A figure in a coarse gray hemp robe, conical hat on head, sprinted through the forest, silhouette warping from speed, a pale gray light-screen flaring around him. All the Three-Headed Pupil Spider's net could catch was these scattered shreds of information.
From what Li Changshou could observe, the man was nimble-footed and carried raw killing aura. The first estimate put him at Return-to-Void sixth or seventh rank; since he might be concealing his realm, the second placed him around Return-to-Dao sixth. Chasing on foot rather than by cloud, he was probably not yet an Immortal. Li Changshou frowned — dragged into some queer affair.
His first instinct was to shake his pursuer off with the Escape arts. But he had been under watch these past two days; if he fled and they pressed on, he would be in grave peril. Five li ahead lay a clearing overgrown with poisonous weeds, bare of trees. He gave a quiet humph, clamping two paper figures in his right hand as his qì gathered toward the palm.
"Five Elements turn full circle, great virtue gives form to life, heavy murk makes no obstruction—Earth stands in the middle!" The gray-white ground wrinkled. Li Changshou worked the Earth Escape — but the instant his form sank into the soil, his right hand blazed with light. His pursuer caught the breath boring through the earth, shifted course, quickened, and gave chase anew.
A while later Li Changshou surfaced amid poisonous weeds. With a shudder he flung off the venom-laden soil and clinging insects, replaced his miasma-ward charms, and readied to dart off again. Just then, a sword's cry tore from the flank! A glint of cold light slashed for his neck! He whirled, but before he could react, the slim dharma saber struck his throat and his head flew from his shoulders!
A wisp of gray smoke twisted, and the hat-robed qi-cultivator materialized behind him, a mocking smirk curling his lips.
"Only the Transformation of Spirit realm, after all. Hardly broke a sweat... you—!" His words caught short as he looked down. The headless "Li Changshou" had raised a hand and seized him by the heel! He shot backward — only for his eyes to blur and his strength to drain. His dharma power and qì refused to circulate! Then he glimpsed, at the belt of the headless corpse, a small opened jug.
A trap! He bit hard on the tip of his tongue — but lacked even the strength to crack his skin, and darkness swam over his vision.
A self-forged knockout: the Immortal-Weakening Powder.
At that moment a streak of light flew up overhead — a paper umbrella of strange make, its canopy inlaid with spirit stones of every hue. The umbrella turned; the stones flew outward, and a sealing array of fifteen zhang bloomed over the clearing, cutting it off from the world!
A self-forged dharma artifact: the Heaven-Exchanging Treasure Umbrella.
Li Changshou eased up from the earth. Three paper figures swelled with the wind and became mirror-images of himself, lunging forward.
A Daoist art: the paper-cut incarnation.
Before they reached him, Li Changshou squeezed the trigger of a short bronze crossbow. A wooden bolt buried itself through the assassin's brow! The hat flew skyward, baring a lean, ferocious face; even as he loosed a last weak "You—!", the doppelgangers surged in:
Paper-Figure One drove three long nails into his three dantian, sealing his hun souls and fixing his seven po!
Paper-Figure Two spat a stream of white flame that wrapped his body; his flesh melted like a snowman under boiling water. He never managed a single cry.
Paper-Figure Three chanted the soul-quelling incantation, scattering the phantom in the white flame!
By now his hun and po were scattered, nothing left but a wisp devoured by the pale flame.
Still wary, Li Changshou tossed a thumb-sized bead that spun and drew in a faint shallow-green glimmer — no shred of remnant soul left. The white flame had died; on the ground remained a small pile of blackened bone-ash, half a sword blade, and a little ring.
The three paper figures settled into meditation and chanted scripture — the Du Xian Sect's Deliverance Scripture, the Rebirth Mantra of the Western faiths, the Daoist incantation to dispel calamities. Li Changshou took the jade ring, wrapped it in dharma power, and flung it into his spare Heaven-Number-Four storage treasure. Then he worked the Earth Escape. As the figures finished, he swept his sleeves, scattering the ash. The paper figures vaulted up, folding mid-leap into palm-sized slips that flew back to his sleeve. The umbrella folded; the great array vanished. He raised a sword-finger; a wisp of sword-qi pierced the poisonous mist and burst a lurking black beetle to powder.
