Chapter 167
Chapter 167: Rong Shu, Wanted
Just as Rong Shu was happily continuing her training in the secret realm, on the other side of the garden the young man she had rattled was still in the medicine fields, stopping cultivators one after another in search of the culprit.
He blocked every suspicious person and would only let them go after confirming several times that there was no trace of the Spirit Tribulation Fruit’s aura on them. Naturally, this behavior provoked the displeasure and anger of most cultivators.
Those with lower cultivation had no choice but to swallow their frustration. The young man, however, showed no scruples and even stopped late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators.
When he sensed no trace of the Spirit Tribulation Fruit on someone, he began to suspect they had hidden it in a storage pouch, so he demanded they hand their pouches over.
But a storage pouch is a lifeline to any cultivator, and there might be things in there unfit for the light of day. When people refused, the young man’s expression turned cold as he asked: “Will you hand it over or not?”
Two late-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators he had stopped finally exploded.
One snapped: “Brat, don’t push your luck.”
The other added, voice icy: “Since when does the cultivation world have a rule that you can rummage through another cultivator’s storage pouch whenever you feel like it?”
The young man said, voice flat: “So you’re refusing.”
“Obviously. Why should we?”
Before the words finished falling, his figure flickered. A longsword appeared in his hand, and he drifted toward the two like a ghost.
The pair were shocked and had just started to retreat and raise a guard when the young man stamped his foot. In an instant the earth in the vicinity began to heave. The tremor spread under the two cultivators, throwing their stances off balance.
Mounds of soil bulged up at their feet and clamped around their calves.
One of them gasped: “What is this?”
They circulated spiritual power and burst the earthen mounds apart.
Before either could catch a breath, the young man’s figure ghosted behind one of them and his sword flashed out. In that instant, flesh and blood flew.
The struck cultivator staggered and fell. A talisman on his chest spontaneously ignited and crumbled into black ash. A defensive talisman had blocked the fatal edge, but due to the realm’s restrictions its power was greatly suppressed, and the cultivator was still injured.
By then the young man’s blade was already resting against the other man’s throat, and the threat of death surged over him. Cold sweat beaded on the cultivator’s brow as his body began to shake.
Seeing such cowardice, the young man’s killing intent ebbed. He said, tone indifferent: “Offer up your storage pouches with both hands. Otherwise, the next thing I cut off will be your heads.”
He had already seen through what the two were hung up on and added with a cutting sneer: “Relax. I don’t care for the trash you’re carrying.”
The two, insulted yet cornered by the situation, finally handed their storage pouches over.
He rifled through them with practiced speed and found nothing he wanted, then tossed the pouches back and barked: “Scram.”
They traded a look and fled as fast as they could.
Eyes dark, the young man stared toward the distant sky and muttered in a sullen voice: “Damn it, where is that person?”
His jaw tightened as he hissed: “You had better pray I never find you. If I do, I’ll make you regret ever appearing in this world.”
It was the first time he had suffered such a loss. He had always looked down on the cultivators of this region and would never have set foot in the Southern Wastes if not for the opening of the secret realm.
After waiting a moment, the middle-aged man who followed him everywhere flew in from afar. Landing, he reported succinctly: “Young master, we have searched this whole area. No one appears to be carrying the Spirit Tribulation Fruit.”
The young man’s face remained overcast as he asked: “Did you find out which cultivators were in the area when the fruit was stolen?”
“High reward brings out brave men,” the middle-aged man replied. “I have already spread the word. Anyone who can provide a lead will get fifty thousand spirit stones. Whoever can deliver the person will get five hundred thousand spirit stones.”
The young man gave a slight nod: “I will continue to search. Handle your side.”
“Understood, young master.”
After a brief exchange, they split up. The young man rampaged about offending people everywhere, like someone provoked into a blind rage. The middle-aged man, by contrast, moved smoothly and relied on a rich bounty to lure originally uninvolved cultivators into joining the hunt.
With both approaches combined, the young man did not believe he could fail to find the skulking little mouse who had stolen his Spirit Tribulation Fruit.
Because of his actions, nearly a third of the secret realm was in uproar.
More and more cultivators caught wind of the matter. A domineering aristocratic young master, careless for a moment, had a spirit herb he fancied snatched by a nameless thief. Outraged, the young master was determined to drag the thief out.
As gossip, cultivators did not care. This was a secret realm, not a nursery. Killings and treasure snatches played out every hour.
What they did care about was the bounty. Fifty thousand spirit stones for a lead, five hundred thousand for the person. That was no small sum.
A few days later, the medicine garden of the secret realm was a storm, yet some places remained very quiet.
In a dense forest on the western side of the realm, Rong Shu sat under a tree to rest. For days she had been fighting beasts and picking spirit herbs there. The herbs in the forest were few and of modest quality, but it was still meat on the bone.
She considered her route as she drank a breath: “Next, I can keep heading west. I have combed this stretch already.”
The western region had few cultivators, though not none. After a short while, three cultivators came into view.
Rong Shu glanced over them casually, then blinked. They looked familiar. She peered again and her memory surfaced. Oh.
They were the same cultivators who had blocked the road when she had just come out of the secret realm by herself earlier. What a coincidence to run into them here.
She scanned the surroundings. Only three. Fewer than before. She wondered where the missing ones had gone.
As she was thinking, a voice came from their direction, one of the trio shouting with a swagger: “Hey, brat over there, what are you staring at? Yeah, I mean you. Get over here.”
