Chapter 515: The Bamboo Sea’s Rear Mountain
The mountain-protecting formation was mostly dazzling and grand in scale. But the formation lines laid out along this narrow path were completely the opposite.
It had no warning glow whatsoever, nor any fluctuation of leaked spiritual energy.
All the formation nodes were placed in the spots people would most easily overlook—like the patch of moss one would instinctively lean toward to dodge a low-hanging branch overhead, or the withered leaf one’s toes might step on to steady their center of gravity.
As long as you took one wrong step.
The first ring wouldn’t attack; instead, it would silently release some colorless, odorless poison powder.
The second ring, the moment your spiritual energy slowed from the poison, would shoot poisoned hidden weapons from a blind spot.
The third ring, the real killer, would completely seal off the entire path’s escape route, then detonate the suppressed fire poison buried underground.
This was luring someone in, then slaughtering them without leaving a complete corpse.
“This formation line layout is nothing but traps,” Lin Yu’s voice rang out in Su Ming’s Consciousness Sea, carrying undisguised admiration. “It’s not meant to block enemies head-on; it’s purely designed to trick people. Hiding killing intent beneath the most harmless surface—that old cunning bastard truly lives up to his reputation.”
Su Ming didn’t say a word. He just made his footsteps even more precise. Wherever Qingfeng stepped, he followed without a single deviation.
Shadow lay perched on Su Ming’s shoulder, twisting her head this way and that, her golden eyes flickering with curiosity. Though she didn’t understand formations, her instinct for danger far exceeded a normal person’s. She could sense that the stones on either side hid something that made her uncomfortable, so she shrank her neck, pressing her body closer to Su Ming.
The three of them followed the narrow path for about the time it took to burn an incense stick.
Finally, the way ahead opened up.
At the end of the path was a massive stone wall, thickly covered in moss. The wall was seamless, with no trace of any crack or door.
Qingfeng stepped forward and took a deep breath.
He raised his right hand, curling his index finger slightly, and began knocking on the stone wall with a very rhythmic beat.
Tap. Tap-tap. Tap. Tap-tap-tap.
The force of the knocks was light, but in the quiet rear mountain, they rang out unusually clearly.
Su Ming silently memorized the rhythm. He noticed that each time Qingfeng struck, the position was different—seemingly random, yet exactly aligned with the seven stars of the Big Dipper, and the spiritual energy attribute infused with each strike switched back and forth between earth and wood.
The knocking ended.
The stone wall was silent for three breaths.
Then, there was no rumble, no sound of machinery turning.
That moss-covered stone wall, like two blocks of melting ice, slid silently to either side.
Behind the stone wall, a deep, dark passage was revealed. Embedded in the passage were a few dim Moonlight Stones, giving off a cold, faint glow.
“Su Ming, please.” Qingfeng stepped aside, making room.
Su Ming stepped forward and entered the passage.
At the end of the passage was a small stone chamber.
The furnishings of the stone chamber were simple to the extreme. No alchemy furnace, no weapon rack, no rare beast furs that high-level cultivators used to decorate their status.
Against the wall was a stone bed, on which lay a coarse-woven blanket, washed until it had turned white.
In the center sat a meditation cushion, its edges worn and frayed.
In the corner was a stone table, with a Go board set on it. The board was carved directly into the stone, and scattered across it were black and white stones, locked in a bizarrely entangled state.
And in the center of this extremely minimal stone chamber, on top of the meditation cushion, sat a person.
An old man in gray robes, his back to the door.
The old man’s frame was somewhat small and thin. The gray Daoist robe hung loosely on him, as if there was nothing but a bundle of bones inside. He exuded no pressure of a high-level cultivator; even his breathing was so light it was almost inaudible. If not for his eyes seeing him sitting there, Su Ming’s divine sense would have directly skipped over this spot.
“Disciple pays respects to Master.”
Qingfeng and Mingyue stood at the entrance of the stone chamber, bowing in unison with extreme respect, barely daring to breathe loudly.
The gray-robed old man on the meditation cushion didn’t move immediately.
The stone chamber was so quiet it was oppressive.
A full ten breaths passed.
Only then did the old man slowly turn around.
Su Ming could see his face.
It was a face that was gaunt to the extreme. His cheekbones were slightly high, stretching the skin of his cheeks taut. His eye sockets were deeply sunken, like two deep caverns. But within those deep sockets, his eyes were startlingly bright.
At the corner of the old man’s mouth hung a faint, elusive smile.
That smile wasn’t one of kindness or mockery. It was more like a look of playful mockery, as if he had already seen through how many spirit stones you had in your pocket and what schemes you were brewing in your heart.
“Oh ho.”
The old man spoke. His voice was unusually hoarse, like two rough stones grinding against each other.
“You two little brats, still remember to come see your master?”
Qingfeng and Mingyue lowered their heads even further, not saying a word. They knew their master too well. If they responded now, the next thing out of his mouth would definitely be a trap.
Inside the Xuantian Ring, Lin Yu’s soul body hovered mid-air.
He stared at Master Xuanming’s appearance, the glow of his soul body flickering slightly.
“This guy…” Lin Yu muttered in Su Ming’s Consciousness Sea. “He definitely doesn’t look like a good person. Those eyes, like an eagle staring at a rabbit. And that smile at the corner of his mouth, no matter how you look at it, he’s plotting something bad.”
Lin Yu paused for a breath, lowering his voice even more.
“Be careful. He has no spiritual energy fluctuation, but the way he sits there is just like the formation outside on that path—full of traps everywhere.”
Master Xuanming’s gaze swept past Qingfeng and Mingyue, who were bent over.
His eyes landed on Su Ming.
It was an extremely brazen assessment, yet one that couldn’t inspire resistance.
His gaze first swept over Su Ming’s face, pausing briefly on Su Ming’s calm, unruffled expression.
Then it moved downward, scanning over Shadow, who was crouched on Su Ming’s left shoulder, arching her back and puffing up her feathers.
Finally, his gaze rested on the area of Su Ming’s Dantian.
“Mid-stage Foundation Establishment.” The faint, elusive smile at the corner of Master Xuanming’s mouth deepened slightly. He nodded a little, his voice hoarse yet carrying a strange penetrating power. “Your blood and qi are solid, your spiritual energy is deep without being floating. Your foundation is solid. You’re that boy Xuanheng’s apprentice?”
Su Ming stepped forward, folded his hands, and bent his back slightly, performing a junior’s salute.
“This junior, Su Ming, pays respects to Master Xuanming.”
Su Ming’s posture was neither servile nor arrogant, his voice steady, without any flattering sycophancy or forced calm.
But in the moment he lowered his head, Su Ming’s mind had already extracted two layers of meaning from Master Xuanming’s words. First, Master Xuanming had called his master, the Formation Peak Master, “that boy,” with a tone of casual familiarity between old friends. This showed that he was not only of a high generation but also had a deep relationship with his master. Second, Master Xuanming had seen through his mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivation and solid foundation at a glance—that wasn’t surprising. A Nascent Soul cultivator looking at Foundation Establishment was like reading the lines on a palm. But he hadn’t pointed out the “Kintsugi” hidden injury on his Dao Foundation. Did he not see it, or was he deliberately not saying?