Chapter Seventy-Four: The Pursuit

Nan Luo’s injuries could be considered both serious and not so serious. If he refrained from using magic, a few days of rest would suffice for his recovery. Though he lacked the Witch Tribe’s methods for refining vital energy, he had obtained half a drop of Ancestral Witch’s blood, granting him formidable regenerative powers nonetheless.

The crucial issue lay in his spirit—when his consciousness merged with the Azure Sheen Sword and clashed with Hou Yi’s arrow, it had sustained damage. Since spirit was the foundation for channeling magical power and connecting with the world, he could only manage to flee several dozen miles before being forced to stop.

He did not know why, after the third arrow, a fourth never came. In that brief moment after the third arrow, his mind was in turmoil and his magic wildly out of control. Had another arrow been loosed, even Nan Luo dared not imagine the consequences...

Yet, inexplicably, the arrows stopped, granting him a precious chance to catch his breath and burrow away into the earth.

He could not fathom why the arrows had ceased, nor could he determine whether someone was still pursuing him. Ultimately, the possibilities narrowed to two: either there was pursuit or there was not. If there was none, he need only meditate for a day to restore himself fully. But if anyone managed to catch up, it would be fatal.

Nan Luo knew the state of his own body: at best, he could muster half his usual strength. And he doubted his concealment techniques were enough to escape detection—there were too many secret arts in the world, each more unpredictable than the last...

He now sat leaning against the trunk of a towering, ancient tree, whose heart was hollow but whose canopy still flourished. He had no mind to admire the scenery—his only thought was survival.

He mentally reviewed every technique and trick he knew, only to discover that the art of earth-burrowing was the sole option left to him. Hiding deep underground seemed plausible, but the idea troubled him. Once buried in the depths, all senses cloaked and his presence hidden, he would lose all awareness of the outside world. If his pursuer possessed some secret method to track him, he would not even know when death approached, unable to resist or even struggle...

At this realization, Nan Luo achieved a clearer understanding of his circumstances: if his pursuer found him, the only way out was to kill them first. As for who had set this ambush, he no longer had time to ponder.

Yet he was certain it was not the archer—otherwise, he would have finished Nan Luo off earlier. If anyone did pursue, their strength would likely be less than or equal to his full power, giving him a fighting chance...

Such were Nan Luo’s thoughts, though in his heart he silently prayed that no one would follow.

Just as he was about to risk everything and burrow deeper into the ground, a sudden idea occurred to him—he had two magical treasures, and the Demon Moon Mirror could serve as his eyes.

Ordinarily, using his spirit sense to probe from underground would easily reveal his location. But if he extended his consciousness into the Demon Moon Mirror and used it to observe the surface, he was eighty percent certain he would remain undetected. If his pursuer truly had the means to find him, they would inevitably be drawn to the mirror. In that critical moment, if he could launch a surprise attack...

Nan Luo had dispatched minor demons with his sword guided by spirit before, but only when he could see his opponent and lock on with his mind. The sword, though swift, was less powerful than when wielded by hand and had rarely been used in this way. Furthermore, the effective range was short, and at such close distances, earth-burrowing provided little advantage. Thus, he had never considered this as a viable tactic.

Now, however, circumstances had changed. The problem of locking onto his enemy with spirit sense could be solved with the Demon Moon Mirror. As for channeling spirit into the sword to unleash its full power, that too was more or less resolved. If a treasure was self-refined, it came with methods for full control, allowing the wielder to unleash its potential to the utmost. Innate treasures containing the laws of creation could, once fully refined, reveal their own techniques for mastery. But for treasures lacking such innate laws, the user could only experiment and learn through practice.

Until now, Nan Luo had used the Demon Moon Mirror only to reveal true forms and expose hidden foes, while the Azure Sheen Sword he employed in the usual fashion. Nothing extraordinary.

This line of thinking brought a smile to Nan Luo’s lips. At last, he understood how to harness his treasures’ true power. As Fuxi had said, Nan Luo’s use of magical treasures was still clumsy and unrefined.

