263: Chapter 263 Heavenly Oath Binds Action, Dividing the Way

Silence reigned in the Trapping Array for nearly ten breaths.

Shopkeeper Qian was the first to move. He extended his right hand from the sleeve of his tattered dharma robe—rubbing his fingers against his body to wipe away the blood and stone dust from his palm—before biting his fingertip.

Under the ice-blue cold light of the Spirit Stone, the bead of blood on his fingertip appeared a deep, dark crimson. With trembling fingers, he used his essence blood to write in the air. Stroke by stroke, as each character was completed, the essence blood at the end of the strokes spontaneously ignited in the air, burning into an extremely faint and thin dark golden brand. The brand hung in the air before being sucked away by something invisible, silently branding itself into the fluctuation of spiritual power between him and Lu Changyuan.

The Heavenly Dao Oath was established.

The terms of the oath: Fifty percent of all of Shopkeeper Qian's gains within the ruins would belong to Lu Changyuan. In return, Lu Changyuan would provide information on the entry and exit routes of the Formation and guarantee the safety of his team within the ruins.

There was no paper, no seal, only the spiritual power mark left behind after the essence blood burned in the air. This mark was branded into Shopkeeper Qian's spiritual power fluctuation. From this breath on, every time the spiritual power flowing through his Meridians circled his Dantian, it would pass through that mark. The Heavenly Dao Oath used the Cultivator's own spiritual power cycle to constrain the Cultivator himself.

The price of breaking it: every circulation of spiritual power would tear at that mark, until the Meridians were shredded by the backlash of the brand.

"Fifty percent." Shopkeeper Qian shoved his bitten fingertip into his mouth, the taste of blood dissolving on the tip of his tongue. "Lord Lu, old Qian has been knocking about the fortress merchant guild for thirty years, and this is the first time I've signed a contract like this."

"A contract in a death-path Trapping Array is worth more than one in a merchant guild hall."

The corners of Shopkeeper Qian's mouth twitched. There was no mirth in that expression, only the stiffness of someone who had been struck in a sensitive spot. He lowered his hand from his mouth and turned to look at those behind him who were still hesitating.

The Gold-Rank Enforcer hired by the Rogue Cultivator Alliance gritted his teeth. The dozen or so Spirit Stones on his heavy sword were still dim—their spiritual power exhausted—and his Peak Foundation Establishment strength was reduced to less than thirty percent under the threat of the combined Sword Qi.

He stared at the sword mark on the light wall, which had already healed by nearly seventy percent, and then glanced at the pair of twin shadow guards behind Lu Changyuan.

Shadow One's right thumb was pressing against the buckle of her sword hilt, her index finger unconsciously rubbing the edge of the buckle—a movement of less than half an inch. It was an action that no longer required thought; the shadow guard's sword could be drawn at any moment, without any need for preparation time.

"Sixty percent." The Gold-Rank Enforcer suddenly spoke, his voice nearly a full octave lower than before. "You said the percentage taken depends on our sincerity. I threatened you just now—"

"That is why you are paying ten percent more than the others." Lu Changyuan's tone remained unchanged. "Sixty percent. Sign, or don't."

The Gold-Rank Enforcer's jaw tightened. The masseter muscles on both sides of his jaw bulged simultaneously, then relaxed one by one. Halfway through the relaxation, he bit his fingertip.

When he wrote his name in the air with essence blood, his wrist was shaking. It was shaking from anger, not fear. As a Peak Foundation Establishment Gold-Rank Enforcer for the Rogue Cultivator Alliance, a single job in the Outer Sea market was enough for an ordinary Foundation Establishment Cultivator to live on for a year, yet here he was, crouched in a death-path Trapping Array, writing an indenture for himself in essence blood.

The final stroke of the essence blood characters burned, and the brand was seared into his spiritual power fluctuation: sixty percent.

With the first and second ones done, the remaining Cultivators in the Trapping Array bit their fingertips one by one.

The percentage split for each person was not exactly the same. Shopkeeper Qian was at fifty percent—as an acquaintance who had signed spiritual contracts before, he received a five percent discount. The Gold-Rank Enforcer from the Rogue Cultivator Alliance was at sixty percent—because he had threatened him earlier. The Loose Cultivators who had been temporarily grouped together ranged from fifty-five to sixty percent, depending on how many breaths they hesitated when Lu Changyuan announced the terms.

