Chapter 157: Departure

As the night grew late, the banquet finally ended. The two envoys from the Heavenly Fire Tribe did not linger in the Lingxi Tribe. Transforming into two streaks of escape light, they flew northwest one after the other, quickly vanishing at the edge of the grassland.

Inside the main tent, Tuoshan sat alone in the seat of honor. His expression was heavy, and he had not moved for a long time. The table remained uncleared, the cold leftovers still giving off a faint smell of wine.

He slowly exhaled, but his brows remained tightly furrowed. This visit had cost them more than half the tribe's savings from the past few years. The Lingxi Tribe was never wealthy to begin with, and propping it up alone with his Golden Core cultivation was already a struggle. After this ordeal, their coming days would likely be even more strained.

The tent flap was gently lifted, and Graceful took a few tentative steps inside, peeking in as if afraid to disturb him.

Tuoshan looked up. The heavy expression on his face quietly faded, replaced by his usual gentle demeanor.

"Graceful, it's late. Why haven't you gone to bed?"

"Father, those two envoys... have they left?" Graceful took a few steps closer, her voice low. "They said they were investigating people from Ganzhou. Did my rescuing Big Brother Qing You cause trouble for you?"

Tuoshan looked at her eyes, which so closely resembled her mother's, and the words on the tip of his tongue ultimately went unspoken. He stayed silent for a moment before gently shaking his head.

"No. They merely came to warn us that Ganzhou evil cultivators are roaming nearby. Be careful when you go out, and don't come back too late."

Hearing this, Graceful felt a wave of relief.

She nodded vigorously. "Mhm! I understand, Father."

As if a weight had been lifted from her mind, her expression returned to its usual lightheartedness.

Tuoshan watched her leave the tent, the smile slowly fading from his face. He gazed at the receding streak of azure spiritual light, his eyes darkening slightly.

After a moment, he withdrew his gaze and stared at a spot in the night sky, lost in thought. He needed to find a chance to meet that Ganzhou youth named Qing You alone. Some things had to be laid out in the open, or they would remain a hidden danger.

Riding her flight artifact, Graceful flew eagerly through the night toward the dirt hill. With the night breeze brushing her face, she planned out how to briefly mention the two envoys' visit when she saw him, just so he wouldn't worry.

But when she reached the hill and called out a few times, she heard only the wind in her ears. No one answered. The night breeze swept emptily across the grass, carrying a chill that made the hem of her clothes flutter.

She searched the area again but still didn't see Jiuyou. The entire hill was completely deserted. Standing under the moonlight, the artifact in her hand swayed slightly. There were no signs of a struggle and no traces of blood—it was as if he had never been there.

Her heart clenched, but then she wondered, 'Could he have already gone back after I left?' Thinking this, she urged her artifact forward, heading back toward the tribe at a much faster speed than when she arrived.

When she landed in front of his secluded tent, she steadied her nerves and pulled open the flap.

It was completely empty.

There was no meditating figure, no signs of anything being rummaged through, and even the animal skin mattress was folded neatly.

She stood in the doorway, stunned for a moment, before calling out again. Her voice echoed in the empty tent, but no one answered. In that moment, it felt as if something in her heart had suddenly given way.

She stepped inside and looked around. Her steps halted by the bed, her gaze falling on a crack near the foot of it. The mark looked fresh, as if it had been disturbed recently, rather than something that had always been there.

She crouched down and, following the crack, pushed aside the covering stone slab. A narrow flight of stairs was revealed beneath it, leading down to a small space.

A faint medicinal aroma drifted up from below, mixed with the smell of dirt and stone dust.

Graceful froze for a second before a cluster of azure fire lit up in her hand. She walked slowly down the stairs. The flight wasn't long, only six or seven steps in total. The secret room wasn't large either, but its walls were smooth and the floor was clean, clearly showing that someone had meticulously carved it out.

She walked to the center, where a square block of stone sat. Its surface was smooth, and two porcelain bottles rested quietly on top, placed side by side. A note was stuck to each bottle. The handwriting was clean and sharp, the strokes simple and carrying a hint of casualness.

She picked up the first porcelain bottle, which had "Foundation-Establishing Pills" written on it. Then she picked up the second one, which read "Dustfall Pills".

Moonlight leaked in through a gap from outside the tent, shining on the porcelain bottles in her hands. They felt slightly cool and smooth to the touch.

She stood in the center of the secret room, staring blankly at the two bottles, remaining motionless for a long time. That hollow feeling in her heart suddenly felt as though it had been plugged up by something—caught halfway, stifling her chest in a way she couldn't quite describe.

The wind blew down from the top of the stairs, brushing past the tips of her hair, as if someone had only just left.

...

Over ten days later, two streaks of escape light left another small tribe, tearing through the air as they hurried toward their next destination.

As the two flew, they conversed using their divine sense, taking stock of what they had gained from this round of visits. Suddenly, a black-robed figure silently blocked their path in the empty air ahead. Long hair blew in the wind, and a black hood obscured most of the person's face, making their features impossible to see.

The two abruptly halted their escape lights. The leading man's gaze narrowed. Seeing that the other party only had a Late-Stage Foundation Establishment cultivation, he spoke in a cold voice.

"Junior, who are you? Why are you blocking our path? Are you looking to die?"

The female cultivator beside him shot the figure a sidelong glance, her eyes filled with disdain. She couldn't even be bothered to speak.

The black-robed figure did not answer.

The man frowned. Just as he was about to raise a hand to teach the stranger a lesson, the black-robed figure suddenly lifted a hand of his own. In the next instant, a dense buzzing sound exploded from all directions. Cloud after cloud of purple mist surged out from behind him, converging above his head into a massive purple vortex that swirled and churned, emitting a wing-flapping drone that made their scalps go numb.

The disdain and confusion on their faces rapidly morphed into sheer horror the moment they got a clear look at the purple vortex.

That wasn't mist at all. It was an insect tide made of countless thumb-sized purple spirit insects, densely packed and blotting out the sky. Every single insect radiated an eerie spiritual light, and gathered together, they formed a suffocating pressure that far exceeded that of a Golden Core Cultivator.

"This is—!"

The man cried out in shock, turning around to put some distance between them.

But he was already too late.

The insect tide acted like a single living creature, instantly washing over the two of them and swallowing them whole. Piercing bursts of purple light flashed and intertwined. In just a few breaths, the two figures plummeted straight down from the sky. One person's soul was devoured entirely, leaving only two empty shells to crash into the wild grass below.

The other dying soul was dragged out of its corpse by an invisible force. With a whoosh, it was yanked into the void, vanishing into a quietly emerging bronze door. Two storage pouches were also wrapped up by the spirit insects and steadily delivered back into the black-robed figure's hands.

Jiuyou cast a cold glance at the falling corpses below. Without a trace of emotion, he put away the Spirit Insect Pouch and casually fastened the two storage pouches to his waist, not giving them a second look.

He turned around, transforming into a streak of spectral light, and flew off into the distance. The wind blew in from the edge of the grassland, making the hood on his back flutter slightly as he quickly vanished into the night.