Chương 193: Chapter 82: Appearance and Provocation

Ge Yucheng's gaze settled on Xu Shenyan, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Fellow Daoist, why waste your breath on those two?" he chuckled, his voice laced with a cynical edge.

"Speaking to them won't earn us a single spirit stone. We'd be much better off letting them finish their inspection so we can find a prime spot to watch the coming storm. After all, a spectacle this grand is free of charge—it would be a crying shame not to witness it." Xu Shenyan's eyes ignited with a sudden fervor. He reached out and grasped Ge Yucheng's hand, looking as if he had finally found a brother who truly understood the depths of his soul.

"Precisely! You hit the nail on the head!" he exclaimed, nodding vigorously.

"No more chatter. Let's get this check over with; I'm itching to see the fallout. Since it costs nothing... and there might even be a way to turn a profit... only an idiot would walk away." He continued to mumble under his breath, his voice dropping to a low, rhythmic drone that even those standing right beside him couldn't quite decipher. Wei Qubing and Yin Wuyu felt their expressions stiffen at the blatant mockery, but they held their tempers in check.

After a cursory search, they allowed the trio to pass through the blockade. Though Xu Shenyan was a man of small stature, dressed in drab, threadbare grey robes that looked utterly pathetic, the surrounding cultivators watched him with eyes full of burgeoning respect and goodwill. The Lingyao Sect was the undisputed holy land of alchemy within the Zhao Kingdom's cultivation world. They boasted more than a dozen Grade 3 Alchemists, and whispers suggested a legendary Grade 4 master resided within their hidden halls.

While the sect's raw martial power was merely average, few dared to treat their disciples with anything less than deference. In the arduous journey of cultivation, medicinal pills were the lifeblood of progress. Unless a blood feud existed, no sane cultivator wanted to provoke a master of the cauldron.

"Fellow Daoist Xing Tianxie, I didn't expect to find you here," Ge Yucheng said, a flash of recognition brightening his face as he led the Futu Sect cultivator toward the solitary figure.

"Tell me, did even a man of your reputation fail to secure a Mu Jade Sword within this Trial Realm?" Xing Tianxie stood apart from the crowd, a bitter, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It is a tale of woe," he sighed, his voice heavy with frustration.

"I had managed to secure one early on, but I was ambushed several days ago. A mysterious black-robed cultivator made off with my prize." At those words, Xing's eyebrows shot up, a look of sudden realization dawning in his eyes.

"Wait... I heard Daoist Cheng Gang mention a similar encounter. Did you cross paths with that black-robed man as well?" Ge Yucheng's face darkened for a moment before he gave a slow, reluctant shake of his head.

"My experience was much the same, though I chose the path of wisdom and handed my Mu Jade Sword over without a struggle. That man's power was unfathomable, a bottomless abyss. I knew I stood no chance, so I saw no reason to invite a pointless beating. Whether the man I met is the same one who robbed you, however, is hard to say. That black robe of his... it possesses a strange, uncanny ability to mask his presence entirely." Xing Tianxie's brow furrowed into a tight knot of suspicion.

Reyn is undoubtedly formidable, but does he truly possess the strength to make someone like Ge Yucheng surrender without a fight? Perhaps I am mistaken. Could there be another mysterious figure in black prowling these lands?

"Enough, do not rack your brain over it," Ge Yucheng said, waving a dismissive hand as he noticed Xing's deep contemplation.

"I have spent the last few days mentally reviewing every rising star and young genius from the eight provinces, and not a single one fits the profile of that man." He glanced toward the two 'gatekeepers' standing at the front.

"But today is the final hour. No matter how well he hides, he will be forced into the light. Those two door gods over there already hate him to the very marrow of their bones; they will surely tear his mask away. We need only a little more patience." A bolt of clarity suddenly struck Xing Tianxie's mind. Ge Yucheng's remark—that no known genius fit the description—acted like a spark in a powder keg. It seems impossible, yet I believe I have finally unmasked you, he thought, slowly lifting his head.