The method Fuxi had imparted for controlling magical treasures was both a theory and a practical technique, applicable to any treasure. The most fundamental principle was to merge one’s spirit with the treasure and direct its movements with the mind.

One such technique involved concealing the spirit within the treasure, then channeling the forces of heaven and earth through it, greatly enhancing its power. Though not particularly difficult, Nan Luo had never thought to attempt it before.

Using the body’s magic as a foundation and the spirit to connect with the world was the most basic means of a cultivator. Using treasures as the foundation, however, was not a deep secret in the world, but to Nan Luo it was as if a window had been thrown open.

With a wave of his hand, Nan Luo placed the Demon Moon Mirror in the crook of a branch, so that it could survey the space below. The Azure Sheen Sword he hid in a secret spot, then stamped the ground and sank swiftly into the earth as if into water.

...

Zhao Mian arrived beside the pit where Nan Luo had deflected Hou Yi’s arrow. He narrowed his eyes and glanced around. The hand hidden in his grey sleeve suddenly snatched at the air, then slowly retracted and hovered before his nose as he closed his eyes, seeming to catch a scent.

After a moment, he opened his eyes and his lips curled into a faint, ambiguous smile.

Without warning, a cloud of grey mist billowed from Zhao Mian’s body, and he began to fade within it. Then a gust of wind swept by, and the mist drifted against the breeze.

In the Witch Tribe, only the Great Witches were permitted to study battle techniques in the Hall of Ancestral Witches; the rest could only learn various magical arts. Though these arts were not the highest, each had its own mysteries.

Zhao Mian’s Soul-Tracking Art was the best within the tribe, though it was mainly for tracking, not combat. The grey mist was condensed from mountain miasma and could both protect and harm.

One foot already inside the gates of the Great Witch, yet still unable to study battle techniques, he was forced to focus on lesser secret arts—arts with many limitations, and which could not truly be used in direct confrontation. The main divine power inherited in his bloodline had been seized by Nan Luo, and how could he not hate Nan Luo to the bone for it?

The forest was dim and shadowy. A cloud of grey mist drifted slowly among the trees, sometimes pausing, but ever moving closer to Nan Luo’s hiding place.

Suddenly, the mist halted, then condensed upon the ground. Zhao Mian’s form emerged from within, and the grey vapors quickly merged into his grey robe.

A subtle smile played on his lips—not Nan Luo’s faint smile, but one twisted by gloom and malice.

A great, hollow tree stood overhead like a verdant umbrella, sheltering the space below. Zhao Mian was now certain Nan Luo was in the vicinity, but could not pin down the exact spot, so he stopped at a distance, eyes flickering with light. This was another secret art for revealing the hidden, called the Eyes of True Sight, one of the many techniques he had mastered. If one were to judge who among the Witch Tribe, below the rank of Ancestral Witch, possessed the most combat power, there might be no clear answer. But as for who had mastered the most magical arts, none could surpass Zhao Mian.

With a single sweep of his gaze, he lifted his head. At that moment, he sensed the faintest scrutiny. His lips curled once more, a trace of viciousness in his smile. He did not look up at the tree, but within his sleeve his fingers quickly formed a spell. A wisp of grey mist slid from beneath his feet into the ground, within which a tiny worm could be glimpsed. As soon as it touched the earth, it burrowed down.

This creature, called the Soul-Eating Shadow Worm, could fly, hide, burrow, and was unafraid of fire or water. Its most fearsome trait was its ability to slip into a person’s body and invade the dantian before they could react—a rare offensive weapon in Zhao Mian’s arsenal.

The instant it touched the ground, the Soul-Eating Shadow Worm seemed to pick up Nan Luo’s scent and rapidly tunneled toward his refuge deep in the earth.

At that moment, Nan Luo sat with eyes closed, his spirit fully merged with the Azure Sheen Sword, seemingly oblivious to the swiftly approaching worm.

Grey mist drifted about Zhao Mian as he walked toward the great tree, a faint smile lingering on his lips.