Chapter 270: The Iron Spear Temple on a Rainy Night

“Three thousand merit points.”

The Inter-Territory Teleportation Array was overseen by a Foundation Establishment cultivator, the first Chen Luo had encountered since arriving here. The man wore a loose gray robe, his hair disheveled, and his eyes still hazy with sleep, as if he had just woken up from a nap.

“I already paid the merit points,” Chen Luo said, frowning. He had previously transferred all the merit points from his infiltration mission and the auxiliary task of eliminating Blackstone Ancestor to the Peak Lord in White. Now he was completely broke, without a single merit point to his name.

“Tiered pricing. It’s Sect policy. There’s nothing I can do,” the array manager yawned, adopting a strictly professional tone. He would have been far less polite to a Qi Refining cultivator, who wouldn’t even be allowed through the main gate.

These few words were only offered out of respect for Chen Luo’s status as a Perfected Great Cultivator. Had a Qi Refining cultivator approached, they wouldn’t have even been allowed past the gates.

Every major Sect maintained a comprehensive set of rules and regulations. The Qiong Hua Sect was no exception.

It wasn’t that these sects lacked human compassion; rather, as they grew larger, they needed formal systems to maintain order. When a sect was small and its influence limited, personal bonds like kinship and friendship could maintain order. However, once it reached a certain size, formal institutions became necessary. It was like rebels establishing a new nation: during the revolution, they treated each other as brothers, relying solely on camaraderie. But after seizing power, they immediately established a hierarchical system, stripped soldiers of their command, and ruled by law.

“Senior Brother, if you lack merit points, you can choose to complete missions here at our Taisu Peak outpost. We have many tasks that would greatly benefit from an expert like you.”

The disciple retrieved a mission list from the side.

Completing missions to earn merit points was a universal requirement for all sect members, forming the cornerstone of the sect’s institutional framework.

Chen Luo glanced at the list. It contained numerous missions, mostly tailored for Qi Refining realm cultivators, with a few challenging tasks for Foundation Establishment Realm cultivators. These included exploring dangerous secret realms, hunting formidable enemies, and undertaking alchemical and artificing projects, as well as cultivating spiritual materials.

The fastest mission would take at least six months and carried significant risks. Safer missions had extended durations, typically ranging from three to five years.

“Is there any other way?” Chen Luo asked.

“Then I’ll have to fly there myself. Here’s a map you can have for free, Senior Brother,” said the disciple manning the inter-territory teleportation array, handing Chen Luo a Jade Slip.

It wasn’t anything particularly valuable—just endlessly replicable information, perfect for currying favor.

“Thanks.”

Chen Luo accepted the Jade Slip, read its contents, and turned to leave the main hall.

First, I’ll scout around for any valuable corpses.

There’s no way I’m doing those missions.

Having arrived in the Southern Heaven Domain, Chen Luo had already accomplished his primary goal. Joining the Qiong Hua Sect would be ideal, but it wasn’t essential. From the start, he had no intention of grinding through their seniority system. The more established an organization, the more difficult it was to climb the ranks through traditional means.

Back at the God Lake Immortal Sect, he had barely completed any missions. Why would he abandon his principles here?

Chen Luo spent half a month at the outpost, using the time to familiarize himself with basic knowledge about the Southern Heaven Domain.

Cultivation techniques weren’t particularly valuable here; resources were the real currency. As for his primary interest—graves—there weren’t any nearby. Even the corpses of Core Formation cultivators were highly sought after. The Qiong Hua Sect did possess an ancestral graveyard, but his current strength made it impossible to sneak in and plunder graves.

Having clarified these minor discrepancies, Chen Luo left the Qiong Hua Sect’s stronghold that very day, opting for the second, more economical route. This path offered opportunities to trade with rogue cultivators and perhaps even stumble upon some overlooked treasures, as the items he sought were unlike those sought by others.

A torrential downpour lashed the land, punctuated by blinding flashes of lightning and deafening thunder.

A group of over twenty men, cloaked in straw raincoats, trudged through the storm. Most pushed a heavy carriage from behind, while a burly man at the front tugged on the reins, struggling to keep the horses from panicking.

The wooden wheels groaned as they rolled over the muddy path, their thick rims churning up murky water and leaving deep ruts in the mire. The men’s feet sank ankle-deep into the quagmire, each step a struggle against the clinging muck.

“Brothers, push harder! We can’t stop here!” the镖头 leading the convoy shouted, wiping rain from his face as he rallied his comrades. “Once we reach Ten Mile Slope, the drinks are on me!”

Several镖师 strained to push the carriage from behind, while over a dozen others grabbed ropes and ran ahead to haul the heavy vehicle forward.

“Heave! One, two!”

“What’s in this crate? Why is it so heavy!”

“Damn this rain!”

The horses struggled through the mud, their hooves sinking deep into the mire. White vapor billowed from their nostrils as they strained forward, snorting and whinnying with the effort.

Seeing their plight, the chief guard dismounted. He channeled his vital energy, his muscles bulging as he gripped the carriage wheel mired in the mud. With a mighty roar, he heaved upward.

“Lift!”

The carriage, which over twenty men had failed to budge, rose from the mud under his single-handed effort.

“Move!”

