Chapter 22: Hunting
Sometimes, so-called team wisdom is just piling everyone’s stupidity together and voting on who takes the blame.
But some people always rise above the chaos, leading the group to the right choice.
Luo Chen believed he was such a person.
Because he possessed what others could scarcely fathom—
Astonishing wisdom, oh yeah~
“No need to worry,” Luo Chen stood with hands behind his back, voice calm. “You may not know, but before entering the Qingyun Secret Realm, I planted something on Luo Jiutian.”
His words left the group exchanging glances.
He continued: “It’s a tracking蛊, nearly impossible to detect without specific methods—even a Nascent Soul cultivator couldn’t shake it. That’s how I tracked him so easily.”
Su Xinyan’s eyes lit up: “So everything’s been under Young Master Luo’s control?”
Luo Chen nodded subtly: “Exactly. Even in this misty forest, where divine sense and vision are limited, as long as he’s alive, I can sense him.”
The group gasped, their surprise turning to admiration.
Su Xinyan beamed: “Young Master Luo is incredible!”
Su Zimo, fanning himself, smiled: “Your methods are impressive. I’m in awe.”
Luo Chen’s lips curved, feigning nonchalance, but inside, he was thrilled.
He scanned the group, saying lightly: “Luo Jiutian’s in there, not far.”
“Then what’re we waiting for?” someone said eagerly.
“Yeah, let’s charge in!”
Luo Chen raised a hand, silencing them again.
His tone was steady: “This misty forest is no ordinary place. If we scatter rashly, he could pick us off one by one. The safest way is to stick together.”
They nodded, no objections.
Su Zimo smiled: “Young Master Luo’s right. Caution is the best approach.”
Su Xinyan stepped closer, voice soft: “I’ll follow Young Master Luo.”
The group formed up, entering the misty forest under Luo Chen’s lead…
…
Inside the misty forest.
“Brat, what’re you standing there for? They’re coming—linger any longer, and there’s no escape,” White Tiger Mysterious Monarch hovered, her expression grave as she looked at the motionless Luo Jiutian.
He remained calm, speaking softly: “Senior, I’ve got an idea to eliminate the threat at its root. But I need your help.”
“Speak,” she said, expressionless.
He outlined his plan concisely.
She listened, paused, then nodded: “Fine, I’m in.”
With her agreement, Luo Jiutian said no more, sitting cross-legged to adjust his state.
White Tiger stood by, unmoving.
Time ticked by.
Soon, she spoke: “They’re here.”
Luo Jiutian opened his eyes, standing swiftly.
He channeled spiritual energy to his left arm.
A faint swelling stirred beneath his skin—the tracking蛊, sensing danger, thrashed but was pinned by his energy.
He clenched his fist, trapping it.
His arm quivered, and a gold-black insect shadow burst through his skin, darting out.
Quick as lightning, he grabbed it.
Crack!
The蛊 shattered, dead on the spot.
Luo Jiutian shook off the residue, saying lightly: “Finally dealt with.”
Such tracking蛊 were tricky.
Killing it inside the body would trigger its mark, leaving a trace that’d make the host trackable for life.
Only forcing it out and destroying it could sever the connection completely.
White Tiger nodded slightly: “You’re meticulous, even versed in such obscure arts.”
He didn’t explain, instead flipping his hand to reveal a mask.
The mask, grayish-white, was half smiling, half weeping, its dual expressions striking and unforgettable.
This was Play in the Mortal Dust, a special treasure inherited from the system. When worn, it hid his cultivation and aura, altering his appearance beyond recognition.
White Tiger narrowed her eyes.
Something felt off.
The mask didn’t come from a storage bag, nor did it cause spatial ripples—it appeared from nowhere.
And she couldn’t identify it.
“This kid…”
She felt a twinge of doubt but didn’t voice it.
To wield such secretive means at his age suggested hidden depths.
But she didn’t care.
If he kept his secrets, she’d act ignorant.
As long as he honored the pact, his secrets didn’t matter.
She looked away.
Luo Jiutian donned the mask, then raised a hand, drawing a crimson longsword, Weep in the Mortal Dust, from the void.
He stepped toward the enemy’s direction, his figure melding into the fog.
…
The scene shifts to Luo Chen’s group.
The mist thickened, the surroundings eerily quiet save for their footsteps.
“This place is creepy…” someone muttered.
Su Xinyan edged closer to Luo Chen, voice low: “I feel like something’s watching us…”
Su Zimo’s smile was gone, his gaze alert: “Something’s off.”
Luo Chen stayed silent, brows furrowed, staring ahead.
He felt an inexplicable heaviness.
Suddenly—
Crack!
A bush rustled ahead, leaves stirring.
“Who’s there!” someone shouted instinctively.
The group tensed, drawing weapons, ready to strike.
But then—
The bush parted, and a gray, fluffy, round shadow darted out, bumping Su Zimo’s leg before scurrying off.
“Just a rabbit,” Su Zimo chuckled. “We’re too on edge.”
Someone gave a wry smile: “This place is oppressive.”
The tension eased slightly.
But then, Luo Chen’s face changed.
His connection to the tracking蛊… broke!
Before he could think, a sharp sword light slashed through the fog without warning.
“Get back!” he roared.
The group reacted instantly, dodging.
The sword light exploded on impact, its shockwave stirring dust and mist, further clouding their already dim vision.
Before they could steady themselves, the force sent them staggering.
The group scattered.
A Luo disciple fell, rolling several times before stopping.
Terrified, he scrambled up.
“Young Master Luo? Young Master Su?”
No response.
He looked around, unable to orient himself or spot anyone familiar.
“Anyone there?” he shouted again.
Still nothing.
His heart raced, and he wiped cold sweat from his brow.
“Is anyone there…”
This time, a voice answered: “Right here, brother.”
He froze, then brightened, rushing toward the sound.
“Thank goodness, I thought—”
His words cut off as searing pain hit.
He looked down—a crimson longsword pierced his chest.