A strange, expectant light flickered in his eyes as he murmured to himself, "However, the situation today is fraught with peril. With Wei Qubing and Yin Wuyu blocking the path, and a sea of opportunistic cultivators watching like hawks, how do you plan to cross this threshold?" As he stood lost in thought, two streaks of light roared across the distant horizon, heading straight for the gathering.

These streaks were a profound, abyssal black, exuding a bone-chilling, malevolent aura that seemed to freeze the very air. Faint, haunting wails of vengeful spirits echoed from the trailing shadows—the unmistakable signature of ghost-path practitioners.

"Those must be the disciples of the Huanming Sect from Jin Province," a voice whispered from the crowd.

"In all the eight provinces of Zhao, they are the only ones who dare to practice such ghastly, soul-binding arts."

"Feel the pressure of their auras! Both are at the Mid-Foundation Establishment stage, and the leader has reached the Great Circle!"

"I remember them from a month ago," another added, his voice trembling slightly.

"The leader had barely stabilized his Mid-stage cultivation, and the younger one was only at the Early stage. To leap an entire sub-realm in a single month... their fortuitous encounters in the Trial Realm must have been extraordinary!" Ge Yucheng's expression turned grim, his eyes fixed on the approaching figures with intense scrutiny. He remembered the black-robed man who had summoned a legion of a hundred Foundation Establishment skeletons with a mere wave of his hand.

Aside from a dedicated ghost-path cultivator, who else could command such a macabre force? Could the thief be hiding among them? If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it's taken without the author's consent. Report it. As the crowd whispered, the two black streaks spiraled downward and slammed into the earth, the light dissipating to reveal the two sinister figures who had previously appeared in the desolate regions. The leader's eyes flickered with wariness as he scanned the crowd.

Suddenly, his gaze landed on a familiar face.

"Daoist Wang, what is the meaning of this gathering? Why is the path blocked?" The cultivator named Wang, clearly an acquaintance, pulled the man aside. In a hushed, rapid tone, he explained the saga of the mysterious thief, the missing Mu Jade Swords, and the aggressive, humiliating storage bag inspections being enforced by Wei Qubing of the Three Thousand Dao Sect and Yin Wuyu of the Supreme Demon Sect.

"Inspect our storage bags?" The Huanming cultivator's brow creased with immediate displeasure, a flash of anger crossing his pale features. After a moment of tense deliberation, he stepped forward and cupped his hands toward the two gatekeepers.

"Daoists Wei and Yin, I can give you my word of honor: neither I nor my junior brother possess a Mu Jade Sword. Can we not forgo this invasive search?" Wei Qubing's eyes narrowed, but before he could offer a response, Yin Wuyu's gaze swept over the newcomers like a jagged, icy blade.

"If you refuse the search, then crush your trial stones and vanish from this place at once," he hissed, his voice dripping with cold malice.

"Two paths lie before you. Choose, and choose quickly." The Huanming Sect cultivator's lips parted, a retort poised on his tongue, but Yin Wuyu's voice cut through the air like a cold blade.

"I shall speak my piece but once," Yin declared with chilling finality.

"If you still refuse to choose, Daoist, then do not blame me for showing no mercy!" The cultivator's face flushed a sickly shade of white and green. Though he held his own prowess in high regard, the chasm between his strength and Yin Wuyu's Late Foundation Establishment cultivation was a daunting reality. Furthermore, Yin was the Young Sect Master of the Supreme Demon Sect, a position of immense prestige. To invite the enmity of such a figure over a mere inspection was the height of folly.

Yet, to surrender his storage bag so meekly felt like a stain upon his honor that would never wash away. He stood frozen, caught in a humiliating deadlock, unable to advance or retreat.

"Heh, we have all yielded our bags for Daoist Wei and Daoist Yin to inspect," a voice sneered from the crowd.

"This fellow thinks his face is worth more than ours, but in the end, he is only inviting his own ruin."

"Why not just hand it over?" another chimed in, the mockery thick in the air.

"He hesitates so much; could it be that his bag contains something truly scandalous?"

