Mountain of the Four Tributaries — Lower Grove
The grove remained in a deep, unsettling silence: ancient trees with thick trunks stood like frozen sentinels. The wind whistled lowly through the branches, a continuous sound, as if the place had been breathing for centuries. No disciples trained here—there were no recent trails, only old leaves and gnarled roots.
---
Wang Tao walked through the trees: short, light steps, unhurried, posture erect, eyes sharp. On the outside, he appeared calm. On the inside, he counted every single beat of his own heart.
The Shadow did not like to wait. But today, the Shadow would be the one waiting.
Wang Tao stopped at the meeting point.
— You're late.
The voice emerged from the darkness of a tree, without a definite shape, like smoke clinging to the bark. Wang Tao did not turn around.
— There were unforeseen complications.
— Complications? — the voice sounded irritated. — The entire Sect is in an uproar. The Qi has surged. Spies are moving. The Flaming Battle Sect is already on alert.
Silence.
— And you disappear.
Wang Tao finally turned.
— I found what you wanted.
The shadow froze for an instant.
— The treasure?
Wang Tao nodded.
— But it's not as simple as we thought.
— What is it? — the Shadow cut in.
Wang Tao took a deep breath.
— Follow me.
The Shadow hesitated but followed.
---
They walked through the dense woods for several minutes until they reached a small stream trickling down from the mountain—clear water, slow current.
— Where is it? — the Shadow asked, voice laced with suspicion.
Wang Tao reached into his spatial bag and withdrew an opaque sphere. Seals spun slowly around its surface.
— The entrance is here — he said. — But the key needs to be unsealed first.
He tossed the sphere. The Shadow caught it mid-air, hesitated for a split second, and then laughed—pure, unadulterated arrogance.
The Shadow broke the seals.
BOOM.
A violet explosion engulfed everything: fire, debris, and poisonous fumes.
Wang Tao was already leaping backward. He pulled two vials from his bag: an antidote against Gu and another against spiritual poison. He downed both and smashed the vials on the ground.
Thirty minutes. If I don't finish this by then, I'm finished too.
He drew his daggers and charged straight into the smoke, his refined body tensed to its limit.
Strike—CLANG—sparks.
Something blocked him. Wang Tao retreated instantly.
As the smoke slowly dissipated, the figure of the Shadow emerged: clothes charred, skin mottled with purple stains and raw flesh. Circling the Shadow's body, a small silver bell rotated in mid-air.
A spiritual defense item. That's how the fatal strike was blocked.
The Shadow's eyes were blood-red with fury.
— TRAITOR!
The Shadow performed rapid hand seals. The Gu inside Wang Tao should have activated. Should have.
Wang Tao felt the pressure spike, but the poison did not seize his meridians as before. Still, he collapsed, screaming, contorting in the dirt, hands clutching his chest, breath failing.
Perfect.
The Shadow paused, suspicious, then relaxed.
— Did you think you could defeat me with that?
The figure took a step forward.
— I will show you what true despair looks like.
Three steps. Two. One.
Wang Tao's eyes snapped open. A talisman tore through the air. Lightning exploded.
— What?!
The silver bell reacted by reflex, spinning to block the blast. But Wang Tao was already slamming his foot onto the ground—releasing a seal.
The stream water bubbled and spiraled upward, forming a serpent of scalding steam: two meters high, with eyes made of incandescent Qi.
Combat Technique: Scalding Serpent.
Wang Tao threw a green vial into the technique's current. The liquid mixed with the water, and the serpent changed color: dark green, toxic. It lunged.
The Shadow tried to conjure fire, but the serpent was already upon them. An explosion of poisonous steam filled the area.
— CURSE YOU!
Wang Tao didn't stop. He slammed another talisman into the soil. The ground responded: metallic lines erupted from the earth—thin, razor-sharp.
Wire Control — Metal Technique.
They shot into the smoke. Slashes, a scream, and the sound of something hitting the ground.
Blood.
The Shadow stumbled out of the fog: one arm shredded, the silver bell spinning erratically, breathing heavily. Wang Tao was also gasping for air—sweat pouring down his face, his Qi becoming unstable.
It isn't over yet.
And he knew it. The silver bell began to spin faster, more aggressively—the spiritual pressure of the Foundation Establishment was finally fully released. The entire grove trembled.
Wang Tao felt his bones groan under the weight of the pressure.
And then, the brooch on his chest began to glow—faint, but unmistakable.
If I use this now, there is no turning back.
He used it. He couldn't afford to risk anything else. The Shadow smiled, despite the wounds.
— Now, we fight for real.