Life as a Rogue Cultivator

Chapter 311: Between Illusion and Reality

Leading the group was an inner disciple of the Qingyuan Sect named Feng Yuanfa. He’d been at the Foundation Establishment stage for five years now, but was still stuck in the early phase, working on condensing qi in his Qi Sea. This time, on orders from above, he had taken four outer disciples with him to patrol the mountains and hunt down a suspected intruder... likely a thief sent by the Maling sect.Based on the accounts given by outer disciples who had been rounded up from the Beijiang checkpoint, the sect already had a rough idea of the enemy’s cultivation level. The intruder was believed to be a Foundation Establishment cultivator who specialized in formations. That said, his strength could not be very high. If he were already at the Golden Core stage, there was no way he would stoop to looting people. He had stripped them of even the few pitiful spirit stones they carried, and even their silver. What kind of expert would act with so little dignity?

Because of this, Feng Yuanfa’s task was simple. Spot the enemy, stall for time, and send word back to the sect so they could surround and capture him.

But Feng Yuanfa made a fatal misjudgment the moment they met.

He had been told to expect a single enemy. What appeared before him, however, were two people. He shouted, “Stop right there,” hoping to confirm what he was seeing.

It was already too late.

Most of the outer disciples and stewards he had brought along dropped to the ground. One was tightly bound with rope and completely immobilized. Two others were struck by paired arrows, each hit separately, and fell unconscious on the spot. Only one person was left standing.

As for the last one, he was quick on his feet. His cultivation was weaker than that of the other outer disciples, but he had sharp instincts. Before Feng Yuanfa could give an order, the bamboo whistle was already at his lips.

He was still too slow.

Liu Xiaolou lunged at him and grabbed at the air, and the bamboo whistle flew out of his hand. Panicking, the man yanked a bamboo pen from his sleeve, jabbing it toward Liu Xiaolou’s face. He opened with the Three Water Strokes move.

The Qingyuan Sect specialized in calligraphy, using the brush to pursue the Dao. That was their inherited path.

But he was only an outer steward at the seventh layer of Qi Refinement. In front of Liu Xiaolou, how could that bamboo brush ever land? His very first stroke had not even reached halfway when his strength gave out. He forced the brush down another half-stroke at most before Liu Xiaolou’s true qi surged into his meridians, sealing them in multiple places. His whole body went rigid, and he could no longer move.

Dealing with this outer disciple took only a single move, no more than two breaths. Liu Xiaolou flashed past him and charged straight toward Feng Yuanfa, the only one still on his feet.

Feng Yuanfa was already locked in combat with the soft-armored cultivator, wielding a pair of Judge’s Pens that gleamed like polished jade, one in each hand.

Feng Yuanfa wanted to free up a hand to alert the sect, but whether it was a bamboo whistle or a talisman, there was no time to use either. He couldn't even force out a yell. Hell, he could barely breathe. It felt as if his entire body were wrapped in a dense, crushing pressure. If he let even a single breath escape, that overwhelming force would rush in and pulp him from the inside out.

Could this be a mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator?

The thought sent a jolt of panic through him. He made up his mind at once. Even if it meant taking a serious injury, he had to send out a warning.

Caught between two Foundation Establishment opponents, he would not last long. And one of them might even be mid-stage.

Just as he was about to ignore everything else and grab the communication talisman, his vision suddenly blurred. In the next instant, he found himself standing in a garden.

There were pavilions and ponds, bamboo groves and flowers, towers and walls. Soft music from flutes and strings drifted through the air. Red candles glowed behind gauzy curtains.

So it really was a formation master.

Feng Yuanfa knew he had fallen into a formation. Standing in the pavilion, he stayed on high alert for a while, nerves stretched tight. When no attacks came, he could not help but let out a quiet breath of relief.

It seemed to be nothing more than an illusion formation. Thank goodness. Really, thank goodness.

When it came to breaking an illusion formation, there were two accepted methods in the cultivation world. One was to smash through it with brute force. The other was to outsmart it.

Feng Yuanfa had no illusions about himself. Against a Foundation Establishment formation expert, he clearly did not qualify to break it by force. Formation masters were usually stronger than other cultivators at the same level by a tier. That left only one choice. He would have to break it cleverly.

