Chapter 160: Let's See What Treasure This Is...
Shen Xiuhan tore his gaze away, gritted his teeth. Across his pallid face, a flicker of ruthless resolve surfaced.
He reached into his robe, fished out another pill, and swallowed it.
The pill dissolved. Medicinal warmth rose from his core and spread through every limb.
Color crept back into Shen Xiuhan’s cheeks. The bone-dry apertures began, slowly, to replenish.
‘Forcing Dragon Gate Pulling at Hidden Strength is pushing it too far. Just now, the four apertures were drained to within a hair of ninety percent before the art fully manifested.’
‘I can’t use Dragon Gate Pulling lightly. Once it’s spent, my reserves are gutted — I’d be a cripple, helpless, at anyone’s mercy.’
Shen Xiuhan murmured inwardly, his gaze fixed on Dongyi Island.
‘But right now, I can’t afford to worry about that.’
‘A chance like this won’t come again. This attempt has to succeed — otherwise, who knows when I’ll get another opening.’
Mind set, Shen Xiuhan hesitated no longer. He poured force into the Sea-Overturning Pearl once more.
Azure light blazed.
The bubble sliced through the water like a fish, angling toward Dongyi Island — faster than before.
The depths were murky. Reefs, water-weeds, and darting fish streaked past.
He hugged the shadows beneath the island’s rocky shelf, avoiding the sentries above.
Roughly the time to drink a cup of tea later, Shen Xiuhan surfaced behind a secluded reef, showing only the top of his head. He swept the area in a rapid scan.
This was Dongyi Island’s western flank — jagged boulders, still water. Nearby, a single bamboo raft was moored. On it, two bandit sentries stood with their faces turned toward the distance.
Out there, the percussive booms of Duan Xiao and Zuo Muxian’s clash rolled like thunder. The two watchmen gawked, utterly transfixed.
They were so absorbed that they never noticed the black shape that had already slipped onto their raft in silence.
Shen Xiuhan struck like lightning — five iron-clamp fingers closing simultaneously on both men’s throats, one left, one right.
CRACK! CRACK!
Two crisp snaps at the same instant.
Both bandits’ eyes bulged, a hissing wheeze escaping their ruined windpipes. Their hands clawed weakly twice, then went limp.
Shen Xiuhan shifted his weight and vaulted ashore.
CRACK-POP! CRACK-POP!
He was still in midair when the bones of his face and body began their subtle, crawling rearrangement — muscle sliding, skeleton shifting.
The Tortoise-Breath Phantom-Face Art!
In the moonlight, Shen Xiuhan’s features had already transformed into those of one of the dead sentries — down to the black mole at the corner of his brow, exact to the last detail.
He drew a steadying breath and strode forward.
Chenjian Wu. The stronghold gate.
The gate was built into the hillside — timber palisade backed by stone wall — with a fire-basket burning every dozen paces along the top, pine-pitch smoke streaming in the wind.
The island’s terrain rose and fell, the buildings climbing the slopes. Grey flagstone paved the main road, running from the gate all the way to the island’s heart.
At the gate itself, several dozen bandits had crowded onto the wall-top, necks craned toward the lake, hollering encouragement for Duan Xiao.
Shen Xiuhan ducked his head, slipped in among them, and followed the main road inward. Not a soul challenged him. The passage was seamless.
Past the gate, a long slope stretched ahead.
Compounds of varying size flanked both sides — some storehouses, some dwellings — junk piled against walls, the air heavy with fish-reek and damp.
Shen Xiuhan’s gaze shifted. He pressed deeper.
The faint golden motes marking the Diaohailou true disciple’s inheritance still glimmered further in.
He’d covered perhaps half a li when his steps halted.
TAP TAP TAP…
A clatter of hurried footsteps ahead.
A hulking monk — chest bare, six scars burned into his scalp, killing intent radiating from every pore like a caged beast — led a dozen hard-bitten men out from the island’s interior, marching swiftly toward the shore.
The monk seemed intent on heading to the water to support Duan Xiao.
‘Chenjian Wu’s Second Chief — the Blood Ascetic…’
Shen Xiuhan stepped to the side of the road, head lowered, watching the man’s back recede. Without breaking stride, he continued forward, quickening his pace.
A short while later, he rounded a bend, and the view opened up.
A compound sat beside the road, its gate standing wide, the interior bright with lamplight and alive with moving figures.
Just then, a runner sprinted up to the gate, dropped to one knee, and reported at the top of his lungs:
“Report!”
“Fourth Chief! Word from the shore — the Fifth Chief has been captured by an unknown expert! The man is locked in combat with the Great Chief as we speak!”
