“A cosmic bubble,” Mo Jian breathed, his voice low as the vast, shimmering sphere drifted closer through the watery expanse. Its surface rippled with faint, liquid light – like moonlight trapped beneath glass, distorting the depths around it into slow-moving waves.
Even Li Deng and Chi Shen watched in quiet awe, though Jin Rong remained as impassive as ever.
“It drifted here from the Cosmic Bubble Chasm during my grandfather’s time,” Jin Rong explained. “But it’s only recently that the Black Sail bandits began using it as their base. That’s part of why I never bothered to exterminate them before. Half the time, who knows where they drift off to? And, well, you all know how unorthodox sects can be…”
Mo Jian nodded, as did the others, though he couldn’t help but wish Jin Rong had wiped them out. They wouldn’t be dealing with a Gu now.
The truth was, most orthodox cultivators ignored unorthodox ones because destroying them rarely accomplished much. Eliminate one sect, and another would inevitably appear; it was like playing whack-a-mole. Few had the patience for it. Only demonic cultivators were actively hunted and purged.
The distinction was simple enough: any cultivator group not affiliated with the recognized powers could be termed “unorthodox.” That could mean anything: from genuine criminals and the unethical, to simple political dissenters or those too poor to join a major sect. For that reason, most were simply left alone.
But demonic sects, those who practiced blood arts, soul refinement, or worked with things like Gu, were a different matter. Letting such groups take root always led to disaster in the end.
So yes, Mo Jian understood Jin Rong’s reasoning. He just wished it weren’t so.
Instead, he focused on another detail. “They can control the bubble? How?”
Jin Rong shook his head. “That was a poor choice of words. The bubble moves on its own, following whatever strange rhythm governs it. The bandits are merely passengers, not the pilots.”
“Hmm.” Li Deng stroked his chin. “Still, they’ve found a good spot. I’ve never seen the Cosmic Bubble Chasm myself, but I’ve heard how difficult it is to cross.”
“I have,” said Mo Jian. “The danger doesn’t lie in the bubbles themselves, but in the fact that the Chasm is made entirely of them. It’s a place where space has shattered, and where only bubbles remain, each a sealed world with its own laws. I’ve seen deserts of burning glass, peaks carved from ice, and forests that howl with wind.”
He paused, eyes distant. “To cross the Chasm, you have to move from one bubble to the next. The only reliable route is tightly controlled by several major sects working together to maintain their monopoly. Still, it’s well known that the unorthodox factions have a secret path too, since they keep turning up on the other side.”
What he didn’t say was that there was a third route, one he had pieced together himself, though the true credit belonged to Ye Chen. The hero had discovered it in the book; Mo Jian had merely reconstructed it from his half-remembered memories: start from the bubble of lightning trees, move to the one filled with flying serpents, then the swamp, a handful of others, and finally, the field of flowers marking the exit.
He had only shared that knowledge with the Greater Dharma Sect yet, though he had no idea whether they’d managed to exploit it. It had also served as his contingency earlier; a bribe prepared for Fan Mei, and more indirectly, for Ancestor Qing. For a lone cultivator, it wasn’t much of a secret. But for a sect, control over such a route could mean immense profit. It was why Fan Mei had been tempted – not for herself, but for the leverage she could gain by offering it to Ancestor Qing.
Trying to cross the chasm by avoiding the bubbles entirely was impossible. Between them lay shattered space. A cultivator could survive there briefly, but stay too long, and they would begin to unravel. Thus, finding a stable path was crucial. It was possible to go around the Chasm entirely, but doing so added nearly three months to the journey. Most travelers preferred to pay the sect tolls rather than waste the time.
A lone bubble, though, was much easier to deal with.
From the outside, this one wasn’t particularly large. A ring of widely spaced rocks floated above a dark sea that filled the bubble’s lower half. Each rock bore a ramshackle hut or shack, forming what was clearly the bandits’ base, though a pitifully built one. Any half-decent cultivator could shape sturdy dwellings from bare stone. These looked like the work of amateurs.
