Leaving Fairy Maiden Mountain didn’t mean they were safe. The stretch of river at Zhuoshui was impossible to cross. If they wanted to get to the other side, they would have to stay well away from that section of the water. As Liu Daoran had said, “Head south for a while before you cross the river.”

That was the same way they had entered Badong in the first place.

Tonight the moon hung high, but for Liu Xiaolou and the Tigerheaded Dragon it was hardly good weather. To cultivators with stronger skills, the night was as bright as day, making it all the harder to hide their movements.

Even so, this area lay within the patrol range of Gengsang Cave’s disciples, so they had no choice but to press on. The Tigerheaded Dragon carried the wounded Su Jing on his back while Liu Xiaolou scouted ahead, back and forth, checking the path. Only when he was sure the way was safe would Tigerheaded Dragon carry Su Jing forward again, stage by stage, always pushing south.

By the time they had trudged most of the night, they had managed little more than ten li. Suddenly the Tigerheaded Dragon set Su Jing down. “His injuries are getting worse,” he said. “We’ll need medicine.”

The poison had already reached Su Jing’s vital organs. Liu Xiaolou dared not use his True Mysteries techniques, so the only option was a spiritual pill.

But the ones he had bought earlier had all been handed over to Tan Bajhang and the others months ago. They had left in such a rush this time that there had been no chance to buy more at the market. The Tigerheaded Dragon had brought some pills, but only things like Heart-Nourishing Pills and Tiger-Bone Pills, nothing to counteract poison. He forced a Heart-Nourishing Pill down Su Jing’s throat, which helped stabilize his heartbeat for the moment, but it could not purge the toxin.

“We can’t delay any longer. The nearest market is at Tianmen Mountain, more than four hundred li away. We have to cross the river as soon as possible.”

“Got it!” The Tigerheaded Dragon hoisted Su Jing onto his back again and made for the riverbank.

At the edge of Zhuoshui, the waves lapped softly against the shore. The chill wind carried a sense of emptiness and desolation.

Hiding in the reeds, Liu Xiaolou poked his head out and scanned the surroundings. Upstream and downstream for several li, there was no sign of the enemy. He listened closely for a while longer, but heard nothing.

The Tigerheaded Dragon searched as well, with the same result. He urged in a low voice, “Go!”

The two of them slipped quietly into the river, bodies submerged, only their heads above water as they paddled across with great care. The river was more than a hundred zhang wide, but before long they reached the opposite shore.

By now it was nearly the twelfth month. Soaked through, Su Jing trembled violently in the cold wind, but neither bank of Zhuoshui was safe. They couldn’t waste time worrying about him; they had to move on quickly.

Once across the river, their movements were far less restricted. The Tigerheaded Dragon carried Su Jing at full speed while Liu Xiaolou guarded the rear. Before long they had covered six or seven li.

Just then, far off to their left, a blinding light suddenly flared, so dazzling that neither of them could keep their eyes open. A few breaths later came the rumble of thunder. The brilliance faded bit by bit, giving way to flames that roared up into the night sky.

Both men slowed their steps, staring blankly at the fire on the horizon.

It was rising from Donglin Mountain, on the east bank of Zhuoshui, facing Fairy Maiden Mountain across the river. The stronghold of the Zhanglong Sect. From within the blaze, a golden dragon suddenly surged upward, twisting and roaring in the blood-red night sky.

A great battle had clearly broken out, though at this distance of more than ten li, they could make out no details.

“The Zhanglong Sect’s Purple-Gold Soaring Dragon Formation!” the Tigerheaded Dragon cried, recognizing it at once.

Back at Wulong Mountain, when three sects had laid siege together, both Liu Xiaolou and the Tigerheaded Dragon had taken part in setting up that formation. But that had been a battlefield formation, completely different from the guardian formation before them now.

Having since worked on refining the grand formation of Jinting Mountain, Liu Xiaolou’s eye for such things was no longer what it once had been. He could see the extraordinary power of this Purple-Gold Soaring Dragon Formation, and silently wondered: with such a mighty formation in place, how could Gengsang Cave have dared to launch an attack? What were they relying on?

While Liu Xiaolou was still turning the thought over in his mind, two streaks of sword light swept in from the right, slicing through the sky toward Donglin Mountain. It was impossible to tell whether they belonged to Zhanglong Sect or Gengsang Cave cultivators.

