"This is the 'World of Mountains and Seas'?"
As starlight condensed, Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao appeared hand in hand, their expressions vigilant.
Yan Chuang scanned the surroundings. It looked like a marshy forest, shrouded in dark clouds, dim and eerie. Towering ancient trees stood tall, entwined with vines, forming a seemingly endless canopy of shadows.
Although it was the winter month in Great Yan, this place remained lush and green.
The trunks of these ancient trees were covered in moss and moisture, making them look decrepit and twisted.
The ground was muddy and slippery, with occasional muffled sucking noises, as if underground ghouls were devouring everything. On the muddy surface, murky water carried withered branches, decaying leaves, and other rotting plants, releasing a nauseating stench.
Toxic miasma filled the air, making it hard to breathe.
The forest was blanketed in this mist, reducing visibility to a bare minimum.
"Watch out for the miasma!"
"This is poisonous—it can enter through your breath and pores!"
Cheng Fengxiao held his breath and warned Yan Chuang.
Miasma!
Toxic miasma!
These were frequently mentioned in Xun Guilan's Geographical Record of Mountains and Seas. There were methods to identify and defend against them. Compared to the densely populated Great Yan, the vast and sparsely populated World of Mountains and Seas had more mountainous and marshy areas, filled with dangers like these. There was no need for venomous snakes or ferocious beasts—just this naturally occurring toxic miasma was enough to make any martial artist from Great Yan sweat.
"Understood."
Yan Chuang nodded seriously.
He held his breath and focused, ears slightly twitching as he picked up subtle sounds—bird cries, beast roars, the hissing of insects and snakes. Combined with the ominous fog, it felt especially eerie and terrifying.
"This is the World of Mountains and Seas!"
Yan Chuang began to grasp the nature of this realm, and his restless heart calmed slightly.
Just as he was about to discuss their next move with Cheng Fengxiao—
"Someone's coming!"
"Movement!"
The master and disciple both sensed something at once and turned their heads. From the left front, they heard footsteps squelching through the marsh, rapidly approaching.
Listening carefully—
Chasing and fleeing!
"Two groups!"
"No—more than that!"
"Right side too!"
"Front!"
"Behind!"
"Surrounded!"
Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao exchanged a glance. Their hearts sank.
Squelch, squelch!
People approached from all directions—judging by the steps, all of them were trained martial artists. There were over a dozen.
Yan Chuang gripped his spear.
Cheng Fengxiao gripped his iron staff.
Not knowing whether the newcomers were friend or foe, Cheng Fengxiao growled, "Pick a path and fight our way out!"
With his heavy iron staff in hand, he randomly chose the front left and charged ahead.
"Go!"
Yan Chuang followed closely with his red-tassel spear.
Using their footwork technique Hundred-Step Phantom Walk, they moved swiftly and lightly even on the swampy ground.
They deliberately avoided the encroaching footsteps, but their opponents adjusted as well—and seemed to grow in number!
Soon—
They collided.
"Hmm?"
"Huh?"
Seeing their opponents, Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao were both stunned.
Looking down at themselves—they wore animal hides, with hair unkempt, styled just like the local natives Cheng Fengxiao had encountered on his last trip here.
This was intentional—to blend in.
But it seemed…
They'd overdone it!
Looking up again, they saw six people—some with spears, some with staffs, some with sabers—all wearing cloth garments just like common martial artists from Guangling City.
By comparison—
Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao stood out awkwardly!
"Waa waa aah!"
"Yee yaa waaa!"
Their opponents shouted, brandishing their weapons.
They couldn't understand a word!
Not a single bit!
"They don't seem strong."
"Let's break through first."
Cheng Fengxiao's staff lashed out without delay—
Whoosh whoosh whoosh!
He moved like a tempest.
His staff danced—thrusting, collapsing, poking, parrying, hooking—this was the opening move of the Eight-Directional Staff Technique. There was only one path to take: unpredictable and ever-changing.
Bang bang bang!
One strike.
Four of the six attackers fell, not even lasting a single exchange!
But two remained—one wielding a saber, the other a sword. Fighting defensively together, they managed to hold Cheng Fengxiao off for several moves.
Cheng Fengxiao was shocked.
So was Yan Chuang.
Not because of their strength—but because—
"Rotten Silk-Wrapping Sword Technique!"
"Linked Silk-Wrapping Saber Technique!"
They recognized it—these were techniques from the Silk-Wrapping Fist style, taught widely at Guangling Academy!
Bang!
After three moves, Cheng Fengxiao knocked away the swordsman.
Yan Chuang's spear moved even faster—when he realized the origin of their techniques, he changed his attack to a collapsing strike—
Snap!
The knife-wielder was smacked aside.
