265: Chapter 265 Investigating the Details, Giving Favors Casually

Lu Changyuan did not answer that question.

He stopped five paces away—the hem of his gray cloth robe did not stir. Icy blue cold light shone down from the dome—spreading a layer of extremely faint and thin cold-colored light membrane between him and the youth. His gaze swept from the youth's face to the broken sword that was now less than two feet long—lingering for less than half a breath on the widest crack on the blade—before moving away.

"A passerby."

His tone was flat—no different from before he had flicked out the two water arrows. His voice was not loud—it did not stir any echoes under the vast, empty dome of the side hall.

The youth stared at him—the extremely faint cyan glimmer deep within his pupils flickered under the icy blue cold light. His hand gripping the sword had not yet relaxed—but the whiteness on his knuckles had faded by less than half a percent.

Lu Changyuan took a step forward—only one step. Then he crouched down—and picked something up from the ground.

It was a fragment of the sword blade that had embedded itself in the hall wall when the upper half of the broken sword had flown off—it was less than three inches long—the edges were extremely sharp—and the fracture still retained a faint glimmer of cyan Sword Intent. Lu Changyuan turned the fragment between his fingers—glanced at the crack pattern, which was the same color as the scratches on the hall wall—and then casually placed it at the youth's feet.

This action—coupled with his complete lack of intent to get closer—caused the youth's wariness to loosen by less than half an inch.

"What is your name?"

"Yan Guming."

The name came out of the youth's mouth stained with bloody foam. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth—the blood on the back of his hand had already half-dried—the newly wiped blood mixed with the old bloodstains—shimmering with a dark brown reflection under the cold light of the dark copper alloy floor.

"The Yan Family of the Royal Capital—" He choked slightly on the third word—the choking was minimal—but the False Core-level spiritual sense could hear the subtle spasm of his vocal cords at that moment—"a branch Family. My branch—has fallen so far that even our Family emblem has been confiscated by the auction house."

Lu Changyuan did not respond. He crouched where he was—his fingers tapping unconsciously on the dark copper alloy floor beside his feet—his fingertips striking the metal surface with an extremely light and crisp sound.

Yan Guming's lips moved. Then he inserted the broken sword into a gap in the floor in front of him—the sword stood upright—he freed his right hand—and pulled something from his bosom.

It was an extremely thin piece of jade—only half a palm in size—with a minimalist sword-shaped pattern carved on the jade surface. The carvings were extremely shallow—so shallow that they were almost invisible under the icy blue cold light—but the direction of the pattern—vaguely echoed the scratches left by ancient Sword Cultivators testing their swords on the hall walls.

"A rubbing of the Family emblem." Yan Guming flipped the jade piece over—the back was carved with an extremely small medicinal formula—"My younger sister—was born with cold poison in her Meridians. It can be suppressed—but not cured. The main ingredient to suppress the cold poison—Cold Marrow Moss—only grows in environments with extremely dense Spiritual Qi. The ruins—are my only hope."

He tucked the jade piece back into his bosom. His fingers paused on his lapel—then dropped down.

"I used the last of my Spirit Stones to trade for a spot to enter the ruins. I followed a temporarily assembled team—seventeen people—and snuck in through a crack in the Seal. As soon as we entered the side hall, we were surrounded by Puppets."

The corners of his mouth twitched—there was no smile in that expression.

"My teammates abandoned me and ran. Before they ran—one of them looked back at me. That person's face—I remember it."

There was silence in the side hall for nearly three breaths.

Lu Changyuan stood up. He offered no comfort—did not show any expression of sympathy. His gaze moved from Yan Guming's face—and swept across the stone wall on the right side of the side hall. On the stone wall—the layers of sword marks were at least several times denser than on the left side—one sword mark slashed straight from the top of the stone wall to the bottom—more than three inches deep—the cut was so smooth that it looked like an extremely narrow mirror under the cold light.

"Behind the wall on the right side of the side hall is the Gate of Life." He rolled up the sleeve of his gray cloth robe by one fold—"Go out from there—follow the array path—and you can reach the main hall. There is a Spiritual Plant growth area on the perimeter of the main hall. Whether you can get in alive—depends on your own ability."

Then he pulled a small cloth bag from his Storage Pouch.

