Chapter 39
Chapter 39: Parting Ways
Shao Heng’s expression tightened.
She raised two fingers. Vines snapped free from nearby trees under her spell and shot out, whipping around Li Chao Ge’s waist to steady her before she could slam into anything hard.
At the same time, Shao Heng’s gaze locked forward.
A figure was rushing toward the blue eggshells.
Li Chao Ge caught sight of him and flared instantly. “You’ve got nerve—stealing my prize!”
From the exposed aura, the intruder was a Human Clan cultivator around mid First Realm. The mana gap was real, but at least he wasn’t Second Realm or higher.
Li Chao Ge was furious.
Shao Heng was colder.
Spirit Dragon Liquid had limited use for her. At best, it would temper the body a little. But she already had something far more precious tucked away—True Dragon blood.
Still, what was theirs could not be taken.
And with Shao Heng’s aura deliberately kept low—only a bit over twenty furnaces—anyone watching would assume she was weak. In Li Chao Ge’s eyes, the fact that Shao Heng had managed to “wake” before her under the dragon roar was already strange enough.
So after casting the binding-wood spell to stabilize Li Chao Ge, Shao Heng deliberately made her movements look heavy, as if she’d drained herself. She swallowed an Origin-Restoring Pill and stepped back, eyes watchful.
Li Chao Ge didn’t hesitate.
She snapped out two yellow-brown talismans, burned them with spiritual power, and the paper flashed into two pure-gold chains. They shot forward like spirit snakes, wrapping the intruder tight and yanking him to a halt.
First Grade talismans—Gold Lock Talismans.
Only then did they see his face clearly.
A man, perhaps forty or fifty, old and ragged as if the years had chewed him down. His mana aura was murky, unfocused.
A rogue cultivator.
Shao Heng’s mind moved immediately.
The man had clearly been hiding nearby—and with Shao Heng’s divine sense, she prided herself on noticing almost everything around her, even among late First Realm cultivators.
Yet she hadn’t sensed him at all.
That meant he had a powerful concealment method.
Shao Heng’s interest sparked hot and sharp. Sect inheritances had strict anti-theft protections. Rogue cultivators were different. If they obtained rare techniques, they often kept backup copies—either out of caution or to trade later for resources.
Which meant she might be able to get them.
Li Chao Ge noticed the man’s murky aura and grew even more confident. The rage of nearly losing the treasure surged up, washing away the lingering weakness from the dragon roar.
She cultivated a lower-grade immortal art passed down through Madam Li’s line: Treasure Fire Nine Mystics Mirror.
The blue-dressed girl rushed forward, hand seals already forming.
Mana condensed into scorching red flames. Threads of fire wove together, shaping into a great cauldron that slammed down toward the man’s head.
The rogue cultivator ground his teeth and cast a spell. Yellow-brown light crawled over his body as he fought against the golden chains.
He roared, voice ragged with desperation and fury. “You sect disciples—why be so petty!”
His eyes burned. “Do you know how hard life is for us rogue cultivators? With no sect backing, we crawl and struggle, risking our lives for scraps of resources!”
Li Chao Ge didn’t answer.
Neither did Shao Heng.
The only reply was the flaming cauldron.
It crashed into his body with a dull thud. Fire crawled up his limbs, roasting flesh and bone.
“Aaah!”
His name was Yu Song. He’d cultivated for over fifty years. Not long ago, he’d gathered three hundred furnaces of mana and pushed into mid-stage.
But his technique was low-grade, his foundation loose and hollow. Quantity patched quality—and only barely. His protective layer of mana burned through quickly. His skin charred. Pain tore screams out of him.
Li Chao Ge didn’t waste time watching him suffer.
She dashed past Yu Song, formed seals, and drew every shattered piece of blue eggshell into an empty storage ring. Only after the last fragment vanished did her shoulders settle, relief loosening her breath.
Yu Song was mid-stage. Even with a weak method, he had a thicker base. He managed to extinguish the flames, wrench himself free from the gold chains, and fix Li Chao Ge with a hate so sharp it was almost physical.
“Hand over the treasure!”
Li Chao Ge’s smile turned vicious. A crimson long sword appeared, hovering beside her.
“Go.”
To use an artifact smoothly, a cultivator had to refine the Dao-trace restraints inside it, then expend divine sense to command it. Even with the Li Family’s resources, Li Chao Ge had only refined a few First Grade artifacts—each one chosen for quality and lethality.