The sky, however, was another matter. The upper half of the bubble churned with violet clouds, and a constant drizzle of light rain fell toward the sea below.
That hue; it screamed of poison. Was it the Gu’s doing, or simply part of the bubble’s natural environment?
The sphere loomed closer, immense and shimmering. Its surface rippled like liquid glass, distorting the world beyond into shifting ribbons of light. They exchanged a glance, then passed through it in silence, their protective barrier holding firm.
A brief wave of disorientation struck, a sense that sea and sky had traded places. Then the world inverted, and they were inside.
Light bent strangely within the bubble. The curved boundary above and around them glistened like crystal, enclosing a world no larger than an island. Clouds wept purple rain that hissed and smoked where it touched the translucent liquid barrier conjured by the Amber Dripping Vial. A faint green luminescence filled the air, emanating from everywhere and nowhere at once, casting the scene in a sickly, dreamlike glow.
Li Deng took one look at the purple rain, and spoke grimly. “Poison.”
Chi Shen flicked open his fan. A gust of wind burst forth, emerging as colored gales of viridian, jade, and teal spiraling into motion. Shades of green without name whirled around their barrier, sweeping the poisonous mist aside before it could touch them. Mo Jian also reinforced the barrier around them out of habit, though there was little need. They had been moving with perfect readiness from the start.
Behind them, the Undersea Ship burst through the boundary like a leviathan breaching the surface. For one suspended instant it hung there, gleaming beneath the strange light, and then plunged downward, striking the sea with a thunderous crash. Water erupted skyward in immense plumes, geysers lashing the curved ceiling above. Mo Jian wasn’t concerned; this was planned for and expected. He had placed a strand of spiritual sense with Bai Ning; should she be in true danger, he would be alerted. But for now, he had to give his full focus to his own fight. He could not afford to be distracted.
If their arrival hadn’t been noticed before, it certainly was now. The calm that had lingered within this pocket world shattered. The clouds darkened, their rainfall thickening into a violet storm. From the makeshift dwellings below came cries of confusion and alarm.
Then a voice rang out, loud, but orderly.
“Who is it? This is the turf of the Black Sail Ban-”
It cut off abruptly, replaced by a note of surprise.
“Oh, it’s you, Jin Rong!” The voice was calm and collected, and not at all what Mo Jian had expected. “I thought you wouldn’t return after your last defeat. Ah-I see, you’ve brought friends this time. Do you think numbers will help you overcome me? How na?ve.”
A streak of light shot up from one of the rocks below, halting midair before unraveling into the form of a man suspended above the poisoned sea.
For the first time, Mo Jian saw the leader of the Black Sail Bandits, the man who had dared to refine a Gu.
He was not what Mo Jian had imagined. Perhaps he had been expecting the shriveled, corpse-like form of a demonic cultivator – Chao Qinzi came to mind – but this man was nothing of the sort.
He was thin, yes, but in a natural way. His face was plain, his hair neatly parted to one side. His robes were simple black, unadorned, almost austere. There was nothing monstrous about him; no pallid skin, no fevered gleam in his eyes, no trace of corruption. In fact, he looked like a scholar: plain, composed, and unassuming.
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In a way, that was worse than facing a madman. A rational man acting on logic was far more dangerous than a hundred who’d lost their minds.
He floated unsupported in midair, though his cultivation was only at the peak of Foundation Establishment. Mo Jian’s eyes narrowed at the incongruity, but most of his attention was drawn to the small, wriggling thing hovering near the man’s right shoulder.
A Gu.
Gu came in many forms; there was no single shape or size for such abominations. Their appearance depended on countless variables, from the creatures used in their creation, to which devoured which, the vessel that held them, how the refiner’s qi had been woven into their birth, and more. Some could even mimic ordinary animals.
This one, however, looked like a grotesque hybrid of an earthworm, rat’s tail, and snake.
A pinkish-brown tube, ringed along its length, no longer than two fingers. It had no eyes or face, showing only a slit at one end that opened to reveal rows of uneven, needlelike fangs. It radiated a raw, stomach-turning unease.
