Vessel of Worlds

Andy's next target was a mission he had identified before entering the valley: the spirit herb Phoenix Tail Grass, found on Fengyu Mountain. According to the jade slip, Phoenix Tail Grass aged eight hundred years or more could be exchanged for a Foundation Establishment Pill. Two stalks aged five hundred years or more would also suffice. The mission was rated Grade Two—moderately dangerous, with second-grade spirit beasts in the area.

Fengyu Mountain was roughly three hundred li southwest of Crystal Jade Peak. At Flying Plume speed, the journey would take two or three shichen.

Andy had been flying for barely half a shichen when his spiritual sense detected something below—two cultivators locked in combat near the shore of a lake.

He brought the Flying Plume to a halt and hovered at several hundred zhang, well beyond detection range for Qi Refinement cultivators fighting at full intensity. From this distance, with his unusually powerful spiritual sense, he could observe the battle without either party noticing him.

One combatant was a monk in a deep-yellow robe—Pure Light Sect. The other was a lean, hard-faced man in dark robes whose sect affiliation Andy couldn't determine.

The monk appeared to be losing. His left arm hung limp at his side, clearly injured, and the bronze bell artifact he was wielding with his remaining hand was being driven back steadily by the dark-robed man's twin daggers. The daggers moved in coordinated arcs, leaving trails of green light in the air—a poison-attribute artifact, by the look of it.

As Andy watched, the monk took another hit—one of the daggers grazed his right shoulder, and a wisp of green vapor immediately began spreading from the wound. The monk's movements slowed visibly. He was being poisoned.

The dark-robed man pressed his advantage. In moments, a dagger was at the monk's throat.

"Where's the Phoenix Tail Grass? Hand it over and I'll let you live," the dark-robed man said.

Phoenix Tail Grass. Andy's ears pricked up.

The monk, despite his predicament, showed no fear. "This humble monk found the grass through his own efforts. If the benefactor wishes to take it by force, this monk would rather destroy it than hand it over."

"Stubborn to the last." The dark-robed man's expression darkened.

Andy had seen enough. He weighed his options quickly.

He had no obligation to help a stranger. But if the monk had Phoenix Tail Grass—and the dark-robed man was about to take it—then the simplest approach was to let the dark-robed man do the dirty work and then relieve him of his spoils afterward.

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That thought lasted about half a breath before Andy dismissed it. The monk hadn't done anything wrong. The dark-robed man was clearly the aggressor. Andy might be ruthless when necessary, but he wasn't in the habit of profiting from someone else's suffering when he could just as easily prevent it.

He directed his Flying Plume downward at speed.

The dark-robed man sensed the approach of a third party and immediately retreated several zhang, pulling back his twin daggers and whipping around to face the newcomer.

Andy landed between them. Without a word, he sent the copper ring spinning toward the dark-robed man at full speed.

The dark-robed man was at the twelfth layer of Qi Refinement—roughly Andy's equal. But he had already expended considerable spiritual power in his fight with the monk. The copper ring, backed by Andy's full reserves, crashed into his hastily erected barrier with a deafening bang. The barrier cracked. Andy followed up with two Flame Serpent Talismans.

The dark-robed man blocked one serpent with a dagger but couldn't stop the second. It struck him in the chest, and the explosion sent him tumbling backward across the lakeshore. He skidded to a halt near the water's edge, coughing blood.

Andy didn't give him a chance to recover. The Gongbu Sword—freshly reforged—streaked out in a blaze of golden light.

"Wait—I'll leave! I'll leave!" The dark-robed man scrambled to his feet, abandoning any thought of fighting, and took to his heels. But the golden sword was faster. It caught him in the back, pierced clean through, and he pitched forward face-first into the shallow water at the lake's edge.

Andy retrieved his artifacts and walked over to the fallen man. A quick check confirmed he was dead. He pulled the storage pouch from the corpse's waist, then used a Fireball Technique to reduce the body to ash.

He turned to the monk, who had been watching with wide eyes. The monk pressed his palms together and bowed deeply. "Amitabha. This humble monk Jingming offers his sincere gratitude for the benefactor's intervention."

"No need for thanks. Let me see your wounds." Andy examined the monk's shoulder. The green poison was spreading, but slowly. He produced a mid-grade detoxification talisman from his pouch, activated it, and pressed it to the wound. The green vapor gradually dissipated.

"The benefactor's talismans are remarkable," the monk said, visibly relieved as feeling returned to his arm.

"You mentioned Phoenix Tail Grass. Do you still have it?" Andy asked directly.

The monk hesitated only briefly, then produced a jade box from within his robe. Inside lay a single stalk of a delicate, feather-shaped herb, its fronds a deep emerald green.

"This humble monk found this stalk on Fengyu Mountain—aged approximately six hundred years, by my estimate. The benefactor saved my life. If you need it, it is yours." He held the box out with both hands.

Andy looked at the herb and shook his head. "Six hundred years is good, but the mission requires eight hundred for a single stalk, or two at five hundred. One stalk at six hundred doesn't meet either threshold on its own. Keep it—I'll find my own."

The monk blinked, clearly not expecting the refusal. "The benefactor is both righteous and generous. If there is anything this humble monk can do to repay you in the future, you need only ask."

Andy waved a hand. "Stay safe. The valley isn't kind to the wounded." He summoned his Flying Plume and rose back into the grey sky, continuing southwest toward Fengyu Mountain.

Behind him, the monk watched his departing figure for a long while, then pressed his palms together once more and murmured a quiet prayer before turning to tend to his injuries.