My Cultivation Has a Progress Bar

Wang Ping did not agree to any of Liu Qi’s conditions, using the excuse that he needed to return and consult his master, Yu Cheng Taoist.

Liu Qi grew anxious upon hearing this and immediately promised to deliver Gao Ding’s head to him. Wang Ping simply smiled, still making no guarantees. He refused to give anyone leverage over him, especially not a cunning Mouse Demon.

"The part about Gao Ding is likely true, but his asking for a reward is almost certainly a lie. He must want to eliminate the Mountain God who rules over him. As for why... there could be any number of reasons."

Guangxuan analyzed rationally.

Wang Ping nodded. This Mouse Demon was no ordinary trickster; not a word he said could be fully trusted. After a moment’s thought, he looked to Liu Shuang and instructed, "Tell Martial Uncle Zhao that from now on, when Observatory Disciples are active outside, they must travel in groups of three or more."

"Yes!"

"And have him send people to closely monitor the Cultivators from the White Water Sect and the Iron Art Sect."

...

The matter with the Mouse Demon Liu Qi seemed like a minor interlude.

Early the next morning, the rain finally stopped, leaving the roads slick with mud. After breakfast, the tens of thousands of Demon Race troops broke camp on time and continued their southward advance. General Li Rong and his Government Soldiers, however, did not accompany them this time.

The higher-ups seemed intent on using the Demon Race army to force the Taiyin Cultivators into a decisive battle, but their opponents weren’t taking the bait. For five days, the Demon Race army won a string of victories, smoothly forcing the hundreds of thousands of Corpse Soldiers back to the region near Yongming Port.

The Court Soldiers and the cultivators from the various sects under the Daoist Scripture Hall had all gathered together. The Demon Race army had done likewise, assembling a force of over seventy thousand—nearly half of all demons on Nanlin Road.

This time, the higher-ups did not hesitate. The battle plan was drafted that very evening: a simple and brutal encirclement. The specific mission for the Qi Cultivators of Qianmu Temple was to help the Demon Race army pin down the Evil Cultivators on the right flank.

"This entire journey, we’ve been nothing but tools in the hands of the powerful. They point, and we have to march in their chosen direction, even if it means preparing for death."

Liu Shuang lamented upon hearing the details of their mission.

"It’s not just us," Zhao Qing added. "Everyone assembled here, even the tens of millions of people on Nanlin Road, are in the same boat."

Wang Ping did not join the conversation. ’Complaining is pointless; it only sours the mood,’ he thought. ’I just want to finish things here as soon as I can, get back to the temple, and enter seclusion to attempt my breakthrough.’

"What’s the situation with the Iron Art Sect?" Wang Ping asked, changing the subject. Ever since learning that Gao Ding wanted to kill him, the thought had been a persistent thorn in his side, leaving him deeply uneasy.

As he posed the question, a hint of killing intent naturally emanated from him. Yu Lian immediately awoke on his wrist and nudged his fingers with her small head.

Wang Ping immediately suppressed his killing intent, simultaneously spreading his Wood Spirit True Essence to communicate with the surrounding vegetation and prevent anyone from eavesdropping.

"His routine is very predictable. He meditates with his own people in the mornings and visits the White Water Sect in the afternoons. He always has two disciples with him. Taking him by force wouldn’t be that difficult, but we’d have to kill more people, and we couldn’t guarantee a clean getaway!"

Zhao Qing lowered his voice. "The best way is still to take advantage of the chaos during the final battle..."

Liu Shuang’s eyebrow shot up. "He’s probably thinking the same thing. We can’t fight with our full focus on the battlefield with someone like that lurking around. He has to be eliminated beforehand!"

Over a decade of experience had long since stripped her of any naivety. She knew you couldn’t show mercy to your enemies.

"Then our only option is to bribe his disciples, but that would expose us too easily, and we’re running out of time... Worse, he could turn it back on us." Zhao Qing muttered, thinking for a moment with his head lowered. "We’ll just have to find a way on the battlefield..." He looked up at Wang Ping. "I’ve already arranged for someone to find out which front the Iron Art Sect is assigned to."

