The flying ark cut through the sea of clouds for nearly an hour.
Leaning against the railing, Jiang Muchen let his gaze sweep across the deck.
Nineteen other disciples had naturally divided themselves into five or six groups. Scions of great families clustered near the prow, laughing easily. Several inner disciples sat alone, eyes closed in quiet meditation. At the stern, three or four disciples from humble backgrounds huddled together, tense as startled prey.
Jiang's eyes lingered briefly on one of them.
A boy in violet robes, no more than sixteen or seventeen. A short sword of pure amethyst hung at his waist, lightning patterns etched into its sheath shimmering faintly in reflected sunlight. He appeared to be resting, eyes closed—but his index finger tapped rhythmically against his knee.
A sign of lightning qi being primed.
Thunder Hall.
Information surfaced instantly in Jiang's mind.
Chen Song.
Qi Refining Fifth Layer. Outer disciple of Thunder Hall.
Specialty: Shocking Thunder Finger.
Cold temperament. Habitual lone wolf.
At that moment, the ark began its descent.
Breaking through the clouds, a vast mountain range unfurled below like a colossal beast at rest. Ancient trees towered skyward, vines coiled like serpents, and milky mist drifted lazily through the valleys. Between two sheer peaks stood a jade-green gate of light—over thirty feet tall, rippling like water and reflecting the surrounding emerald wilderness.
The entrance to Azure Nether Herb Valley.
The ark hovered three meters above the ground. The gangplank lowered.
The steward elder's voice rang out like a bell:
"All disciples, disembark! Three days from now, at noon, the ark will return here. Latecomers will be left behind!"
The disciples poured down.
When Jiang's boots touched the soft, decayed earth, a surge of dense spiritual energy rushed toward him—at least twice as concentrated as that of Crimson Dust Pavilion's outer sect.
And yet—
Mixed within it was a faintly sweet, metallic stench.
The fragrance of spirit herbs… entwined with the blood-scent of beasts.
Opportunity and danger, breathing side by side.
"Move!" A noble-born disciple charged into the light gate, vanishing into the rippling green surface.
Others followed in a rush.
Jiang Muchen, however, remained where he stood.
"Brother Jiang!" Wang Duobao whispered urgently. "If we don't hurry, the good stuff will all be gone!"
"What's the rush?" Jiang replied calmly, scanning the scene. "The ones entering first are all Qi Refining Sixth Layer or above. They're grabbing the surface gains—the most obvious herbs near the entrance."
"Then us…?"
"We go deeper." Jiang unfurled Firecloud Elder's beast-hide map. "Cold Mist Ravine is in the northwest—at least thirty miles in. Plenty to harvest along the way."
Lu Hanshan nodded. "Wise. Too many people at the entrance. Too many chances for conflict."
Zheng Xiaoqi pointed at a wolf-head marking on the map. "Shadow Wolf nest here. Detour?"
"Yes." Jiang said without hesitation. "They're pack beasts. Seven or eight per nest at minimum. Not worth provoking."
Decision made, the four advanced toward the gate.
Crossing the light barrier felt like passing through a layer of icy water.
The world shifted instantly.
Outside had been daylight—inside felt like dusk. Towering canopies blocked the sky, allowing only scattered shafts of light to pierce through. The air was so damp it felt drinkable, thick with the scent of earth and rot.
Stranger still, the spiritual energy here was denser—but carried an undercurrent of agitation that unsettled the mind.
"Careful!" Lu Hanshan hissed.
A black blur shot out from the bushes, lunging straight for Wang Duobao!
A jet-black viper as thick as an arm, triangular head crowned with blood-red eyes.
"Rot-Venom Viper!" Zhou Xiaohuan cried. "Its poison corrodes spiritual energy!"
Frozen in fear, Wang Duobao forgot to dodge.
Jiang Muchen moved.
He didn't attack.
Instead, he flicked out a small pouch and hurled its contents at the viper's head.
The powder burst midair—sharp, pungent, choking.
The viper stiffened instantly, recoiling as if struck by something foul, then twisted around and vanished back into the brush.
"B-Brother Jiang…" Wang collapsed onto the ground, pale. "What was that?"
"Realgar powder mixed with sulfur, plus juice from snake-repellent grass," Jiang said, stowing the empty pouch. "The Illustrated Compendium of Herbs records that Rot-Venom Vipers detest this scent."
