Chương 98: The Mentor’s Vision

Doushingu walked ahead of us, leading the way from Xishhang toward his mentor's domicile. The journey took two hours through harsh terrain, as it was not a place usually visited by weak men. We walked along poorly kept gravel roads, which soon gave way to rocky paths of loose stone and overgrown roots. Gloomy clouds sat over our march and made everything feel heavier, causing our minds to wander. A mentor of that rank had to have a strange personality to house his estate along such an arduous path.

The way Doushingu spoke of him, with a mixture of respect and a thin layer of nervousness, made us curious and cautious at the same time. We ended on a three-hundred-meter hill with a greater hill rising behind it. A huge pond waited ahead, where low mist accumulated over the water. The mist itself seemed to rise into the shape of another hill. On one cliff wall, a small waterfall ran with crystal-clear, downpouring water.

Beyond the waterfall stood a pavilion-style temple mansion, an estate made entirely out of bamboo wood and painted in a vibrant green parakeet coloring. Active servants tended the fish with careful hands. They greeted us warmly, showing special recognition to the pupil they knew well. Doushingu took the wooden bridge and told us to wait, explaining that his master and mentor was known for his eccentric behavior. He went inside with proper, respectful steps.

Not long after he made it inside, a loud slap echoed from within the estate. Right after the sound, Doushingu came flying back out the door and crashed onto the ground right before us, his face already swollen. The servants sighed and palmed their faces in unison. One of them muttered, asking if he had once again failed to announce himself to his mentor despite bringing so many guests, simply waltzing in instead. The mentor then jumped out of the domicile, dressed in a leathery, silky scholar tunic.

Seventy years old, he was a very powerful old coot with amber-hued skin. This was Cao Liangze, a high-ranked Historian Seeker. A pair of reading glasses rested on top of his head, right below his long, white hair, which was styled in a stiff, star-like shape. He had been brought out quickly by the servants, who realized his indoor loungewear would be improper for guests.

They came rushing in fast and changed his clothes right before our eyes in mere seconds, swapping his usual attire for the shirt of a rugged adventurer. He now stood dressed in a sleeveless jacket featuring many pockets, simple slips, and sturdy boots. He was a weird fellow, and we understood that the very moment we saw him. He slapped his pupil a few more times, then finally turned his attention to us.

He touched his long mustache, which was thick, white, and curled at the ends like an old sage's, before adjusting his posture.

"My name is Cao Liangze," he announced, making it clear that he would speak to only one person. That was his strict rule, because too many cooks ruin the broth, as he gruffly explained. We all huddled into a circle to discuss among ourselves who that representative should be. In the end, we decided Mo was the best suited for the task. He possessed a stern, stoic presence, meaning he could combat the old man's eccentric nature and handle the situation better than any of us.

Far behind the main group, Houshou stood guard on the carriage alongside the other mercenaries. For one short second, his Animo burst when he saw the old man, but he quickly snapped back to his usual calm. He thought to himself that he had nearly ruined everything, but fortunately, no one caught the slip. We were all completely occupied with watching Cao Liangze. Mo then went inside the estate with the old historian. After listening to Mo's entire story, the high-ranker argued his terms.

He explained that he did not take coin because he already had plenty, but he demanded to tag along on the journey instead. He felt that an epic mission born from their history was simply too valuable not to experience firsthand, stating that as a man, one has to take such grand risks. He then asked to see the pearls. He looked at them carefully before calling for his servants.

Four of them entered the room and set out specific items: a Nibelungen cauldron, jade-colored with a dark green aesthetic, featuring ancient language carved along its surface. They filled the vessel with water freshly taken from the pond outside and unrolled a large map of Zhongguodao beside it. He gave the items back, then stretched one hand into the pond water, holding the shape of the pearl he had just touched.

With his other hand, he snatched a bundle of herbs, minced them incredibly fast, and ate them completely dry like the weird coot he was. He suddenly barfed once, coughing as a particularly spicy leaf hit the back of his throat amidst the dry mixture. Then he saw the pearl, a placebo effect from the artifacts that lit up in a holy, celestial movement as the water inside the vessel swirled into a small, egregiously fast whirlpool.

Only he could see the full clarity of the magic, acting as the chosen vessel for the vision. Grabbing an ink stone and a pencil, he marked an X on the map where the item could be found. The whirlpool moved chaotically, a frantic motion that both men watched until it locked onto the exact coordinates where the X was located. It turned out to be a dangerous location. The mark sat just outside Zhenhai, which was luckily a neighboring state, right in the heart of the Desolate Region.

A massive mountain of challenge waited for them there. Mo finally had the information regarding the next pearl. He thanked the old man for his divination, and both men came outside to share the news with the waiting group. Mo eagerly told us how incredible the spell had looked right in front of his eyes. He still could not believe it, having never seen the active effect of an artifact like that in his entire life.

He pulled Doushingu aside for a quick, private word, asking if the old man truly possessed this knowledge or if there was simply some con artist magic at play. Doushingu assured him that his master's divinations were always entirely accurate. However, he clarified that the vision provided a general region rather than a pinpoint location, meaning they would find the item in that massive territory but would still have to search for the exact stone in the exact hole themselves.

