Chapter Thirty-Five: Trapping the Dog Behind Closed Doors
In a mountain cave some seventy or eighty miles from the altar, Miao Qiang was sprawled upon a heap of dry grass, still deep in unconsciousness. Had he not been a martial grandmaster, blessed with a near-monstrous power of recovery, he would surely have succumbed by now.
Song Yue busied himself with a portable little pot, brewing medicinal herbs. The cave was deep and well-sealed, so he needn’t worry about the aroma escaping. Qian Qianxue sat hugging her knees atop a stone, watching Song Yue move about in the dim light of the cave.
“You know how to do this?” she asked, a little surprised.
“Of course. I’m a treasure trove—you’ll have to dig slowly to discover everything,” Song Yue replied, a touch of smug self-admiration.
Qian Qianxue rolled her eyes gently and continued to daydream, her thoughts wandering far from the cave. Her previous impression of Song Yue, aside from him always bullying students at the cultivation academy, was that he at least possessed a measure of loyalty. If not for this expedition to the secret realm, she might never have realized how many skills Song Yue possessed!
In martial cultivation, Song Yue was leagues ahead of his peers—daring even to cross blades with Foundation Establishment cultivators. What shocked her most was his ability to wield magical artifacts in combat; he seemed more like a true cultivator than she herself. This almost shattered her worldview.
That stone tablet, capable of changing size, was obviously no ordinary item. There were runes and inscriptions upon it, though she couldn’t read them. Song Yue seemed to understand them, though—he must, after all, have studied under such a formidable master.
How enviable! She wondered how the master had discovered Song Yue’s talents. If the cultivation academy had accepted him years ago, how much better it would have been—he wouldn’t have resented their rejection, nor spent his days tormenting others.
But what astonished her most was not these things, but Song Yue’s survival skills and experience. He hadn’t spent much time away from the city, so how had he learned so many survival tricks? Before brewing medicine for Elder Miao, he’d cooked some meat in the little pot—meat from a rabbit he’d hunted outside. It looked fluffy and adorable, but tasted unexpectedly delicious.
It seemed she really might have to stay here with Song Yue for sixty years. Sixty years—that was so long! Would she grow from a young girl into a decrepit old woman? The thought was unnerving. But if she could establish her foundation quickly, perhaps she wouldn’t age so much—like those women from the previous secret realm opening, who didn’t look old at all. If only she could find some longevity elixir here! Song Yue appeared to know a bit about such things. If only Wenrou were here—her family was steeped in the arts, and she herself was a genius at alchemy.
Qian Qianxue sat there, lost in thought, her face innocent and dreamy. The group who’d lost their companions would never give up the chase so easily; they would guard the altar, and if she appeared, it would be walking into their trap.
Truth be told, she was not particularly afraid of being trapped here. She’d always loved peace and quiet, disliked dealing with others, and her happiest moments were spent alone in her room, poring over ancient texts. If not for her concern for family, she would not mind staying in this place.
She’d sent Meng Xudong and the others ahead, returning herself to help Song Yue, all because of something that thick-skinned fellow had once said—
“Qian-ge, you can do it!”
How could she, so ladylike, be “Qian-ge”? But it was Song Yue’s encouragement that made her decide to return, muster her courage, and not let him face danger alone.
At the time, a fleeting thought had crossed her mind: would she have to stay here forever? Now, it seemed that was intuition.
“Qian-ge, what are you thinking? Are you pondering how we’ll spend sixty years here together?” Song Yue stood before her, waving his hand in front of her eyes.
Qian Qianxue snapped out of her reverie, cheeks flushed with embarrassment at being discovered, and glared at him. “Who wants to spend their days with you?”
Song Yue chuckled, said nothing more, and carried the pot toward Miao Qiang to feed him medicine. Qian Qianxue watched—she’d never done such things herself, and she doubted Song Yue had either, so why was he able to? Were men simply tougher by nature?
“Don’t worry. Once Elder Miao wakes, we’ll have a chance to get out,” Song Yue called from the side.
“Okay,” Qian Qianxue replied. She truly wasn’t overly concerned. If she were, she wouldn’t have returned.
“You seem... unconcerned about whether we can leave?” Song Yue glanced back, surprised at how she remained lost in thought.
He felt guilty, believing he'd implicated both Miao and Qian Qianxue. The ones who’d died had targeted him, seeking to seize the opportunities of the underground palace. The two had helped him, and were thus drawn into this mire.
“Not really,” Qian Qianxue responded, then added, “I just miss my parents and brother a bit.”
