Su Yan knew escape was impossible. Zhou Qiyun, the Zhou patriarch, was a living legend—the strongest cultivator in the world. Against him, resistance was a joke.
The irony wasn't lost on Su Yan. Three centuries ago, Zhou Qiyun had been a snake-catcher, just like him. He'd chased a strange serpent into Qinyan Cave and stumbled upon the Mud Pill Palace inheritance. Now, three hundred years later, history repeated itself with Su Yan.
Zhou Qiyun flicked his wrist. The five Bull Demons levitated silently and drifted aside. Zhou Yupo rose with a wince, standing at attention without a word.
A strange force washed over Su Yan. The Bean-Soldier Art binding him dissolved. His body snapped back to normal. Yuan Qi did the same.
Zhou Qiyun stepped close, studying him. "You've opened the Mud Pill Secret, yet you never cultivated his technique. Of course—you couldn't. I took every scripture I could carry from that chamber and burned the rest. You never received the inheritance."
Su Yan blinked. The man admitted his crime with casual pride, almost admirable in his shamelessness.
"Senior Zhou," Su Yan asked, falling into step behind him. "Why burn the patriarch's life's work?"
Zhou Qiyun walked on, voice flat. "I was young. I chased a strange snake into Qinyan Cave, found the stone chamber, and knelt to that skeleton, thinking my life of catching snakes was over. But the texts were endless—mountains of martial arts and divine techniques. I couldn't carry them all. I didn't want rivals. So I burned what I couldn't take."
He smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "I knew the cave was significant. If word spread about the Mud Pill Palace and its inheritance, investigators might trace it back to me. So I left one scripture and a gourd of spirit pills."
Su Yan's heart lurched. "The gourd Yuan Qi's grandfather found—that was yours?"
"Yuan Qi's grandfather?" Zhou Qiyun glanced at the serpent. "You're that strange snake's grandson? Hah. Our families are bound by fate."
Yuan Qi gaped. "You were the snake-catcher who drove my grandfather into the cave? He spoke of you often. Said without you, he'd never have found the inner chamber or become a yao."
Zhou Qiyun's smile widened. "I owed him. The Mud Pill patriarch left plenty of pills to aid my foundation, so I left a gourd for the snake that led me there. The scripture was the Great Sun Daoyin Art—one of the few yao techniques in the collection."
Yuan Qi nodded eagerly. "And the Titan-Ox Demon Fist!"
"Probably." Zhou Qiyun paused. "I wasn't being generous. I knew others might find the cave. If they did, they'd think the snake got the inheritance. They'd underestimate it and stop looking."
Su Yan understood. "A scapegoat. Brilliant."
"You call it blame-shifting," Zhou Qiyun said. "I call it foresight. Without that gourd, neither you nor your grandfather would exist."
They walked on. Su Yan asked, "How old were you then?"
"About your age."
Su Yan shook his head in admiration. "I don't have your cunning."
Zhou Qiyun sighed. "I overthought it. No one ever investigated the cave. No one cared about a snake becoming a yao. Four years later, I was the strongest in Yongzhou."
A ruined temple came into view. Su Yan's pulse jumped—the Shuikou Temple. But it had moved thirty li south, crawling toward Mount Wuwang. The White-Robed Nuo Immortal must have known Su Yan lived on Mount Wuwang, though he didn't know the mountain's fate.
Zhou Qiyun strode straight for the temple. "At fifty-seven, I opened the eighth grotto-heaven. The emperor himself called me a prodigy. I was unstoppable."
They entered. The temple was ordinary now—no hidden world beyond its doors. Inside the main hall, Zhou Qiyun swept his sleeve. Space convulsed. The hall split apart like curtains, revealing thunder, fire, and raw energy spilling out. The hidden realm unfolded—the five sacred peaks and the great temple materialized before them.
"The old man's fierce," Yuan Qi whispered.
Zhou Yupo glared. Yuan Qi grinned. "Stare again, and my bulls will teach you manners."
The floating boulders and fleshy tentacles were gone. But the five peaks now pulsed with crimson flesh, thick veins coiling like blood-colored pythons. The corrupted Nuo Immortal was consuming more victims, trying to regenerate.
Zhou Qiyun summoned clouds beneath their feet and ascended. "When I knelt to that skeleton, it raised a finger and touched my brow. That touch opened my Mud Pill Secret. A trap. I realized it at the fifth layer. So I destroyed five grotto-heavens and started over. Nearly killed me."
Su Yan stared, awed. "That takes courage most men don't have."
"Did the skeleton open your secret too?" Zhou Qiyun asked.
Su Yan shook his head. "I kneel to no corpse. I opened it myself."
Zhou Qiyun studied him with new interest. "The real trap is in the technique itself. At fifty-eight, I nearly broke through to the ninth layer. Then I saw the flaw. Cold sweat for three days."
They reached the great temple. Its gates stood open. A waterfall of divine power churned before it, thousands of latent techniques ready to erupt. Hundreds of god-statues loomed, seven to eight zhang tall, incense swirling, the roar of ten thousand prayers like thunder.
Inside, the White-Robed Nuo Immortal sat before the immortal hall, white hair wild, sword-like immortal light circling him. He'd sensed Zhou Qiyun the moment he entered and prepared everything.
Zhou Qiyun ignored it all. He bowed slightly to Su Yan. "Forgive me."
He became light itself, threading through the erupting waterfall and the army of gods. In the next breath, he stood before the immortal hall. The White-Robed Nuo Immortal, Chen Mianzhu, didn't even rise. One finger to the brow. His skin-sack exploded. Essence drained. He deflated into an empty husk that drifted back and slapped against the wall.
*Thwack.*
The husk hung there, flat against the stone.
Su Yan's heart hammered. The great bell's voice rang in his mind: "A-Yan, this man's terrifying. That finger shattered the immortal's grudge. Erased him completely."
Zhou Qiyun turned, sensing something. The great bell went silent. "He noticed me."
Su Yan smiled and walked forward. Before he reached the gate, the cascading Inner-Realm waterfall shattered. The foreheads of hundreds of god-statues burst like overripe melons.
By the time Su Yan arrived, it was over.
"I saw him move like lightning," Su Yan thought, horrified. "But I never saw when he struck."
"A pitiable man," Zhou Qiyun said, gazing up at the husk on the wall. "He didn't see the flaw I saw. He hid in his Inner-Realm Subtle Transformation and was devoured. Weakness invites death."
Su Yan stepped beside him. "You mean the technique's creator—he's the one eating them?"
The answer was obvious. The creator of the technique knew its trap. If he opened your secret and you cultivated his method, you were livestock.
Zhou Qiyun summoned the husk down and examined it. "Do you know how I escaped?"
Su Yan almost shook his head, then inspiration struck. "Yao techniques? No—cultivator techniques!"
Zhou Qiyun looked up, eyes narrowing. "You're too clever. It makes me want to kill you. I don't like meeting people smarter than me."
He continued anyway. "Yes. Cultivator techniques. For eighty-six years, I searched for Nuo Immortals. I found seventeen. All dead in their Inner Realms." His voice hardened. "Ascension to a personal immortal realm? A joke. Every single one was eaten."