Then Doushingu turned back with a heavy sigh, praying that his fears would not come to pass. He called all of us together to deliver the final word. Our next destination was the Desolate Region. As we began our march toward the territory, we discussed the terrifying beasts known to stalk those lands. We had already prepared ourselves for a long journey, but this time we had a clearer idea of the horrors waiting for us, thanks to Zhuofing sharing his knowledge about the potential encounters in that waste.

First among them were the Hyenfes, which were skeletal abominations that fused a mismatched, towering anatomy with a vicious predatory instinct. Their necks were unnaturally long and flexible, allowing them to strike targets from a surprising distance. Their lanky bodies stood incredibly tall and powerful, yet they were stripped down entirely to exposed bone and sinew. From their elongated heads hung jaws packed with jagged teeth capable of crushing metal armor.

They moved in packs, sending eerie, high-pitched cackles echoing across the wasteland. They were fast, opportunistic scavengers, treating anything weak or wounded as immediate meat. However, the true rulers of the territory, and the very reason the entire region stayed desolate, were the massive, pumpkin-like monsters. Their bodies ranged from rotten orange to sickly brown, bloated into twisted nightmare shapes.

Massive eyes glowed with a malevolent intelligence above wide, jagged maws, where rows of razor-sharp teeth dripped acidic saliva. Their arms were fused into thick, powerful tentacles lined with suckers and barbs that could rip flesh from bone in seconds. They possessed a super-strong capability for pure destruction, easily shattering stone walls and wiping out whole groups of warriors in a single swing.

To make them even more terrifying, they wielded a rapid regeneration that closed wounds in moments, allowing even severe damage to knit shut right in front of your eyes. Worst of all was the crown, a grotesque, living crown made from their own freshest offspring. These small, parasitic young locked directly onto the parent's head, feeding on its power while serving as extra eyes and extra weapons.

The parent always took the skeleton of the most powerful enemy it had felled, building those bones directly into its own body for extra strength and armor inside the pumpkin-like flesh. They were voracious omnivores, devouring flesh or bone with a visible sense of pleasure. They would even nibble on the metal of a fallen enemy's weapon, treating it like a succulent dessert if enough Animo residue still clung to the surface.

Despite their bloated shape, they were incredibly fast, capable of sudden bursts of speed that caught even veteran fighters completely off guard in the dark expanses of the Desolate Region. They only walked the desolate ground, ruling over it as undisputed kings. The old mentor told us how one of those monsters wiped out a giant clan four hundred years ago, destroying a city of three hundred thousand people in a single year of brutal war.

The Kunglunge clan, which was one of the last great clans in Zhongguodao, ceased to exist because of them. That was a clear testament to how powerful these creatures truly were, serving as a harsh warning that we should always attack them as a unified group and never attempt to face them alone. We all gulped and imagined the terrifying weight these crowned ones carried with them.

Yet, my heart pumped with a fierce energy; the reckless flame inside me wanted to cross my sword-axe with them at least once, even though I fully understood the massive scale of what we were walking into. My mind shifted from a place of scared excitement into a cold focus. This was going to be a monumental challenge for any of us. Still, we needed that pearl, and since we had already invested so much blood and time, we were determined to claim it and hold it firmly in our grasp.

We chose to push forward and depart with a renewed sense of vigor. Even if the mentor's warnings were real, we had all improved tremendously in a short period of time. The Longrong was an exceptional beast, and we had bested it; perhaps these crowned pumpkin monsters should be the ones fearing us instead. Up on top of the carriage, old Cao Liangze sat with his eyes fixed straight ahead, his long white mustache swaying in the wind as we continued down the road.

We walked toward the Desolate Region, which lay eight hundred kilometers away from the hill pond. Our pace was fast but cautious, since bandits were known to roam these borderlands, and we had no desire to engage in unnecessary combat before reaching our true battlefield. The journey felt long and tense. Clouds stayed thick and gloomy, casting a muted grey light that carried us ahead as the world felt heavier with every passing hour.

Green fields gradually died away, bleeding into cracked earth, sparse vegetation, and distant, jagged mountains. The air grew drier, leaving a faint metallic scent at the back of the throat, and every step pulled us closer to the unknown danger. Stories of the towering, lanky Hyenfes and the pumpkin-like monsters, named by some as the Nanguwange, weighed heavily on the mind. For some of the men, these tales were like heavy stones on the road. For others, they were a mere nuisance.

For me, they were a thrilling challenge to overcome. From his perch, Cao Liangze muttered to himself now and then, his weird personality leaking out through eccentric phrases. He would adjust the glasses on his head, stroke his thick white mustache from time to time, and suddenly laugh out loud at some private thought of his own. He looked incredibly excited, almost eager to fight himself, as if this was the exact kind of conflict an old man had been waiting to taste again. Days passed.

The terrain grew even harsher, and the roads deteriorated into old broken paths. The sky pressed lower, choking out its own shine and darkening the landscape with a heavy, suffocating dampness. We rested very little, sleeping only when we absolutely had to. We pushed ourselves relentlessly to reach the Desolate Region faster, determined not to waste precious time, especially since the search for the pearl itself would likely take long enough as it is.