The twenty-plus people standing there finished signing in less than half a stick of incense.

The last one—a young Loose Cultivator at the Peak of Qi Refining—stood at the deepest part of the Trapping Array. His body was pressed against the innermost light wall, curled into a tiny ball, crouched beside the corpses of two companions. He hadn't moved an inch from the beginning until now.

When it was his turn, he raised his bitten fingertip and held it in the air before him for nearly three breaths. The essence blood dripped from his fingertip, landing on the dark copper alloy floor, and then he closed his eyes. The characters spontaneously ignited, and the brand was seared into his spiritual power fluctuation. He signed for fifty-five percent—he had hesitated for nearly five breaths when Lu Changyuan announced the terms.

Lu Changyuan pressed the black crystal from his palm onto the light wall of the Trapping Array.

The dark golden radial fine lines on the bottom of the crystal radiated outward the moment they touched the light wall. The fine lines extended into the interior of the light wall, spreading along the spiritual power lines of the Trapping Array wall to both sides, the spread being just wide enough for a narrow passage.

The light wall of the Trapping Array split from the middle. The spiritual light at the edges of the crack melted toward both sides like thin ice being scorched, creating a passage less than two feet wide—just enough for one person to pass through sideways.

Shopkeeper Qian was the first to walk out. His knees buckled slightly as he stepped over the threshold of the Trapping Array—he had been standing in the Trapping Array for nearly a day, and his legs were stiff. After steadying himself, he didn't walk forward immediately, but turned around, watching as the people behind him walked out of the crack one by one.

When the last person came out, the light wall of the Trapping Array sealed up again. The crystal was moved away from the light wall, and the dark golden fine lines retracted from inside the light wall, shrinking back into the bottom of the crystal, returning to a state of constant, faint light.

Lu Changyuan tucked the crystal into the inner pocket of his sleeve, then pulled out the deduction paper again and spread it on the dark copper alloy floor. It was a diagram of twelve branching array routes: three paths framed in cinnabar were the paths of survival, and nine paths marked with charcoal crosses were the dead ends. The route direction for each path of survival was marked with specific orientation offset angles.

"All three paths of survival lead to the main hall." He pointed his finger at the three cinnabar-framed paths. "The first one runs northwest; the terrain along the way is level, making it suitable for a large group to advance. The second one runs directly above; the Spiritual Pressure is higher than the others, and it passes through the intersection of the outer paths of survival. The third one—" His finger stopped at the cinnabar frame on the far right of the paper, "—is independent from start to finish. It does not intersect with any other dead ends and passes through the side hall area."

The Cultivators who had emerged from the Trapping Array gathered around the deduction paper. Shopkeeper Qian crouched at the very front, his fingers tapping on the routes of the three paths of survival. With each tap, he asked a question: What was the density of the ancient Restrictions on the path? Were there any remaining Puppet Formations? How far off the path would trigger a Killing Array? He memorized every answer, then stood up and rolled up the sleeves of his tattered dharma robe.

"I'll take the first path—"

"I will arrange which path you take." Lu Changyuan interrupted him. He refolded the deduction paper, stood up, and turned to Leng Feng. "Leng Feng, you take them on the first path. Monitor the edge of the safe zone; no one is allowed to deviate from the path of survival by more than half a foot. If they pick Spiritual Plants along the way, it must be within the safe zone."

Leng Feng lowered his hand from the handle of the observation telescope. "Within half a foot."

"Within half a foot. If they deviate—" Lu Changyuan looked into the eyes of Shopkeeper Qian and the Gold-Rank Enforcer, "—the ones who die won't be my people."

Shopkeeper Qian and the Gold-Rank Enforcer nodded simultaneously. The Gold-Rank Enforcer's gaze—the sixty percent cut weighed heavily on his heart—but the sword mark that had sealed up in the Trapping Array was still fresh in his eyes. He didn't dare say another word.

"Shadow One, Shadow Two, follow me on the third path." Lu Changyuan tilted his chin toward the entrance of the third path of survival. "We pass through the side hall, then to the main hall. That path is the most unique; it is independent from start to finish. Elder Mo judged that there might be traces left by an ancient Sword Cultivator along the way."

Leng Feng paused for less than half a breath. "My Lord, are you entering the side hall alone?"

