What he had set up on the mid-mountain plateau was a trap not unlike those used by seasoned hunters to capture large demon beasts—in fact, it was engineered more for slaughter than for mere capture.
He had arrived two days early. In his own calculations, he'd allowed himself roughly one day and one night for his preparations. Yet the Strategist—ever deviously calculating and considering every possible angle—had fixated on other factors, inadvertently overlooking the clue he himself had deliberately left behind. That black cloth map, after all, was meant as a contrivance; from the Strategist's point of view it was simply something he presumed had been abandoned in the haste of his retreat. And the trap he'd set here was nothing more than a precaution during his hidden sojourn.
After leaving the city that fateful day and venturing deep into the mountain, he had begun laying out an assortment of deceptive markers along the path. His sole aim was to confuse the Strategist's tracking and buy himself more time. It had taken him nearly half a day—once he reached this particular stretch—to choose not one but two ideal ambush sites.
On the plateau, his attention was drawn to a massive weathered boulder. By now, years of wind and sun had worn it away so that a gap had gradually formed between it and the ground. Yet, owing to its enormous weight, it remained deeply embedded. Scouring the mountain for the right materials, he had found two stone pillars, roughly as thick as an infant's arm, and retrieved a set of portable tools he'd long prepared in advance. Among his implements was a length of demon-beast tendon—a material prized for its strength and flexibility.
In truth, he hadn't decided at the outset what kind of trap to use; he simply gathered every trick he'd learned from setting snares in the woods. In the city he had purchased a variety of compact, transportable tools without knowing in advance which might come in handy—and which might not. Importantly, he made sure not to acquire anything overly bulky or conspicuous. During his escape from the Military Strategist's mansion, he concealed these items right beneath his inner garment, slipping them under the folds of his flowing black robe. He had practiced this concealment technique countless times so that neither his close companions—Chen An and Li Yin—nor any onlookers would notice.
His plan for the plateau was methodical. He began by hollowing out a small portion at the very base of the boulder, gradually using the two stone pillars to support and shift it until it reached a delicate, temporary balance. Then, he secured one end of the demon-beast tendon to a rope that ran between the two pillars protruding from the boulder's side.
Next, he worked to tighten this section of tendon so that most of it remained hidden within the crevices at the boulder's underside, leaving only a slight segment exposed. To any casual observer, that exposed strip resembled a primed "powerful foot crossbow"—a contraption he had once glimpsed almost accidentally while in the military camp, and which he had quickly appropriated for this very purpose.
His final flourish was ingenious. He rigged a rope fastener in front of the bolts that would have launched from the crossbow. This rope, once wound, would be maintained under tension and concealed as it draped across the rock. Then, if anyone reached down to extract the "powerful foot crossbow" from its hidden niche inside the boulder's gap, the act of tugging would disturb the precarious balance of the boulder. Designed to have been pre-hollowed on its danger‐side facing the cliff—with loose fragments already cleared out—the rock would rapidly slip. In doing so, it would pull the fastener; the rope would snap tight at once, and if it caught on anything, it would yank the unfortunate interloper down into the void below.
Each component of this trap was interlinked with meticulous precision—if even one segment faltered, the entire design would fail. Two factors made the construction especially challenging. First, Li Yan himself had sometimes taken to sitting atop the boulder. Any miscalculation that upset the lower pillars' balance would not only trigger the trap but would also hurl him down the cliff along with the rock. Second, the timing was critical: precisely when a water bag should tip over was key. The water, if spilled at just the right moment, needed to coat the demon-beast tendon perfectly. Every detail had been orchestrated so that onlookers would see nothing out of the ordinary yet be lured into the mechanism.
When the Strategist had surveyed the plateau earlier, he had noticed the water bags. His suspicions were aroused when he shook each one and discovered that they still held about half a bag's worth, or a little less, of water. After some thought, it became clear that this was an intentional part of Li Yan's scheme—after all, who could possibly drink the contents of every water bag on hand? Most would merely open one bag and keep it nearby.
Yet one mystery still eluded the Strategist. He presumed that Li Yan would have no means of knowing precisely when he would arrive. Yet, since his arrival, a considerable span of time had passed and yet he had witnessed Li Yan only overturn the water bag once. Had Li Yan performed this act twice in the interim, it would have set off an alarm in his mind. How exactly did Li Yan manage the timing? When did he choose to kick over the water bag? This detail baffled him. Nevertheless, the Strategist was convinced beyond doubt that Li Yan was repeatedly employing the tactic of toppling the water bag to misdirect his enemy.