Brother-in-law? Song Yue had never heard her mention him before. Previously, he’d only gone to the academy to stir trouble, and Qian-ge had always been cold toward him. In all these years, they’d never shared such quiet, peaceful conversation.
Just then, Miao Qiang, having drunk Song Yue’s medicine, let out a faint groan and slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was bloodshot—the injury had nearly claimed his life. He’d been semi-conscious, aware of some events, and knew Song Yue and the girl had saved him.
Kind souls tend only to reflect on who helped them, not why they were hurt in the first place. To draw one’s blade against injustice—isn’t that what a warrior ought to do?
“You’re awake, Teacher Miao?” Song Yue breathed a sigh of relief.
“Awake. I’ll live,” Miao Qiang croaked, his voice hoarse as if from severe illness. He was still extremely weak.
He looked to Song Yue and quietly asked, “What time is it now?”
Song Yue replied, “Less than two days until the portal opens. We’re about seventy or eighty miles from the altar, but those dead men’s companions are guarding the altar.”
Miao Qiang gave a bitter smile—they’d stirred up a hornet’s nest! Four Foundation Establishment cultivators dead—the enemy would not let this pass.
He’d hoped to use this opportunity to lead his family out of the Kunlun secret realm and start anew in the mortal world. Now, it seemed impossible.
“Teacher, is there any way to contact your family? I’m worried they might rush over and run into trouble with those people,” Song Yue asked.
A look of difficulty crossed Miao Qiang’s face. “The communication tools we brought sixty years ago, though solar-powered and still functional, are useless inside the Kunlun realm. Those cultivators have sound-transmitting jade talismans, but we are a warrior clan…”
Song Yue understood. “Teacher, could you tell me their route?”
Miao Qiang shook his head, troubled. Song Yue realized why—when he’d killed one of the twin brothers, the dying man’s resentment would have lingered upon him.
A Foundation Establishment cultivator’s resentment wouldn’t fade in days, though it wouldn’t last long overall. With men guarding the altar, they would not neglect other areas. By now, someone was likely searching for their trail.
Everyone knew outsiders rarely ventured far from the altar; so by searching the hundreds of miles around it, clues would eventually emerge.
“No, you can’t go out—it’s too dangerous,” Miao Qiang said weakly. “If they reach the altar and don’t see me, they won’t leave. They might suspect, but with no evidence, they shouldn't trouble them.”
Yet his words lacked conviction. There were plenty of “shoulds”—those four Foundation Establishment cultivators should also have congratulated Song Yue on winning the underground palace trial…
“Teacher, please rest and heal. Leave the rest to me,” Song Yue said, then turned to Qian Qianxue. “Stay here and take care of Elder Miao. I’ll go find his family and send them back to wait.”
He knew it was dangerous, but Miao Qiang had nearly lost his life for him, and now his family could be exposed to danger—he couldn’t stand idly by.
Miao Qiang’s attempts to dissuade him failed. Qian Qianxue hesitated, torn—emotionally, she didn’t want Song Yue to go, but morally, he had to.
“Be careful!” Qian Qianxue said, taking a small pendant from her neck—three feathers made of special metal, exquisitely crafted. She blushed slightly as she handed it to Song Yue. “It’s a magical artifact—it self-charges, and activates if it senses danger. Take it, you’ll be safer.”
Song Yue didn’t refuse this time. He tucked the artifact into his chest, clarified the family’s route with Miao Qiang, and took his leave.
Afterward, Song Yue transplanted some shrubs from afar, thoroughly concealing the cave entrance. He instructed Qian Qianxue not to light any fires for the next few days—subsist on dry food, lest they attract attention.
Having done all this, Song Yue departed, heading out along the route Miao Qiang’s family would take. By now, they should be near the altar; he had to intercept them before the enemy, present Miao Qiang’s token, and send them back to wait.
The Kunlun Sect was searching everywhere! Just as Miao Qiang had predicted, Kunlun Sect posted guards at the altar and sent out teams, sweeping the hundred-mile radius for clues.
To flush out the enemy, the sect mobilized almost everyone, vowing not to let the murderers escape. For safety, they formed groups of six, at least one or two Foundation Establishment cultivators per group.
After half a day, the Kunlun Sect finally found traces of battle, and unearthed the bodies that Qian Qianxue had buried. The signs of combat were too obvious—even with attempts to conceal, they could not fool those seasoned secret realm survivors.
They found three intact corpses; the fourth… was only the lower half.
