Chapter Eight: The Bandits Block the Road

“Lu Manor, do you remember the way, junior brother?” Liyi asked as they walked along. But how could Xu Cheng recall any route? He had fainted that day, and when he woke, he was already within the gates of the Xuanyan Daoist Sect.

Xu Cheng shook his head vigorously.

“You! You don’t even remember the way and yet you insisted on going to Lu Manor! Junior brother, I think you’re itching for a beating!” As soon as Liyi finished speaking, a whip formed of flames appeared in his hand, making Xu Cheng stumble backward in fright.

With a sharp crack, Liyi lashed the flaming whip against a stone, which instantly shattered into pieces.

“Don’t, don’t! Senior brother Liyi, please put away your magic! We’ll go wherever you say, I promise not to utter a single word of protest!” Xu Cheng pleaded as he retreated, thoroughly intimidated by Liyi’s fiery whip, which snapped and crackled, sending shards of stone flying—truly terrifying.

“Hmph!” Liyi snorted, waving his hand to disperse the whip of fire.

Seeing that Liyi was determined to simply wander wherever his feet took him, Xu Cheng had no choice but to follow closely behind. After all, Lingxu had never specified where his destined opportunity might be found.

“Senior brother, have you learned any spells for faster travel?” After a while, Xu Cheng grew impatient with their slow pace; who knew how long it would take to reach even the nearest town?

“What’s the rush? Isn’t the scenery along the way beautiful? Look at these mountains and rivers, these flowers and grasses! Aren’t they all delightful? Aren’t they?” Liyi gestured enthusiastically at the surroundings, clearly in high spirits.

“Beautiful, beautiful!” Xu Cheng gave in and closed his mouth.

The deserted gravel path showed no sign of carriages or horses—few people ever ventured out here.

“This mountain is mine, this tree is mine—if you want to pass, leave a toll!” Seven or eight burly men burst from the roadside thickets, each wielding a machete and exuding menace.

“Where did these bandits come from? Don’t you see who you’re dealing with?” Liyi retorted, sounding less like a Daoist and more like a street ruffian.

“I don’t care who you are! If you refuse to pay the toll, brothers, get them!” The leader of the bandits swung his broadsword, signaling his men to charge Liyi and Xu Cheng.

Before Xu Cheng could react, a long whip of flame appeared in Liyi’s hand and lashed out, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning. Fortunately, Liyi showed some restraint, merely scorching the bandits rather than killing them.

“Now do you understand how formidable I am?” Liyi stepped on one of the bandits, glaring fiercely.

“Yes, we understand! Please, spare us, great master!” the bandit cried, scrambling to beg for mercy.

“Still dare to rob us? Tell me, where’s your lair?”

Liyi barked out the question. The bandit leader’s eyes darted about; he thought that once they were inside his stronghold, not even immortals could escape. Besides, their leader too was skilled in magic.

Putting on a smile, the bandit leader said, “Great master, I’ll take you to our camp right away!”

“Hurry up!” Liyi gave the bandit a kick, sending him rolling several meters ahead.

They made their way up the mountainside, which was rather steep. The bandits, accustomed to climbing, moved quickly, as did the two cultivators, Liyi and Xu Cheng.

By dusk, a massive stockade loomed ahead, easily housing several hundred people.

“Old Jin, did you get anything today?” someone shouted from the stockade’s ‘wall.’

“No, just let us in!” The bandit was cunning, clearly planning to lure them into a trap. Whether it would ensnare the intended prey or invite a wolf into the fold remained to be seen.

Once inside the stockade, the previously shouting Old Jin immediately raised the alarm: “We’re under attack!”

His roar set off a chain reaction—points of firelight flared around them, and the sound of running feet filled the air.

“Hmph!” Liyi spat a jet of flame from his mouth, and in the blink of an eye, Old Jin and a few others before them were reduced to charred cinders.

Crouching slightly, he gathered strength in his legs and leaped into the air. Liyi, like a fire-breathing imp, sprayed flames down upon the crowd below. Anyone touched by his fire was instantly incinerated.

Clearly, Liyi’s spell was exceptionally powerful, requiring at least a dozen runes to conjure.

Watching his senior brother unleash such might, Xu Cheng hesitated, blocked by a wall of fire. Rushing through might reduce him to ashes.

“Idiot, use your Mystic Eye!” Liyi’s voice snapped him out of it.

Xu Cheng remembered the spell he’d just mastered.

“Open Mystic Eye!” he shouted. The faint blue mark at his brow slowly parted, and under his control, blue beams shot forward.

The Mystic Eye’s beams were no less destructive, piercing through several people with energy to spare.

“So it’s the Pure Yang Truefire spell!” A voice rang out in the distance, and the air rapidly chilled. Even Liyi’s flames froze solid.

“I was overconfident! Who would have thought there’d be a master in a mere bandit’s den!” Liyi ceased his spell, landing and focusing intently.

But the ice continued to spread.

“Senior brother, maybe we should retreat!” Xu Cheng couldn’t help but suggest, startled by the unexpected strength of their foe.

“Retreat? That word isn’t in my dictionary!” Liyi retorted angrily.

“It’s two words, senior brother,” Xu Cheng muttered under his breath.

“Quick, use your Mystic Eye to find that guy’s position!” Liyi ignored the correction and issued his command.

Resolved to stay, Xu Cheng directed the Mystic Eye at his brow to survey the surroundings. Beyond layers of ice and fire, he finally spotted their opponent directly ahead, walking slowly toward them.

“Senior brother Liyi, he’s right ahead! I’ll try hitting him with my Mystic Eye beam—you hold off those ice spikes for me!” Xu Cheng said urgently, focusing his power. Even an ordinary attack from the Mystic Eye was devastating; what if he gathered all his strength into one strike?

But ice spikes shot toward them at blinding speed, and Liyi hurriedly conjured his fire whip to block them.

At the critical moment, a beam of blue light shot from Xu Cheng’s brow, piercing layer after layer of ice.

The bad news: the Mystic Eye beam, upon reaching the enemy, was frozen into an ice spike by the intense cold. The good news: the spike’s momentum did not falter and blasted straight through the opponent’s chest.

“No… impossible!” The figure behind the ice stared in disbelief at the spike in his chest. Yet, being a cultivator, his vitality was strong—he exerted all his power to control the wound, and the ice around them gradually melted as it lost his command.

“Someone that powerful, and you managed a sneak attack! Well done, junior brother!” With the ice melting and their vision clearing, Liyi saw the man clutching his chest, clearly struck by Xu Cheng’s Mystic Eye attack.

“Finish him while he’s down!” Liyi’s figure was now wreathed in a faint layer of fire, his whole body blazing as he charged at the enemy.

Exhausted, Xu Cheng could only stand and catch his breath, now relying on Liyi’s explosive magic to end the fight.

Like a meteor streaking across the night, Liyi crashed into the man’s chest, triggering a violent explosion that sent a mushroom cloud billowing skyward.

Half the sky was dyed red, and many bandits perished in the blast. As the dust settled, Liyi’s form gradually reappeared, the flames around him slowly fading.

The surviving bandits, however, were driven by bloodlust. One of them roared, “Kill them! They’re spent!”

“Kill!” came the chorus. Liyi, indeed unsteady on his feet, was fortunate that Xu Cheng had recovered some of his energy.

The Mystic Eye fired another beam, skewering several charging bandits. Though he and Liyi both practiced the Ten-thousand Arts Scroll, even with just their bodies, they were still a force to be reckoned with.