Rong Shu looked around to make sure they meant her, then rose to her feet and prepared to leave.
Another jeer followed, full of irritation: “Well I’ll be, the brat dares ignore us.”
A mustached cultivator strode toward her, a calculating light flashing in his eyes. The three were not especially strong, but they made up for it in teamwork. In the secret realm they could not be called flourishing, yet they got by. Most cultivators, seeing a group traveling together, preferred not to stir up trouble.
He ordered with a smirk as he closed in: “Hand over your storage pouch.”
Seeing Rong Shu stand still as if resigned to her fate, his smile widened. His two companions stayed a short distance away to watch the show. To their minds, an early Foundation Establishment cultivator was something they could pinch flat in minutes.
The next second, his smile died.
With a soft whoomph, a tuft of blue flame rose from Rong Shu’s palm. She flicked her hand and the exotic flame drifted toward the mustached cultivator. Before it even reached him, sparks that splashed off licked his skin and began to sear.
He screamed: “Ah, ah, ah…”
It felt as if both flesh and soul were being torn at once. He doubled over, trying to shake the sparks off. They would not be shaken. They swelled and spread.
His companions jolted out of their amusement at the sight and shouted, faces draining: “Liu Hou!”
The two snatched up their weapons and charged at Rong Shu with murderous eyes. Just as their swords were about to pierce her, she lifted her gaze and snapped the fingers of her right hand. A larger bloom of blue fire flared into being before them.
They blanched and retreated in time, but the blue fire instantly swelled into a small ring that trapped them within.
Rong Shu turned to the mustached cultivator, now writhing on the ground in agony, and recalled the exotic flame clinging to him. His life was spared, though the flame had tormented him to the point he was hardly recognizable.
Seeing his condition, the other two felt a chill at heart and did not dare to force their way through the ring of fire.
They lowered their posture in a hurry. One said quickly: “Fellow Daoist, superb means. We concede. We truly submit.”
The other chimed in, eager to placate: “We three only felt itchy-handed and wanted to spar with fellow Daoist. There was no malice.”
Rong Shu arched a brow and followed their lead with an affable tone: “Since it was a spar, the winner should get a prize.”
All three stiffened at once, guessing what was coming.
Her gaze drifted back to the mustached cultivator. Eyes narrowing to laughing slits, she asked lightly: “And you, fellow Daoist, were you just trying to rob me? Telling me to hand over my storage pouch?”
The man’s mouth worked: “I…”
She said mildly: “Courtesy demands reciprocity. If I rob you back, that is only proper, right? Hand over your storage pouch.”
Her expression flipped in a heartbeat. The blade in her hand tilted forward until its tip was a hair’s breadth from the mustached cultivator’s face.
“N… no…” His first instinct was to refuse, but under her cold gaze he lacked the courage to say the word aloud.
He stammered instead, grasping at a distraction: “We are small-time cultivators, we do not have any treasures. How about… how about you go claim the bounty? If you catch the target, you get five hundred thousand spirit stones. That is worth far more than the three of us put together.”
Rong Shu’s expression faltered for an instant as she asked: “What bounty?”
Seeing her interest piqued, the mustached cultivator explained in a rush, trying to steer her attention away: “Here is how it is. That great-clan young master is still hunting the little thief who snatched his spirit herb. To find them he put up a bounty of five hundred thousand spirit stones.”
Rong Shu drew in a breath between her teeth. [Can I turn myself in? I will not even take all of it. Half would do.]
She forced down the stab of heartache and kept her face calm: “So that is how it is.”
Then she flicked her eyes back at him: “Now, hand over the storage pouch.”
She glared when he hesitated. Twice they had come to bully her, a kind and innocent kid. If she let them off lightly without some compensation for her wounded heart, she would be in the red.
She added, tone almost magnanimous: “I am generous. I will take only one storage pouch from each of you.”
The three twitched at the corners of their mouths. Generous?
They did not dare argue. Compared to losing everything, losing one pouch each was… bearable. They drew out their storage pouches for her to choose.
Rong Shu picked one higher-grade pouch from each man, judging by the newer drawstrings and intact mouths. She did not even look inside, but from their pained expressions it was clear she had chosen well.
She kept her word. If she stripped them of all their belongings, they would fight to the death, and if she got hurt in the struggle that would not be worth it.
She waved and said: “You can go.”
As she spoke, she recalled the exotic flame trapping the other two. They scooped up their remaining pouches and fled at once.
Rong Shu also left the area promptly.
As she continued west she finally opened the three pouches to take stock, murmuring with a pleased click of the tongue: “Oh, spirit stones and spirit herbs. Not bad at all.”
The pouches she had chosen were well kept, not like the scuffed daily-use ones. The drawstrings and rims were new, which meant their contents had been stowed with care.
She tucked them away and said to the presence within her: “Thanks, Fire Spirit.”
The Fire Spirit drifted out of her body, folded its arms, perched on her shoulder, and tipped its chin up proudly as it chirped: “Heh heh.”
She had used the exotic flame openly, and with the Fire Spirit’s hidden assistance they had caught the three off guard. She had not chosen to fight them head-on because that was too uncertain. Their cultivation was close to hers. Without revealing her wind and dark elements, defeating all three quickly while cowing them into surrender would have been difficult.
She rubbed the Fire Spirit’s head and sighed: [My strength still is not enough. If I could end things with a single strike, I would not have needed the exotic flame and the Fire Spirit’s help just to scare them.]