Chapter 13: River Valley

The sounds of fighting grew clearer, mixed with the muffled explosions of spiritual energy and heavy panting.

Bai Heng restrained her aura and buried her form deeper into the dense reed thicket, becoming like an inanimate stone by the riverbank.

She peered through gaps in the reeds toward the upstream direction.

Three figures were fighting and retreating as they moved downstream along the river valley.

The one fleeing in front was a young man in a brown short tunic, already covered in several bloody gashes. 

Dressed like a low-level loose cultivator or a disciple from a small sect, his cultivation was around the fifth or sixth layer of Qi Refining. 

The long sword in his hand had dim spiritual light, clearly at its limit.

Chasing him were two burly men. 

One wielded a heavy ring-handled broadsword with powerful strikes, while the other controlled two short blades that spun and danced in tricky angles.

Both men were at the seventh or eighth layer of Qi Refining, their faces showing the amusement and ferocity of cats toying with a mouse.

“Kid, where do you think you’re running? Hand over that piece of cold iron ore you traded for at the market, and we might be in a good enough mood to spare your life!”

The broadsword-wielding man shouted with a sinister laugh as he swung his blade in a heavy chop.

“Bah! You bandits! Robbing people in broad daylight!”

The young loose cultivator desperately parried a heavy slash, but one of the tricky short blades sliced open his arm, blood flowing freely.

“Broad daylight? In these remote wilds, we’ll kill you and bury you in the river mud. Who would ever know?”

The man controlling the short blades laughed sinisterly, his attacks growing fiercer.

The young loose cultivator was in dire straits, his steps staggering as he struggled to hold on.

Despair flashed in his eyes. Suddenly spotting the reed thicket not far away, he charged toward it with all his remaining strength, as if without thinking.

Perhaps he hoped to use the complex terrain of the reeds to maneuver, or perhaps he was simply fleeing in panic.

But his charge brought the battle directly toward Bai Heng’s hiding place.

“Damn it, still trying to hide in the grass!”

The broadsword man cursed angrily and swung his blade, sending a sharp blade qi slashing out—not aimed at the young loose cultivator, but sweeping across a large swath of reeds in an attempt to force him out.

The blade qi howled as it approached.

Bai Heng’s heart sank.

The slash covered a wide area. 

Although her concealment was excellent, if hit directly by the blade qi, her position would inevitably be exposed.

And once exposed, given the greedy nature of these two robber cultivators, upon seeing a spirit fox like her with such a pure aura and clearly extraordinary presence, they would immediately turn their attention to her.

In that split second, she made her decision.

Since hiding was no longer possible, she would… strike first.

If she acted, she would leave no survivors to create future troubles.

This was the judgment she had formed from Yun Qing’s fate and her own circumstances.

The instant the blade qi was about to slice into the reed thicket.

A pale golden thread, thin as a hair and almost impossible to catch with the naked eye, shot out silently from deep within the reeds at a speed too fast to track.

It produced no wind or sound, carried no violent surge of spiritual or demon power—only a fleeting cool, bone-eroding chill.

Its target was the throat of the broadsword-wielding man.

It was Bai Heng’s “Fox Fire Flying Needle,” refined with precise divine sense control and infused with Heavenly Fox True Fire and a trace of life force.

The man’s full attention was on the young loose cultivator ahead and the reeds about to be cut open. 

He had no time to react to this sudden, traceless attack coming from the side and below.

He felt only a slight chill at his throat, as if lightly pricked by an icicle.

Then, an indescribable sensation—both icy cold and burning hot—exploded from his throat and spread madly through his blood vessels and bone marrow.

He opened his mouth to cry out, but no sound emerged.

Extreme terror and confusion filled his eyes. 

His tall body swayed, the broadsword clanging to the ground as he toppled backward stiffly. 

His life force dissipated at an alarming speed.

The pale golden fox fire burned silently inside him, consuming all vitality from within outward.

From the outside, there was almost no visible wound—only his skin rapidly turning ashen.

This sudden turn of events stunned everyone.

The man controlling the short blades slowed his attacks, looking at his fallen companion in shock and suspicion. 

He whipped his head toward the reed thicket and roared.

“Who?! Come out here, you sneaky bastard!”

The young loose cultivator seized the chance to retreat several steps, clutching his wound. 

He stared in shock at the dead broadsword man and the eerily silent reeds, his face full of disbelief.

The response came in the form of two pale golden streaks shooting out almost simultaneously from different spots in the reeds.

One flew straight at the man’s face, while the other traced a strange arc, curving toward his back and heart.

The man cried out in alarm and fury. 

He hastily recalled his two short blades to spin and block in front of him while a layer of earthy-yellow protective spiritual light rose around his body.

A soft clang.

The fox fire flying needle aimed at his face was barely deflected by a short blade, but the cool fox fire clinging to it followed the connection through the blade and his spiritual power, quietly spreading a thread into him.

The man felt a slight numbness in the divine sense controlling his short blades, causing his movements to lag for half a beat.

In that instant, the needle that had curved around found a momentary weakness in his protective spiritual light caused by his shaken focus and slipped inside silently.

Again, a faint coolness entered his body.

