43: Chapter 43 On the Road

It was not yet fully dawn.

Thin mist still hung over the rooftops of the Loose Cultivators Alliance, and the roosters had crowed for the first time.

Senior Bai Jie stood at the entrance of the courtyard.

He was still wearing that same gray robe.

He held a roll of cloth in his hand—when opened, it was an old robe.

Gray.

The same color as the one he was wearing.

"Put it on."

Lu Chen took it.

The robe was very light, the fabric washed thin—but it was folded very neatly.

There were signs of mending at the cuffs.

The stitches were fine.

It was not Senior Bai Jie who had sewn it—it had been sewn many years ago by someone else.

"This belonged to my Senior Brother."

"The second Disciple of Li Xuanyi—Senior Bai Jie's Senior Brother."

"He has been dead for sixty years."

"Before he died, he gave me this robe—saying to leave it for the next person who could complete the Inverted Tower."

"What is special about it?"

"Put it on and you will know."

Lu Chen put on the gray robe.

The fabric pressed against his skin—it was cold.

Then the chill dissipated.

Something inside the robe began to seep into his Meridians.

It was not Spiritual Qi.

It was something very faint, like mint.

It seeped into his Dantian—the Spiritual Qi in his Dantian did not become stronger.

But his perception changed.

He could feel the flow of Spiritual Qi within a radius of ten zhang—in the wind, underground, in Senior Bai Jie's Dantian, and in Qin Wu's Dantian.

"perception robe," Senior Bai Jie said.

"It is not a Magic Treasure."

"It was woven by my Senior Brother using Materials from the Inverted Tower—stones from the first level of the Inverted Tower."

"That kind of stone had soaked in the Wangsi Pass for three hundred years, and it can amplify perception."

"Wearing it—no one can hide within a radius of ten zhang."

"Why give it to me?"

"Because you no longer have fear."

"The greatest weakness of a person without fear—is not being able to sense danger."

Senior Bai Jie looked at Lu Chen.

"Having no fear does not mean there is no danger."

"It just means you won't run when danger comes."

"But whether you run or not is one thing—knowing that danger is coming is another."

Lu Chen tightened the belt of the robe.

"Thank you."

Senior Bai Jie did not respond to the thanks.

He looked at Qin Wu—Qin Wu was carrying a bundle on his back, and that old short blade hung at his waist.

"You.

Come here."

Qin Wu walked over.

Senior Bai Jie pulled a thin booklet from his sleeve.

The cover was torn, and it had been rebound with thread.

"The basic fist technique of the Loose Cultivators Alliance—you have studied it for three months, but only learned one-third."

"The rest is in this booklet."

"Practice it yourself."

Qin Wu took it.

He opened the first page—it was not a fist manual.

It was a few lines of text.

"'Instructor says: Boxing is not about hitting people. It is about hitting your own fear. Once the fear is beaten away—the fist technique is mastered.'"

This was what Senior Bai Jie had said three months ago on the first day Qin Wu learned boxing from him.

Qin Wu had written it down himself.

He did not remember having written it down.

"Your memory is not good," Senior Bai Jie said.

"But your handwriting is still there."

Qin Wu closed the booklet.

He pressed his finger on the cover.

"Instructor—"

"Don't call me Instructor."

"Call me Senior Bai Jie."

"Instructor is how they call me in the Loose Cultivators Alliance—you are about to no longer be a person of the Loose Cultivators Alliance."

"Senior Bai Jie."

Senior Bai Jie did not reply.

He turned and walked into the courtyard.

He walked to under the locust tree—beside that empty chair.

He stopped.

He did not turn back again.

"Go.

It is dawn."

Lu Chen turned around.

He walked out of the courtyard gate.

Qin Wu followed behind.

The two people's footsteps were one after another in the alley.

The alley was very narrow, it was just right for two people to walk—they could not walk fast.

The morning light leaked down from the gaps in the eaves, cutting into strips on the ground.

When they reached the end of the alley, Qin Wu stopped.