No more enemies in front!
"Move!"
Without hesitation, Cheng Fengxiao and Yan Chuang sprinted away and vanished in moments.
"Yunsang!"
"Moyang!"
"Are you okay?!"
Shortly after they fled, another twenty to thirty people arrived and gathered around the six who had been knocked down. Seeing no serious injuries, they asked, "Who broke in?"
"No idea," Yunsang shook his head. He had been the saber-wielder among the six.
Thinking of those two intruders—and how the younger one held back at the last moment—Yunsang felt a chill.
That spear was terrifying. If the attacker hadn't held back, he'd be dead already.
He carefully wiped the mud off his saber. In this marshland, the heavy humidity demanded constant weapon maintenance.
But then—
Yunsang's expression changed drastically.
"Yunsang, your blade chipped!"
Someone pointed in shock.
A good weapon was rare in the Wushan Tribe. Yunsang's saber had been a reward from one of the tribe's 24 senior officers. He cherished it.
Now it was full of nicks and cracks.
"Don't shout!"
"I saw it!"
Yunsang's face twisted in grief. He caressed the chipped blade, eyes brimming with tears, explaining, "They held back—didn't mean harm. But the older one's iron staff must be an incredible weapon. Just a couple of taps ruined my saber—"
He couldn't hold it in.
Tears fell.
His beloved saber—destroyed!
"Yunsang, be glad you're alive. You can earn another blade. You can't earn another life!"
Moyang, who had fought beside him, comforted him. His own sword was almost shattered, but he stayed calm and told the others, "They didn't mean harm. Let's just let them go."
"Right."
"Glad you're okay."
"They ran away—we don't need to pursue."
"I'll report this to the senior officer. The rest of you—keep patrolling. No one must approach Mount Ming!"
Among the group, including Yunsang and Moyang, a handful quickly decided on the plan—some would patrol, others would report.
The group dispersed.
Whoosh whoosh!
Yan Chuang and Cheng Fengxiao didn't know no one was pursuing. They kept running, navigating up and down through the terrain for about ten miles before stopping.
"That guy—was that the saber technique from Silk-Wrapping Fist?"
Cheng Fengxiao asked immediately.
He knew a lot about the old form of the style, but not much about the evolved version taught at Guangling Academy. He couldn't be sure.
"No doubt!"
Yan Chuang affirmed, "The Rotten Silk-Wrapping Sword and the Linked Silk-Wrapping Saber—they're classics. I could do them in my sleep."
Swish swish swish!
He demonstrated two moves using his spear like a sword and saber.
Cheng Fengxiao watched—exact match.
Then he made a guess: "Guangling Academy has been active here for eight years. Could these be fighters they've trained locally?"
They didn't look like Great Yan natives—though they wore cloth robes and tied their hair, they had a savage, tribal aura.
If these non-Han fighters knew Silk-Wrapping Fist, there were only a few explanations—
They either captured and interrogated Guangling students.
Or Guangling faculty taught them intentionally.
Or—just as Cheng Fengxiao guessed—they were nurtured by the academy.
"Guangling Academy isn't just spreading martial arts in the city—they're training locals here too?"
Cheng Fengxiao frowned.
Yan Chuang laughed, "It makes sense. The academy has limited manpower. Even counting teachers, they'd have just two or three hundred people here. In this vast realm, that's nothing. Supporting local forces makes sense."
It was logical.
In fact—
Charging in alone would've been foolish.
"Silk-Wrapping Fist."
"Guangling Academy."
"If they were trained by the academy, what were they doing just now?"
Cheng Fengxiao grew suspicious again. The group earlier had been patrolling—were they guarding something?
He looked at Yan Chuang: "Could it be a treasure?"
Then he shook his head and said firmly—
"Forget it."
"Not our business."
"We're unregistered outsiders here. We can't reveal our identities to the natives—or to anyone from Guangling!"
"No need to get involved."
He was clear-headed.
Yan Chuang understood too. If they were discovered entering via starlight stones, it could blow their cover.
That's why, even after recognizing the Silk-Wrapping style, he didn't reveal anything—no need to make introductions or swap tales.
Stability came first.
"Let's move."
"Put more distance between us and them."
"Then find a small tribe to settle in—learn the language and script. That's the safest plan!"
They had a strategy before entering.
Last time, Cheng Fengxiao had wandered blindly and luckily survived, even found a precious Zhu Fruit.
But luck was not a plan.
This time, they came together—more organized.
"Settle in a small tribe."
"Advance steadily."
"This trip, we'll focus on understanding the World of Mountains and Seas—learn the language, study the terrain. No need to chase treasure."
After resting briefly, they lifted their weapons and continued on.
Their target—
A small tribe.