Having heard Li Yan's cryptic words about the trap's design and the timing of his own actions, the Strategist fell silent. Rising slowly, he strode over to Li Yan. By this time, he had recovered a fair amount of his spiritual energy—enough to commence his Soul Absorption Technique. He had no intention of further prolonging the discussion; he knew that the longer the night wore on, the more might go awry.
Reaching Li Yan, the Strategist, with only his right hand free for movement, extended it and hoisted Li Yan so that the latter could lean against a nearby tree. Once Li Yan was settled into a semi-seated position, the Strategist knelt beside him. He tapped a series of points on Li Yan's body with his right hand. The pressure released some of the tensions in Li Yan's limbs, and he felt a fleeting sense of freedom. But just as Li Yan began to plan a counter-move, a massive hand suddenly clamped down upon the crown of his head. In an instant, a tremendous suction force surged forth. Li Yan's body, stripped of its autonomy, could only feel as though the spiritual energy from his very core—the raging sea in his dantian—was being forcefully drawn upward. A cold dread gripped him.
The Strategist then dispelled the restrictions that bound Li Yan, ensuring that he could now manipulate Li Yan's internal qi with no hindrance. He wasn't worried about Li Yan mounting a counterattack; after all, the moment his hand locked onto the critical acupoint at the top of Li Yan's head, the young man would be rendered powerless.
Panicked, Li Yan's mind raced. He knew that his life now hung by a thread. If the siphoning of his qi continued at this rate, in no more than fifteen minutes he would be completely drained—a death by internal depletion. And yet, even as this terror seized him, he felt a surge within: his internal energy was gathering, ready to burst forth.
"Then there is nothing left but one final gambit," Li Yan vowed in a voice low and fierce. "If I must die, you will die as well." In that moment, his inner ferocity ignited. Determined to reverse his dire fate, he resolved to convert the elemental nature of all the qi within him from its water affinity into the fire element.
This was a technique he had been experimenting with in recent days. The Strategist's own cultivation was based on the wood element—for his "Wu Ye Lian Qing Technique" relied on wood-derived qi. That, in turn, made him predisposed to absorbing wood qi for breakthroughs. In his daily training, Li Yan had observed that when the circulating spiritual energy neared the corner of his dantian where the fire toxin was being suppressed, only wood qi produced a muted response; when qi of other elements approached—especially fire—he felt an unsteady agitation. It was clear that the fire toxin was much more reactive to fire qi. Thus, Li Yan's plan was to transmute all of his water-element qi into fire qi so that when the Strategist absorbed it, the explosive nature of fire would either slay him outright or leave him teetering on the brink of collapse for long after.
Of course, having his entire reservoir of water qi siphoned off would still wreak havoc on the Strategist's inner balance. Yet Li Yan was confident that the destructive potential of fire qi far outweighed the chaos that any water qi might cause—and would likely trigger the full, malignant force of the fire toxin.
There was, however, a critical risk. The moment the qi was transferred into the Strategist's body, he would instantly sense that something was amiss. In his anger, he could drive power through the hand clamped at his crown and seize the upper hand. But at that desperate moment, Li Yan had no time to counter such a rebound. In the blink of an eye as he recalibrated his qi's elemental nature, he marshaled every last spark of energy he had for one sudden, overwhelming release—only to be interrupted by an entirely unforeseen twist.
Out of the quiet darkness of the forest came a hissing sound, as if something were slicing through the air. In an instant, two figures shot through the gloom, their cloaks flaring as they advanced with astonishing speed.
"Ha ha, Li, my young brother—worry not, I have arrived!" one of them declared. Before long, they materialized right before the two combatants: it was Hong Linying accompanied by his burly junior disciple.
The Strategist's heart skipped a beat at the sudden intrusion. Hastily, he steadied the swirling qi within him, though his hand remained affixed to the crown of Li Yan's head.
"Strategist," Hong Linying called out once he had come to a stop, "have we come at the right time?"
The Strategist replied without turning his head, his tone laced with a mixture of irritation and grudging admiration, "You two? Remarkable concealment indeed—you have eluded detection even though I searched several li around and found no sign of disturbance. Tell me, how did you manage that?"
