Two days slipped by in haste. These past days, Mu Yun had rushed all across Qingchuan City, trying to pick up Yu Mo's trail, yet found nothing. He could not help but smile bitterly to himself — cultivators were truly as the legends said: a divine dragon that shows its head but never its tail, coming and going without a trace.
Today was at last the day of the tournament. To avoid drawing attention, Mu Yun had taken a three-foot long saber from his storage bag in advance, slung it on his back, and dressed plainly as a wandering martial artist, arriving outside the Treasure Gathering Pavilion to wait.
As for Mu Fei — her cultivation had not yet broken into the Qi Refining stage. After Mu Yun's repeated persuasion, she had at last remained at the inn, waiting quietly for news.
The sun climbed high. Before the Treasure Gathering Pavilion, several people were already stepping inside in twos and threes. Mu Yun stood at a distance, his gaze fixed. Before long, he saw Mu Lin leading the Mu Manor contingent, slowly stepping into the pavilion.
Their eyes met. Mu Lin's expression was calm, betraying nothing.
Half a stick of incense later, Lei Gang appeared, his bearing solemn.
Mu Yun and he exchanged one glance; neither said a word. Then, one after the other, they filed inside.
Inside the Treasure Gathering Pavilion, all was as before — carved beams and painted rafters, an imposing grandeur. Before a doorway on the right, several people already stood quietly, ranged east and west, their auras disparate, wariness hidden in every face.
But nowhere could the Mu Manor contingent be seen.
Mu Yun and Lei Gang walked to the door. The total now came to eight people. Plainly, because the tournament rules had been changed, the number of entrants this time had shrunk notably. Yet every person who had come was no good sort; each had cultivation at least at the Qi Refining expert level.
Mu Yun's gaze swept over them. Two were familiar faces; the other four he had never met.
Lei Gang's eyes narrowed slightly, and he murmured: "Pei Heng?"
"Do you know these people, Uncle Lei?" Mu Yun asked under his breath.
Lei Gang nodded slightly, his gaze piercing. "That one about your age, in the hemp clothes, with the gaunt face — his name is Pei Heng. His cultivation has already reached mid-to-late Qi Refining; he is suspected to be in the Object-Driving Realm. No weak fighter. The one to his right, in the purple-patterned long robe, is Sun Zhe. He hails from the foremost noble house of Qingchuan City — the Sun family — and is their eldest direct son, also at the Qi Refining stage."
He paused, his brow furrowing. "As for the other four, their auras are strange — they are not locals of Qingchuan. I fear they were added to this contest at the last minute, their origins unclear. Do not take them lightly."
At this, Mu Yun's heart tightened, his gaze growing dark.
Of those four, three were men and one a woman, their auras disparate, their origins unfathomable.
The first was a powerfully built, burly man, a full beard covering his face, animal hide over his shoulders, his tiger-like eyes bristling with menace, his whole body's blood-qi surging like a ferocious beast of the wilderness. At his side stood a small, delicate woman, her robes light as feathers, her features cold and clear, saying nothing — yet as though hiding blades within her sleeves, her killing intent unfathomable.
These two stood shoulder to shoulder, plainly traveling together.
The third was a middle-aged man in black robes, holding a slender green-black staff, his face pale as paper, his expression gloomy as a ghost, standing to one side without a word.
The last was a young scholar in white robes, holding a scroll of bamboo slips, his head bowed in quiet observation, his expression gentle. Yet between his brows there lay a composure out of keeping with his years, as though he stood apart from the world, untouched by mortal dust.
Just as Lei Gang was quietly telling Mu Yun of their backgrounds, all but the white-robed scholar turned their gazes over — some scrutinizing, some sneering... each with his own calculations, not one a good sort.
At this moment, every heart knew well: once through this door, life and death became uncertain. One extra scrap of understanding now might mean one extra thread of life later.
Mu Yun glanced around, his gaze sharpening. "Uncle Lei, the Mu Manor's people have already gone inside. We should be on our way."
As he spoke, he slowly took the long saber from his back, left hand on the scabbard, right hand on the hilt, his expression solemn.
"Go!" Lei Gang gave a low shout, stepping like iron straight toward the doorway.
Mu Yun followed close behind. The two walked side by side; their eyes met, and each understood. This outing was no ordinary affair; only by summoning every last shred of vigilance could they survive.
The moment they crossed the threshold, a blinding light rushed toward their faces, its radiance sharp as a blade, almost cutting the eyes. Next came a sensation of the world spinning, a noisy clamor reaching their ears — seeming both far and near, both real and illusionary.
