Chapter 46: There’s a Ghost in the River
Before leaving the woods, Meng Xueli turned back and glanced at the ground scattered with pine nuts. His eldest disciple had painstakingly gathered them for him, but he hadn’t even had a chance to taste one. He couldn’t help but feel a little regret.
The place they were in, Biyun Valley, was located in the northwest corner of the secret realm. To reach the heart of the realm—the central city bustling with people—they had to cross mountains and then the Heishui River.
The Heishui River was long and winding, running north to south, dividing the Hanhai Secret Realm into eastern and western halves. Anyone heading east from the west had no choice but to cross it.
Originally, the secret realm’s locations had no names. The earliest rough maps used in the cultivation world had been drawn by a senior contestant from Wuyin Sect, since array talisman masters were more attuned to terrain and environment. The names they gave were simple and random, but easy to remember. Over time, those names had been passed down from generation to generation.
Despite being called “Heishui River” (Blackwater River), it was actually more like a surging, muddy torrent that slammed against the banks with thunderous force. At its widest, it stretched over ten li across—so wide that one couldn’t see the opposite shore. To be accurate, it should’ve been called a major river.
It was a roaring river that forced its way through mountains and carved out its own path.
Meng Xueli now stood in the forest by the riverbank, surrounded by the deafening roar of water. Not far away, Han Shan’s three disciples and the others were locked in a fierce battle with a four-person team. The clash of weapons was completely drowned out by the rushing current.
He stood on a slightly elevated outcropping of rock, overlooking the battlefield from above. From time to time, he transmitted voice commands to his disciples below.
Their opponents were three sword cultivators from Mingyue Lake and one array talisman master from Wuyin Sect. These two sects had long been allies, so it wasn’t surprising to see them teamed up.
In fact, such combinations had been widely used even before the secret realm competition began, especially in real battles where human cultivators fought against demon clan invasions. If one added a healer from Songfeng Valley, it would make the classic trio: melee, ranged, and support.
In solo combat, sword cultivators undoubtedly had the highest combat strength. But in the secret realm competition, which resembled real battle conditions, team coordination was crucial. An array talisman master could use the terrain to set up formations, calculate each teammate’s remaining spiritual power, and control the pace of battle to make a sword cultivator’s strikes faster and stronger.
However, when teamed with Meng Xueli, even without an array talisman master, none of that was necessary. They only needed to memorize three lines—just twelve characters in total:
“Who goes there, villain?!”
“Elder, watch out!”
“Protect the elder!”
And just like that, over the past three days and more than ten battles, Zhang Suyuan and the others hadn’t made much progress in cultivation—but their acting skills had dramatically improved.
This wasn’t what Meng Xueli wanted to see.
So he changed his strategy. When they were ambushed or faced enemies in narrow paths, he let the three disciples fight first while he continued to play the helpless elder. If his junior nephews couldn’t handle it, he would then step in to clean up.
Meng Xueli thought to himself, This year’s secret realm competition is disappointing.
The teams they had encountered recently were so poorly coordinated and weak in combat that they didn’t even compare to the rogue cultivators in black cloaks who ambushed them on the first day—people who didn’t even have the backing of a sect….
As he was thinking this, the situation below suddenly changed. The enemy team burst forth with a last-ditch effort. Three members risked everything to cover one companion’s escape. That person charged forward with a sword, moving like the wind and wearing a twisted expression as he dashed straight toward Meng Xueli.
Seeing this, Zhang Suyuan shouted hoarsely, getting completely into character: “Elder Meng, watch out!”
Meng Xueli sighed slightly and rubbed his nose.
That charging man knew that once he broke away, his teammates wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer. But since victory was already out of reach, he could only take a gamble.
If he was fast enough, if he could take Meng Xueli hostage, the outcome of the battle might turn around.
He burned his spiritual power at full throttle and lunged forward, propelled by the momentum of his sword.
He was almost upon Meng Xueli—a frail, unarmed man—when a sense of unease struck him. A cultivator’s sixth sense in the face of danger whispered to him: Something’s wrong!
But it was already too late. A long spear appeared out of thin air. He felt a crushing weight in his chest, and the scenery blurred around him—mountains and riverbanks flashing past—before searing pain exploded through his body. In that instant, he glimpsed the winding river and the endless line of mountains on both sides.