This spirit sword was called Red Crane.
Sword-light flashed scarlet. When it reached Yu Song, it split into three, each blade stabbing toward a vital acupoint.
Yu Song’s movements turned ghostlike. He avoided two strikes, twisted so only his left shoulder was cut, then lunged straight for Li Chao Ge’s face.
Shao Heng’s eyes narrowed.
Her fingers flicked.
Thirty-six Jade Bee Needles shot out, silent as wind.
Even with Yu Song’s fast reactions, he couldn’t evade them all. Seventeen needles pierced into his body. He staggered and collapsed hard to one knee.
Jealous fury twisted his face. He pressed both hands over his eyes as if he couldn’t bear to see the difference between them—two young disciples with sect backing and artifacts, crushing him like dust.
He howled bitterly. “Heaven is unfair! Two green kids in early First Realm can win so easily just because they’re from a sect and have treasures protecting them!”
“We rogue cultivators grind and struggle, cultivating with everything we have. What’s the point?!”
Li Chao Ge’s brows drew together. For a heartbeat, something complicated flickered in her eyes.
Behind Yu Song’s hands, through the gaps of his fingers, his sunken eyes suddenly lit.
He was about to gamble everything—
A dull pain struck his chest.
The Jade Bee Needles were coated in poison. Under Shao Heng’s control, they sank deeper into flesh, tearing heart meridians as the toxin erupted all at once.
Yu Song’s body stiffened. His breath hitched. He collapsed forward, eyes sliding shut in unwilling defeat.
Shao Heng drew his storage pouch from his waist with a simple spell. It was old, but surprisingly clean, neatly kept.
She turned to Li Chao Ge, who was still staring at Yu Song’s body as if his last words had snagged her.
“If you feel that bad,” Shao Heng said flatly, “go steal all of Qinghe Madam Li’s spirit-stone fortune and hand it out to rogue cultivators.”
Li Chao Ge’s eyes widened. She snapped out of it and snorted. “Stop talking nonsense.”
Shao Heng stepped closer and held out her right hand, palm up.
“Hand it over,” she said. “Split Spirit Dragon Liquid fifty-fifty.”
She didn’t truly need it, but she also didn’t intend to leave anything behind that should belong to her.
Li Chao Ge pouted and muttered under her breath, but she moved quickly. She took out a large piece of shell, cast a spell, and extracted the pale green liquid clinging to its inner surface. She divided it cleanly into two portions, each one sliding into a jade bottle.
Shao Heng took her bottle and lifted it to her nose.
The Spirit Dragon Liquid was thick, the color a dull, cloudy green—unattractive at first glance. But it carried a faint osmanthus scent that wasn’t unpleasant.
With their goals met, Shao Heng looked at Li Chao Ge. “Are you heading back now?”
Li Chao Ge nodded immediately. “Let’s go down to the foot of Dan Yang Mountain first. Then I’ll activate the Hundred Rapids Skiff.”
She grimaced. “Who knows if that True Dragon will show up again. I’m honestly still scared.”
Shao Heng glanced toward the sky. Earlier, the clear light had condensed into a sword and struck down the True Dragon. Then a blue-green figure had entangled with it, and the battlefield had long since shifted far away.
She pulled out two wooden tokens from her storage ring and looked at them, expression faintly resigned.
“I still have two gathering missions,” she said. “Hundred-Poison Flame Grass and Red Phosphorus Seven-Segment Flower. Both can be found on Dan Yang Mountain. I’m going to pick them before returning.”
Li Chao Ge didn’t force her. She only reminded her, “Spirit Dragon Liquid lasts seven days. Take it soon. Don’t waste it.”
They parted.
From the forest edge, Shao Heng focused mana into her eyes and watched the spirit skiff streak away, shrinking into a distant speck before vanishing into the night.
She withdrew her gaze, face calm.
A True Dragon hatchling had only been born a few days ago. No matter how strong its bloodline, it would still be weak.
The white True Dragon was fighting that blue-shadow cultivator—and losing.
From the True Dragon’s perspective, would it keep the hatchling at its side right now?
Pure-blood True Dragons reproduced with difficulty. This hatchling should matter more than anything.
How could it bear to put it in danger?
So the hatchling might still be somewhere on Dan Yang Mountain.