He turned and looked back.

Behind the locust tree, Senior Bai Jie was still standing there.

The gray robe was blown up by the wind—it was very light.

Like a dry leaf hanging on the tree.

"Instruc—Senior Bai Jie's thread," Qin Wu said.

Lu Chen looked back.

Senior Bai Jie raised his left hand.

The cuff slid down—that gray thread was still there.

It was not glowing.

It was moving.

Faintly, almost invisible—it was saying goodbye.

"He is not leaving," Lu Chen said.

"What?"

"His thread is still there."

"It has turned gray—it is about to break—but it is still there."

"He gave me the sixth finger bone, gave me his Senior Brother's robe, and gave you the fist manual—he is not leaving."

"He is going to continue waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

"Waiting for the next person who can complete the Inverted Tower."

"Or—waiting for me to return."

Qin Wu did not speak.

The two people walked out of the alley entrance.

The market of the Loose Cultivators Alliance had not yet opened.

The furnace of the blacksmith shop was cold.

The lamps of the inn had already been extinguished.

This town had woken up, but it had not yet come alive.

They walked south.

After passing the boundary marker of the Loose Cultivators Alliance, only wasteland remained on both sides of the road.

Gravel and dry grass.

Occasionally a crooked tree.

The sky was already fully bright, the sun was in the east—shining on the road ahead.

Towards the south, a dirt road twisted and stretched forward.

The end of the road could not be seen—it was blocked by the mist steamed up by the heat waves.

Qin Wu walked for half a shichen before speaking.

"Hehuan Sect—how far?"

"Senior Bai Jie said—south from the Loose Cultivators Alliance, pass through the Thousand Miasma Valley, then cross the Hehuan Ridge."

"At our current speed—half a month."

"Where will we pass on the way?"

"Three towns."

"Two cities."

"And a wasteland—no one lives there."

"The Thousand Miasma Valley that Han Yuan mentioned—"

"That is the final stretch."

"The miasma is very heavy."

"It is the natural barrier of the Hehuan Sect."

"Without a recommendation letter, you cannot enter—there are Restrictions in the miasma."

Qin Wu was silent for a while.

"Your hand."

Lu Chen lowered his head.

His left hand gripped his right wrist—he was testing.

He poured Spiritual Qi into the gray line Meridians, and the sense of touch returned.

He withdrew it, and the sense of touch disappeared.

He poured it in.

He withdrew it.

"What are you doing?"

"Practicing," Lu Chen let go of his hand.

"This switch—each time it switches, it takes half a breath."

"If you need the sense of touch in battle—half a breath is enough for a person to strike three punches."

"So you want to practice until the half breath is gone."

"Practice until I don't need to think."

They continued walking.

The wasteland on both sides of the road slowly turned into low hills.

Waist-high wild grass grew on the dirt slopes, and as the wind blew over—waves of grass turned over one after another.

The leaves of the wild grass brushed against the robe, making a faint rustling sound.

The perception robe was absorbing these sounds.

Not just sounds—the direction of the wind, the chirping of insects in the grass leaves, a wild rabbit digging a hole behind a distant slope—all movements within ten zhang surged into Lu Chen's consciousness.

It was not that he heard more clearly—it was that he heard things he usually could not hear.

There was more than just a wild rabbit behind the slope.

Lu Chen paused his footsteps.

A very short pause—Qin Wu did not notice.

But beside the sound of the wild rabbit digging—there was a heartbeat.

A human heartbeat.

Hidden behind the slope.

Twelve zhang away from them—outside the range of the perception robe.

Lu Chen had just felt it.

A flash.

Then the other party seemed to have sensed that someone was perceiving—the heartbeat disappeared.

It didn't stop.

It was suppressed by some kind of Spell.

"Someone."

Qin Wu's hand gripped the handle of his blade.

"Behind."

"Twelve zhang."

"Behind the dirt slope."

"One."

"Cultivation?"

"I cannot feel his cultivation."