"Three people. That is enough." Lu Changyuan pressed the inner pocket of his sleeve tightly. The crystal pulsed in his palm—stable, composed—its frequency completely synchronized with the constant light waves of the ice-blue cold light Spirit Stones on the hall dome.

Leng Feng did not ask any more questions. He unbuckled the narrow-bladed straight sword from his waist, the tip hanging less than three inches off the ground, and gestured for Shopkeeper Qian to "go." Shopkeeper Qian and his party followed behind him, dragging their tattered dharma robes and bodies exhausted of spiritual power, and walked into the entrance of the first path of survival.

Lu Changyuan led Shadow One and Shadow Two toward the third path of survival.

The width of the passage entrance was exactly the same as the other eleven, but after walking less than ten steps, traces of an ancient Sword Cultivator testing their sword began to appear on the stone walls on both sides of the passage. The depth of each Sword Qi scratch varied from half an inch to several inches, and even the most recent ones were at least several thousand years old. The edges of the scratches were as smooth as metal that had been rapidly cooled after being scorched by high heat. Ancient Sword Intent from thousands of years ago remained deep within the scratches, occasionally emitting an extremely faint and thin cyan glimmer under the ice-blue cold light of the Spirit Stones. The light would flash, go out, then flash again, its frequency faintly resonating with the spiritual power pulse of something deep within the passage.

Shadow One drew her short sword. Her left thumb pushed open the scabbard buckle—her movements were nearly half as light as usual. In this space where millennia-old Sword Intent remained, every step the shadow guard took was nearly five percent lighter than it would have been outside.

Shadow Two followed closely behind her, at a distance of less than three feet. The two had adjusted their breathing to the same frequency. In the narrow passage, in the pre-activation state of their combined attack Formation, there was no need for words, no need for eye contact—synchronized breathing was enough.

At the end of the passage, there was a side hall.

The hall doors were half-open. A very faint light from the cold light Spirit Stones shone through the gap—ice-blue, with a color temperature less than half a notch off from the light in the main hall. Most of the ancient Array Patterns on the hall doors had been worn smooth by time, leaving only a few deeper patterns on the lintel that were still slowly exhaling an extremely weak spiritual light. The color of the spiritual light was a dark cyan—the same color as the glimmer occasionally emitted by the Sword Intent remaining on the stone walls.

From inside the hall, there came a dull thud of a sword blade striking metal.

Then, a very low, suppressed gasp.

Shadow One's sword tip lifted less than half an inch, aiming at the gap in the hall doors. Shadow Two simultaneously adjusted her stance, shifting her center of gravity to her left foot by five percent—the starting posture for a combined attack.

Lu Changyuan stopped at the entrance of the hall. He pressed his hand on the inner pocket of his sleeve—the black crystal pulsed in his palm, stable, with no abnormal resonance. Then, he fished out a plain grey cloth dharma robe from his Storage Pouch, slipped it over his battle armor, and rolled up the cuffs, ensuring the entire robe showed no markings belonging to Blue Moon Island or the Zhenhai Fortress.

"You two, stay in the shadows outside the hall doors. Without my command, do not reveal yourselves."

Shadow One and Shadow Two stepped back half a step simultaneously, retreating into the shadows cast by the stone walls on either side of the hall doors. Under the ice-blue cold light, the dark grey soft armor and waterproof cloaks made them even harder to see while standing in the shadows than in the light.

Lu Changyuan pushed open the hall doors. The stone doors emitted an extremely low and deep grinding sound after thousands of years of silence—the spiritual patterns on the door hinges had long since worn away, and stone ground directly against stone. The gap widened—inside the side hall, two ancient Formation Puppets at the Early Stage of Foundation Establishment were besieging a person. The array core in the chests of the Puppets was half-decayed—the spiritual light they emitted flickered on and off. Each time it brightened, a bronze arm would strike down, hitting the dark copper alloy floor with a dull, muffled echo.

The person being besieged held a broken sword in their hand. Cracks on the sword blade spread from the hilt guard up to the tip—it could shatter completely at any moment. But every time the sword was swung, those remnants of Sword Intent on the hall walls would flash a faint cyan glimmer across the blade of the broken sword, before vanishing.

Lu Changyuan stood inside the hall door and stopped. The ice-blue cold light cast his shadow onto the floor, the shadow stretching all the way to the feet of the two Puppets.

The person being besieged looked up.