Boom!
Meng Xueli struck him with the spear, sending him flying over ten zhang and into the raging river, where he crashed with an enormous splash.
Clap, clap, clap.
A burst of crisp applause sounded from the shore.
Han Shan’s three disciples had just finished dealing with the other three enemies. Now free, they clapped vigorously and called out, “Well done, Elder!”
Meng Xueli withdrew his spear, Hundred Generations of Time, and sighed. “Gather their things and come here for a debrief.”
These disciples had gotten too comfortable around him. Their battles were starting to feel like a game.
After every fight, Meng Xueli made his junior nephews reflect and summarize, reconstructing the battle from start to finish—where they’d fallen short and where they could improve.
The three of them expertly collected the defeated enemies’ jade tokens and storage pouches, then returned to massage Meng Xueli’s legs, back, and shoulders.
They were the personal disciples of the Chongbi Peak Master. Besides sword training, they had once been required by their master to learn massage techniques to serve him. Now Meng Xueli was enjoying the benefits of that training.
“That array talisman master’s formations weren’t timed properly. At your level, he wasn’t a real threat. You struggled at first only because you panicked the moment you realized you’d stepped into a formation. That panic threw off your coordination…” Meng Xueli narrowed his eyes slightly, enjoying the strength behind the massage. “Actually, if you’d just avoided his talismans—”
Before he could finish, the array talisman master from Wuyin Sect, lying not far away, shouted furiously, “You may kill me, but do not insult me!”
Han Shan’s three disciples coldly walked over and added a silencing spell on top of the immobilization spell they’d already used.
Although Meng Xueli didn’t know sword techniques, there were plenty of other things he could teach.
His junior nephews were eager learners, so they improved quickly in actual combat. Every time Meng Xueli answered their questions, he thought of Xiao Tingyun and Yu Qishu. He wondered how his two disciples were doing in their cultivation—whether they were encountering difficulties or studying the Introduction to the Dao he’d left behind.
This particular encounter had brought them a decent haul. That indecisive array master hadn’t even used up five or six of his talismans, which all ended up in Meng Xueli’s hands. The sword cultivators carried all kinds of pills and magical tools—everything except food.
Meng Xueli truly couldn’t understand: how could these people go on long trips without bringing any snacks? Didn’t they feel miserable?
The disciples of Han Shan seemed to pick up on what was on his mind and eagerly stepped in to ease Elder Meng’s worries.
Just then, a white falcon happened to be circling overhead. This bird was no ordinary creature—its eyes were sharp, feathers thick, and it radiated energy and vitality.
Li Wei: “Looks pretty tasty.”
Zhang Suyuan pulled out a repeating crossbow and a quiver of arrows, spoils of war taken from a group of rogue cultivators. He wasn’t very skilled with it yet.
The three of them let loose a flurry of chaotic arrows, shooting the falcon down, and excitedly started a fire to roast the bird.
“Elder Meng, come eat!”
Meng Xueli waved a hand. “You three go ahead. I’ve gone vegetarian.”
The three of them exchanged glances, unsure how to comfort him. The Sword Sovereign had passed, and Elder Meng was observing mourning through vegetarianism for his late husband. Such deep affection moved even the heavens.
Meng Xueli: “What are you staring at me for? Eat!”
The three bowed their heads and dug into the meat. Suddenly, Zhang Suyuan stopped mid-bite. “This tastes… off. There’s a strange aroma—so fragrant it’s unsettling.”
Meng Xueli: “That was a spirit beast raised by someone.”
He Ming choked and coughed repeatedly.
Zhang Suyuan’s expression turned serious. “Are the people from Beiming Mountain watching us?”
Just like Han Shan’s full name was Han Shan Sword Sect, Beiming Mountain’s full name was Beiming Beast-Taming Sect. Located in the remote and savage far north, the sect had developed a unique method for training spirit beasts.
Spirit beasts in the human realm were not the same as the demon race from the demon realm—they couldn’t take on human form or speak, but they could understand their master’s intentions. These beasts weren’t just for combat; they could scout, deliver messages, and gather intelligence—just like that falcon that had been spying on them.