“Of course I came, Hua Duzi,” Jin Rong said coldly. “Did you think I’d leave you be? I don’t care if that thing you made ends up devouring you, but I refuse to let it destroy my family’s legacy.”
Hua Duzi’s expression hardly changed. “That’s your mistake,” he said. “I am not like the fools of the past, to be consumed by my own creation. I’ve spent a long time researching. I intend to become the world’s first true Gu master.”
He sounded utterly sincere.
Jin Rong scoffed. “Your delusions matter only to you. I’ve already informed the Righteous Alliance and Ancestor Qing of your actions. Whatever happens today, your fate is sealed. You’ll either die impaled on my trident or be consumed by that grotesque thing you refined.” Triumph laced his voice, a steady confidence that said, Here-deal with that.
Hua Duzi shrugged, as unconcerned as ever. “That was expected. I took the liberty of reaching out to Old Devil Fu on my end. It was harder than I thought. Unlike the orthodox sects, we lack an institutional way to communicate, but he was intrigued enough not to blast me out of existence for my impertinence. He refused to aid me directly, but he did say he’d keep the Alliance off my back for a while. If I show even a slight smidgen of success, he’ll back me fully.”
He spread his arms, his tone dry and oddly ceremonial, like someone reciting lines from an old text. “And I can tell by the fact you came yourself, with three other cultivators you managed scrounged up, that it worked. This will be your defeat.”
Jin Rong went pale. He wasn’t the only one; Li Deng and Chi Shen looked openly furious and stricken, their composure cracking. Even Mo Jian felt an unpleasant pit open in his gut. So, the Alliance’s excuse of being “busy” had been just that: an excuse to avoid confronting the Old Devil. Worse, Ancestor Qing had apparently written this whole region off, since he’d not bothered to intervene.
For a long moment they hung in the air, absorbing the news. Hesitation showed on every face; retreat began to look sensible.
Then Jin Rong slapped himself across the face. The sharp crack cut through the air, breaking the tension.
All of them turned in shocked surprise, and Hua Duzi even arched an eyebrow.
Jin Rong was breathing hard, teeth bared in a fierce grimace. “It doesn’t matter. Nothing’s changed. So what if we were duped? As long as we can take you down, I’ll let it end there. Fellows, are you with me?”
Li Deng laughed. “How pathetic. This old man was almost swayed by a junior’s words. Fellow Jin Rong, no matter what happens today, I’ll stand with you to the end. I have no fear of death.” He swept his sleeves aside, and the Amber Dripping Vial gleamed brighter in answer, light rippling across the barrier that surrounded them.
Chi Shen snapped his fan shut with a crisp sound. “Then what are we waiting for?”
Mo Jian exhaled slowly. He agreed with Jin Rong and Li Deng. There was only one path forward, and it was through. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding pulsed in resonance, and at that moment the spectral trident hovering above their heads blazed with radiant light, as though their wills had fused into one.
Jin Rong’s eyes locked onto Hua Duzi. “Want to try that again?”
Hua Duzi tilted his head, actually considering the question, his expression distant and thoughtful, as if weighing pros and cons on an invisible ledger. Then he shook his head lightly. “Not particularly. Since a fight is inevitable, let’s be done with it. The battle below means nothing. I only need to kill you all and move on.”
That was the signal they’d been waiting for. Even before Hua Duzi finished speaking, their qi surged in unison. Jin Rong’s intent flared first, and the others felt it instantly through their shared link. As one, they moved.
The illusory trident above them flared once, and then vanished.
No, not vanished. Released.
It shot forward like an arrow, moving so fast that even their enhanced vision could barely follow. A single line of light bloomed between them and Hua Duzi, its full length born in an instant. Mo Jian blinked, and violet afterimages burned across his vision. The attack wasn’t flashy, but the sheer density of qi in it was staggering. It was faster, stronger, and sharper than anything he could unleash on his own.
And still, Hua Duzi avoided it.