At that very moment, the Strategist's inner anger flared, though he kept it in check. He was even more amazed that, to ensure he wasn't disturbed during the qi absorption process, his immediate surroundings—aside from a few small animals and birds in the trees—had revealed nothing that might endanger him.
"Oh? So you're aware of my junior disciple's presence?" Hong Linying inquired, not answering directly but hinting that he knew of Li Yan's existence even though the Strategist had pretended otherwise.
"Then what brings Marshal Hong here? Are you here to spy on the training of me and my disciple?" the Strategist shot back, deflecting the question with deliberate evasiveness.
"Ho ho ho, Strategist," Hong Linying began with a sly grin, "we are here simply because we admire the martial prowess of your sect. Would you kindly present your sect's secret manual for my junior brothers and me to examine? It seems in your current predicament you are rather cornered, aren't you?"
"Never did I imagine that Marshal Hong would have such discerning eyes," the Strategist replied coolly. "I would be willing to show it to you—but alas, I did not carry it with me. Perhaps at dawn I can return to retrieve it and send it over?"
At this, the Strategist's irritation deepened. Marshal Hong's untimely arrival had coincided with the very moment he had initiated his Soul Absorption Technique—a stage from which there was no easy retreat once set in motion. By then, his qi was only barely under control, and every second of delay was costly.
It was a fortunate coincidence, though. Hong Linying knew full well that, together, he and his junior companion were no match for the Strategist's formidable power. Still, both were acutely aware that in martial cultivation or while recuperating, the worst thing one could experience was disturbance—leading either to grievous injury or even to a loss of control that could result in death. Thus, the two had maintained a discreet, distant watch on the Strategist, confident that while his cultivation was peerless he dared not approach too closely. They merely needed to catch every subtle movement.
They waited, biding their time until the Strategist would begin his recovery process. Only then would everything fall neatly into place.
The Strategist, at the third tier of the Qi Condensation stage and with his spirit only slightly detached so as not to stray too far, had eyes that burned like torches. Yet his attention had been solely focused on his own concentration. When he eventually scanned outward, the two figures were already visible far away. They promptly retreated further, only to creep closer again once he returned to his post.
Finally, when the Strategist activated his Soul Absorption Technique, the two exchanged a knowing glance and emerged at once. Their sudden appearance, however, coincided exactly with a critical vulnerability in his delicate technique.
"Then how shall we proceed? Perhaps now, Strategist, you should recite a few incantations so that my junior brothers and I may learn your method?" Hong Linying suggested as he gave a slight toss of his bald head, his words laced with quiet defiance.
"Ha ha, it seems Marshal Hong no longer trusts me," the Strategist replied, already feeling the urgent swirling of qi within him. "You see, I am in the midst of training with my disciple. Could you possibly wait a little while?"
Before he could finish, a strained voice broke in from Li Yan himself—after several agonizing moments of struggling to counter the suction at the crown. "At… at his waist…" the young man managed, his words trembling with effort.
Instantly, both Hong Linying and his companion turned their eyes to the Strategist's waist. There, affixed to his belt, was the jade book—a luminous artifact that in the dark shimmered with a subtle, otherworldly glow. It was clearly not of this mundane world.
Sharing a brief, conspiratorial glance, the two figures suddenly sprang into action. The burly disciple hurled a palm strike toward the Strategist's back, while Hong Linying, his fingers curling into vicious claws, lunged to seize the jade book from the Strategist's belt. At the same time, Hong Linying's voice rang out:
"Strategist, since you're unwilling to bring it forth, I'll take it myself—ha ha!"
His words even carried the thunderous resonance of the Buddhist "Lion's Roar," a technique he secretly channeled. As veterans of countless skirmishes in the martial world, both he and his junior companion understood that disturbing the Strategist while he was still in his healing mode was foolhardy. Their attack, coupled with vocal incantations meant to unsettle his mind, was calculated to be most effective.
The Strategist, for his part, found himself in a most precarious situation. With one hand effectively disabled and the other still locked in its grip on Li Yan's head, he had little power left to fend off the assault. Yet he turned away from the intruders, his face impassive, saying nothing in response.
"Marshal Hong, when I journeyed here this afternoon I scouted this entire area. I was confident in my own setup—and you two were not, from the start, lying in wait with that kid. So tell me, does your very presence imply that you've been tailing me all along from afar, able to observe my every move? How exactly did you manage that?" he demanded.