Chapter 59

Chapter 59: Trying to Communicate with the Madman

One second.

Two seconds.

It was as if both sides had fallen into a staring contest of who moved first would lose; even the air seemed to freeze for a beat.

Rong Shu’s eyes went wider and wider without so much as a blink.

In the end, that head drew back out of sight.

Rong Shu hesitated and stayed where she was.

[Heaven knows.] She wondered whether that head was pressed to the outer rock face right now, eyes shining as it waited for her to step out so it could pounce and start another staring game.

Rong Shu was bold, but volunteering herself just to be spooked was not on her agenda.

When it seemed he could not lure Rong Shu out, the figure clinging to the cliff wall grew bored, hopped down, and ran off.

Only after she glimpsed the silhouette moving away did Rong Shu amble out of the little path.

The owner of that head was, at this very moment, tearing around the valley. Even with chains manacling both hands and feet, the madman’s movements were unhindered. His clothes were in rags; his upper garment was nearly in tatters, leaving him bare-chested as he rummaged everywhere for something.

He shouted as he searched: “Where is my blade? Where is my blade?”

Then he threw his head back and bellowed, half like a curse and half like a challenge: “Am I not number one under heaven with the blade? Am I? Am I!!”

Spotting a long, straight branch, he flew into a rage and stamped the leaves beneath his heel, snarling: “A sword? A sword is not worth a damn. The blade is the strongest weapon, the king of weapons!”

“…”

Rong Shu, who had been heading that way, halted, then quietly backed up a few steps.

The disciples who had come before could not endure this man’s constant derangement. He would chase after people to demand answers, hounding them relentlessly if they would not reply, and whether they spoke kindly or harshly, he kept raving as if nothing had reached his ears.

“My blade…” He suddenly spun to glare at a boulder ahead of him as though it were his mortal enemy, his tone vicious: “Where is my blade? You. Was it you? Was it you who hid my blade? Was it?!”

Rock: …

Seeing this, Rong Shu felt no ripple in her heart.

In the past, a disciple had failed to hold back. Hearing the madman mutter about wanting a blade day after day, pity struck, so the disciple whittled a crude wooden one. The result was that the madman grabbed the wooden blade and chased him round the valley trying to hack him to pieces.

After that, the Task Pavilion repeatedly warned every disciple assigned this duty. No one dared give the madman a blade again.

Outside the forbidden grounds, the first order of inspection was to screen for any blade-like objects. If something even resembled the shape, it would be confiscated on the spot.

Rong Shu pretended not to see the madman ranting at a rock and turned to look around: “Hmm… the food? Where did the rice bowl go?”

After a couple of circuits, she found the iron bowl overturned, with quite a lot of rice scattered on the ground beside it.

As for why it was an iron bowl, well, because it was durable.

There was grain stored in the valley and a little stove besides. Rong Shu’s task was not only to bring food to the madman; she had to cook it herself, and not for her own meal either.

She grabbed a handful of rice to wash and rinse, then, spotting some leafy greens, tossed a handful into the pot as well and stewed everything together.

When she finished, Rong Shu drew a Meditation Mat from her Storage Pouch, tossed it onto the ground, and sat.

Since many of the items she usually carried were inconvenient to show in public when entering a forbidden ground, this time she had only brought a bottle of Fasting Pills, two bottles of Spirit Gathering Pills, two jade slips, and a single Meditation Mat.

Since there was no finding a blade in here, she might as well sit and cultivate, and in the bargain practice the two new spells she had just redeemed from the Library Pavilion.

This time she had exchanged for two arts: Wind Screen, a wind-attribute defensive spell, and Fire Serpent, a fire-attribute offensive spell.

With only a month before entering the secret realm, Rong Shu’s current repertoire of spells was too simple and lacked breadth. She had chosen these two with care to make up what she lacked.

Most importantly, the contribution price was cheap. She had converted the one thousand Spirit Stones her nominal master had previously given her entirely into contribution points and used them to redeem these two Profound-tier spells.

It was just a pity that those one thousand Spirit Stones were only enough for these two; there was no way to also get Wind Armament. Besides, she was wary. She was only a trifling Qi Refining, second layer. If she redeemed Wind Armament in advance, a spell typically used by Foundation Establishment Stage cultivators, it would be easy for others to suspect something was off.

Back at the Library Pavilion she had only skimmed the introductions before hurrying over. Now she finally calmed herself and began to study in earnest.

Wind Screen was a wind-element defensive spell. By mobilizing wind spiritual qi, the user could form a protective wind-shield in front of themselves to block incoming attacks.

Apart from the solitary Talisman her nominal master had given her, Rong Shu was sorely lacking in life-saving defenses. Wind Screen would neatly patch that shortcoming.

Fire Serpent was a fire-element offensive spell whose execution resembled Fireball in broad strokes, except that the former condensed fire spiritual qi into the shape of a serpent.

It was a little like a starter version of a manifestation-type technique. In terms of outline alone, both were long, slender shapes.

Rong Shu wanted to see whether she could glean a true manifestation technique from them, and if so, she could score a free ride.

The madman suddenly hopped up right in front of her, his stinking head leaning in as his gaze roved up and down her body, as if he had already decided she was the one who had stolen his blade: “Did you take my blade? Did you?”

Rong Shu kept her voice even as she answered: “Respected senior, I am cultivating.”

She had no idea who the madman really was. Heaven’s Evolution Sect had locked him up here, but only locked him up: they posted guards and even sent disciples to cook for him. That treatment was neither good nor bad. It felt oddly delicate.

If he were a mere mortal, Heaven’s Evolution Sect would never treat him like this. To be safe, Rong Shu did not slight him; she kept her bearing respectful and proper.

After all, he was older than she was. In the cultivation world, calling him respected senior was no overstep.

“My blade… where is my blade… do you know where my blade is? Do you? Do you…” He raked his fingers through his hair. The long, matted mess had gone uncombed for ages, clumped and knotted into filthy patches.

She tried a different tack, speaking gently: “Respected senior, are you hungry? The meal is cooking… perhaps you could have a Fasting Pill first?”

Rong Shu offered him a Fasting Pill, but he suddenly turned on his heel and walked away, mumbling all the while: “My blade… where did my blade go…”

Seeing this, Rong Shu let out a quiet breath and drew the Fasting Pill back.

[Good. He left. Back to cultivation.]

The Task Pavilion had compiled all the myriad reasons the earlier disciples had failed. On her way here, Rong Shu had read those notes several times.

One of the more important points concerned blades.

Do not mention blades before the madman. Do not take out blades. Do not give him blades. Anything to do with blades must not appear within the valley.