The Kunlun Sect disciples who found them howled their grief to the heavens. Rage consumed them.
Others who arrived wept bitterly. “Too tragic!” “You died so miserably—no matter who the killer is, we will avenge you!” “Find them, and slice them to pieces!”
Song Yue heard the anguished cries from a distance, and quietly slipped away, following Miao Qiang’s directions outward.
Yet he was a step too late. From the summit of a mountain, he saw a group approaching—and the Kunlun Sect was already there.
They intercepted Miao Qiang’s family and disciples, questioning them. The Miao clan knew nothing; facing the interrogation, they were bewildered and honest.
Miao Qiang’s wife, a gentle secret realm woman at the ninth level of Qi cultivation—never able to reach Foundation Establishment—stepped forward. “Has something happened? My husband entered the realm sixty years ago, but many family members remain outside. We hoped, with this opening, to return to the mortal world.”
The Kunlun Sect members, faces cold, had not yet heard about the bodies. Their attitude was harsh, but they found nothing suspicious and let the group pass, continuing their search.
Song Yue was anxious—if he showed himself now, he’d surely be spotted. But if he didn’t intercept the group, they’d reach the altar…
He took a deep breath and made a decision. Retreating quietly, he waited along the family’s route.
Soon, the group of twenty or thirty appeared within Song Yue’s sight. He watched from a tall tree, confirming no Kunlun Sect members nearby.
When the group drew close, Song Yue leapt lightly from the tree, blocking their path.
The Miao clan frowned—what now? What extraordinary event had happened, that they kept getting stopped?
Fortunately, the young disciples who’d been sent back earlier recognized Song Yue and approached. “Why are you here? Where’s our master?”
They explained Song Yue’s identity to the mistress. She remained calm, approaching Song Yue and asking softly, “Child, has something happened?”
Song Yue produced Miao Qiang’s token. “It’s not safe to speak here. Please come aside.”
“Always so mysterious…” a disciple grumbled, but the mistress waved them off, trusting Song Yue as someone her husband had chosen.
Aside, she asked gently, “Child, speak.”
Song Yue said, “Teacher Miao has been my mentor, so I’ll call you Mistress. He’s suffered some injury and is recovering.”
“How serious?” she furrowed her brow, concern in her eyes.
“Quite serious, but not life-threatening. He’s a grandmaster—his recovery is astonishing. He’ll be well in a few days, so please don’t worry.”
Seeing her calm, Song Yue dared to tell her everything. She remained composed throughout. When he finished, she softly asked, “So, now, you may not be able to leave the secret realm?”
Song Yue nodded.
The mistress said, “We can’t turn back either, or those people will suspect, right?”
Song Yue gave her silent praise—so clever! She understood without him saying it.
She pondered—this might be a parting of sixty years, perhaps never to see her husband again. Her cultivation was below Foundation Establishment; sixty years later, even if Miao Qiang returned, would she still be alive? It was all unknown.
How had it come to this?
Looking at Song Yue’s apologetic face, she felt uneasy, but uttered no word of blame. The child was also a victim, forced by circumstance.
If she led the group back, the enemy would surely track them, endangering all.
On one side, she might never see her beloved husband again; on the other, the safety of her clan and disciples.
She sighed softly to the sky. “Tell him to take care of himself. Sixty years from now, I’ll wait for him in the mortal world.”
She agreed.
Song Yue exhaled deeply. He had no time to instruct Meng Xudong, but trusted that clever, diplomatic lad to handle matters.
He bowed deeply. “Forgive me, Mistress—I implicated Teacher.”
She quickly helped him up. “Child, this is not your fault! Don’t worry, I know what to do.”
The Miao children watched, sensing something was amiss, but were too far to hear their mother’s conversation. They saw her expression change, then regain composure.
Song Yue departed swiftly, vanishing into the woods. The mistress returned calmly to her group. “Your master has some business—he will leave the secret realm at the last moment, at the altar. Let’s go out first.”
The disciples and family members looked surprised, but believed her—if their master weren’t leaving, why would she?
Song Yue moved through the forest, his heart burning with rage. He wanted to hunt down the Kunlun Sect members.
The cause of all this was their greed—they’d attacked him, and brought ruin upon themselves and his friends. Now, the Kunlun Sect howled for vengeance, but Song Yue wished to annihilate them all.
A bunch of immoral beasts—what kind of cultivation was that?
His martial blood boiled—he wanted to destroy all those searching for him. But reason warned him—he wasn’t ready yet. Not until he truly became a grandmaster.
