Chapter Fifty-Three: Venomous Insects at Midnight

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Treading through the morning dew, Lin Feng rode back to Bamboo Courtyard Manor from the Hundred Miles Residence. Last night, Situ Fengyang had drunk himself into a stupor and was now still snoring away on his couch. Lin Feng, preoccupied with worries, had barely touched his wine. The more he pondered, the more he felt there was something amiss about Bamboo Courtyard Manor. The father and daughter, Xia Baizhu and Xia Tong, were shrouded in mystery; a heavy, oppressive aura lingered throughout the manor; and then there was the enigmatic dancing girl, Xiao Yun. All of this left him deeply uneasy, as if he had stepped into a tiger’s den.

Moreover, Che Zhonglou’s continued absence made him anxious. If that demonic expert had prevailed, their safety would be in grave jeopardy; he knew he must make plans to leave this place of trouble as soon as possible.

Lost in thought, Lin Feng deliberately reined in his horse, slowing his pace. Suddenly, a figure on the hillside to his left caught his eye—it was Xia Tong.

Carried by the morning breeze, her white gauze dress fluttered gently, her graceful silhouette invoking endless reverie, a pure and serene beauty of its own. The prized steed Di Lu grazed leisurely by her side, snorting loudly as it noticed Lin Feng’s approach.

Xia Tong turned quietly, and as their eyes met, both were momentarily lost in each other. Bathed in the rosy glow of dawn, her delicate face shone with a faint blush, her gaze shy yet quickly composed. She called out, “Did your conversation with Mister Baili go well last night, sir?”

“Ah, it went well. Brother Situ is still asleep from last night’s drinking, so I returned ahead of him,” Lin Feng replied, dismounting swiftly and using the moment to steady his thoughts. “She is Xia Baizhu’s daughter; who’s to say she doesn’t harbor a venomous heart as well, luring me into a trap. I’ll have to see what tricks she has up her sleeve.”

Leading his horse, Lin Feng approached Xia Tong. The morning grasslands stretched endlessly beneath a cloudless sky, filling him with a pure, invigorating sense of clarity. He couldn’t help but exclaim, “What a beautiful scene! Do you often come here to watch the sunrise, Miss Xia?”

“No, not really,” Xia Tong answered, a hint of inexplicable nervousness in her tone.

Lin Feng replied absentmindedly, yet as he gazed at the scenery, a sudden wave of loneliness and rootless sorrow welled up within him—a bitterness at having no place to call home.

They both fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts, while Chifeng and Di Lu grazed quietly behind them, occasionally exchanging glances, as if communicating in their own way.

After a long while, Xia Tong gazed into the distance and softly asked, “Have you truly decided to serve Prince Rongqing?”

“Hmm?” Lin Feng turned to her in surprise. “Hasn’t the manor lord told you? If what he says is true and Mengliang’s court has fallen into demonic hands, then I am willing to rid the world of evil and uphold justice. As for swearing allegiance to Prince Rongqing, I find that rather improper. As a cultivator, I should not be tempted by wealth and power. My purpose here is simply to eliminate villains as I go.”

Xia Tong’s expression grew uncertain. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “If you do not wish to step onto the official path because of this, it is best not to wade into such muddy waters.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that, Miss Xia?” Lin Feng was taken aback; Xia Tong had become even more inscrutable.

After thinking for a moment, Xia Tong finally spoke. “You are wise, sir. You should understand my meaning. I can say no more, but you must always keep your guard up when traveling; be wary of others. That is all I can say—take care of yourself.”

Lin Feng pondered her words carefully. “‘Be wary of others’? Does she mean Xia Baizhu, Prince Rongqing, or someone else entirely? With her status, she shouldn’t be saying such things. Does she have another motive? Or is she trying to show favor?”

The more he thought about it, the more the last possibility seemed likely. His heart pounded. When he looked at Xia Tong again, she seemed to sense it and avoided his gaze, changing the subject. “You’d best return soon, sir. Your friends must be growing anxious.”

“Thank you for your advice, Miss Xia. I’ll take my leave,” Lin Feng said, leading Chifeng away. He couldn’t help glancing one more time at Xia Tong’s graceful figure, sighed, and mounted his horse.

“I only hope you remain safe,” Xia Tong murmured after a long while. With a gentle cry, she leapt onto her horse and galloped into the boundless grasslands.

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“Perhaps I’m imagining things. Though Miss Xia Tong may not have her father’s cunning, she is still Xia Baizhu’s daughter. If I grow too close to her, I might end up ensnared myself. Hmph! What nonsense am I thinking?” Lin Feng shook his head to rid himself of the tangled emotions and returned to Bamboo Courtyard Manor.

Ye Ziyin and the others had risen early and were practicing diligently in the training yard. By chance, Xia Baizhu was there too, wielding his Fire Cultivator Staff with such vigor that its afterimages filled the air, waves of heat radiating outward.

“My good brother!” Xia Baizhu was the first to finish and approached warmly. “Did you and Mister Situ have a good talk last night? I have received a secret letter from the prince, requesting that you proceed at once to Quhuai to be appointed Left Vanguard Cavalry Captain. However, the checkpoint at Zhen’nan Pass has been tightly guarded of late—there may be complications. In half a month, our manor will as usual send a batch of warhorses to the pass. If you wait until then, you can cross safely. What do you think?”

“I’ll follow your arrangements, brother,” Lin Feng replied with a smile. He greeted the others, took up his Plum Blossom Spear, and began sparring with Xia Baizhu.

Boom! Boom! Boom! Perhaps still resentful about losing a bout the day before, Xia Baizhu fought fiercely, wielding his staff with increasing force, each strike heavier than the last and aimed at Lin Feng’s head.

