Building a Martial Dao Celestial Family by Laying Low

Nanjiang County, Heitan County, Kao Mountain.

A steep stone peak pierced straight into the clouds.

"SWOOSH! SWOOSH!"

The sound of something slicing through the air grew from a distant whistle, shattering the silence.

Two figures landed on a relatively gentle slope at the southern foot of Kao Mountain.

The man in the lead was about forty. His face wouldn’t have looked old, but deep wrinkles on his forehead and at the corners of his eyes betrayed a life of hardship. It was Feng Suiyun.

His breathing was ragged and his chest heaved slightly. The constant flight and fierce battles had clearly taken a heavy toll.

The man beside him was much thinner and smaller, a longsword slung diagonally at his waist. The scabbard was mottled, covered in dark red rust that, at first glance, looked like dried blood. It was Hua Wuxin.

His face was expressionless as he scanned their surroundings, but the weariness in his eyes was undeniable.

About ten days had passed since they had stayed behind to intercept pursuers from the Celestial Sword Sect and the Su Family, covering the escape of Gossip and Peng Anmin.

The two had seized an opportunity to withdraw that day. Relying on skills of stealth and evasion honed over their careers as assassins, they had thought shaking their pursuers would be a simple matter. Their plan was to circle around and then double back.

But what happened next was completely beyond their expectations.

No matter how they changed their route, erased their tracks, or even deliberately laid false trails, the pursuers always latched back onto them like a sickness in their very bones.

They would find a hidden spot, but before they could even catch their breath for a day, the Celestial Sword Sect and the Su Family would be upon them once more.

At first, the two assumed that the families had informants planted in the market towns they passed through.

So they changed their strategy, sticking to deserted mountains, ancient forests, and desolate wilderness where few people ever tread.

However, after resting for only a single day in a dilapidated, abandoned temple, their pursuers found them again.

At that moment, a true chill crept into their hearts.

"Have we been hit with some kind of tracking medicine?"

Feng Suiyun’s expression was grim.

They immediately checked themselves over and changed all their outer clothes, but the pursuers remained locked onto them.

Feng Suiyun realized the problem was more difficult than he had imagined.

If they kept running like this, they would eventually be worn down, surrounded, and killed.

In their desperate plight, an idea became increasingly clear in his mind.

He looked at Hua Wuxin and said in a low voice, "We can’t go on like this. We’re going back to the Kao Mountain Wall!"

A flicker of understanding crossed Hua Wuxin’s eyes; he instantly knew Feng Suiyun’s plan.

The hidden grotto behind the Kao Mountain Wall was cut off from the rest of the world and had only one exit.

If they could lure their pursuers inside, they could not only escape but perhaps even trap them to die in that little world.

Then, whether they decided to leave, stay, or seek help from *that person*, the initiative would be back in their hands. Their enemies would have no escape.

"Alright." Hua Wuxin didn’t hesitate.

So, the pair changed direction. Hiding their tracks, they traveled through the night until they reached Kao Mountain.

Once they landed, Feng Suiyun went up the slope and moved a massive boulder weighing several thousand pounds, revealing a deep, dark cave entrance behind it.

Then, with a few bounds, he reached a spring halfway up the mountain, partially hidden by vines.

It wasn’t long before he returned with eight carp.

He deftly scaled and gutted them with his dagger, washed them in the spring, and strung them together with a tough blade of grass before heading back down the mountain.

Down below, Hua Wuxin had already started a small fire.

The two exchanged a look; no words were necessary.

They skewered the fish on sharpened sticks and propped them beside the fire to roast slowly.

They had no other seasonings, only a little coarse salt.

The flavor was nothing special—bland and a bit muddy, really—but to two men who had been on the run for days, it was a rare delicacy.

Feng Suiyun broke the silence. "I’m afraid there are few brothers left in the association. The Seven Kills Association exists in name only now."

He paused, tossing the fish bones into the fire. "What are your plans after this is over?"

Hua Wuxin sucked the meat from the spine of a roasted fish. Without looking up, his voice muffled, he said, "What other choice is there? That person put a Seal on our Divine Souls. Our lives are in his hands. You think we can just walk away? We just keep risking our necks for him."

Feng Suiyun was silent for a moment. "I’ve tested it. That person’s Seal... if we get far enough away, the connection fades. If we run far enough, he might not be able to find us. The world is a big place. Maybe we can... live out the rest of our days in peace."

Hua Wuxin’s chewing faltered for a moment, then quickened. "Leave? Our cultivation would never improve by another inch for the rest of our lives. You’d be content with that?"

He looked up, his gaze boring into Feng Suiyun. "I’m not."

"I... I’ve made my peace with it."

Feng Suiyun looked away, his gaze returning to the fire. "I want to go back home to the Southwest. Buy some land, take a few wives, and live out the rest of my days in peace."

He paused, then added, "There are still three hidden caches of the association’s money. I’ll take one share, you take two. How does that sound?"

Hua Wuxin looked up, his eyes fixed on Feng Suiyun’s weary face. He stared for a long time before finally looking down again. "Fine," he said.

He tore off another piece of fish, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly. Only after he had swallowed completely did he speak again. "I’ll do what I can to create an opening for you. To let you get away."

Feng Suiyun let out a slow breath. "Thank you," he said softly.

Just then, a sharp whistle sliced through the air. The speed was astonishing; one moment it seemed distant, the next it was right on top of them.

Three figures landed in a triangular formation, settling steadily on the slope not far from Feng Suiyun and Hua Wuxin.

The two on the left were both in their forties, dressed in moon-white robes with fitted sleeves for swordplay. They were clearly from the same sect.

The man’s face was gaunt, his eyebrows drooped habitually, and he wore an expression of perpetual, unshakable sorrow.

The woman was rather pretty, but her eyes darted about nervously, and she subconsciously kept her head slightly bowed, giving her a timid air.

The person in the middle, however, had a completely different air from these two Swordsmen.