"Or perhaps," a third voice whispered, "he is the mysterious cultivator who has managed to mask the aura of the Mu Jade Sword?" The murmurs grew into a cacophony of derision. Seeing the gazes of Wei Qubing and Yin Wuyu grow increasingly frigid, the Huanming Sect cultivator's expression darkened into a mask of suppressed fury. He ground his teeth so hard they nearly cracked. With a sharp, resentful motion, he unfastened the storage bag from his waist.

"Since you two insist on an inspection, then by all means, look your fill!" he spat, his voice trembling with barely contained rage. Behind him, the pale-faced youth who followed him likewise surrendered his bag without a word.

"Hmph. You should have done this from the start," Yin Wuyu remarked, his lips curling into a disdainful smirk.

"Did you truly think the trifles in your bag would pique our interest?" His Divine Sense swept through the contents with practiced ease before he carelessly tossed the bags back, as if they were nothing more than common refuse. Wei Qubing remained silent, but the flash of ridicule in his eyes spoke volumes. It was a silent condemnation of the man's futile resistance. The Huanming Sect cultivator's face burned with renewed shame.

Clutching his bag, he turned away, his features clouded with gloom as he retreated into the background. But at that precise moment, a figure in azure robes stepped forward from the crowd. The Huanming cultivator, turning in his haste, nearly collided with him. Already simmering with resentment from his public humiliation, the sight of the newcomer acted as a spark to a powder keg. Recognizing the man's identity, his face twisted into a snarl of predatory malice.

"Do you have no eyes, boy? Are you seeking death!" he barked. The azure-robed cultivator Reyn merely lifted his gaze, his eyes as calm as a mountain lake. He spared the man an indifferent glance before stepping around him with practiced grace, continuing his forward march as if the aggressor were merely a stone in the path. The Huanming cultivator froze, stunned by the sheer audacity. Then, a tidal wave of fury erupted within him.

He could not fathom that a mere nobody from the North Yue State—a backwater wilderness in the eyes of the cultivation world—would dare to ignore him so blatantly. This was no mere insult; it was a resounding slap across the face, far more agonizing than a direct confrontation. As he felt the mocking, playful gazes of the surrounding cultivators boring into his back, the last vestiges of his restraint shattered. A murderous intent, cold and absolute, exploded from his core.

"Brat! Did you not hear me speaking to you?" Reyn's footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. He turned his head slowly, his expression one of mild confusion, as if he had only just noticed the man's existence. But his gaze lingered on the aggressor for only a heartbeat before shifting to Xing Tianxie, who stood a short distance away. Reyn gave a subtle, respectful nod to Xing Tianxie, then turned back and resumed his walk.

"You are courting death!!" the Huanming cultivator roared. Twice ignored, his pride was in tatters. His hand blurred, shrouded in a sinister black radiance that whistled through the air as it descended toward Reyn's unprotected back. The strike carried a surge of violent, tyrannical, and venomous mana. To the observers, it was a lethal blow. If Reyn truly possessed only the Early Foundation Establishment cultivation he projected, he would be powerless to resist.

Such a strike would, at the very least, leave him crippled and clinging to life. In that moment, save for Xing Tianxie, not a single soul in the clearing felt a shred of pity. Instead, their eyes were filled with a cold, detached mockery. In the world of cultivation, strength was the only currency that mattered. Wei Qubing and Yin Wuyu could humiliate the Huanming cultivator because they possessed superior power and the backing of the Three Thousand Dao Sect and the Supreme Demon Sect.

The victim could only swallow his pride. But for a low-level cultivator from a minor sect in North Yue to provoke such a man? It was the height of idiocy—a death wish granted. Yet, just as the blackened palm was about to crush Reyn's spine, the man they had dismissed as a fool moved. With a fluidity that defied the eye, Reyn raised his hand and pointed a single finger backward. The Earth-Shaking Finger. First Strike: Shatter the Earth! As the finger extended, the very atmosphere seemed to groan.

Winds howled, clouds roiled, and the expressions of every witness shifted from mockery to absolute, bone-chilling shock!