Chapter Sixty-Six: The Puppet of Bronze

Who was she, really? How could her fate be entwined with Grand Preceptor Mengliang? As Lin Feng’s thoughts raced, Leng Linglan cast her gaze over, her eyes devoid of surprise or any change from before. Once again, the fleeting, enchanting scene from the icy cave surfaced in his mind, stirring an undefinable agitation within his heart.

Nie Xuan watched the woman coldly, not daring to act rashly. The restrained, refined fluctuation of spiritual power emanating from her was chilling and mysterious, the kind of terrifying force that could decide life and death with a mere gesture. Against her, there was not a shred of hope.

“Kill them for me!” The Imperial Envoy, Lord Pang, shouted fiercely from inside the carriage, his voice sharp yet trembling.

“Lord Pang, I promised Senior Brother Qin to spare your life, but I never agreed to kill on your behalf…” Leng Linglan replied nonchalantly.

“You—!” Pang Yun was left speechless within the carriage, unable to retort, his face flushed red to his neck.

“Qin Mi is your senior brother? Who are you people?” Nie Xuan demanded.

Leng Linglan looked at Nie Xuan, her voice icy: “If you don’t wish to die, leave now. Do not ask more.”

“Hmph!” Nie Xuan, thwarted, cursed the girl inwardly, turned his horse around, grabbed Mr. Qiu’s corpse, and left. Leng Linglan did not stop him.

Lin Feng, shaking off his thoughts, hurriedly mounted his horse. Just as he was about to reach for Chu Can, that cold voice echoed in his mind: “The struggle for Mengliang’s imperial power is far beyond your reach!”

Startled, Lin Feng looked again at Leng Linglan, who now focused her gaze on the group of guards, commanding, “Move out!”

“The struggle for Mengliang’s imperial power is far beyond your reach!” The words thundered through Lin Feng’s heart, stirring tumultuous waves. Lord Rongqing, Qin Mi, Leng Linglan—these figures, each more formidable than the last, concealed their true strength. Qin Mi, senior to Leng Linglan, was surely her equal in cultivation.

Lord Rongqing had countless retainers and a solid foundation, yet deliberately concealed his edge while contending with Qin Mi and the others. In that moment, Lin Feng felt as if a thorn pressed into his back, as though he’d stumbled into a trap. That’s right! Only a reckless brute like Chu Can would volunteer for the mission to assassinate the imperial envoy. With the enemy’s strength unknown, this was courting death. Lord Rongqing hadn’t sent them to kill, but to probe the enemy. To him, Lin Feng and the others were mere pawns.

His expression shifting rapidly, Lin Feng snapped the reins and sped back the way he’d come.

After galloping two miles, Nie Xuan halted by the roadside, swiftly stripped Qiu of his silver armor talisman, fished a pouch from his chest, then discarded the corpse, patting his hands in satisfaction.

“Brother Lin, this haul is quite something. The old man had plenty of treasures—eh?” Nie Xuan muttered to himself, only to look up and see Lin Feng had already ridden far ahead. “What’s gotten into him…”

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“Lord Rongqing harbors no good intentions. This mission was just a ploy to use our lives to probe Qin Mi’s strength!” When Nie Xuan caught up to Lin Feng and heard this, realization dawned, and he clenched his teeth in frustration.

“This time, let’s take whatever benefits we can, and find a chance to leave Mengliang early. We shouldn’t get involved in this muddy water! As for Ye Ziyin, I hear he’s seeking refuge with the General of Qiuchi. What are your plans, Brother Nie?” Lin Feng asked.

Nie Xuan pondered a moment before replying, “I have neither home nor career, only wish for a safe place to settle. I can never return to Ten Thousand Demons Sky—my master would never forgive me. I’ll have to find a countryside cottage and live in seclusion.”

“Oh, Brother Nie, you never thought of supporting Ziyin to seize Qiuchi’s throne?” Lin Feng met his gaze.

“Seize a throne? Since ancient times, those who fail are cast aside, and even those who succeed are soon discarded when the bow is no longer needed. I, Nie Xuan, would never be such a fool. But tell me, Qin Mi, Lord Rongqing—what are they after? Why not enjoy their days or cultivate, but instead chase after imperial power? What use is it?” Nie Xuan sighed.

