Lying Low in the Martial World to Become a Saint

As the saying goes, listen to good advice and you’ll never go hungry.

This was the mark of a truly promising disciple, one who understood when to make sacrifices.

"The Blood Burning Technique is a desperate art, exceptionally dangerous, but in a crisis, it might just be what saves your life."

Elder Ma nodded, saying no more.

....

「Deep within Qianchuan Marsh, in a natural cavern.」

The entrance was hidden beneath a turbulent whirlpool, reachable only by those who knew the specific waterway. It was an important stronghold for the Infinite Demon Sect’s Yunlin Sub-Pavilion.

The cavern was quite spacious, with several chambers carved out by hand. A few ever-burning lamps filled with ghostly green phosphorus were embedded in the walls, casting a dim light that made the place feel even more sinister.

Zuo Feng threw Zheng Hui from his shoulder onto a crude stone bed in the corner.

Zheng Hui’s body landed with a heavy thud. He was like a soulless husk.

The destruction of his family, his father’s tragic death, the desperate flight for his life... The succession of devastating events had completely crushed the once-proud young master of the Zheng Family.

Without a single glance at Zheng Hui, Zuo Feng walked to a relatively dry stone platform in the center of the grotto. He picked up a wineskin and took several large gulps of strong liquor. The burning liquid seemed to wash away some of the weariness from his days on the run.

He had already removed his disguise, revealing his true, aged, and sinister face.

"Tsk. The great Young Master Zheng, broken already?"

A cold, bewitching female voice drifted from the doorway of a nearby stone chamber.

Zuo Feng looked up.

A woman in tight, dark-red leather armor was leaning against the doorframe. She was tall and slender, with an alluring figure. Her long, black hair was casually tied back, with a few strands falling across her smooth forehead.

The most striking thing about her was the soft whip coiled around her waist. It was jet-black and gleaming, with fine scales, and its hilt was inlaid with an eerie blue gemstone.

She was Hu Mei, the Blood Rakshasa, one of the Eight Great Guardians of the Yunlin Sub-Pavilion.

"Broken?"

Zuo Feng sneered and tossed the wineskin onto the stone platform. "His family is dead and gone. He’s fallen from the clouds into the mud. Anyone would be in a daze for a while. But..."

His gaze swept over the deathly still Zheng Hui on the bed as he said coldly, "Hate is the best kind of fuel. As long as that spark in his heart isn’t extinguished, sooner or later it will ignite. It will burn others to death, and it will feed our own fire."

Hu Mei gracefully approached. She glanced at Zheng Hui, her eyes devoid of sympathy. "The Altar Master is away on urgent business and not at the Sub-Pavilion. Otherwise, how could we have let the Four Great Sects run so rampant?"

"The Altar Master is away?!"

Zuo Feng’s brow furrowed instantly. This was the first confirmation he had heard.

No wonder the Sub-Pavilion’s response had been so slow when Nine Waves Island was attacked. He had only been active in the area due to his private dealings with Zheng Yuankui, which was the only reason he’d managed to save this loose end, Zheng Hui.

"Do you know where the Altar Master went? When will they return?"

Hu Mei said, "How could the likes of us possibly know the Altar Master’s whereabouts? All I know is that it’s a critical matter concerning the Holy Sect’s grand plan. It could be a few months, or it could be... longer. It’s hard to say."

Her tone was detached, and she was clearly being secretive about the Altar Master’s destination.

Zuo Feng was silent for a moment, a glint in his eye, before he suddenly said, "The Wutai Sect’s seven-hundredth anniversary celebration is coming up. They’re inviting guests from all over. All eyes in Yunlin Prefecture and the surrounding regions will be on Lake Heart Island. Why don’t we call the others and go crash the party?"

He was referring to the other Protectors of the Sub-Pavilion.

The Eight Great Guardians each had their own specialties and were notoriously secretive. Most of them had never even met, communicating only via the Altar Master’s token or specific coded signals.

Zuo Feng himself had only ever collaborated with the Blood Rakshasa, Hu Mei, on a few occasions.

"Old Ghost Zuo, have you lost your mind?"

Hu Mei looked as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. "The Altar Master is away, and you want us to gather on our own to storm the Wutai Sect’s main camp? Do you think He Yuzhou earned the name ’Canglang Fisherman’ for nothing? And what about their Deans? Every one of them is a powerhouse in the Astral Force realm. If the few of us go, are we just asking for an early grave? Rushing to offer them our heads for their celebration?"

She walked right up to Zuo Feng, her voice dripping with undisguised mockery. "The Eight Great Guardians of this Sub-Pavilion... we barely even know what each other look like, let alone how to work together. Everyone has their own agenda. Who’s to say someone wouldn’t stab you in the back? Without the Altar Master here to command us, any move we make would be as a disorganized mob. We’d just be adding a splash of blood to the Wutai Sect’s celebration!"

Zuo Feng’s brow creased, but he had to admit Hu Mei had a point.

The terrifying power and unpredictable methods of the Altar Master, "Heart Devourer," were the only things holding arrogant, fierce ruffians like the Eight Great Guardians together.

Without the Altar Master, they were nothing but a heap of loose sand, likely to turn on one another with suspicion and infighting.

Zuo Feng said in a low voice, "So we’re just going to let it go?"

"Let it go?"

Hu Mei sneered. "How could we? The time just isn’t right. You should lie low for a while."

With that, she ignored Zuo Feng and disappeared down the passageway leading to another chamber.

Zuo Feng stood where he was, his expression shifting and uncertain.

He looked at Zheng Hui on the stone bed, his gaze complex.

Nine Waves Island and the Zheng Family had been his project, his clandestine contact.

This whole affair was, for him, a failure.

Zuo Feng walked to the side of the bed and clapped a withered hand heavily on Zheng Hui’s shoulder. "Zheng family brat, the Holy Sect will avenge you! A blood debt must be paid in blood! Now, pull yourself together and heal your wounds! Your life still has value!"

Zheng Hui’s body trembled violently. "Revenge... Yes, I will have my revenge!"

.......

For the next few days, Chen Qing used his privilege as Chief Disciple to devote himself to cultivation in an A-Class Quiet Chamber in Langya Pavilion, using up all ten days of his allotted seclusion for the month.

His Floating Light and Shadow Hand technique progressed naturally, reaching the level of Perfection in one fell swoop.