Chapter 83: The Mountain Behind Bamboo City

I thought my display would startle them, make them stop, but instead it drove them to fight even harder. There was no other way—I had to unleash my full strength and end this tiresome skirmish quickly. As my Shadowblade technique reached its eighth form, the men before me finally faltered, their grip giving way as their blades clattered to the floor.

With a single strike for each, I dispatched four of them in an instant.

Only one remained, trembling with terror, his legs threatening to give out beneath him, though he stubbornly clung to his sword.

“Answer my question, and I’ll spare your life.”

Seeing that four or five men couldn’t match me, the last one—dressed in black—knew resistance was futile. He let his blade drop and nodded meekly.

“Who sent you?”

“No one sent us. We weren’t targeting you specifically. In our sect, anyone who kills a person carrying spiritual energy can join the sect’s election.”

What shameless sect could there be, taking pleasure in murder?

“What’s your sect called?” I pressed, my blade leveled at him.

“Seven Colors Sect.”

I nodded and, without hesitation, drew my blade across his throat.

Such a person, if left alive, would surely bring calamity to the world. In this, I acted as an agent of justice.

Surveying the corpses scattered across the floor, I tossed each one out the window, then wiped the blood from the tiles with a towel.

By the time I finished, it was already eleven at night. After shutting all the windows tightly, I finally lay down to sleep.

I’d expected it to be old rivals seeking revenge, but it turned out to be this group of miscreants—what rotten luck.

With such thoughts, sleep soon claimed me...

When I awoke, I felt refreshed, and after dressing, I went downstairs for breakfast.

Before long, Li Zijian and Old Li arrived as well. The three of us, grown men, devoured three buns each, relishing the meal.

“How did you sleep last night, Brother Yao?” Li Zijian asked between bites. I nodded.

“Very well, the bed’s quite comfortable.”

Li Zijian smiled, leaning in to whisper, “Brother Yao, how many did you kill last night?”

I was about to pick up a piece of pickled vegetable, but paused, withdrawing my hand.

“How did you know?” I asked under my breath.

Li Zijian glanced around, then kept his head low as he spoke.

“This morning, while I was enjoying the view outside the window, I saw several bodies lying beneath your window, so…”

He finished with a mischievous grin—not frightening at all, almost amusing.

“They came looking for trouble, so I can hardly be blamed,” I said, finishing my last bun as the others did the same.

To avoid being linked to the corpses, we decided to leave promptly.

Once the car was started, we set off for Bamboo City.

The road to Bamboo City was mostly highway, though a stretch was national road.

Soon enough, we exited the highway and merged onto the national route.

This road was sparsely populated, with not a farm in sight—calling it wild and desolate was no exaggeration.

Such a godforsaken place was likely to harbor bandits, but I was mistaken; we found nothing amiss even as we entered a small village.

On the map, the village was simply called Mountain Village. The nearest county was hundreds of miles away, so the place was essentially isolated from the world, with few cars ever passing through.

Driving through the village, we drew curious stares from the locals, their eyes fixed on our luxury car—they nearly came up to touch it.

I glanced at Li Zijian, who hadn’t spoken a word since getting in, immersed in cultivation.

Without Li Zijian, our usual source of levity, I found myself bored, leaning back in the seat and daydreaming.

After leaving the village, we rejoined the highway.

Traffic here was light, with only two or three vehicles visible along the entire stretch.

The journey went smoothly; we drove nonstop from morning until night, finally arriving in Bamboo City.

The scenery of Bamboo City was quite pleasant, named for the vast bamboo forest surrounding it.

We headed straight to our reserved hotel.

Though the city was small, its facilities lacked nothing.

The hotel alone was grand, its decor lavish beyond compare.

Li Zijian, with his wealthy family, insisted on the best—the hotel had only three luxury suites, and we took them all.

Entering my room, I’d learned my lesson: I closed the windows first, checked every corner, and only when assured no one was hiding did I dare to rest.

Tomorrow, I would begin inquiring about the location of the treasure. Time was still on our side, but I feared arriving too late.

The next morning, I called Li Zijian early to wake him.

We agreed to investigate separately today, leaving Old Li in the hotel.

Li Zijian readily agreed, and after breakfast, we met at the hotel entrance.

“Brother Yao, do you have a target?”

I shook my head. I’d only passed through this place before, never actually visited—it was all unfamiliar territory.

“So what’s the plan?”

“We’ll play it by ear.”

Li Zijian nodded indifferently. Aside from cultivation, nothing else seemed to interest him now. I’d even heard he’d quit gaming—he really was committed.

We wandered the streets, searching, yet found nothing resembling a place where treasures would appear. Could those two have been wrong?

Just then, Li Zijian said, “Brother Yao, someone’s coming.”

I knew what he meant: cultivators.

A group passed behind us, making no attempt to conceal themselves, all clad in blue robes. An uninformed onlooker might mistake them for a film crew.

Each wore a sword strapped to their backs, with both short and long hair, exuding a dashing air.

“Brother Yao, it’s them,” Li Zijian confirmed.

I nodded and hurried after them.

I suspected they’d come for the rumored treasure, and judging by their urgent pace, they likely knew its location.

Li Zijian kept up with me, whispering as we went, “Of the five, I can’t see through the cultivation of two; the rest are Third Rank of the Spirit Leaf.”

So two were First Rank Spirit Flower, or perhaps even higher.

Based on our combat abilities, we had no chance against them, so following was our only option.

They strutted arrogantly, looking down their noses at everyone, clearly not disciples of any reputable sect.

Their destination was clear—the mountain behind Bamboo City.

I kept my distance, careful not to lose them.

Their pace was brisk; I had to practically jog to keep up.

After what seemed ages, we finally reached the mountain.

Its name was straightforward—Bamboo Mountain.

The slopes were covered in bamboo, beautiful and ethereal, as if touched by immortality.

At the foot of the mountain, they drew a Bagua compass from a ring, measured it against the land, and chose a direction to proceed.