Having overcome the obstacle, the chief guard swiftly remounted. The others dared not linger, pressing onward into the relentless downpour.

As they traveled further, the rain gradually eased, though it showed no sign of stopping entirely.

Mist began to shroud the mountain trails.

The group pressed on in grim silence, their heads bowed against the weather.

“Chief Guard Shen, something’s wrong,” the gaunt Daoist priest accompanying the carriage suddenly spoke. “I sense demonic energy!”

His words sent a chill through the group.

They had braved the storm precisely to avoid the demonic creatures of Ten Mile Slope. Yet, despite their desperate haste, they had still stumbled upon them.

“Can you sense its location?” Chief Guard Shen asked in a low voice.

The gaunt Daoist priest was a cultivator the escort agency had hired at great expense, so his words were undoubtedly trustworthy.

“Demonic energy permeates this rain, and my senses are picking up danger everywhere. I advise we find a safe place to take shelter until the rain stops. This way, we can avoid both the downpour and any powerful demons.”

Having accepted their money, the Daoist priest was honor-bound to protect them from misfortune. He spoke with unwavering professionalism, his advice sound and practical.

“There’s an Iron Spear Temple ahead,” an experienced escort member suggested. He had traveled this route countless times and knew every rest stop along the way.

“Then let’s head to the Iron Spear Temple!” As the group’s leader, Chief Guard Shen knew he couldn’t afford to panic, especially in this critical situation. He tugged on his horse’s reins and led the way toward the temple, the others quickly hitching up the carts and following closely behind.

Within the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, the group spotted a structure looming through the rain. In the pitch-black night, the Iron Spear Temple resembled a monstrous beast crouching in the downpour, its lack of lights radiating an eerie, bone-chilling aura.

“Daoist Priest, do you sense any demonic energy over there?”

“I can’t sense anything,” the wizened Daoist priest said, his unease growing. “The entire mountain range is saturated with demonic energy. It’s the same everywhere.”

But now that they were here, fear was useless.

The group soon reached the entrance of the Iron Spear Temple, an ancient structure resembling a mountain shrine. With its blue-tiled roof and white walls, the temple’s square front gate creaked ominously in the wind and rain, its peeling paint adding to its dilapidated appearance.

Rainwater cascaded off the eaves, forming a shimmering curtain of dripping water.

“Everyone, be careful,” Chief Guard Shen warned, drawing his weapon and stepping forward to push open the half-open gate.

Bang!

The seemingly sturdy gate collapsed at his touch, its heavy panel crashing into the rain-soaked ground and sending up a spray of water. Before Chief Guard Shen could even set foot inside, a frigid gust of wind swept out from the temple, followed by a swarm of dark bats erupting from within.

“Scatter!”

The wizened Daoist priest accompanying the escort company immediately raised his hand, white light crackling from his fingertips to repel the swarm.

The skilled guards swiftly retreated, forming a circular defensive perimeter with their drawn sabers. The rest of the group positioned themselves behind them, protecting the precious cargo.

“Just ordinary bats,” the Daoist observed.

Chief Guard Shen sheathed his weapon and stepped over the collapsed doorframe into the Iron Spear Temple.

The torrential rain made travel impossible. With no sign of the demonic creature, they had no choice but to seek shelter until it was safe to resume their journey.

The group entered the temple, leaving two guards under the eaves to watch over the carts.

The interior proved larger than expected. They found a statue of a small deity clad in armor and wielding an iron spear. None of them were worshippers, and none recognized the enshrined deity.

“Who’s there?!”

Before they could examine the statue further, the gaunt Taoist priest suddenly turned toward the opposite end of the temple.

Several guards swiftly unwrapped their tinderboxes and struck a light.

The flickering flame illuminated the entire temple. In its glow, they spotted a figure seated in a corner: a man in a long azure robe, cross-legged with his eyes closed. He sat motionless as a statue, the torchlight sculpting sharp angles across his face. Had the Taoist not spoken, they might never have noticed him.

“Friend, the rain makes travel perilous. We seek shelter for the night. Forgive our intrusion.”

“Be my guest.”

The man in blue opened his eyes, gave the group a strange look, then closed them again, ignoring them completely.

Only after the man spoke in human language did the group finally relax. The greatest fear for travelers at night was encountering demons—creatures best left undisturbed, for contact meant certain death. They were the bane of every caravan guard’s existence.

“Be careful,” the wizened Taoist priest whispered, his voice low and grave. “There’s something strange about this man.”

Shen, the caravan leader, nodded. As seasoned professionals, they knew the rules of the road. The group chose a spot far from the man in blue and began building a fire to ward off the chill. Their clothes were soaked from hours of trudging through the rain, and some pulled out dried rations wrapped inside their garments to eat.

Working efficiently, they quickly got a fire blazing. The flickering flames instantly banished the biting cold. Several guards removed their outer robes and hung them to dry by the fire, while two others placed an iron basin over the flames to heat water.

“Taoist priest, can you still sense any demonic energy?” Shen asked as he and the withered old Taoist priest sat down, also taking off their outer robes.

“It’s still there,” the Taoist replied. “It hasn’t dissipated at all. I suspect…”

“Ahhh!!”

Before he could finish, two bloodcurdling screams shattered the night from outside.