Chapter Seven: Vanished Without a Trace

Lei Xiang spun around abruptly, but there was no one behind him. The desolate burial ground stretched out empty, swept only by the cold wind. Sweat broke out on his back, chilling his skin.

A strange rustling sounded at his feet. Lei Xiang looked down to find an old man, barely three feet tall and reaching only his waist, retracting a withered forefinger. The old man was clad in black cloth, his beard and hair wild and thick, nearly obscuring his entire face so that only a pair of murky, rodent-like eyes peered out.

Was it really this filthy old man who had poked his backside with that yellowed finger just now?

Lei Xiang was truly startled—he had absolute confidence in his camouflage skills, and the concealment talisman he wore had fooled even masters like Gao Qiu. How had this old man seen through him? And how had he appeared behind him so suddenly?

Without hesitation, Lei Xiang leapt back three zhangs, slapped his storage pouch, and sent his dog-hide shield flying. It expanded in the wind to the size of a table, interposing itself between them. Lei Xiang drew his sword-whip, his gaze cold and wary.

The old man’s mouse eyes gleamed as he looked at Lei Xiang, but what he said was utterly ludicrous: “Come, everyone, gather round! If you’re late, you’ll miss it! Peerless techniques, invincible secrets—half for sale, half as a gift!”

A chilling night, a haunted graveyard, and suddenly someone peddling unrivaled martial arts? Everything about this scene reeked of the uncanny.

Years of harsh training allowed Lei Xiang to compose himself in an instant. Thoughts raced through his mind, but his expression betrayed nothing.

Suddenly, the old man pulled off his right shoe and held it before Lei Xiang. “Young man, I can tell by your bones you’re gifted, but you’re practicing the wrong technique. Come, take a look at this supreme skill of mine…”

Something stirred in Lei Xiang’s heart. He did, indeed, need a suitable cultivation method—unlike the incomplete Dragon-Elephant Divine Art he currently used. How did this old man know? And could this tattered straw sandal really be a peerless martial secret?

It was laughable, but then he reconsidered: this old man had not only appeared in such a forsaken place, he’d also seen through Lei Xiang’s concealment—he was no ordinary person. Lei Xiang asked, his tone devoid of emotion, “How much for this cultivation method?”

The old man was momentarily startled by Lei Xiang’s response, then squinted at him with those mouse eyes before smiling slyly. “Not much—thirty lower-grade spirit stones.”

At the mention of the price, Lei Xiang broke into a cold sweat. Instinctively, his hand went to his waist, where his master had given him exactly thirty lower-grade spirit stones for purchasing demon pills this time.

Was this old man clairvoyant? How could he see so clearly through so many layers of clothing, as if the price was set precisely for Lei Xiang? He checked with his spiritual sense—sure enough, the old man was an ordinary mortal. But as Lei Xiang’s eyes flashed with blue light, he checked again—still no fluctuation of spiritual power. This old man was indeed a mortal.

Yet at that moment, the old man also seemed startled, staring dumbfounded at Lei Xiang’s eyes, muttering, “Impossible! That blue light… How could it be? A mere seventh-stage Qi cultivator—unbelievable.”

His rodent eyes darted about, his expression shifting uncertainly, before a look of wild joy flitted across his features—only to be quickly suppressed, his face returning to normal.

Lei Xiang caught this subtle change. Frowning, he thought, “He’s scheming something. He clearly covets the blue light in my eyes.” Without another word, Lei Xiang recalled his dog-hide shield with a single hand seal, turned briskly, and said coldly, “I have no need of your techniques. Farewell.”

But the old man tottered forward, one bone-thin hand still stretching out the ragged sandal. Just as Lei Xiang turned to leave, the old man—now over three zhangs away—suddenly moved with unnatural speed and, in the blink of an eye, leapt onto Lei Xiang’s back.

“What do you think you’re doing? Trying to extort me?” Lei Xiang instinctively raised his hands, shouting but not daring to move. This filthy old man had thoroughly confused him. “I didn’t touch you—don’t try to scam me!”

