32: Chapter 32 The Scar at the Village Entrance

As Zhao Hanshan's voice fell, the village entrance grew so silent that the sound of the stream in the distant mountain ravine could be heard.

Moonlight shone on his face; his features were sharp and angular, and a thick, impenetrable air of malevolence gathered between his brows.

Lu Zhao did not respond.

He simply stood there, his right hand hanging naturally at his side, his fingers slightly curled.

He Shan had seen this posture before—every time the Master was about to strike, he would do exactly this.

Two Disciples stood to the left and right behind Zhao Hanshan. The one on the left was in his early twenties with a fair, clean face; a short sword hung at his waist, its scabbard inlaid with two green Spirit Stones that cast a faint, cold light in the night. The one on the right was slightly older, around thirty, with a face full of flabby flesh, carrying a thick-backed machete on his back with a faded red cloth wrapped around the hilt.

"What, are you mute?" Zhao Hanshan paced forward a step. "I am asking you a question."

Only then did Lu Zhao speak: "Cultivator Zhao, you have come in the middle of the night—may I ask what for?"

"What for?" Zhao Hanshan laughed, a dry sound like stones grinding together. "My Junior Brother, Wang Tong, was ordered by the Sect seven days ago to come to Black Mountain to track down a traitor. Three days later, his life tablet shattered in the Sect."

He paused.

"Before it shattered, the last place he appeared was your Yangjiao Ravine."

Lu Zhao's expression remained unchanged: "Cultivator Wang did indeed come here."

"Oh?" Zhao Hanshan raised an eyebrow. "And after he came?"

"He left."

"Left?" Zhao Hanshan stared into Lu Zhao's eyes. "Where did he go?"

Lu Zhao shook his head: "How would we Mortals know the whereabouts of a Cultivator?"

Zhao Hanshan did not speak.

He took another step forward.

As he took this step, the aura around him suddenly surged! A force of icy coldness spread out from his body like an invisible wave, instantly sweeping across the village entrance. He Shan and the others felt a tightness in their chests, making it difficult to breathe, and they instinctively took half a step back.

Shen Qingqiu's expression changed slightly—this was the Xuanshuang Sect's "Cold Ice Art," and it was far more profound than Wang Tong's!

Yet Lu Zhao did not move a muscle.

He stood straight, facing that cold air, not even blinking an eyelid.

A trace of surprise flashed in Zhao Hanshan's eyes.

"Interesting." He stopped his steps. "A Mortal with a waste Spiritual Root who can stand firm under my cold air—that is rare."

He looked back at the two Disciples behind him: "Tell me, does this not look like those... martial artists recorded in the ancient Sect texts?"

The fair-faced Disciple laughed: "Senior Brother jokes. Martial artists have long since gone extinct; how could there be a martial arts Legacy in this backwater?"

The fleshy-faced Disciple also grinned: "At most, he has practiced a few farming tricks to toughen his muscles and bones, making him sturdier than an ordinary villager. Before our Xuanshuang Sect's Cold Ice Art, he is still just an ant."

Zhao Hanshan nodded and turned back to look at Lu Zhao.

"You heard them." He said slowly, "Ants. People like you are just ants in the eyes of our Xuanshuang Sect. If you are crushed to death, you are crushed to death; no one will ask about it."

He reached out and pointed to the mud-brick houses in the village, and the women and children hiding behind the door cracks peeking out.

"But I, personally, do not like stepping on ants. It dirties my shoes."

He withdrew his hand and stared at Lu Zhao.

"I will give you two paths. First, you cripple your own Cultivation and come back with me to the Xuanshuang Sect to accept your punishment. Whether you live or die depends on the Sect Master's judgment. Second—"

He paused.

"I slaughter this village, turn every corpse over, and find what I am looking for. Then I take your head back, and I will still fulfill my mission."

A smile curled at the corner of his mouth.

"You choose."

Lu Zhao was silent.

Behind him, He Shan gripped his longbow tightly, his knuckles turning white. Yan Meng said nothing and stepped forward half a step, positioning himself to guard Lu Zhao's side—the wing guard position in a battle Formation. Han Meng licked his cracked lips, his right hand hanging at his waist, where a short blade was tucked. Everyone was waiting.