Meng Xueli: “Don’t worry. It’s fine. Eat up.”
If Elder Meng said there was nothing to worry about, then there truly was nothing to worry about. And if there was something, he’d make sure it turned out fine. The three returned to their meal, burying themselves in the roasted falcon until only a pile of bones remained.
By the fire, Li Wei let out a satisfied sigh. “Today was perfect. We beat Mingyue Lake, and got to eat this delicious meat.”
He Ming: “Yeah, I hope we run into more people from Mingyue Lake tomorrow.”
Meng Xueli raised an eyebrow. “What grudge do you all have with Mingyue Lake?”
Zhang Suyuan let out a long sigh.
He Ming indignantly explained, “Elder Meng, you may not know this, but the eldest disciple of Mingyue Lake is named Jing Di. That guy is absolutely shameless—has no bottom line at all. Back when we were traveling the mortal world, we came across a talented young boy and planned to bring him back to Han Shan to train. Everything was already settled—we were just about to bring him back—when that bastard dressed up as a woman and tricked the kid into going to Mingyue Lake instead!”
Meng Xueli: “…That actually happened?”
Ji Xiao, who had once heard the same story from these three when he entered the sect under the name Xiao Tingyun, could only feel helpless at the memory.
But Meng Xueli found it fascinating. Someone actually pulled something like that? The younger generation of the cultivation world really had too much peace and free time on their hands now that the three realms weren’t at war. They must be so bored.
Zhang Suyuan: “Yeah, he’s here again for this secret realm competition. But I heard he didn’t team up with anyone from his sect this time.”
………
In the southwestern corner of the secret realm, another group sat around a burning campfire, all cloaked in black.
On closer inspection, it was clear they weren’t rogue cultivators. This five-person group included a formation master from Wuyin Sect, an alchemist from Nanling Template, a medical cultivator from Songfeng Valley, a beast tamer from Beiming Mountain, and a sword cultivator from Mingyue Lake. They had disguised themselves only to avoid running into members of their respective sects—it would complicate things if they had to go up against their own.
This kind of team composition was completely new. In the past, sect divisions had always prevented such arrangements.
Each of them was an elite disciple in their own sect. Someone had brought them together with a bigger goal in mind—not just to win the competition, but to break the all-time highest score record.
Everything had gone smoothly after they entered the secret realm. Their cooperation was seamless, and events unfolded exactly as planned. But today, something unexpected happened.
The beast tamer leaned toward the formation master. “What’s going on up ahead? Where’s my falcon?”
The formation master held an octagonal formation disc that spun in his hands. Its interlacing lines shifted rapidly, too complex for the average person to look at without getting a headache.
“There’s abnormal movement. I think someone from the west side is trying to cross the river at Flying Sword Gorge and head east.”
The beast tamer could sense he hadn’t finished: “And?”
“And then they vanished. Your bird disappeared too.”
“So?”
“So there’s a ghost in the river.”
The beast tamer cursed loudly. “You spent all day fiddling with that stupid formation disk and this is the crap you came up with?!”
The formation master remained cold. “If you’re so great, do it yourself. Where’s your bird?”
The beast tamer went silent.
A beautiful young woman furrowed her brows slightly. “I think someone’s blocking the path and collecting toll to cross the river.” She was the medical cultivator from Songfeng Valley, and her temperament was much gentler than the previous two.
The formation master shook his head. “No. In just three days, at least sixty people have gone into Flying Sword Gorge and never come out. If we were blocking the path, could we handle that many? I stand by my theory—there’s something haunted in the Heishui River.”
The alchemist from Nanling Temple muttered a Buddhist chant. “That’s not necessarily true…”
Just then, a raspy male voice came from up in the tree: “Alright, doesn’t matter if it’s people or ghosts. Come with me and we’ll check it out.”
His tone floated strangely, as if he’d just woken up—or was drunk. But the moment he spoke, the rest fell silent.
The young man, hugging a wine jar, leapt down from the branch, scattering dry leaves in his wake.
This man was none other than Jing Di, the one who had brought the group together—their leader.
Huge shoutout to @_nyanmaru_ on Discord for commissioning this! The chapter will be posted regularly, show your support for Ciacia at Kofi.