“Is this old fox actually trying to kill me?” Lin Feng thought in alarm, quickly shifting his footwork. Instinctively, he employed the Rain-Stepping Star-Plucking technique, dodging as his spear arced gracefully, trapping Xia Baizhu’s staff and twisting it away. Secretly pleased, Lin Feng attempted once more to use his Silk-Entwining Spear to disarm Xia Baizhu and turn the tables.

Xia Baizhu smirked silently, his steps shifting rapidly. With a sudden leap, he closed in, grasping his staff with his left hand while his right transformed into a fist. His bones crackled like firecrackers, and he threw a heavy punch at Lin Feng’s face.

The force of the blow was so great that Xia Baizhu’s robe billowed and a whirlwind whipped up around his arm and fist.

“Qilin Plunges into the Sea!” Xia Baizhu shouted.

“Damn, I forgot he knows fist techniques too,” Lin Feng thought, just as the punch reached his face. He dodged, raised his elbow, summoned a surge of spiritual power, and met the fist head-on.

Bang! Fist met elbow. Xia Baizhu staggered back three steps, his face instantly pale, his knuckles throbbing as if he’d struck iron. He could barely move his fingers.

Lin Feng also retreated two steps, his elbow tingling slightly, but feeling a strange sense of satisfaction.

“I didn’t expect my Crane-Qilin Fist would still fail to break your guard. I am ashamed,” Xia Baizhu said, supporting himself with his staff, gasping for breath.

“I was too forceful, brother. Would you like to rest a moment?” Lin Feng massaged his elbow, pretending also to be at a disadvantage.

“No need. Again!” Xia Baizhu’s expression changed; he marshaled his strength, his fingers cracking, ready for another bout.

Lin Feng sighed inwardly, picked up his spear, and the two clashed once more.

It wasn’t until lunchtime, after the meal, that Xia Baizhu left for the stables on business, and Lin Feng finally found a moment’s peace.

“Xia Baizhu is fiercely competitive and deeply scheming. If I tell Zuo Qingcheng and the others the truth, it’ll only cause trouble. Getting into Zhen’nan Pass would become impossible. I’ll just endure another half-month, master this footwork, and wait for a change,” Lin Feng thought. With a leap, he vanished into the bamboo grove, leaving only the swaying shadows of the Xiangsi bamboo behind.

“With spiritual energy as support, the Rain-Stepping Star-Plucking is no mere boast. Pity it’s only a fragment—if I had the complete version, perhaps even grasping the moon would be possible,” Lin Feng mused as he stood atop the sea of bamboo. “These days, my spiritual power circulates smoothly, so why haven’t I made any breakthrough? Is it not pure enough, or is my realm lacking?”

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Puzzling over these questions, he meditated there for half a day, sorting through every incident since descending the mountain, until dusk fell unnoticed.

After supper, Lin Feng sat alone in his room, gathering the energy of the Longevity Art and carefully examining the flow within his body. His dantian was full and abundant, his meridians healthy and red as blood vessels, and the lingering mark of the Manjusha flower still hung there, showing no sign of anything unusual.

“Big brother, there’s movement outside!” came a sudden transmission from the corner of the room, where Wuzhui, in beast form, was meditating, his ears pricked and his eyes clear and bright.

A beast’s senses far surpassed a human’s, an innate advantage only remedied by training.

Lin Feng swiftly ceased his cultivation and exchanged a glance with Wuzhui, quietly gripping his weapon. Just as he was about to open the door, a rustling sound came from outside, followed by the bamboo walls trembling as if something was trying to force its way in. Then the strange noise echoed from the roof as well—it seemed the entire bamboo house was surrounded.

“What is that!” His first thought was that the demonic cultivators from Weihu Pass had come for him.

Crack! With a sharp snap, the bamboo door was sliced in half like a spring onion, and a swarm of beetles, each the size of a pigeon’s egg, flooded into the room. Their black shells gleamed indigo in the candlelight, and their scythe-like mandibles snapped incessantly as they searched for their next meal.

Crack! Another snap, and the window was shattered as even more insects poured in like a tide, bringing with them a chilling, sinister aura.

“This is bad! These are Sable Midges—flesh-eating venomous insects!” In an instant, Lin Feng recognized them, his heart pounding in shock.

Such venomous insects were mostly found in thousand-year-old underground tombs, rarely seeing sunlight and seldom emerging. Even collectors who delighted in raising insects rarely had more than two or three, yet now, hundreds or thousands were pouring in!

“Since you recognize them, I need not trouble myself. Copy out the cultivation texts of the Hundred Flowers Sect, and I’ll recall the spirit insects,” came a cold, unhurried voice from outside.

“Did Xia Baizhu send you?” Lin Feng realized the intruder was after something and was no longer afraid, weighing his options. The venomous insects did not attack, instead posturing menacingly three feet before him and Wuzhui, a dense black mass.

“Enough talk! If you refuse, once the spirit insects devour you, I’ll extract your memories and spiritual consciousness by other means! If you know what’s good for you, comply!” The voice outside grew impatient, turning harsh.

“Then come and try!” Lin Feng would not be cowed by a swarm of bugs. As soon as he finished speaking, he tossed Wuzhui into the air and leapt after, smashing through the roof. With a crash, the bamboo house collapsed into debris.

“Who’s there!” At that moment, people from the other houses rushed out at the commotion, and the manor’s residents were roused, torches flaring to life.

(This is the last chance this week to break into the new books chart! Friends with red tickets, cast your votes! The great chess match is about to begin, and each round will be fiercer than the last.)

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