Waiting for the Master to speak.

After a long while, Lu Zhao raised his head.

"Cultivator Zhao." His voice was very calm. "Yangjiao Ravine is under the jurisdiction of the Qinglan Sect. Although we are Mortals, we pay our tributes on time and follow the rules of the Qinglan Sect. If you want to slaughter the village, have you asked for the opinion of the Qinglan Sect?"

Zhao Hanshan's expression changed slightly.

"Qinglan?" He sneered. "That mere Qinglan, do they deserve an explanation from our Xuanshuang Sect?"

"Whether they deserve it or not is not for me to say." Lu Zhao was neither humble nor arrogant. "But three days ago, Cultivator Li Baichuan of the Qinglan Sect just questioned me. If I die at your hands today, and the Qinglan Sect asks about it tomorrow, how does Cultivator Zhao plan to explain?"

Zhao Hanshan did not speak.

He stared at Lu Zhao, his expression flickering between light and shadow.

After a long while, he suddenly laughed.

"Good, good." He nodded. "Using Qinglan to pressure me, you have guts. However—"

He changed the subject.

"My Junior Brother died in Black Mountain, and his last task before dying was to come to this village of yours. Reasonably and logically, I must investigate clearly. No matter how arrogant the Qinglan Sect is, they cannot stop the Xuanshuang Sect from hunting down a traitor."

He took a step forward, looking down at Lu Zhao.

"I will give you three days. Within three days, you turn this village upside down and find everything related to my Junior Brother's death for me. Three days later, I will come again."

He held up three fingers.

"At that time, if there is no explanation—"

His gaze swept over the dilapidated mud-brick houses in the village and the women and children trembling behind the doors, a cruel smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"I will slaughter half of them first, and then give you another three days."

As his voice fell, he turned and left.

The two Disciples followed.

After walking a few steps, the fair-faced Disciple looked back and pointed at the old locust tree at the village entrance with a grin: "This tree is not bad. In three days, we will cut it down for firewood; it will be just right for roasting a few ants to taste."

The fleshy-faced Disciple laughed loudly.

The laughter faded into the distance, and three black shadows disappeared into the night.

At the village entrance, no one spoke for a long time.

It was not until the laughter was completely inaudible that He Shan let out a breath, relaxed his hand, and the bowstring snapped back to its original position with a "hum."

"Master..." He spoke, his voice dry.

Lu Zhao raised his hand to interrupt him.

"Everyone go back and rest." He said. "Tomorrow morning, gather at the village entrance."

The crowd looked at each other.

Shen Qingqiu glanced at Lu Zhao, said nothing, and turned to leave first.

Her steps were fast, her skirt fluttering in the night wind as she headed straight for the back mountain—the Concealment Array was there, and the secret cave was there too.

He Shan opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end, he did not speak; he only cupped his hands and left with the people of the Tingfeng Pavilion. Yan Meng bowed in silence and left as well.

Han Meng was the last to leave. He walked to Lu Zhao's side and whispered: "Master, that Zhao Hanshan is much stronger than Wang Tong. Even from ten zhang away, when he released his cold air, my bones ached."

Lu Zhao nodded: "I know."

"Three days..." Han Meng gritted his teeth. "What can be done in three days? We can't even run far!"

"Run?" Lu Zhao looked at him. "Where to run?"

Han Meng was stunned.

Lu Zhao did not speak again and turned to walk into the village.

After walking a few steps, he suddenly stopped and looked back at the old locust tree at the village entrance. Under the moonlight, the knife mark on the trunk was clearly visible—left by Liu Three-Knives.

He looked at it for a moment, then turned and left.

Back mountain, secret cave.

Shen Qingqiu lit an oil lamp; the dim yellow light illuminated the scene inside the cave.

The cave was not large, two or three zhang square, and in the center sat that bluestone slab—the Legacy stele. The faint golden marks on the stele had been covered, leaving only blurred scratches.

She crouched down and reached out to touch the ground.

The ground was cold, but a faint warmth seeped up from deep within—that was the breath of the Earth Vein. Weak, but it definitely existed.

"Earth-element Earth Vein..." She muttered to herself.