The moment he finished speaking, Wang Ping sensed someone approaching their tent and held up a hand to stop Zhao Qing from saying more.

It was Liang Tao who entered. "Senior Martial Uncle, Martial Uncle..." After offering a salute, he looked to Zhao Qing. "Martial Uncle, we have news regarding your inquiry."

"Speak."

"Tomorrow, the Iron Art Sect will be responsible for the right flank!" Liang Tao replied, then added, "They were also asking about our deployment. This was part of an intelligence exchange."

"Good. You may go."

Wang Ping waved a hand amiably. Liang Tao was Wang Kang’s disciple, and Wang Ping always had a soft spot for the young man.

After Liang Tao left, Zhao Qing started to speak, but Wang Ping again motioned for silence. A moment later, the packed-dirt floor in front of the tea table suddenly caved in, forming a small pit. A fat rat crawled out, a bamboo slip clutched in its mouth. It dropped the slip and instinctively glanced at Yu Lian, who was flicking her tongue out. The sight was too much, and it promptly fainted.

’He smells awful, I would never eat him!’ Yu Lian explained quietly in Wang Ping’s Spirit Sea.

"What’s wrong with it?" Liu Shuang asked, curious. She took a leather glove from her storage pouch, put it on, picked up the bamboo slip, and tossed the fainted rat back into the hole. She could guess who the delivery was from.

Without reading the message, she carefully inspected the slip for anything unusual before handing it to Wang Ping.

Wang Ping took it and read it quickly. A moment later, he met the other two’s inquisitive gazes. "Gao Ding has gone to the Demon Race encampment," he said. "Liu Qi wants us to go to the outskirts of their camp right now. There’s going to be a good show, and he needs me to be a witness."

Zhao Qing understood at once. "So this is his real price for helping you get rid of Gao Ding!"

Liu Shuang, however, was eager to act. Her focus was completely different from Zhao Qing’s. "Are we going now?" she asked, unable to wait.

"Could it be a trap?" Zhao Qing asked, remaining cautious.

At his words, Wang Ping took out a pair of divination blocks and cast a reading. He then said with renewed composure, "Even if there’s trouble in the camp, we’ll be able to get away quickly."

...

The Demon Race’s barracks were located in the southwestern sector of the entire encampment. Just beyond them lay the wastelands ravaged by the Corpse Soldiers, an area where small-scale skirmishes frequently broke out.

Wang Ping took Guangxuan with him to the Demon Race encampment, leaving Liu Shuang and Zhao Qing behind to act as they saw fit.

The two had just reached a Government Soldier watchtower on the encampment’s perimeter when they heard a series of shouts from within the Demon Race barracks. Soon, the shouts turned into the sounds of battle.

The surrounding Government Soldiers looked on with curiosity. Wang Ping and Guangxuan exchanged a glance, then projected their status—Sixth Seat of the Daoist Scripture Hall—from their waist tokens into the air. With that, they rose into the sky on a cloud.

It was, in fact, demons fighting amongst themselves, and there were already casualties. The other demons nearby weren’t trying to stop it; they were egging them on.

DANG! DANG! DANG!

The Government Soldiers quickly realized the gravity of the situation and immediately sounded the watchtower’s alarm. Wang Ping and Guangxuan exchanged another glance and, under the watchful eyes of the soldiers, descended toward the commotion.

"For what reason have you taken up arms? Are you trying to rebel?!" Guangxuan boomed, immediately framing the conflict as treason. As he spoke, he had his longsword circle his body menacingly.

"You’ve wronged us, Your Excellency! The Mountain God of Taipeng Mountain went berserk for some reason! We were just... just... forced to defend ourselves!" a Mouse Demon shouted, seizing the opportunity.

At that moment, standing on his cloud, Wang Ping spotted Gao Ding. He was at the very center of the battle. He wasn’t doing well, however—because his head and body were no longer connected.