Chapter 48 - Act 7. Designated Mission (5)

The scent was rapidly receding. Yise shot out of the alley as though flying, leaping across the rooftops of Azure Mountain Capital and picking up speed. The cool autumn wind buffeted his body.

The scent had already left Azure Mountain Capital. Judging by his headlong flight, the man must have realized that he, too, was being hunted.

A tedious chase unfolded. Every time the gap seemed to narrow, it widened again, over and over. Yise was using Dokkaebi Steps, yet he could not readily catch up; the man apparently had a ritual implement that enhanced his speed. Even so, the distance was unmistakably shrinking, however slowly. At this rate, Yise would surely catch him before the Scent-Tracing Water wore off after a day.

The chase continued, a desperate race in which neither pursuer nor quarry would yield. After running for a full half day, Yise finally began catching fleeting glimpses of the independent Cultivator ahead. The vegetation grew denser. It was then that the figure moving between the trees came fully into view. The man's ritual implement had apparently run out of power, and the gap was closing fast. They had already come far from Daemudo, but that no longer mattered.

From this point on, it was a battle, not a hunt.

Without stopping, Yise thrust out his hand. Earthen Spear, an earth-attribute spell, flew straight ahead. The independent Cultivator reflexively sprang aside and turned around. Anxiety crossed his face as he realized he had failed to shake his pursuer.

"Persistent little bastard... How many ritual implements did you burn through...?"

While Yise paused to catch his breath, the man swiftly scanned their surroundings. A brief silence followed. Dismay first colored his face, then puzzlement, and finally bewilderment. He had confirmed that there was no one besides Yise. His expression hardened almost into anger as he demanded,

"Don't tell me... you followed me alone?"

"Did you kill the Daemudo novice disciples?"

"I even wasted a Flying Body Talisman—a talisman that makes you move faster—and you were chasing me alone?"

"So it was you."

"Insolent brat! Your senior asks you a question, and you just blather on about whatever you please?"

Yise kept advancing. The man's eyes narrowed.

"You little mudskipper...!"

He slowly straightened up.

"As if your dirty trick weren't enough, you dare challenge me alone? You may be the top novice disciple, but did you think that would mean anything against a difference in realm?"

As expected, the independent Cultivator already knew who Yise was. No further evidence was needed. He could capture the man and find the victims' belongings, or force a confession out of him if there were none. Daemudo's senior Cultivators would handle the rest.

Yise raised a hand, sending a fierce Firebolt hurtling toward him. The man reached behind his back. A yellow shield appeared from nowhere and took the fire-attribute spell head-on. A deafening boom rang out, but the shield remained unscratched. Large letters adorned the ritual implement: Yellow Grand Parasol. Yise had thought the man was bluffing, but he actually possessed it.

Yet something else had truly surprised Yise. The Yellow Grand Parasol was far too large to hide inside one's robes. That left only one possibility.

A storage pouch.

The bastard had a storage pouch...!

Yise's eyes gleamed. This was a truly unexpected windfall. The ritual implement every Qi Refining Cultivator dreamed of was right before him. It had been his highest priority, something he would have spent every resource he owned to obtain if not for its impossibly high price. He reined in his surging desire. Defeating the enemy before him came first.

Earthen Spears and Firebolts flew in alternation. Though Yise cast them with considerable speed and power, the Yellow Grand Parasol blocked every one. Now that was a defensive ritual implement worthy of his left hand. As the man had claimed, it might even withstand a spell or two from a Foundation Establishment Cultivator.

"I thought you were fourth-star, but you're fifth-star. Your spellcasting is quite good for someone who's only just advanced, I'll grant you. But that's all."

The man seemed to have regained his composure, his expression brimming with confidence. It certainly looked difficult to hurt him simply by casting spells from a distance.

"Daemudo will lose a promising disciple. Today, I shall drink a toast with your blood."

"You really are noisy."

Dismissing him with those few words, Yise gripped his hand axe and leaped. The man formed hand seals, conjuring and releasing three fire arrows.

WHIZ! WHIZ! WHIZ!

Yise darted sideways to avoid the fire arrows slicing through the air, then conjured the water-attribute spell Water Wall to block the next volley.

The independent Cultivator relentlessly pressed him with a mixture of spells cast through hand seals and ritual implements. Before long, Yise was on the defensive. That staggering quantity of ritual implements was certainly troublesome. Putting aside the frivolous thought that it was a shame to waste them, he unleashed the Shadow-Net Formation of the Dokkaebi Shadow-Gathering Demonic Art. Shadows peeled away from the trees, transformed into a net, and fell upon the man.