Footsteps came from behind.

She turned and saw Lu Zhao bending down to enter the cave entrance.

"How is it?" Lu Zhao asked.

Shen Qingqiu stood up and pointed to the ground: "This is indeed an Earth Vein node, an earth-element one. Although it is weak, if we use that martial stele fragment of yours as a medium to set up a Formation and draw in Qi, the Concealment Array can be maintained for at least half a year, and it can evade any Divine Thought detection below the Foundation Establishment stage."

She paused.

"But it requires time. Setting up the Formation, refining the fragment, debugging the Formation patterns—it will take five days at the fastest."

"Five days." Lu Zhao repeated.

"Three days is too short." Shen Qingqiu said. "That Zhao Hanshan will not give us time. He will definitely come to investigate tomorrow; if he can search out this secret cave..."

She did not finish, but the meaning was clear.

Lu Zhao was silent for a moment and asked: "Can the Concealment Array evade him now?"

"Yes." Shen Qingqiu said. "But only for a while. If he stays in the village for a long time and senses carefully, he will eventually discover the abnormality—the blood and Qi here is too vigorous."

"Blood and Qi?"

"Yes." Shen Qingqiu said. "You martial arts practitioners have blood and Qi many times more vigorous than ordinary villagers. More than twenty people practicing day and night, gathered together, are like a ball of fire. Ordinary people cannot sense it, but Cultivators above the fifth level of Qi Refining, if they investigate carefully, will definitely be able to detect it."

Lu Zhao frowned.

"Is there a way to cover it?"

"Yes." Shen Qingqiu said. "Set up a 'Dispersion Array' to scatter the vigorous blood and Qi, disguising it as the normal aura of ordinary villagers working and living. But this array requires the consumption of Spirit Stones and must be replaced daily."

She pulled a few Spirit Stones from her bosom—the loot captured from Wang Tong.

"How many days can it last?"

"If he only stays in the village for half a day, it can last for three times. If he stays for a long time..."

Lu Zhao understood.

"Set it up before dawn." He said.

Shen Qingqiu nodded.

The next day, at the first light of dawn.

At the village entrance, Zhao Hanshan stepped through the morning dew.

This time, he did not bring those two Disciples and came alone.

He had changed into a green robe, and with his hands behind his back, he strolled leisurely into the village, looking left and right as if he were merely sightseeing.

Lu Zhao went up to meet him: "Cultivator Zhao."

"Hmm." Zhao Hanshan replied casually, his gaze sweeping across the village. "I'm just looking around; you don't need to follow me."

With that, he walked straight into the village.

Lu Zhao stood where he was, watching his retreating figure.

He Shan leaned in and whispered: "Sir, what is he..."

"Searching," Lu Zhao said.

"Searching for what?"

"Searching for anything suspicious." Lu Zhao turned around. "Go tell everyone to carry on as usual and do what they normally do. Don't hide, don't conceal, and don't panic."

He Shan acknowledged the order and left.

Zhao Hanshan wandered around the village for a full hour.

He went from house to house, inspecting the mud-brick houses, pigsties, kitchen stoves, and water vats.

Occasionally, he would reach out to knock on a wall or squat down to touch the ground.

A few times, he stood at the doorway of a house, closed his eyes to sense for a long time, then opened his eyes, shook his head, and walked toward the next house.

He stood a bit longer at Granny Xue's house.

Granny Xue was in the yard drying herbs. Seeing him enter, she did not panic but shakily rose to her feet, cupped her hands, and asked: "Cultivator, do you have any instructions?"

Zhao Hanshan ignored her and walked straight to the pile of herbs in the corner. After examining them for a moment, he asked: "Where were these herbs picked?"

"The back mountain," Granny Xue replied. "This old woman has practiced medicine for many years and recognizes some herbs. I pick them to treat the villagers for minor ailments."

Zhao Hanshan picked up a stalk, brought it to his nose to sniff, tossed it aside, and turned to leave.

As he reached the yard gate, he suddenly turned back and stared at Granny Xue for a moment.

Granny Xue stood with her head bowed, motionless.

After a long while, Zhao Hanshan withdrew his gaze and left.

He also entered Qin Wan's house.