“The enemy’s cultivation is extremely high — the Great Chief cannot subdue him quickly!”
The words had barely landed when Jia Pingxiu emerged, wearing a fresh brocade robe, his expression thunderous. He listened, considered for a moment, then spoke in a clipped, cold voice.
“…So it was some kind of sorcery. That’s what made Gao Fu lose his mind.”
“But if the enemy captured Gao Fu and didn’t run — chose instead to fight the Great Chief — there must be something more to this. Some other scheme?”
Jia Pingxiu muttered to himself, brow furrowed. Then his gaze swept the bandits by the gate, and his voice turned hard.
“Enough speculation. Better safe than sorry. Pass the word: full lockdown across the island. No unfamiliar face sets foot on shore. Anyone suspicious — kill on sight!”
“Yes, sir!”
The bandits roared acknowledgment, voices shaking the walls, and scattered in every direction.
Jia Pingxiu pondered a beat longer, then made to head for the shore himself.
He wanted to see with his own eyes just who had the audacity to provoke Chenjian Wu.
At that instant, his peripheral vision caught a figure — head down, shuffling past the compound gate.
Jia Pingxiu’s brow creased. His voice cracked like a whip.
“Halt! Who are you?”
The figure stopped and turned. A scabby scalp, a big black mole on the cheek, an expression of startled deference.
“F-Fourth Chief! I’m a granary overseer — on orders from Master Tang Jin, heading in to check on the grain stores.”
“Tang Jin…”
Jia Pingxiu’s eyes flickered. He extended a hand. “Identity token.”
“Here — here!”
The scabby-headed man fumbled in his shirt and produced a wooden plaque, presenting it with both hands.
Jia Pingxiu took it, examined it briefly. The tension in his face visibly eased. He tossed the token back and even allowed a note of approval.
“Good. Tang Jin thinks ahead. On your way.”
“Yes, sir!”
The man caught the token, ducked his head in a fist-salute, and strode briskly into the island’s interior, soon vanishing from sight.
Jia Pingxiu watched him go, then turned and set off for the shore. A dozen or so breaths later, his steps faltered.
“Wait. Something’s off.”
Jia Pingxiu’s face changed sharply. His small eyes narrowed to slits.
‘Tang Jin lost his standing. He was demoted to the granary. The granary is Third Brother’s domain — Third Brother has never liked the man. His people make Tang Jin’s life miserable at every turn. The man can’t even get a common lackey to run an errand for him. How would he have an overseer following his orders?’
‘That man just now… no good!’
Jia Pingxiu’s eyes glittered. His nostrils flared, sniffing at the lingering trace of scent in the air, and he surged forward in pursuit.
His nine apertures were six deep — one step short of late-Hidden Strength.
And that sixth aperture was the Yingxiang.
With it open, his sensitivity to scent had multiplied tenfold.
Not on the level of a dedicated olfactory secret art, but still ten times sharper than any ordinary person.
Jia Pingxiu moved with startling agility — utterly at odds with his round, corpulent frame.
A few bounding leaps brought him to the edge of a pool.
The pool was modest — a few zhang across. Ripples fanned outward across its surface, but the surroundings were silent. Not a soul in sight.
“The scent… stops here.”
Jia Pingxiu scowled, vaulted to a granary rooftop, and scanned from the high ground.
Compounds, alleys, buildings — all spread below him. Not a trace of the figure anywhere.
After a moment, Jia Pingxiu dropped back to the pool’s edge, face dark.
“That man was no Chenjian Wu member. He risked his life to infiltrate the island… he’s after something.”
He muttered to himself, eyes shifting between light and shadow.
Then a spark of memory struck — an old matter, half-forgotten.
Years ago, Duan Xiao had organized search parties, year after year, tearing Dongyi Island apart — digging three feet deep — as though hunting for something.
All that effort, and nothing had ever been found.
Jia Pingxiu had once asked in private. Duan Xiao had only shaken his head, saying nothing.
This very pool had been explored back then. Divers had gone to the bottom and found only a few arm-thick water-channels winding away to join Yunshui Lake. Nothing else.
But now, thinking it over…
A gleam of avarice surfaced in Jia Pingxiu’s eyes.
“Could there really be some treasure down there?”
Jia Pingxiu licked his lips, sprang nimbly into the dense reeds at the pool’s edge, and crouched low.
He hid himself well — only his eyes showing — fixed on the water, a predatory grin spreading across his face.
“Let’s see what treasure this is, that it’s worth deploying a Transforming Strength fighter as a diversion on the lake while sending an elite to infiltrate the island…”