Chapter Seventy: Are You Surprised? Is It Unexpected?

“Please, Master!” “Let us go!”
The Taoist was unmoved by their pleas, feeling only that mortals were indeed as weak-willed as their reputation suggested—no wonder so few ever sought the true Way.
He said, “I’ve instructed those guarding the entrance that anyone seen leaving will be cut down immediately. If you aren’t afraid to die, you can turn back on your own.”
The constables were plunged into utter despair.
The Taoist continued, “We are deep in enemy territory now. If you wish to survive, you must press forward, slay the fiends, and destroy their lair. If you falter or hesitate, you might as well kill yourselves here, so you don’t drag down the others.”
Wiping their tears, the constables rose and formed the “Yang Spirit Exorcism Array” once more, following the Taoist onward.
Passing through the stone walls, Lu Wujie found his flying sword, Jinghong, among a pile of venomous insect corpses. It was battered and blackened, utterly ruined.
He beat his chest in anguish. This sword had been with him since his Foundation Establishment, helping him slay demons and monsters—now it fell, inexplicably, in this cave. Yet there was nothing to be done but to keep moving.
The passage narrowed further; the constables followed Lu Wujie, trembling, not daring to stray either too far or too close.
No one knew how long they walked before Lu Wujie suddenly stretched out his hand and said, “Stop.”
They halted. Lu Wujie crouched, feeling the ground. “It’s very slippery ahead. Be careful.”
A viscous, oily substance coated the floor, slicker than ice. The passage sloped downward; anyone who fell might slide uncontrollably to the bottom.
Lu Wujie said, “I’ll go first. Find your own way across. Be careful—don’t slip.”
The constables were miserable: What way could we possibly find?
Lu Wujie cared nothing for their predicament. With a tap of his toe, he leapt forward.
Xu Wenshan stepped up. “Let’s hold hands, grip tightly, and move down slowly. If someone slips, grab him.”
They nodded; it was their only option. Xu Wenshan held onto Xu Jing’s hand.
Her palm felt warm. She thought she ought to be shy, but in this cave where life and death hung by a thread, shame had vanished, replaced by a fierce longing for attachment.
Had it been another time, Xu Wenshan might have told her this was the “bridge effect”—the intense urge for companionship that arises in danger.
But Xu Jing knew nothing of the bridge effect, only that she was angry at her own wandering thoughts.
“Ah!”
Just as Xu Jing was lost in thought, Xu Wenshan’s foot slipped and he crashed to the ground.
Xu Jing couldn’t hold him; both went down, dragging all the constables ahead with them.
The group slid down the passage like a roller coaster, their screams echoing through the cave.
Lu Wujie, waiting below, cursed fiercely, “Useless fools!”

His sword was lost; he had no way to fly up and rescue them. He could only cast a spell to soften their descent, hoping a few might survive the fall.
As their cries abruptly ceased, Lu Wujie looked up and saw, to his horror, a giant spider clinging to the tunnel ceiling.
As people slid past, the spider stabbed each with its slender mouthparts—one after another. By the time they reached the bottom, they were corpses.
Xu Wenshan and Xu Jing among them.
Their faces were pale as they lay sprawled on the floor, lifeless alongside the constables.
Lu Wujie gazed at the bodies, his anger spent, expressionless.
“Blazing fireball!” He hurled a ball of flame at the spider, which fled in panic, escaping into some unseen crevice.
This was clearly a venomous insect’s lair—how had a spider demon appeared?
Why had everything gone so wrong since arriving here? First the sword was lost, then the protective banner destroyed. Every step seemed predetermined, a trap.
Lu Wujie was filled with regret—deep, bitter regret.
He had underestimated his enemy.
Even a mutated venomous mother insect, nearing the Nascent Soul stage, should not have been taken lightly.
From now on, he resolved to use every card he had left.
He drew a small box from his bag of wonders, taking out a pill.
The “Ninefold Creation Pill”—crafted from ten rare treasures, refined nine times in fire. It allowed any cultivator below the Nascent Soul stage to ascend one major realm for a brief period.
Swallowing the pill, a fierce wind tore through the cave. In that instant, all the spiritual energy within ten miles of Shaxian was sucked into Lu Wujie’s body, where his spiritual cyclone condensed and formed a murky golden core!
He had been at Foundation Establishment, but now, instantly, he was a Core Formation cultivator!
“A mere venomous insect has cost me three treasures. When I catch you, I’ll strip your sinews for a belt!”
“Shadow Flight!”
With his newfound power, Lu Wujie soared through the air, reaching the cave’s bottom in a flash.
Core Formation brought him not only flight, but confidence. Without the pill, he would have advanced cautiously, wasting precious time. Now, he feared nothing!
He met little resistance along the way. Ordinary venomous insects and those with protruding mouths were annihilated with a wave of his hand. A few traps appeared, but his magic destroyed them before he even saw their details.
The mother insect was within sight.
At the cave’s deepest point, a giant venomous insect lay alone. Unlike its kin, its body was the size of a yak, covered in sagging, wrinkled layers of fat. It gaped its mouth, seemingly struggling to molt.

Lu Wujie knew it was racing against time to complete its transformation. Only if it succeeded would it be a match for him.
But it was too late!
“Blazing Flame Sword!” A sword of fire appeared in Lu Wujie’s hand. He thrust it at the mother insect; its frail body offered no resistance, split cleanly in two.
But Lu Wujie’s face turned deathly pale.
“Hiss!”
His lower body sank into the ground. On closer inspection, the “ground” was merely a thin layer of stone.
Beneath it was a pool of corrosive venom, the same kind spewed by the protruding-mouthed insects.
This venom could destroy his flying sword—it would ruin any magical artifact.
“Hiss!”
The Shadow Linglong pendant hanging from his waist was eaten away by the venom, reduced to tatters.
……
Meanwhile, at the Alliance of the Righteous Immortals—
“Warning! Cultivator number 45925387, Shadow Linglong has been damaged. Warning! Number 4592…”
A cultivator said, “45925387? Who’s that—do we know him?”
Another replied, “Judging by the number, he’s from the Ten Thousand Laws Temple. Only Foundation Establishment. Why bother? Their sect will handle it.”
……
“Clap, clap, clap…”
Applause echoed behind Lu Wujie.
He turned, pupils contracting.
“You!”
“Yes, it’s me,” Xu Wenshan stood far behind him, smiling. “Surprised? Didn’t expect this, did you?”