The man’s body convulsed violently. His eyes filled with immense pain and terror.

He tried to mobilize his spiritual power to suppress it, but the invading strange force was icy and bone-eroding, with a terrifying adhesive and spreading quality. 

Wherever it passed, spiritual power scattered and meridians withered.

A guttural “heh heh” sound came from his throat as he pointed toward the reeds, wanting to say something but unable to utter a word. 

He followed in his companion’s footsteps and collapsed backward, his life snuffed out.

From the moment Bai Heng acted to the deaths of the two late-Qi Refining robber cultivators, only a short ten breaths had passed.

By the river valley, only heavy panting remained—from the stunned young loose cultivator—and the soft rustling of reeds in the wind.

The young loose cultivator stared at the two corpses rapidly losing all signs of life, then at the terrifyingly silent reed thicket. 

His face was deathly pale, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

His hand holding the sword trembled.

Whoever was hiding in there had dispatched two fairly strong opponents cleanly and silently. 

It had to be an expert! And the methods were so eerie and ruthless…

He didn’t dare move recklessly, nor did he dare to probe the reeds with his divine sense.

He simply stood frozen, lips quivering, wanting to say something but afraid of saying the wrong thing.

After a long while, a calm, slightly stiff female voice emerged from deep within the reeds. 

The tone was a little unusual, but the words were clear.

“You… leave.”

The young loose cultivator jolted as if granted amnesty.

He bowed deeply toward the reeds, speaking incoherently.

“Many… many thanks to Senior for saving my life! This junior… this junior will leave right now! Right now!”

He didn’t dare glance at the corpses on the ground, let alone search them.

He turned to flee in a stumbling rush.

“Wait.”

The voice spoke again.

The young loose cultivator’s steps halted, his heart leaping into his throat. 

He slowly turned around, forcing a smile uglier than crying.

“Senior… does Senior have any other instructions?”

“Clean up… the mess.”

The young loose cultivator was momentarily stunned before understanding.

She meant the two corpses and any traces left behind.

He nodded frantically.

“Yes, yes! This junior understands! This junior will clean everything thoroughly and won’t cause Senior any trouble!”

Suppressing his fear and nausea, he walked to the two corpses.

First, he quickly collected the storage pouches and artifacts from both men and piled them to one side.

Then he took out a small jade bottle from his own storage pouch and carefully sprinkled some pale yellow powder onto the corpses.

The powder hissed faintly on contact. 

The corpses visibly dissolved at a visible rate, turning into puddles of yellow liquid. 

Even their clothes and hair were not spared.

Finally, the yellow liquid seeped into the soil, leaving only faint scorch marks.

After that, he cast several minor spells to erase the footprints and lingering spiritual energy traces from the fight, even carefully clearing away the reeds cut by the blade qi.

He performed the entire process with extreme care and thoroughness, sweat dripping from his forehead, not daring to slack off in the slightest.

“Senior, is… is this acceptable?”

He stepped back and asked in a low voice.

The reeds fell silent for a moment.

“It’s fine. You may go.”

The young loose cultivator bowed once more, then fled without looking back at the fastest speed of his life, disappearing into the forest.

The river valley returned to silence.

Only the gurgling flow of the river and the gentle swaying of the reeds in the wind remained.

After about the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, once she confirmed the young loose cultivator had truly left and no other auras lurked nearby, Bai Heng slowly emerged from deep within the reed thicket.

She walked to the faint scorch marks and looked down.

The corpse-dissolving powder had worked well; the cleanup was thorough.

She swept the surrounding dozens of zhang with her divine sense, ensuring no traces or auras connected to her remained. 

Even the extremely faint energy fluctuations left by the fox fire flying needles that had been deflected or recalled had been dispersed by the wind or washed away by the river.

In his panic, the young loose cultivator had left behind the two robbers’ storage pouches and artifacts, piled to one side.

Bai Heng looked at the dusty, mediocre-spiritual-energy storage pouches and the ring-handled broadsword and two short blades.

They were just ordinary items used by low-level cultivators—nothing special.

She had no desire to touch them.

For one, they were of little use. For another, they might carry the original owners’ marks or karmic ties.

She raised a paw. A thread of pale golden fox fire shot out and landed on the items.

The flame burned quietly, producing no smoke or explosive sounds. 

The storage pouches and artifacts simply melted and shrank at a steady rate until they turned into small piles of gray-white ash.

The river wind blew past, scattering the ashes into the water and soil, leaving no trace.

Having finished, Bai Heng walked to the river’s edge and lowered her head to drink several mouthfuls of clear river water.

Afternoon sunlight sparkled on the river’s surface.

The green mountains on the opposite bank were lush and verdant, the sky a clear, washed blue.

The brief, unseen slaughter that had just occurred seemed as if it had never happened.

Bai Heng shook her head, flinging droplets from the damp fur on her forehead.

She glanced in the direction the young loose cultivator had fled, then at the path she had originally planned to take.

After a brief moment of consideration, she changed direction and headed toward the denser, more complex mountain forest on the other side.

To be safe, it was better to take a detour.

Her white figure leaped lightly, vanishing into the verdant greenery after a few bounds.

Only the gurgling river continued flowing unhurriedly toward the distance.