Chapter 72: The Deal, Golden Mist Mountain

“Heguang isn’t suitable for you?” Wen Daoyu hesitated for a long while before finally managing to utter these words, though even he knew how unconvincing they sounded.

“You mean to say my brother isn’t good enough for your Heguang?” The Golden Lion Ape’s expression changed instantly; with a flick of his blade, a watery edge sliced away half the turf at his feet, and his fierce tone echoed with Ji Ming’s, one playing off the other.

Wen Daoyu’s face twisted in distress. Who would have imagined that as a disciple of Heguang, he’d one day be forced into such a predicament by a wild monster.

Given the vigilance of this Flying Centipede, any mention of surrender in the future would surely provoke strong resistance and suspicion. Was temporary cooperation the only option left?

As these thoughts ran through his mind, he spoke: “That’s not it. Within the Blessed Land of Heguang, only spirit cranes are ever raised. Their old feathers are gathered and made into Feather Scattering Elixir.”

“It’s just like in Mount Panku, where venomous creatures—represented by the Five Immortal Venoms—are raised in large numbers, their myriad poisons extracted and refined into toxic pills, serving as vital resources for cultivation and secret arts.”

With Wen Daoyu’s explanation, Ji Ming found it difficult to press the issue further. Spirit cranes could have their feathers refined into Feather Scattering Elixir. Ji Ming pondered: if his reincarnation dream succeeded, perhaps the spirit crane could be a candidate.

“Reincarnation dream…” Ji Ming sighed inwardly. To accomplish such a feat would require numerous trials—he had a long and arduous road ahead.

He studied Wen Daoyu again. This man could bend or stretch as the situation demanded; when he handed over the Dream Pillow earlier, he’d been just as docile once the tables turned.

Wen Daoyu changed the subject. “For now, it seems we’ll just have to wait and see what comes to us.”

No one else spoke, so Wen Daoyu assumed tacit agreement. He withdrew to a quiet spot and began cultivating his breath.

Ji Ming and the Golden Lion Ape exchanged glances, then found a ledge outside the pool to rest for a while.

The Crimson Lord sat cross-legged where he was, his snake-tail curled simply around his waist like a band of crimson jade. With his naturally noble bearing and sharply defined, pale features, the image of a scion of a lesser sect became all the more vivid.

Truly, one could not deny that his appearance and bearing made the title of “lord” entirely deserved.

Ji Ming, meanwhile, extended his long limbs, coiling beside the Golden Lion Ape, his mouthparts grinding, poison stinger twitching. His own form, he reckoned, was probably the most hideous he’d ever had—perhaps even in the future…

“Ptui, ptui, ptui!” Ji Ming spat several times, as if to ward off ill luck.

Time ticked by; everyone seemed locked in a contest of patience, sitting motionless through wind and sun, never stirring.

“Immortal Flying Centipede!” came a voice from behind—serpent-headed, emerging from the ground.

The Crimson Lord remained deep in meditation, his tail uncoiled from his waist and tucked beneath his robes, clearly having stealthily burrowed underground to extend his reach.

“I am a serpent attendant of my lord, here to speak with you privately.”

The Golden Lion Ape noticed and glanced over, but Ji Ming shook his head, signaling he could handle it.

“Speak.”

“My lord’s crimson jade centipede is in your hands, isn’t it?”

“It isn’t.”

“That’s not the point. The point is, if you don’t want to be raised and refined by others, you must demonstrate your greatest value.”

“My intelligence?”

“No, your seeds—your essence sacs. In the past, on the continent of Zhe Xiong, a flood dragon demon sowed its seed and built a foundation for an entire region. Don’t you wish to do the same?”

The serpent’s voice was low and coaxing, “Rest assured, my lord will not shortchange you in the matter of reward.”

Ji Ming was conflicted. If it had been anything else, he’d have agreed as long as the reward was fair. But this—his most private essence sacs…

He tried to promote his other products. “Actually, my centipede’s spiritual venom is also highly valuable!”

The red serpent grew impatient and quoted the reward: “A drop of Venom Star Immortal Wine—how about it?”

He struck at Ji Ming’s very weakness—making refusal almost impossible.