The material of the cloth bag was coarse cotton produced by the Blue Moon Island weaving workshop—no Array Patterns—no hem—it was the same grade of material as the gray cloth robes worn by ordinary Loose Cultivators. The knot of the cloth bag was tied very casually—it could be undone with a single pull of the fingers.

He threw the cloth bag at Yan Guming's feet.

The sound of the cloth bag landing was extremely light—it bounced once on the dark copper alloy floor—and stopped less than three inches in front of Yan Guming's knees.

"Meeting is fate." Lu Changyuan turned around—the hem of his gray cloth robe turned less than half a circle in the air—"Get out alive—think of a way yourself."

He walked toward the depths of the side hall. His pace was not fast—every step he took on the dark copper alloy floor was even in force—he did not look back.

Yan Guming was stunned on the spot.

He looked at the cloth bag—but did not reach out to take it immediately. His gaze moved from the cloth bag to Lu Changyuan's back—then back to the cloth bag. He waited for a few breaths—confirmed that the person had really left—the sound of footsteps gradually disappeared in the depths of the side hall—and only then did he reach out with trembling hands—and pulled the knot of the cloth bag.

The knot came undone.

The things inside the cloth bag rolled out.

The first item—a Medicinal Pill. The fragrance of the pill was so rich that under the icy blue cold light, one could see extremely faint, milky white Spiritual mist slowly rising from the surface of the pill—the mist dispersed less than half a foot above the Medicinal Pill—the shape of the dispersion looked like a tiny, blooming flower. A High-Grade Rejuvenation Pill. There were three concentric dark red pill patterns on the surface of the pill—the thickness of each pattern was so uniform that the naked eye could hardly see any deviation. A Rejuvenation Pill of this grade—was auctioned by the piece in the auction houses of the Outer Sea markets—the starting price was enough for an ordinary Foundation Establishment Cultivator to eat for three years.

The second item—a Formation Plate. The density of the Array Patterns carved on the plate surface was at least Golden Core level—the Array Patterns radiated outward from the center of the plate—the arc of every line had been calculated with extremely high precision—the outermost circle of the plate was embedded with twelve tiny fragments of Spirit Stones—the spacing of the fragments was completely uniform. A Protective Formation Plate. Once activated, it could form a layer of Golden Core-level defensive light wall around the body—the duration depended on the amount of Spiritual power injected by the user—but it could at least withstand one blow from a Golden Core Early Stage Cultivator. A Formation Plate of this level—was a fourth-tier item in the internal treasury of the Zhenhai Fortress military—each plate was worth at least 1,500 military merit points.

The third item—a small bag of Spirit Stones. The bag was only the size of a palm—but when the knot at the mouth of the bag was pulled open—Spirit Stones slid out from the mouth. Mid-Grade Spirit Stones—at least dozens of them—shimmering with an extremely faint and soft milky white spiritual light under the icy blue cold light—the spiritual light illuminated a circle of extremely faint white halo on the dark copper alloy floor less than a foot in front of Yan Guming's knees.

Yan Guming's pupils contracted to the extreme in less than half a breath.

His breathing stopped.

The three items—a High-Grade Rejuvenation Pill, a Golden Core-level Protective Formation Plate, and dozens of Mid-Grade Spirit Stones—any one of them, if taken out, would be enough for an ordinary Foundation Establishment Early Stage Loose Cultivator to trade for a whole year's worth of cultivation resources in the Outer Sea markets. The three combined—were enough to buy his entire fallen Family and still have leftovers. That branch of the Yan Family, which had even had its Family emblem confiscated by the auction house—all their assets combined—were not worth even one pill pattern on this High-Grade Rejuvenation Pill.

And that person—when he threw down this bag of things—his tone was no different from throwing away an ordinary stone.

Yan Guming turned his head abruptly. His neck made an extremely faint sound of bone friction as it turned—his cervical vertebrae had been suddenly twisted after a long time of keeping his head down—but his eyes were already looking in the direction where Lu Changyuan had disappeared.

In the depths of the side hall—there were only the shadows of layers of sword marks cast on the stone wall by the icy blue cold light.

His lips trembled. His lips moved at least three times—and then—

"Senior—"

The two words were squeezed out from the depths of his throat—the voice was nearly a full octave higher than when he had said "Who are you" before—his vocal cords tightened uncontrollably in extreme shock—the trailing sound echoed at least twice under the vast dome of the side hall—and was then absorbed by the scratches left by those ancient Sword Cultivators testing their swords on the hall walls.