The old man’s mouse eyes blinked cunningly, and he grinned, “Extortion? Cheating? Do you have any witnesses? No? Then it was you who ran into me. You can’t escape now. Even if you don’t buy my secret technique, you’ll have to pay me spirit stones!”

“Damn! Lunatic, scoundrel,” Lei Xiang muttered, frowning. There was no reasoning with such an old rogue—nor could he attack him. Only escape remained.

Without a sound, Lei Xiang broke free and dashed off, activating his dog-hide shield as he ran. The old madman was stunned for a moment by Lei Xiang’s sudden flight, but quickly gave chase, holding the tattered sandal aloft.

As Lei Xiang fled, he released his spiritual sense backward, seeing the old madman’s right arm stretched after him, the rotten sandal in his grasp. Lei Xiang quickly cast Windwalking multiple times, shooting forward faster and faster, until he had finally put thirty zhangs between himself and his pursuer.

Ahead, he saw a glimmer of light. Without hesitation, he darted toward it, only to find himself before the ruined gates of a dilapidated temple. Lei Xiang halted abruptly, his eyes flashing blue as he surveyed the temple’s interior.

A mottled main hall, an unidentifiable deity statue, a broken incense table with a three-legged burner, and three prayer mats thick with dust—nothing more.

There was nothing unusual about the temple, yet Lei Xiang felt an overwhelming sense of unease.

Even with his disciplined mind, his heart pounded in fear. He couldn’t say what was wrong, but decided, “I’d better not go in.” He turned to leave at a slant.

Suddenly, he felt a violent surge of spiritual energy behind him. Glancing back, he was shocked—the old madman was racing after him, floating three feet above the ground, his right arm holding the straw sandal now grotesquely stretched to ten zhangs and still extending, as if it could go on forever. The sandal came crashing down, reeking of foulness.

The stench hit before the sandal itself.

“How long has it been since you washed your feet?” Lei Xiang had no time to think. He tapped his dog-hide shield, sending the oily beast hide whirling up to intercept.

There was a muffled thud as the old madman’s endlessly stretching right hand punched through the dog-hide shield as if it were nothing. The reeking sandal was instantly before Lei Xiang’s nose. He was shocked—this was the hide of a first-tier demon beast, and even his grandfather would have struggled to break through it so easily.

But Lei Xiang’s formidable composure let him react instantly. He grabbed a handful of Oily Beast Needles with his left hand and flicked them backward. The needles, as fine as ox-hairs, were nearly invisible in the darkness. Yet the old madman’s arm twisted like a noodle, easily dodging the invisible attack. “How can he see me in such darkness?” Lei Xiang wondered.

Just then, the old madman’s sandal-wielding hand struck. Lei Xiang snorted, his right hand forming a claw as he snatched downward. “Bang!” The gold-threaded bracer caught the old man’s wrist.

And yet, impossibly, Lei Xiang felt as if he had grasped nothing but air—his five fingers closed on emptiness, and he froze in surprise.

In that instant, a flash of black light, a shadow swooped down, and Lei Xiang had time only to see those murky rodent eyes before the rotting sandal slapped his forehead. A tremendous force struck him, hurling him straight into the ruined temple.

Lei Xiang, lying on the ground, was not knocked unconscious, but felt blood rush to his head until it felt ready to explode. Strange symbols filled his mind, gathering first at his forehead, then spreading, slowly saturating his entire brain.

He tried to circulate his energy to force out these foreign symbols, but suddenly white light flared all around. The ruined temple rumbled, silver light flashed, and Lei Xiang vanished.

The stones in the temple floor that had emitted light moments before now turned to white ash with a soft “poof.” A breeze swept through, the entire temple shuddered, and, as the wind rose, collapsed into glittering motes of light that drifted to the ground.

As the temple vanished, the old madman arrived. Staring at the spot where Lei Xiang and the temple had disappeared, a glint flickered in his murky eyes, then he slowly closed them.

His arm, stretched dozens of zhangs, began dissolving away, followed by his legs, left arm, and the rest of his body, dispersing as black smoke. The smoke spiraled into the air and vanished without a trace.

Breeze, darkness, tangled weeds, and forsaken graves.

Aside from these, nothing else remained. The world returned to normal, as if the ruined temple and the old madman had never been there at all.