Venom Star Immortal Wine was so named because its base was the feather of the legendary poisonous bird. Even a righteous immortal would die with a single sip; a death star would enter the body, and life would be forfeit.

But for those who cultivated with venom, it was a potent tonic.

If Ji Ming drank a cup, the transformative effect might rival that of the century-old red ginseng he’d scavenged from Lord Boni.

After much deliberation, Ji Ming nodded. He knew that what he was agreeing to would be far from a one-time price, and only hoped he could endure.

The red serpent nodded in satisfaction, its belly writhing as it spat out a green bean. “This bead contains a drop of immortal wine. You must exchange thirty-six sacs of essence for it.”

“No way!” Ji Ming shook his head so hard his legs nearly trembled. “True, I’m a spirit monster now, my body far surpasses that of crude insects, and I can control my output freely. But at most six sacs—any more, and it would harm my core.”

“Six will never suffice. Creatures like you rely on numbers for survival; only by producing many can there be a chance for one or two true heirs. If you were a companion centipede of the Elder Tian Wu, one or two sacs would be enough.”

Ji Ming couldn’t refute that, but thirty-six was unacceptable, so he bargained on the spot.

In the end, they settled on twenty, to be exchanged after this mission.

“Brother!” The Golden Lion Ape noticed Ji Ming’s odd expression—a mix of humiliation and relief—and asked with concern, “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

“It’s nothing,” Ji Ming waved it off, not wanting to discuss it. Watching the pale sun dip, he asked, “When will that Armored Mist Snake return?”

The Golden Lion Ape scratched his furry face. “Strange. That old snake usually practices inhaling the mountain mists morning and night without fail. Why hasn’t he shown up at all today?”

As the sun fully set and stars filled the sky, it wasn’t until midnight that something unusual occurred.

From the pool, a mist billowed forth, just as Ji Ming had first seen the Armored Mist Snake. The four figures by the pool immediately grew wary.

This time, however, the mist was different—faint golden rays shot through it, dazzlingly bright, making it impossible to keep one’s eyes open.

“That’s the Mist of Rosy Clouds!”

“That’s the aura of the Clouded Mist!” The Golden Lion Ape and Wen Daoyu spoke almost simultaneously.

Ji Ming shrank back, peering through the golden haze, but it stung like needles, forcing him to look away. He heard the ape say, “There are yin creatures moving through the mist.”

Wen Daoyu continued, “These are underworld soldiers crossing the border.”

“Follow them!” That last command came from the Crimson Lord.

“We’re going too,” said the Golden Lion Ape. Ji Ming immediately coiled around his waist and shoulders, ready to be carried aloft, tentacles seeking the trail of yin energy.

“No—you’ll have to guide me.”

The yin energy was hidden within the mist, nearly undetectable, so Ji Ming had to rely on the Golden Lion Ape, who could barely look at the golden haze, to lead the way.

Wen Daoyu advised, “Relax your mind. If you loosen your focus before looking at the mist, the golden glow should subside.”

They all followed his suggestion, and the mist, when viewed again, was no different from ordinary fog—except for vague, shifting shapes within, like phantoms: the underworld soldiers.

“What sort of principle is this?” Ji Ming asked, never shy about his ignorance.

“I see no one controlling the mist. The golden light must be a passive effect, triggered by the spiritual focus in our eyes. By relaxing our gaze and letting our inner light scatter, it becomes harmless.”

Wen Daoyu’s explanation was logical, and Ji Ming accepted it.

“I was only guessing. There could be other reasons,” Wen Daoyu added modestly.

“Brother Wen, there’s no need for humility.” Even the Crimson Lord respected those who could elucidate such mysterious principles, however tentatively.

“What are they doing?”

Within the mist, the shadowy figures moved rapidly over the mountains, crossing ridges and valleys until they reached the base of Perilous Bird Mountain.

Wen Daoyu’s eyes were full of doubt. “Usually, underworld soldiers are dispatched to seize evil spirits. But this—”

“This mist originated from the Armored Mist Snake,” the Crimson Lord mused, “and now the underworld soldiers are driving it down the mountain. Could it be that the Armored Mist Snake’s soul is hidden in the yin soil beneath Perilous Bird Mountain?”