The Dragon Pattern Immortal-Slaying Blade was powerful, and the Eight Desolations Dao Sutra was a top-tier technique, but his realm was still lacking. He could face a Foundation Establishment cultivator alone, but a group would be suicide.
He had to endure, for now. Wait until Teacher recovered, until Qian-ge reached Foundation Establishment—then he would train her in the secret realm, helping her grow. By then, he’d step into the grandmaster domain. Two martial grandmasters, plus a Foundation Establishment adept skilled in wind techniques—then, against the Kunlun Sect, they would no longer be so desperate.
Song Yue thought as he moved, leaving no trace on the way back to the cave.
Just before arriving, he sensed something amiss—the birds ahead took flight en masse, wings beating away.
Trouble!
Song Yue’s heart tightened—he knew the enemy was near. In the Kunlun secret realm, the enemy had home advantage; it was nearly impossible to hide completely.
With the enemy about to discover Qian Qianxue and Miao Qiang’s hiding place, Song Yue knew he could not wait any longer.
He deliberately stepped on a dry branch, producing a faint crack.
Instantly, six people detected it, surrounding him.
Song Yue, satisfied he’d drawn their attention, turned and fled.
He leaped out with Phantom Steps, moving dozens of meters in each stride, rapidly traversing the forest.
The six Kunlun Sect members hadn’t seen him yet, but grew suspicious. The distance from the bodies wasn’t far; any suspect here could be the killer or a witness. And, if he weren’t guilty, why run?
They pursued, transmitting messages to others via jade talismans.
Soon, other Kunlun Sect members converged on the area. Those guarding the altar received the news but did not move, wary of a diversion.
They remained at their posts.
The secret realm portal—in that moment, opened.
Meng Xudong and the young cultivators from the academy were heavy-hearted. They knew the worst had happened—Song Yue and his companions were likely involved in the Kunlun Sect tragedy. With none of them returning, would they be trapped here for sixty years, becoming secret realm natives?
Lin Huan, Xiao Mo, Josie, and Shen Zhu searched for Zhang Zixing and Ou Ping. Ultimately, they realized the two had truly vanished—missing since their furtive departure, with no trace for days.
Josie murmured, “They must have perished.”
“No way—they were so well-armed, how could anything happen?” Xiao Mo protested.
Shen Zhu, usually silent, watched as the crowd began to depart. “There’s no proof, but I feel that Ou Ping, Zhang Zixing, and the Kunlun Sect tragedy are all connected to those few people.”
Lin Huan frowned. “I don’t think so—they lack the strength.”
Shen Zhu didn’t argue, only sighed, “Who knows?”
He turned to leave with the crowd. This journey had yielded many fine medicinal herbs—even a Foundation Establishment-level plant and two rare metals. The harvest made the trip worthwhile, though it fell short of his hopes.
Especially the trial palace—when they arrived, its doors had sunk beneath the earth, sealed.
They were disappointed, even dejected. Now, with Ou Ping and Zhang Zixing likely fallen, how would they face their families? It troubled Shen Zhu and the others.
Though those two had left on their own, they were still part of the group.
“Enough, let’s go,” Lin Huan sighed, joining the crowd through the portal back to the mortal world.
Meng Xudong’s group waited until the end, but Song Yue and Qian Qianxue never appeared—though a crowd of Miao clan members did arrive.
Little Meng did not disappoint. Upon learning they were Miao Qiang’s family, he engaged them, then quietly led them out of the secret realm.
They could wait no longer—staying would arouse suspicion, and risk their own safety.
At this point, they could only wish Song Yue and Qian Qianxue luck. Hopefully, sixty years later, they’d return with family in tow.
Meng Xudong glanced back one last time, wondering if that fellow was watching from the shadows.
Don’t worry, Song—I’ll take care of Grandmaster Miao’s family.
Miao Qiang’s family and disciples left, heavy-hearted. They sensed something had happened, but seeing the cold faces of the Kunlun Sect, dared not ask.
They followed the mistress, crossing through the secret realm portal.
With the last person gone, the altar returned to tranquility.
The portal would remain open for a while longer. The Kunlun Sect maintained their vigil, having received word that clues had been found—meaning the enemies hadn’t escaped with the crowd.
So, once the portal closed, their foes would have nowhere to run.
The Kunlun Sect’s vice leader gazed coldly at the distant mountains. “Close the doors and hunt them down—let’s see where you can run now!”
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A major chapter. Tonight, I’ll try to write another, aiming to finish this arc and spare you all suspense.