Qin Wan was weaving inside the house, and the loom made a rhythmic clanging sound. Zhao Hanshan stood at the doorway watching for a moment before suddenly asking: "Who made this loom of yours?"

Qin Wan stopped the loom, stood up, and bowed: "Reporting to the Cultivator, it was made by the village blacksmith, Zhong Tiegu."

"A blacksmith?" Zhao Hanshan raised an eyebrow. "A blacksmith can craft such a refined loom?"

Qin Wan lowered her head. "Zhong Tiegu is a skilled craftsman; all the farm tools and household items in the village are made by him."

Zhao Hanshan did not ask further and turned to leave.

He also went to Zhong Tiegu's blacksmith shop.

Zhong Tiegu was forging iron. The furnace fire was blazing, and his hammer struck the red-hot iron block repeatedly, the rhythmic "clang, clang" echoing far into the distance. Zhao Hanshan stood at the doorway watching for a while before suddenly asking: "Who did you learn this forging technique from?"

Zhong Tiegu stopped his hammer and wiped away his sweat. "Reporting to the Cultivator, I learned it from my father. My father learned it from my grandfather. It's a family craft."

"A family craft?" Zhao Hanshan stared at him. "Were your ancestors blacksmiths?"

"Yes," Zhong Tiegu smiled honestly. "My family has been blacksmiths for three generations."

Zhao Hanshan said nothing and turned to leave.

Upon reaching the doorway, he suddenly stopped and turned to look at the few pieces of iron piled in the corner.

The iron was ordinary—just iron ore dug from the mountain, very rough.

But his gaze landed on one piece, and he frowned slightly.

The surface of that piece of iron had faint markings, as if it had been pressed by some heavy object or traced by a finger—but no matter how strong one's finger strength was, it would be impossible to leave marks on iron.

He walked over, squatted down, and reached out to touch those markings.

The markings were very shallow and would go unnoticed if not looked at closely. Yet, where he touched, he felt a slight warmth, as if something living were hidden inside the iron.

"What is this?" he asked.

Zhong Tiegu leaned in to look and scratched his head. "This? It happened a few days ago while I was forging; a piece of hot iron slag flew onto it and scorched it. If the Cultivator likes, I can forge a better piece for you?"

Zhao Hanshan ignored him.

He touched it for a moment longer, stood up, gave Zhong Tiegu a deep look, and left.

The sun was setting.

Zhao Hanshan had wandered around the village for a full four hours, searching every single household.

He even walked into the vegetable patch behind the village, stomped around, and squatted down to squeeze the soil.

Finally, he stood under the old locust tree at the village entrance with his hands behind his back.

Lu Zhao walked over: "Cultivator Zhao, did you find anything?"

Zhao Hanshan turned to look at him.

His gaze was cold, like a venomous snake flicking its tongue.

"This village of yours is quite interesting," he said slowly. "The Qi and blood here are much more vigorous than in ordinary villages. With over twenty households, everyone is strong and healthy; even the old ones are more nimble on their feet than elsewhere."

Lu Zhao lowered his head. "In such a remote, impoverished area, farming and hunting naturally make for sturdier bodies."

"Is that so?" Zhao Hanshan stared at him. "Then let me ask you: what is hidden in that cave on your back mountain?"

Lu Zhao's heart skipped a beat, but his expression remained calm. "There are several caves on the back mountain. I don't know which one the Cultivator is referring to?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Zhao Hanshan said, stepping forward. "On the north side of the mountain, behind a pile of loose rocks, there is a hidden cave entrance. The entrance was concealed by a Formation. It might fool ordinary people, but it cannot fool me."

Lu Zhao remained silent.

Zhao Hanshan stared at him, waiting for him to speak.

After a long while, Lu Zhao looked up. "Since the Cultivator has discovered it, I will not hide it. There is indeed something hidden in that cave."

"What is it?"

"A family heirloom," Lu Zhao said. "My family has practiced medicine for generations and left behind some medical books and prescriptions. Fearing they might be stolen, I hid them in the cave."

Zhao Hanshan sneered. "Medical books? Let me see them."

"Please, Cultivator," Lu Zhao said, stepping aside to make way.