“Who knows? Only they can taste what it’s like to stand above all.” Lin Feng smiled.

The two talked at length as they traveled, and returned to Lord Rongqing’s residence by dusk.

Lord Rongqing, who had waited long, welcomed them personally. The two briefly recounted their experiences before retiring early to rest.

“Qin Mi, you old thief, you have your fellow disciples—do you think I don’t?” Lord Rongqing stood alone in his study, suddenly overturning the table and chairs before him. His brocade robes billowed without wind, the stone floor shattered in blocks, several bookshelves toppled, and the whole study seemed to be swept by a tornado.

The next morning, Lord Rongqing sent word for Lin Feng and the others to visit his library. “Haha, gentlemen, you’ve come from afar, and though this place is not the capital, I have these rooms of books for your perusal. Over the years, I’ve collected classics, histories, martial arts treatises, all here for you to borrow. Besides, Grand Preceptor Qin Mi will not give up easily, so please rest in my estate for some time. When the storm passes, we’ll plan greater things.” Lord Rongqing beamed, clad today in a qilin robe and a purple-gold crown, exuding the presence of a true prince.

Everyone thanked him, and, guided by servants, entered the library as Lord Rongqing took his leave.

The three adjoining rooms formed a vast library, fifty yards square, with excellent lighting and a faint scent of books and paper lingering in the air. Two rows of sandalwood shelves stood arranged by category. Books were organized by era and material: ancient thread-bound texts, bamboo slips, silk-printed palace volumes, fresh treatises from famous scholars, yellowed scrolls of scripture…

On the last shelves, there were even fragmentary copies, missing pages, and all manner of works. Altogether, the collection surely numbered hundreds of thousands.

Royal treasures opened Lin Feng’s eyes. Even in the Dragon Prosperity Pavilion on Longxiang Peak, he had never seen so many books. Of course, many were useless to him, legacies of poets and scholars.

Nie Xuan, Zuo Qingcheng, and the others were likewise amazed, while Ye Ziyin only smiled. The group dispersed, each seeking books to their taste. Lin Feng first surveyed the library, then focused on two rows of shelves, most of which housed secret manuals for martial body cultivation, along with some miscellaneous tomes on Daoist techniques and overseas secrets.

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“The ‘Chronicles of the Four Seas’?” Lin Feng spotted an intriguing book tucked in a corner of the shelves and took it without hesitation.

Compiled by a historian named Fang Zhangxing, it contained accounts of the islands across the Four Seas, their customs and peoples, and even a few entries on cultivators and demon practitioners. The more Lin Feng read, the more he was captivated.

Thus, his days in the prince’s residence were spent reading, cultivating, and exchanging insights with Nie Xuan. From Mr. Qiu’s body, they had gained two treasures, dividing them evenly: Lin Feng took the bronze figurine, Nie Xuan the silver armor talisman.

The bronze figurine, only seven inches tall, held a golden hammer and was exquisitely crafted, with surprising weight—hard to imagine it was a deadly weapon. “This artifact can only be activated with spiritual power. It was likely forged by one of the old man’s experts. Look at the fine inscriptions—probably carved with Mirage Sea gold sand drills. As for the material, I can’t tell, but it’s likely a high-grade spiritual metal.”

“Mm,” Lin Feng knew that crafting such a tool required top-tier materials, mastery of forging techniques, and the right tools and furnace—an esoteric field indeed.

He tried channeling his spiritual power into the bronze figurine, but it was as if sand vanished into the sea; the figure did not move.

“Huh? Does it require some special incantation to activate?” Lin Feng wondered.

“Damn! We forgot to take the old man’s cultivation manual. What now?” Nie Xuan realized, regretting it deeply.

“No rush, let me try again.” Lin Feng placed the figurine on the table before him, pouring spiritual power into every part of it. Suddenly, a clear, crisp sound rang out from within, as if a teacup had shattered.

Both men tensed, watching the mysterious bronze figure warily.

As Lin Feng continued to infuse spiritual power, the figurine abruptly grew larger—one foot, two feet—crack! The wooden table collapsed under the weight, and deprived of spiritual power, the figure shrank back to its original size.

They exchanged smiles, joy lighting their faces.

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