Liu Xiaolou and the Tigerheaded Dragon had no way to dodge. They could only flatten themselves against the ground, praying the experts riding those sword lights would pass by without noticing. If they were from Gengsang Cave, there was no question; they’d have to fight to the death. But if they were Zhanglong Sect allies, the outcome would be no better; being dragged off to Donglin Mountain as cannon fodder was all but certain.

The sword lights swept past just overhead. Before they could even breathe a sigh of relief, one of them wheeled in the air, looped back, and dropped a figure toward the ground before rejoining its companion and streaking on toward Donglin Mountain.

There was no doubt now. They had been spotted.

Without needing a word from Liu Xiaolou, the Tigerheaded Dragon hoisted Su Jing and bolted. Liu Xiaolou followed right on his heels, channeling his true qi. Both of them pushed their speed to the absolute limit, faster than they had ever run in their lives.

But the figure that had descended was clearly of far higher cultivation. He gave chase without pause, closing the distance in moments, from dozens of zhang away to right at their backs.

All of a sudden, a huge snake appeared in front of them. It was fifty or sixty feet long, flicking its tongue as it blocked the path.

Tigerheaded Dragon, after all the son of a powerful household and not easily shaken, said at once, “Witch Shadow Technique. A Bandong thief. Not even at Foundation Establishment.”

Cultivators from Bandong, especially those of Gengsang Cave, were known for their mastery over snakes, insects, and poisonous gu techniques. Witch Shadow was one such technique. It required raising venomous creatures from childhood, then capturing their spirit into a vessel. Be it a banner, a staff, a bowl, or a pouch.

The snake before them looked vivid and lifelike, but it was nothing more than an illusion, a phantom without substance. Since it had not fully formed, Tigerheaded Dragon knew the Bandong cultivator hadn’t yet reached Foundation Establishment.

Even so, someone like that was still far above both Liu Xiaolou and Tigerheaded Dragon, a formidable enemy by any measure.

The Bandong cultivator swept past overhead, casually striking downward with two formless blasts of qi, one aimed at each of them.

Liu Xiaolou channeled his true qi into the Three-Mystery Sword, drawing out blossoms of sword-light to meet the invisible force. By now he had reached the fifth layer, the mid-stage of Qi Refinement. His sword blossoms were no longer what they had been when he attacked Jinping Manor. Now they carried several times the power. The qi blow was not especially strong, and the blossoms scattered it aside.

He was an expert in incense refinement, his senses razor-sharp. The moment a faint sweetness reached his nose, his true qi stirred, expelling the trace of poison that had slipped into his body. He leapt back several yards and shouted, “Poison!”

Tigerheaded Dragon followed the body-refining path. His arms swelled three feet in an instant, effortlessly blocking the incoming strike of qi. His limbs were trained until they were like bronze and iron, impervious to poison. But his perception was nowhere near as keen as Liu Xiaolou’s. That faintly sweet breath slipped into his lungs, and his mind grew hazy.

Liu Xiaolou yanked him close, seized his wrist, and poured true qi into him. In a heartbeat he sensed that the venom had invaded the Foot Greater Yin Meridian. At once he used a technique of the True Mysteries Scripture to drive it out.

The True Mysteries Scripture was the foundation of both the Illusion Scripture and the Yin-Yang Scripture. It was particularly effective against vapors of incense, poisons, and the like. Otherwise, anyone who refined incense daily would long since have turned themselves into a sack of toxins, unable to cultivate at all. Thanks to that, within a few breaths the venom was expelled from Tigerheaded Dragon’s body.

Tigerheaded Dragon shook his head, clarity returning. With a sudden bellow he roared, “Ah!” His tiger eyes bulged wide, fixed on the Bandong cultivator across from him.

When the Bandong cultivator saw his poison technique had no effect, he chuckled in surprise. “Interesting.” His hands never stopped moving. With a slide along his palm a bone flute appeared. He didn’t raise it to his lips but instead pressed his fingers over the holes, and sound poured forth.

The notes were nothing like the clear, bright tones of a flute. They were heavy and muffled, more like the voice of a bamboo xiao, yet roughened with a rasping hiss, as if tearing through the lungs. Not piercing, but unbearably grating to hear.

At the first notes, the great snake coiled forward. Its tail whipped at Liu Xiaolou, while its jaws gaped wide, revealing two long fangs as its tongue lashed toward him.

At the same time, the Bandong cultivator rushed straight at Tigerheaded Dragon, reaching for Su Jing on his back.

“What are you carrying? Let’s have a look.”