Zhou Xiaohuan's eyes shone. "You even prepared that?"
"Basic fieldcraft." Jiang pulled Wang to his feet. "This is just the beginning."
They followed the map cautiously.
Three miles in, they found churned earth—low-grade herbs uprooted and discarded, roots torn free.
"Damn it!" Wang Duobao lamented, picking up a crushed Blood-Coagulating Herb. "Five years old, at least!"
"Normal," Jiang said evenly. "They only care about ten-year growth or more."
Suddenly, the sounds of battle echoed ahead—along with a scream.
Jiang gestured for silence and approached.
Through the trees, they saw three noble disciples fighting a massive boar-like beast the size of an ox, its body covered in sharp spines.
"Arrow-Spike Boar," Zheng whispered. "Its quills shoot like spells!"
The beast was wounded, swords embedded in its back, blood pouring freely. It roared, shook violently—
Dozens of spikes launched outward!
"Dodge!" someone yelled.
One disciple was grazed, his arm instantly bleeding.
"Senior Brother Liu!" the others shouted.
"Don't mind me—kill it first!"
The boar lowered its head and charged, tusks gleaming.
If it hit, a Qi Refining cultivator would be crippled—if not killed.
At that instant—
A flute sounded.
Not a killing note.
But a gentle, flowing melody—like mountain streams, like wind through leaves.
The boar faltered.
Its crimson eyes dulled, charge slowing.
The three seized the opening and struck together.
The beast collapsed, lifeless.
Silence.
The disciples turned toward the sound.
Jiang Muchen stepped from the trees, flute lowered. "Senior brothers—are you injured?"
"You played that?" the wounded Liu asked warily.
"Yes," Jiang replied calmly. "Arrow-Spike Boars lose focus briefly when hearing soothing music during berserk states."
"You're a menial disciple… and you know this?"
"Menials need to stay alive," Jiang said with a faint smile, producing a small vial. "Your wound carries quill poison. If untreated, it will invade the meridians. This Clearing Toxin Powder may help."
Liu hesitated—then applied it.
The pain faded quickly.
"…Thank you," he said. "Which court are you from?"
"Menial Court. Jiang Muchen."
"Menial Court?" the others stared.
"By chance," Jiang replied. "If you don't need the boar's body—may we take it? The meat restores blood qi. The quills can be shaped into arrows."
The three exchanged glances.
Useless to them.
"Take it," Liu waved. "Consider it repayment."
"Much appreciated." Jiang bowed. "Also—about two miles southeast, I spotted a patch of Moonlight Grass, decent age. You may wish to check."
Their eyes lit up.
"True?"
"I wouldn't deceive you."
Liu studied him, then clasped his hands. "I'm Liu Zhen. I owe you."
They left quickly.
Only then did Wang whisper, confused. "Brother Jiang—Moonlight Grass is valuable! Why give it away?"
"That patch has an owner," Jiang said calmly.
"Owner?"
"I smelled Azure-Scale Python musk nearby." Jiang cut boar tusks free. "They guard Moonlight Grass. Either Liu fights it—risky after that battle—or they retreat empty-handed."
Wang froze.
"So you…"
"A favor that costs nothing." Jiang replied. "They remember the information. We keep real gains."
Lu Hanshan exhaled. "Your mind… is dangerous."
"In the Herb Valley," Jiang said quietly, "shallow thinking gets you killed."
They advanced again.
Soon, a broad river valley opened before them—clear water, glowing spirit herbs lining both banks.
"We struck gold!" Wang whispered.
"Don't move," Jiang said.
Across the river, atop a boulder, sat a lone figure in violet.
Chen Song.
Eyes closed. Lightning flickering faintly around him.
Three small flags were planted before him in a triangular formation.
"Lightning-Gathering Formation," Zheng murmured.
"More than that," Jiang said, narrowing his eyes. "It seals the valley exits. Anyone entering steps into the array."
Wang swallowed. "Ambush?"
"Selection." Jiang's gaze slid past Chen Song—to a cliff fissure glowing softly.
Moonlight Spirit Ganoderma.
At least three hundred years old.
Worth a hundred spirit stones per jin.
Jiang smiled faintly.
Tongue Dao Truth:
A true hunter never strikes while prey is feeding. He waits—until it believes it's safe—then takes everything, hide and all.