Xuanqing Guard

When did those Golden Sword Cultivators arrive at the military camp? Anyway, Zhang Qian and Gan Lin had no clue at all beforehand, and they never imagined that this expedition into the Bamboo Sea would involve a joint operation with the dynasty’s most mysterious and legendary group of cultivators.

Under Zhang Qian’s command were two battalions, totaling two thousand men. Of these, there were one thousand lancers, five hundred logistics troops, three hundred sword-and-shield soldiers, and two hundred crossbowmen. Gan Lin’s forces were about the same as Zhang Qian’s, with slight differences in the numbers of sword-and-shield soldiers and crossbowmen.

The Golden Sword Cultivators sent to coordinate with Zhang Qian’s troops totaled twenty-five, split into five teams and scattered among the marching ranks of both battalions. Their leader was a cultivator named Lin Yeping, at the Middle Stage of the Primordial Pill Realm—a taciturn man who basically wouldn’t say an extra word to Zhang Qian.

Before daybreak, they entered the Bamboo Sea. Everyone had already tied their shirt cuffs and collars tightly with cords, swapped into boots with tops bound tightly as well, to make sure no insects could crawl in. All exposed skin was smeared with a thick layer of dark green ointment.

The ointment’s smell was quite unpleasant—it wouldn’t make you retch or sting your eyes, but there was an uncomfortable, rotting stench, much like an egg gone bad for four or five days.

The ordinary soldiers were quite self-aware—while cursing, they obediently slathered on a thick layer of ointment. Smelly as it was, it could save their lives.

Even cultivators had to use the ointment, because relying on a True Qi Shield to block bugs also consumed energy. In the Ten Thousand Miles Bamboo Sea, every bit of True Qi could mean life or death—best to save what you could. And besides, it was said that many insects in the Bamboo Sea carried traits of fierce beasts; if the True Qi Shield wasn’t strong enough, it was useless against them. For low-level cultivators, inside the Bamboo Sea there was hardly any difference from ordinary people.

Zhang Qian’s cultivation was at the Middle Stage of the Gathering Spirit Realm—pretty decent, actually. Yet he wasn’t bothered by the stink, just slathered it on directly. But those Golden Sword Cultivators didn’t use this stinky ointment at all. Not because they thought they could handle the Bamboo Sea’s insects, but because they had other ointment—colorless, odorless, and supposedly more effective than what Zhang Qian’s men used.

No one said anything about this little difference; after all, Golden Sword Cultivators did things their own way—nobody found it strange. Besides, who’s to say they wouldn’t need help from them to survive in the bamboo forest later?

After entering the bamboo grove, Zhang Qian consciously slowed his pace to wait for Gan Lin in the rear. This was something they’d discussed beforehand.

"You can’t slow down. You must reach the first rest point at the scheduled time. Speed up!" After just one hour, Lin Yeping already noticed Zhang Qian’s little maneuver and immediately tracked him down, words cold and forceful.

"Lord Lin, the rest point on the map isn’t far from our current position. I’ve already coordinated with Gan Lin’s troops behind us so we could watch each other’s backs for added safety, no?" Zhang Qian never meant to keep it secret—now that they were coordinating, they were all in the same boat, and basic trust was needed.

"No." Lin Yeping still shook his head. Seeing Zhang Qian was about to argue, he cut him off: "Inside the Bamboo Sea is nothing like the roads outside. Do you think you can slow down or speed up as you please? The distances to rest points and the interval between battalions is all fixed. If you slow down now to wait for the ones behind, you’ll end up wasting a ton of time in tough terrain up ahead, causing you to miss the planned arrival at the rest point.

If you miss a rest point inside the Bamboo Sea, what do you think would happen?"

What would happen? Zhang Qian wanted to ask, but seeing Lin Yeping’s face frosted over, he swallowed his curiosity. He immediately used Thousand-Mile Sound to send word to Gan Lin, calling off their previous plan to watch each other’s backs.

Thinking it over, it made sense—if they truly could support each other, the two groups wouldn’t have entered the Bamboo Sea with such a wide interval. Zhang Qian could only admit to himself that he’d been too naive in his planning.

With Lin Yeping pressing him, Zhang Qian had no choice but to quicken the march and catch up. Half an hour later, the vanguard scouting ahead sent back word of a situation up front. Zhang Qian immediately went forward to check.

Just a mile ahead of the main force, on the right side of the marked route and less than four yards off the map’s path, lay three corpses. Their uniforms were identical to those of Zhang Qian’s Jinjiu Dynasty border troops.

"Are those... from the unit ahead?"

The corpses were gruesome, apparently killed by poison, but there was no smell of decay—clearly dead for no more than a couple days. They were likely three of the soldiers from the two battalions ahead of Zhang Qian’s group.

"Don’t go near the corpses. Watch your step! See that? That’s the Iron Vine Needle Orchid described in your manuals." Lin Yeping had come over too, directly warning a few soldiers who were about to approach the bodies.

The corpses were poisoned, faces twisted in agony, but showed no visible wounds. If one looked closely, one could see all three had stepped on slender, straw-like vines beneath their soles, growing on fallen leaves, covered in inch-long, steel-hard spines. Step wrong and the spikes easily pierced the soles. These iron needles were hideously toxic; in a few breaths, an ordinary person would be dead, just like the scene before them.

Once Lin Yeping spoke, those soldiers who’d been about to search the corpses broke into a cold sweat—the nearest Iron Vine Needle Orchid was less than two feet from their boots.

"This poison not only kills, but makes the corpse itself toxic. Any creature killed this way will rot slowly in place, becoming fertilizer for the Iron Vine Needle Orchid. The body won’t even be dragged off by animals.

That’s why the map traces routes in red and marks the path at the sides. Danger’s everywhere here—a single misstep and you die on the spot, so stay alert."

Zhang Qian nodded and told the deputy at his side, "Don’t handle the bodies. Set up a wooden marker to warn those behind about Iron Vine Needle Orchid. The rest—keep moving."

Unlike those ahead, Zhang Qian wouldn’t leave corpses lying about to endanger Gan Lin’s troops behind them. A wooden marker would serve as warning, so the next group wouldn’t fall into the same trap.

They marched on. The fallen leaves on the path grew thicker, crunchy underfoot like a soft carpet, but it didn’t make anyone feel secure. Who knew what might suddenly crawl out from beneath to sting them?

When the third man was stung to death by an insect emerging from under the leaves, some began tying strips of tree bark or wood to their feet, and probing ahead with their weapons before stepping down.

These venomous insects hiding beneath the leaves were nearly impossible to guard against—at least, no amount of repellent ointment alone could do the job.

By now, Zhang Qian finally understood why Lin Yeping hadn’t let him slow the march earlier. Now, they were forced to slow down anyway. If they’d dawdled before, adding this slowed pace on top of it, they’d surely miss the rest point. The thought of spending the night in such an environment made Zhang Qian’s skin crawl.