Chapter 113: The Hundred-Foot Smoke Dragon

In the quiet chamber.

Lu Qian sat with his eyes tightly closed, his Yin spirit hovering just above his head. Encircling his ghostly green soul was a pale, translucent protective barrier. His sword pouch floated beside him, wide open, releasing wisps of frigid mist that clung to his spectral form. A biting, icy chill radiated outward, causing a layer of white frost to coat the floor. Gradually, his soul began to solidify, and spiderweb-like cracks appeared across his glazed, ethereal body.

Lu Qian awoke, exhaling a plume of white vapor. "Hah!"

His progress in refining the Sha had reached ten percent. If he maintained this pace, he would likely finish within a year. Such a speed was unbelievable; if it were this easy, everyone on the streets would be at the mid-stage of the Soul Nourishing realm. Countless people endured the agony of Sha energy eroding their bodies day and night, never daring to relax for even a moment, for the slightest lapse would cause the energy to dissipate, instantly reverting them to their original state. If not for the Golden Mirror, even with abundant resources, Lu Qian would have needed at least a decade.

After composing himself, Lu Qian closed the two manuals in his hands. "Who exactly are Mr. Cold Mirror and Mr. Nine from the South? Their theories are profound yet accessible, and they have benefited me greatly."

Following their principles, Lu Qian practiced his Sha refinement at the hour of Zi every night, keeping his spirit-platform guarded. A tranquil heart leads to a clear spirit, and a clear spirit leads to a firm will. In this state, his efficiency had indeed increased significantly. "When I reach the stage of refining Gang or establishing my Dao Foundation, I must visit the South."

The learned are teachers; cultivation cannot succeed through a single manual and brute force alone. Every practitioner at the Soul Nourishing realm has had their own share of opportunities, but finding a guide is even more critical. Since the atmosphere in the South was so open, cultivation should be easier there. However, his immediate priority was to finish refining the Sha, then enter the Water Eye to plot for the inheritance of the Heavenly River Daoist. After all, he possessed the Underworld Secret Map, which represented a tangible benefit. Without greater strength, he would face more dangers—the Tongyou Temple, the Lingbo Pavilion, the Yunshui Cave, and others. These were his known or hidden enemies.

At this thought, Lu Qian recalled a certain person. "Midnight today, at Broken Wave Reef." He pondered the words repeatedly, then stood up.

His Yin spirit flew into a paper doll, and carrying his sword pouch and the Shape-Refining Banner, he departed. Lu Qian had decided to go through with this. He was already infamous; as long as he did not reveal his true identity, a few more misdeeds wouldn't matter. The bandit gang was a motley crew. They grabbed whatever they could based on luck, usually fleeing immediately without any teamwork.

The paper doll avatar cut through the air, leaving white trails in its wake. Flying through the sky, Lu Qian cautiously extended his Yin spirit without any protection. A needle-like, stinging pain pierced him. "Hmm, after reaching ten percent, my resistance to the outside world has improved quite a bit," he thought.

The Yin spirit of a practitioner at the early stage of Soul Nourishing was incredibly fragile. Without possessing an object, even with true energy to protect it, it would dissipate quickly. Only a mid-stage refiner could move freely and unimpeded.

In the distance lay the endless Tongtian River. Night had deepened, and the river was churning with black clouds; from time to time, thunderbolts flashed, casting a pale light over the land. Suddenly, Lu Qian felt a gaze fixed upon him. He instinctively looked toward the depths of the forest, where several figures emerged from the dark mist.

There were two of them in total. One had a ghostly green gaze, clearly the stall owner, but the gaze of the other made Lu Qian feel deeply uncomfortable. His eyes were pitch black, devoid of whites or any emotion—cold, terrifying.

"Fellow Daoist, you came after all," the stall owner said with a sinister laugh. The person beside him did not speak but gave a slight nod, signaling goodwill.

"Just the two of you?" Lu Qian began to feel that this group was unreliable.

"No, there are three others who come often, and nine others just like you, Fellow Daoist," the stall owner chuckled. He then looked at the black-eyed man with a sense of reverence. "Mr. God-Loathed, is the time right?"

The man, who had been keeping his eyes closed, suddenly opened them and smiled. "One stick of incense, then you give the signal." His laughter was jarring, like fingernails scraping against glass, causing a sense of irritation and disgust to rise in the listener.

"God-Loathed" must be a nickname. It was well-earned; his voice alone was enough to make one loathe him. Lu Qian remained silent, offering no pleasantries, as mutual suspicion hung in the air. Robbery was not a dinner party; there was no room for polite conversation or the exchange of names.

In the distance, a roaring sound echoed. A giant black ship suddenly burst from the water. Its hull was smooth as a mirror, colored black, and the bow was shaped like the head of a predatory fish with its mouth wide open. Its eyes emitted a crimson glow that pierced through the mist. This was the fish-ship of the Smoke Den, a stronghold of the Qianshan City faction.

"Move!" God-Loathed shouted. The voice again triggered an internal sense of loathing, and Lu Qian had to suppress the urge to attack him. This man was truly sinister; he had an incredible ability to incite hatred.

Boom!

Ghostly green fireworks blossomed in the sky. Several rays of magical light lit up from all directions, flying toward the giant ship. Lu Qian activated his Shape-Refining Banner, and black mist, carrying two hundred paper doll spirit-soldiers, flew forward.

"Enemy attack!"

On the fish-ship, a sharp cry rang out. A blood-red mist began to spread across the deck.

"Careful! The people of the Smoke Den specialize in poisonous smoke. Do not touch this Blood-Sucking Demonic Smoke!" the stall owner shouted.

"Don't worry, watch this." A woman's voice replied, and a purple incense burner flew out from a petite cloak. The burner erupted with a suction force, instantly drawing in the blood mist below.

"Oh no, the Purple Smoke Incense Burner! The traitor is here!" Cries of alarm rose from below. It seemed everyone recognized the woman.

Streams of smoke flew out from the fish-ship, accompanied by a group of men in green robes. There were two factions on the ship—the Smoke Den and a group from the South, totaling seven or eight experts in the Soul Nourishing realm. The raiding practitioners clashed with those on the ship. The roaring sounds were incessant, mingled with the screams of the dying.

Lu Qian moved with lightning speed, landing above the deck. "Die!"

A winding, hideous smoke dragon and sword qi flew toward him.

Boom!

The Seven-Kill Yin Talisman Sword detonated, and a sky full of Yin fire swept outward. The smoke dragon exploded, and the sword qi was shredded. The Yin fire surged forward, instantly swallowing everyone in its path.

"Ahhh!"

The Yin fire clung like a bone-deep poison, vicious and cruel. As the crowd screamed and turned to ash, the scene was truly tragic. Simultaneously, black energy rose around Lu Qian. As the black mist swirled, two hundred paper doll soldiers slowly emerged, hunting down the remaining Daoists and acolytes.

On the other side, the battle raged with equal intensity. The deck shattered, revealing the cargo hold beneath. Fragrant medicinal treasures and various glowing ores caught everyone's eyes.

"Loot!"

The practitioners on Lu Qian's side abandoned their opponents in a frenzy and flew onto the deck. This was not a fight to the death; the most important thing was to snatch the treasures.

"Scoundrels!"

Boom!

The deck split open, and wooden splinters flew everywhere. A hundred-zhang-long smoke dragon, looking almost solid and possessed of fierce horns, burst forth from beneath.