One unbroken flow, as if rehearsed a thousand times. He set the headless paper figure alight, sank into the soil, and vanished.
Hah, forging a paper figure really cost no small effort... Still, the fellow's "assets" more than made up the loss.
In the remnant soul his bead had gathered, Li Changshou saw many memory fragments and came to understand this crew's purpose and scheme.
His ambusher bore the code name "Stabbing Crow," a Return-to-Dao second-rank qi-cultivator hired with spirit stones for the dirty work none would touch. He had come to strike because of the message talisman on Li Changshou's person — to lure Immortal Jiu Jiu toward this spot. The instant Jiu Jiu came rushing over, the cabal would strike Liu Yan'er and Wang Qi, then use them as bait to trap the wine-immortal in an array... Their true quarry was none other than that "Sixth Princess" of some kingdom.
Youqin Xuanya. But they were not here to kill her — such a roundabout arrangement seemed aimed at some far more sordid object. From the assassin's memories, the one pulling the strings appeared to be his fellow disciple Yuan Qing, or some secular power behind him.
Li Changshou curled a lip and groused: 'True enough, never judge a man by his face. Warm-hearted fellows are mostly an illusion.' But none of this had anything to do with him. If they dared not face Jiu Jiu head-on but schemed to trap him, he need not fret over a True Immortal's safety.
A breeze drifted by, the miasma crept back, and the clearing returned to its peace; only a small clump of weeds had burned to ash. No one would believe a "battle for one's life" had erupted here moments before.
'Killed you in the space of a cup of tea — and scattered your ashes into the bargain!'
...
On the shore of the East Sea, several hundred disciples were locked in fierce battle with the endless shrimp-demons surging out of the water. At one corner, a few Qi-Refining juniors huddled behind a boulder, chanting incantations to back the seniors charging at the front — yet all gazes were drawn to a graceful silhouette a short way off.
Blue Ling'e held two porcelain bottles. She dusted powder before her, blew breath of spiritual qi, and the powder whirled toward the dozen-odd shrimp-demons charging in. Those none-too-bright shrimp turned soft-shelled in a blink, dropping one by one, frothing, eyes rolling wildly.
Ling'e drifted out with a short blade, finishing each with razor-sharp precision, with a thoroughly immortal grace. Then she drifted back, awaiting the next wave of the tide, unaware she had become the object of some disciples' study.
'These poison powders my senior brother refined are so handy. I wonder if he's safe. They say the Northern Jambu Continent is so fearsome even an insect can take a cultivator's life. Ahh... the good-for-nothing senior brother always tells me to be steady, yet he courts danger himself — and won't even bring along his plucky little junior sister!'
The more Ling'e fumed, the more anger rose — until a wedge of shadow fell before her.
"Junior Sister Ling'e, watch out!" "Get out of the way!"
She instinctively raised her head — seven or eight shrimp-demons were already upon her, a dozen gleaming blade-claws swinging down! The ground was pocked with holes; they had tunneled up to strike!
In a flash, Ling'e snatched a bottle from her sleeve and flung it. Her most senior brother's voice echoed in her heart: 'When you run into an emergency, or an enemy too tough to handle, throw this bottle.'
Crack! The bottle shattered among the swarm, and a cloud of green smoke wrapped about them. The next moment they hung suspended; a gust of sea wind blew, and their hard-shelled bodies dissolved into a skyful of rainbow-tinted bubbles drifting on the breeze...
Blue Ling'e let out a breath of relief — then sensed something odd in the mood around her. The seniors charging toward her had frozen stiff, their faces strange.
"Hm?" Ling'e blinked.
Clatter. A Transformation-of-Spirit-stage disciple dropped his longsword, then hurriedly bent to retrieve it. "Junior Sister Ling'e, carry on, carry on. We were just passing through... just passing through..."