Zhao Hanshan was taken aback; he hadn't expected Lu Zhao to be so forthcoming.

He gave Lu Zhao a suspicious look, then turned and headed toward the back mountain.

Lu Zhao followed.

Upon arriving at the north side of the mountain, behind the pile of loose rocks, there was indeed a hidden cave entrance. It was small, only large enough for one person to crouch and crawl through. The area in front of the cave was overgrown with weeds, showing no signs of anyone entering or leaving.

Zhao Hanshan crouched and crawled into the cave.

The cave was not deep, reaching the end after only two or three zhang. Inside, a few old wooden boxes were piled up, covered in dust and dense with cobwebs. He opened the boxes; inside were indeed some yellowed papers, medical books, prescriptions, and some aged, dried herbs that had long since molded and spoiled.

He examined them for a moment but found nothing unusual.

After exiting the cave, he stared at Lu Zhao, his gaze flickering.

"Is this all?"

"That is all," Lu Zhao said. "If the Cultivator does not believe me, you may search it again."

Zhao Hanshan said nothing.

He stood at the cave entrance and closed his eyes to sense.

After a long while, he opened his eyes, his brows tightly furrowed.

The cave truly contained only those dilapidated items; there was no aura left behind by any Cultivator. The moldy herbs, the yellowed papers—everything was perfectly normal.

But—he still felt that something was not right.

This village, these villagers, and this kid surnamed Lu all seemed strange in every way. Yet, he couldn't put his finger on what exactly was strange.

"Three days," he said in a low voice. "In three days, I want an answer."

He stared at Lu Zhao.

"If there is no explanation by then—"

He paused.

"I will kill ten people first. Three days later, I will kill another ten. I will keep killing until there is no one left in this village, and then I will pile up the corpses and search them one by one."

Lu Zhao lowered his eyes. "I have noted the Cultivator's words."

Zhao Hanshan stared at him for a long while, then suddenly smiled.

"Low Aptitude and a crooked heart—you are destined to be an ant."

He turned around.

"Three days from now, I will come to collect the corpses."

With those words, he strode away.

Lu Zhao stood under the old locust tree at the village entrance, watching the direction in which Zhao Hanshan had disappeared.

Shen Qingqiu walked over and whispered: "Did he discover anything?"

"No," Lu Zhao said. "But he has become suspicious."

"What about the secret cave..."

"It was concealed," Lu Zhao said. "But it won't stay hidden for long. Before he left, he stood on the back mountain for half an incense stick of time, sensing something."

Shen Qingqiu frowned. "Was he sensing the Earth Vein?"

"Possibly," Lu Zhao said. "Although the Earth-element Earth Vein is weak, if he probes carefully, he will sooner or later notice that there is something strange down there."

Silence.

After a long while, Shen Qingqiu said: "Three days is too short. Formations, ambushes, manpower—there isn't enough time for anything."

Lu Zhao said nothing.

He looked up at the sky.

The setting sun on the horizon was like blood, dyeing half the mountain red.

In the distance, a wolf's howl echoed, long and shrill.

He suddenly remembered that day in the Funiu Gang bandit den, what Boss Wu had said before he died: "If you kill me, even more ruthless people will come. In this world, the bold are stuffed to death, while the rule-abiders starve."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly.

"Then… I won't follow the rules."

At midnight, Lu Zhao sat alone in his room. Suddenly, footsteps came from outside the door—extremely light; had his hearing not been extraordinary, he would not have heard them at all.

The door opened a crack, and Han Meng slipped inside, his face deathly pale.

"Sir," his voice trembled. "News has come from the black market. That guy Zhao Hanshan never intended to wait three days—he went to Wild Wolf Slope tonight and lingered near that corpse for half an hour. Someone saw him pick up that Soul-Chasing Order."

Lu Zhao's gaze sharpened.

Han Meng swallowed hard. "There's more… He has put out word in the black market. Whoever can provide 'abnormal clues' about Yangjiao Ravine within three days will be rewarded with fifty Spirit Stones. If anyone has evidence that can directly implicate you in the killing of Wang Tong, the reward is two hundred Spirit Stones."

He paused.

"Seven or eight Loose Cultivators are already heading this way."