderbox, trying to dispel the darkness of the passage.
Just as he blew on the tinderbox, before he could even see the path clearly, he heard a soft "whoosh," and rows of candles sprang from the stone wall above him, illuminating the passage ahead.
Qingchen was startled; he almost dropped the tinderbox.
This mechanism saved him trouble, but it also meant that there were more traps in this passage than he had anticipated.
The candlelight was dim and yellowish, but he could make out some patterns carved on the stone walls on both sides of the passage.
After entering the passage, Qingchen walked with extreme caution, taking each step carefully.
The wandering swordsman had warned him that this place was riddled with traps, and a single misstep could be fatal.
Sure enough, he soon encountered his first trap.
A sharp stone blade suddenly sprang from the wall, whistling through the air as it aimed straight for his vitals.
Qing Chen was prepared; he dodged.
Using a protrusion in the wall as cover, he easily evaded the blade's attack.
Then, he encountered a second trap.
A volley of poisoned arrows shot silently from the shadows.
Qing Chen dared not confront it head-on; he swiftly swung his longsword.
The blade flashed, deflecting the poisoned arrows one by one.
However, there were simply too many arrows, forcing him to retreat while simultaneously swinging his sword, searching for an opportunity to dodge.
Just then, he felt the ground beneath his feet suddenly loosen, almost causing him to sink.
He quickly regained his footing and discovered that the ground was riddled with tiny holes.
Clearly, it was another trap, and he dared not take another step.
Instead, he lightly tapped the ground with his longsword, cautiously advancing.
However, even with such caution, he almost fell into the trap.
As he reached a corner, he suddenly felt a strong gust of wind rushing towards him from above.
He looked up and saw a huge stone hammer crashing down from the ceiling.
With a deafening roar, it seemed poised to smash him into a pulp.
Qingchen was startled, but he didn't panic.
He swiftly swung his longsword, using the blade's springiness to leap into the air, dodging the hammer's attack.
However, before he could even land, he felt another gust of wind from behind.
He quickly turned and swung his sword, deflecting an iron arrow that shot from the wall.
"Damn it, whoever designed this trap is incredibly ruthless! May they be reincarnated as a bastard with no descendants!"
And so, Qingchen continued forward, deciphering the traps as he went.
Fortunately, Qingchen possessed profound internal strength from his Jade Forging Technique, and his lightness skill and swordsmanship were also quite good; however, a spiked club still managed to rip off a chunk of flesh from his thigh.
For an ordinary third-rate expert entering this place, it would truly be a near-death experience.
After walking another thirty steps, a heavy stone door finally appeared ahead.
Carved on the stone door was a ferocious tiger's head, its eyes inlaid with two black stones, polished to a gleaming shine.
Qingchen gasped for breath, sweat streaming down his face, his hands trembling.
The "item for achieving immortality" that the wandering swordsmen spoke of is in