Volume One: The Menial Servant of Changshui County Chapter Fifty: Chen Xuanfeng Vanishes

“There are rewards for merit, you know! Slaying monsters and such always comes with a silver bounty,” Wang Yunshan chimed in with approval. “Surely, they wouldn’t have you kill for nothing, would they?”

Rewards? This was news to Lu Jiuzhang.

From this mission alone, Lu Jiuzhang and Zhou Cheng had worked together to slay a beast, while Guard Mo had intervened and killed three others. But Guard Mo was not a man of the Demon-Slaying Division; the credit for those kills would surely go to him, wouldn’t it? Lu Jiuzhang wondered just how much reward that might amount to.

He remembered exterminating a monster in Miaodi Village once, but he had never admitted to it himself. That matter, he supposed, was best left forgotten.

The menials of the Demon-Slaying Division were busy clearing the site, and Lu Jiuzhang and the others waited there. As the sun sank toward the horizon, there was still no sign of Chen Xuanfeng’s return. He had said he’d be gone for two hours, but now nearly four had passed and dusk had long since fallen.

Zhou Cheng decided to take a group to search for Chen Xuanfeng, leaving Lu Jiuzhang in charge of those who remained. Should Chen Xuanfeng return early, Lu Jiuzhang was to send word at once.

Lu Jiuzhang was more than happy to stay put; he had no desire to move about unnecessarily. Thus, Zhou Cheng led half the men toward the back mountain.

Lu Jiuzhang found a quiet spot and settled down to cultivate for a while. He needed to work hard if he wished to advance to the Ninth Rank of Martial Arts soon. As for the Ninth Rank of Scholar’s Path, it was of little use to him now, and he had set aside any hopes in that direction.

Meanwhile, in a wholly unfamiliar place, Chen Xuanfeng halted his steps. The scenery here was a far cry from the lush greenery of the mountain above. Black rocks dominated the area, and ahead lay a small pool, no more than ten feet across. The water was dark and chill, exuding an icy vapor.

At the center of the pool was a massive, ugly root system, its tangled and menacing tendrils plunging into the water like the claws of some ancient beast. Yet the spiritual energy here was astonishingly dense.

In Changshui County, spiritual energy was thin. Anxi Prefecture, blessed by nature, had much more, and the North Foothills Commandery was famed for its abundance, enhanced by a grand formation carved into the land—spiritual energy there was said to be ten times greater than in Changshui. Yet even the North Foothills could not compare to this place.

With each breath, Chen Xuanfeng felt a surge of comfort sweep through his body. The bottleneck that had held him in place began to loosen, ever so slightly. Could this be the source of the strange monsters that so often appeared here?

Monsters, unlike humans, did not comprehend cultivation before their intelligence awakened. They relied on the simplest of methods—devouring weeds rich in spiritual power and absorbing it into themselves. Once their minds awakened, they would learn rudimentary breathing techniques, drawing in spiritual energy with each inhale and exhale to refine their bodies.

So it was that monsters would appear here at intervals, lured by the abundance. They would descend the mountain and trouble the villagers of Sanyi Manor, in turn attracting the Demon-Slaying Division, who came to hunt them down. Thus, a cycle was born. Few monsters of centuries’ age would ever survive here, but fledgling creatures on the cusp of the Ninth Rank appeared without end.

It all made sense now.

But what truly puzzled Chen Xuanfeng was why the spiritual energy here was so dense. Places blessed by nature were rich in spiritual energy, but this barren place was anything but. Could it be a formation? Sorcerers could indeed lay formations to draw in spiritual power. Yet after lingering here for some time, Chen Xuanfeng sensed no trace of any such art.

Clearly, he would need to investigate further—below the surface.

With a deep breath, Chen Xuanfeng leaped into the pool. He had thought it shallow, no more than thirty feet at most, but as he descended, he found the space beneath vast and mysterious. The pool expanded, and after diving several hundred meters, Chen Xuanfeng realized he could not sense its boundaries, even with his spiritual perception.

The water grew bitterly, unnaturally cold. Even with his strength at the Eighth Rank of Martial Arts, he dared not linger long. Certain there was something extraordinary below, he pressed on.

Nearly a thousand feet deep, Chen Xuanfeng’s eyes widened in shock. Before him loomed a blue stone gate, its make and age impossible to guess. Yet even a glance filled him with a profound, ancient sorrow.

What was this place?

Approaching, he pressed his hands against the stone gate and tried to force it open, but it did not budge. An Eighth Rank martial artist’s strike wasn’t world-shattering, but it was far from feeble. Yet the gate’s resilience astounded him.

Drawing his official sword—a special weapon of the Demon-Slaying Division, of no mean quality—he gathered his strength and struck the gate with all his might. Not even a mark was left behind.

Disheartened, Chen Xuanfeng was ready to give up. Whatever lay beyond, it could not be reached unless the gate was opened.

Just as he was about to leave, a strange, faint sound reached his ears. He pressed his ear to the stone, trying to discern its source.

A moment later, a tremendous roar erupted from the gate. In the water, it seemed muffled, yet up close it was deafening. Chen Xuanfeng’s head spun, his chest tightened, and he was grievously wounded.

Terrified, he wasted no time in fleeing upward. Who knew how long it took before he finally clambered onto the shore, utterly spent. Assured of his safety at last, his vision went black and he collapsed.

Dawn broke in the east.

A whole night had passed, and still there was no sign of Zhou Cheng or Chen Xuanfeng. Lu Jiuzhang finally realized the gravity of the situation.

“I’ll go up the mountain to investigate. The rest of you wait here,” he declared, glancing at Wang Yunshan.

“Brother Lu, you go on ahead. I’ll cheer you on from here!” Wang Yunshan replied hastily. Chen Xuanfeng was a martial artist of the Eighth Rank, and now he was missing. Wang Yunshan had no desire to get involved—better to stay put, where it was safe.

Lu Jiuzhang nodded and hurried toward the rear mountain, Guard Mo close behind. Before they even reached the summit, they encountered some of their colleagues from the Demon-Slaying Division.

From these workers, Lu Jiuzhang learned that they had searched all night without finding any trace of Chen Xuanfeng. The entire mountain had been scoured—short of digging three feet into the earth, there was nothing more to be done.

Zhou Cheng was still searching above, while the others had been sent down to rest and eat something to restore their strength.

Lu Jiuzhang nodded, intending to join up with Zhou Cheng at once.