"An attributeless spell? You hid your realm—"

The net spread in every direction in an instant. Unable to react in time, the man was bound by the Shadow-Net Formation. His physical abilities were clearly inferior to those of Daemudo's disciples. But he apparently had something else concealed: light burst from within his robes, instantly annihilating the formation. A defensive talisman seemed to have activated automatically.

Now visibly shaken, the man silently pulled a pitch-black pill from his robes. A poison pill. Swallowing an antidote, he threw it to the ground. Purple smoke spread like mountain mist. Yise promptly leaped into a tree and vanished from sight.

"You squirrel of a bastard...!"

The man fired off fire arrows in a fury. Flames engulfed the trees, sending smoke billowing upward.

"Die! Just die!"

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Though the mist obscured his view, the man kept attacking, as if hoping even a stray arrow might hit. But Yise suddenly burst out of the smoke on his left.

The man hurled several bomb-like ritual implements in succession. Moving like an afterimage, Yise evaded them all. His axe flashed as he closed in. The man's face twisted as he activated another ritual implement, and Yise withdrew. A moment later, an enormous Stone Hand—a palm made of rock—materialized in midair and slammed uselessly into bare ground.

It was utterly baffling. Consumables they might be, but these ritual implements cost a pretty penny, and no matter how many he threw, not one would hit.

'How the hell does he move like that...?'

It was like watching a Dokkaebi, said to appear in the east one moment and the west the next.

They were clearly in the same realm, and he possessed far more ritual implements, yet his confidence in victory was steadily slipping away. The brat was an unbelievably seasoned fighter. He had never felt so threatened in all his time hunting Cultivators. After all, he was the sort who set traps and ambushes, savoring one-sided slaughter. A head-on battle of attrition like this was not his way of doing things.

'If that's how it is, I'll throw everything at him.'

Having made up his mind, the man thrust the Yellow Grand Parasol forward and changed tactics. He would use it to block spells from afar. When the brat approached, he would inflict as much damage as possible and draw out the battle of attrition. The first to tire would lose. And if the spiritual energy the brat was hiding proved more powerful than expected... he could use that.

As he finished that thought, a stream of water curved toward him. As expected, it struck the Yellow Grand Parasol and dissipated. At the same moment, the young Cultivator charged in. The man tried to leap backward to gain distance, but something beneath his feet seized his ankles.

"Ngh...!"

His own shadow had entwined them.

He barely managed to avoid falling, but as he staggered, Yise rushed at him. With his expressionless face and flashing axe blade, the boy looked like a ferocious evil spirit risen from hell. Choosing this brat as his prey had been a mistake. The man readily admitted it. But the brat, too, had chosen the wrong opponent. At this range, not even a Foundation Establishment Cultivator could survive.

The man's mouth opened.

"Hahahaha! Die, you bastard!"

The Needle-Firing Armor: the boon of a fortuitous encounter that had saved his life through countless crises and even enabled him to hunt his senior independent Cultivators. The moment the supernatural treasure activated, a storm of needles would devastate everything within range.

Light began seeping from the Needle-Firing Armor. But it soon went dark. This happened just after the boy drew the bannered spear he carried and planted it in the ground.

"Why isn't it...?"

The man's hands trembled in bewilderment as he stared at the unresponsive supernatural treasure.

His enemy's axe was already bearing down on him like a Hungry Ghost. He tried to cast a defensive spell, but his spiritual energy would not obey. He had no idea what was happening. Yise's hand axe emitted pitch-black darkness and severed his shield arm completely.

"What the hell...!"

Before he could even scream, his other arm was gone. Blood spurted in fountains as he howled in agony.

Yise walked over unhurriedly and picked up the fallen Yellow Grand Parasol. Deprived of his spiritual energy, the Cultivator could only screech helplessly, unable to resist.

"Don't touch my things...!"

"What makes this yours?"

Yise slipped the Yellow Grand Parasol onto his wrist. Its satisfying weight pleased him. Then he cast the Shadow-Net Formation to bind the man. Pushing him over with a foot, he searched his robes, and ritual implements spilled out.

Amid the talismans and bombs, a piece of waist armor that looked expensive at a glance gleamed in the light. A leather pouch hung from one side of it. A storage pouch.

"Resist, and I'll cut off both your legs too."

The man kept screaming that this was impossible, but Yise paid him no heed. He picked up the storage pouch and examined it from every angle.

A storage pouch.

It was a storage pouch.

Yise smiled silently.