Several breaths later, Mu Yun forcibly steadied his mind and slowly opened his eyes.
The sight before him made his pupils contract sharply. It was a bustling market street — carts and horses, pedestrians, vendors hawking their wares, all teeming and noisy, the din a boiling roar, like a thriving scene from the mortal world.
"This is..." Mu Yun lost his voice for a moment, his heart full of unresolved doubt.
"An illusion?" His brow knitted tightly, his thoughts racing. Then he lowered his head and pinched his thigh hard — a real pain shot through him at once, straight to his spirit.
It was no illusion!
"This is real... if the means of constructing this kind of environment are at this level, they must already have shed the abilities of mortal men." Mu Yun drew a deep breath, his gaze steady. "This Treasure Gathering Pavilion — no, it should be called the 'Sui Chong Pavilion.' What methods and depths, exactly, does it hide?"
Though his spirit was shaken, Mu Yun did not panic. In the space of an instant, he forcibly pressed down his stray thoughts and stepped into the crowd, the light in his eyes concealed, his mind racing as he waited for an opening to break through.
Standing still a moment, Mu Yun looked around, his breath deeply concealed, yet he could see no trace of Lei Gang anywhere. The chatter around him was no different from Qingchuan City, which made a thought stir in his heart.
Then he walked slowly to a jewelry stall, pointed at a string of jade beads, and asked casually: "How much for this?"
"Mm... five cash." The vendor did not even look up, his voice coarse.
Mu Yun nodded faintly, set the ornament down, and noted that the currency others used in trade was no different from Qingchuan's common coin. By now he had a fair idea.
He did not linger, but slipped quietly into the flow of the crowd, his bearing leisurely, no different from the passersby around him — as though he were an ordinary traveler.
Before long, Mu Yun reached an eight-story building in the city. It served wine and food, its doors thronged with guests, the din roaring. His expression unchanged, he climbed the floors slowly until he reached the top, and leaned on the railing to gaze out.
Looking out, the layout of the streets resembled Qingchuan, yet the shapes of the horizon's mountains and the course of the water veins were all different.
"This is not Qingchuan City..." he murmured, a faint light flickering in his eyes. After a moment's thought, he withdrew his gaze and found an empty table in a corner, sitting down.
"Waiter." Mu Yun called.
Moments later, a young lad hurried over, smiling obsequiously. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"Do you have a map of the city?" Mu Yun's tone was flat, his head not lifting.
"Yes, yes!" The lad hurried off, then paused a few steps away to add over his shoulder: "Would sir care to look at the menu? Our 'Heavenly Flavor Tower' is the finest restaurant in all of Four Directions City!"
"Hm?" Mu Yun smiled faintly, picked up the menu on the table, flipped through a few pages, then set it down. "Just bring us your two most famous dishes."
"Right away! Please wait a moment!"
"Four Directions City?!" Mu Yun's fingers tapped the tabletop, lost in thought.
...
Before long, the waiter laid a map drawn on animal hide before Mu Yun's table.
Mu Yun unfolded it, his gaze like lightning, slowly sweeping across it, memorizing every terrain, landmark, and street layout.
"Though this place resembles Qingchuan, it is ultimately not Qingchuan City... Four Directions City, is it..."
As his thoughts raced, Mu Yun quietly rose. Taking advantage of no one paying him any mind, he leapt from the eighth floor, his form like a swallow, vanishing in an instant into the crowd.
He had not truly intended to eat. In this unfamiliar place, everything required caution. He had already tested that his storage bag worked normally; the food within was enough for five days, no need to take extra risks.
Soon, the waiter returned with the hot dishes, only to find the table empty, nothing left but a leather map and a few scraps of silver. The waiter stared blankly, looking left and right, but saw no sign of the man.
"What a strange one..." He shook his head, pocketed the silver, and grinned, though he still muttered a few words: "As long as the money's good, I don't care how strange he is."
...
Meanwhile, in a corner of the restaurant, an old man sat quietly by the window, his wide-brimmed hat's eaves drooping to conceal his face. He had not moved until Mu Yun leaped away, and only then did he slowly set down his teacup.
His fingers brushed the rim of the cup gently, as though in thought. Then he murmured softly:
"Wrath."
"This time, I wonder if it will go as hoped. Otherwise... I shall have to make other arrangements."
The old man gazed out at the distant market street, his voice low.