"He has suppressed his aura—but he cannot suppress his heartbeat."

"I felt it just now."

"Coming for us?"

"Don't know."

The two continued walking.

They did not speed up.

They did not look back.

Lu Chen poured Spiritual Qi into the gray line Meridians—the sense of touch opened—the wind brushed against the skin on his face.

Cold.

The wild grass brushed against his wrist.

Itchy.

Then he turned off the sense of touch.

He could not be distracted.

Footsteps.

Behind.

Twelve zhang shrank to ten zhang—it entered the range of the perception robe.

Not one person.

Two people.

The first person had suppressed their heartbeat.

The second person was even lighter—their footsteps on the gravel had almost no sound.

But in the perception robe, the gravel was ringing—every time a step fell, the friction sound between the stones was amplified in the robe.

Nine zhang.

"Two," Lu Chen said.

"One on the back left, one on the back right."

"Flanking."

Qin Wu drew his blade.

The wild grass on both sides of the road was still being blown by the wind.

Waves of grass turned over—but one patch of grass waves turned in the wrong direction.

The wind blew east.

That patch of grass fell to the west.

Someone was moving in the grass.

Lu Chen stopped.

"Come out."

The grass stopped moving.

Then a person stood up from the grass.

Not tall.

Wearing hemp clothes.

His face covered with black cloth—not a killer.

A killer's mask is tight.

His mask was loose, one look and it was clear it was not professional.

"From the Loose Cultivators Alliance?"

The masked person's voice was very young.

Twenty years old at most.

"Asking for directions?" Lu Chen said.

"Asking about someone."

The masked person pulled off the cloth on his face—a young face.

His skin was very dark, his eyes very bright.

He had no weapons in his hands—both hands were empty.

"You came out from the Loose Cultivators Alliance—do you know an old man named Senior Bai Jie?"

Qin Wu's blade sank down half an inch.

"Who are you?"

"My name is Ye Yuan."

"Eighty li north of the Loose Cultivators Alliance—I am from Ye Family Village."

"Three months ago someone entered the village and snatched our ancestral Pill Formula."

"That person carried a black bone—very similar to the things you are carrying."

Lu Chen did not speak.

"Senior Bai Jie told me to wait here."

"He said—'One day someone will come out from the Loose Cultivators Alliance, carrying the same thing.'"

"I waited for three months."

"What do you want?"

"Not me."

"It is my younger sister."

Ye Yuan took a step forward.

His fingers were trembling—not from fear.

It was from urgency.

"When that person snatched the Pill Formula, my younger sister blocked him—the light from the black bone hit her."

"Since then she has not been able to speak."

"Not that she is mute—she just does not speak."

"Her eyes are open, she is awake, but she does not speak."

"Senior Bai Jie said—only the person carrying the black bone can save her."

Lu Chen lowered his head to look at his chest.

Three finger bones.

Black bones.

And what Ye Yuan called "very black light"—the deep golden light in the core of the bone.

Inside Li Xuanyi's finger bones was stored the power of the Love-Refining Furnace.

If Ye Yuan's younger sister was hit by this kind of light—it is possible that a part of her emotions was extracted.

"Where is your younger sister?"

"In the village."

"Eighty li away."

"Not in the direction of the Hehuan Sect."

"I know."

Ye Yuan swallowed his saliva.

The Adam's apple on his dark face rolled.

"I only beg you—take a detour."

"Eighty li."

"Take a look at her."

"If you cannot save her—you can leave."

"If you can save her—Ye Family Village will owe you a life."

Qin Wu looked at Lu Chen.

Lu Chen looked at Ye Yuan's fingers.

Still trembling.

Not faking it—if faking, they wouldn't tremble so irregularly.

"Lead the way."

tianxuan calendar, 19th year of taiping, Spring.

Heading south to Hehuan Sect.

Day one.

Met Ye Yuan on the road—the black bone hurt someone.

Ye Family Village.

Eighty li away.

perception robe perceives a radius of ten zhang—the heartbeat is real.