As an inner disciple of Qingyuan Mountain, he had undergone formation training as a matter of course. Feng Yuanfa was no exception. He had seen his share of formations and had real experience dealing with illusions. After scanning his surroundings, he tightened his grip on the two Judge’s Pens and charged into the building.

The formation’s core had to be inside this little building!

He stepped into the main hall and found it completely empty, not a soul in sight. Yet the soft music of strings and bamboo pipes still lingered in the air, curling around his ears. There was no doubt it was coming from here.

All of a sudden, the hazy true qi in his Qi Sea stirred for no reason at all, as if someone had gently blown on it. His heart skipped, and a wave of unease washed over him.

He immediately went on high alert.

But just as quickly, the true qi settled back down as if nothing had happened, leaving him confused and unsure what to make of it.

At that moment, accompanied by the lingering, tender melody, the curtains ahead slowly parted. From behind them emerged a pair of flawless feet.

Feng Yuanfa’s mouth went dry. His heart began pounding, thumping so hard it felt like it might leap out of his chest. He blinked stupidly and murmur under his breath.

“Master’s wife… Master’s wife…”

He knew this was an illusion, and he was fully aware that everything before him was nothing more than a phantom. Even so, the woman in front of him was far too real. Every detail was perfectly clear, down to the tiniest nuance. Heat surged through his body, and he couldn’t pull himself away. He didn’t even want to blink.

Mistress smiled at him. “You used to sneak peeks at me when you were little, didn’t you?”

Her voice was tender and plaintive, whispering right by his ear. He could almost feel the breath behind every word.

“I…” He had no idea what to say. The wicked fire in his heart flared upward, completely out of control.

“Come,” she said gently. “Come inside with me. When you were still a child, I used to help wash you when you bathed. Today, while I’m bathing, won’t you help me instead?”

“I can’t. I can’t do this.” Feng Yuanfa’s eyes were wide as he bit down on his lip and shook his head. “This is fake. It’s all fake!”

But another voice rose up from deep inside him, whispering back, If it’s fake, what’s the harm in looking? What’s the harm in touching? It’s all just an illusion anyway.

“Come,” she said again softly. “Come inside with me.”

“No. I can’t, Mistress…”

Faced with his her repeated invitations, Feng Yuanfa held on to the last bit of reason left in him. He twisted aside, dodging the arm she reached out to him.

Only heaven knew how much that dodge hurt him.

Just as his heart was aching, the world suddenly shifted. The halls and pavilions vanished, and he was back in the dense forest.

He froze for a split second. An arrow suddenly shot at him, and in that life-or-death instant, a burst of light exploded from his body. A protective talisman had activated on its own, saving his life. He'd obtained from the Taiyuan Zongzhen Sect, the Light-Containing Talisman. A single talisman could block one fatal strike.

Using that brief opening, he forced his mind back into the real world and engaged the cultivator in soft armor.

They had barely traded a few moves when his vision swam again. And once again Liu Xiaolou dragged him back into the illusion formation.

This time, Feng Yuanfa made up his mind. He leapt out of the pavilion straight into the hall, gripping a pair of Judge’s Pens tightly in his hands, ready to shatter the illusion of his “Master’s wife.”

But the moment he stepped inside, that decadent, seductive music washed over him and melted away his fighting spirit. On top of that, there was this strange, indefinable scent in the air that made his head heat up again, his mouth going dry, throat parched. Facing his Master’s wife's tender, affectionate gaze, he just couldn't bring himself to strike out... no matter what.

This time, if he hadn’t bitten his tongue, he might really have been dragged into the back chamber by his Master’s wife.

The instant he bit his tongue and broke free of her pull, he was yanked back into the real forest. A block of qi lodged in his chest, making it impossible to breathe properly. He felt miserable.

Two more arrows came flying in, triggering the second protective talisman on his body. It activated on its own and shielded him.

Then he was pulled back into the formation, forced to face his Master’s wife's third round of temptation.

When he finally held the line in his heart once more through sheer force of will, his mind was on the verge of collapse. Lost, shaken, and drowning in unbearable frustration, he burned through his last Light-Containing Talisman.

After that, when the soft-armored cultivator loosed the next arrow, he had no way left to resist it.