Mo Jian barely saw the motion. The Gu on Hua Duzi’s shoulder blurred, its form dissolving like ink fading into water, only this time, it wasn’t dispersing. It was vanishing. Hua Duzi disappeared with it, slipping out of sight just before the trident struck.
A heartbeat later, the world exploded.
A colossal force slammed into the side of their barrier, cutting through the viridian winds and the milky film of liquid light. It struck the azure light of Heaven Enshrouding Ding squarely, and the artifact shuddered like a bell struck by thunder. The barrier’s surface dented inward, the sound a deep metallic groan that seemed to twist the air itself. Then came the shockwave.
The four of them were hurled half a mile across the poisoned sky, spinning helplessly. Their barrier fractured under the impact, giant cracks spiderwebbing across it, their edges glowing white-hot.
Mo Jian’s body screamed with pain. It felt as though his ribs had been driven inward; his breath came ragged and shallow. He swallowed the cry that rose in his throat and forced his hands together, sealing the next layer of qi. The barrier reformed, thin but holding, just as the next attack struck.
This time it came from behind.
The impact threw them forward again, sending the four tumbling end over end, a blur of color and motion. They rolled through the air like a kicked toy, momentum carrying them perilously close to the curved edge of the bubble. Mo Jian fought to stabilize them, drawing on the last reserves of his focus.
When they finally stopped, his back was burning with pain, each breath sharp and heavy. The protective qi around him flickered, wrapping his body like cracked glass trying to hold together.
None of them had seen the attack. Not a shadow or even a flicker of motion. Hua Duzi was nowhere and everywhere at once, his strikes arriving faster than the eye could follow, too silent to track and too precise to anticipate.
They had been hit twice, and still had no idea from where.
Chi Shen shouted over the ringing air. “Jin Rong, use the Trident to defend us! We need to hold the line first!”
“No,” Jin Rong barked back, eyes wild as they scanned the violet sky. “You three handle defense. I’ll strike him down myself.”
There was no time to argue.
Li Deng’s liquid barrier expanded outward, the single shell splitting into multiple layers that spun against each other, weaving a cocoon of glimmering fluid around them. Mo Jian drew a pill from his pouch and swallowed it in one practiced motion. A wave of cool, steady energy swept through his meridians, easing the strain. His body bore no true wounds, the damage coming only through the resonance between cultivator and artifact, but the pain felt real enough.
He thrust both hands forward, feeding qi into his barrier. The azure wall of light thickened, dense as stone, and he overlaid it with a sheath of silvery lightning. Threads of light danced across its surface, crackling softly.
Chi Shen cursed under his breath but did not stop moving. His fan snapped open with a sharp crack, and he swung it in a sweeping arc. From its edge unfurled a storm of winds, each a different shade of green – viridian, emerald, jade, teal – rising and weaving together in spirals. The air shimmered, the world around them painted in shifting hues as the gale expanded outward like a vast net.
Something caught.
“There!” Chi Shen spun, his fan pointing to the left.
The four reacted in unison.
Hua Duzi was too fast to follow, but for a fleeting instant, they saw him, riding the Gu as it surged through the air. The creature had grown grotesquely; no longer a worm, it was thick enough to coil around a man and crush him like clay. It moved with impossible speed, the space distorting behind it into long ribbons.
As it neared, the Gu contracted, gathering its power before lashing out with its entire body. Hua Duzi balanced atop it, his expression still calm and his posture unshaken.
The impact came like thunder.
The viridian winds around them cushioned the blow first, followed by the milky barrier that hissed and steamed as the Gu’s venom met its surface. The Heaven Enshrouding Ding’s azure light absorbed the rest, its illusory shell warping under the pressure. Even so, this time they held. The four were pushed back only a few feet.
The bones in Mo Jian’s hands shuddered from the feedback, but Jin Rong had his opening.
The trident flared, releasing a blinding column of white light.
It streaked across the air, too fast to track. The Gu twisted aside, but not fast enough. The trident’s edge scraped its flank, carving a long, black wound that bubbled and spat with burning ichor. The creature shrieked, a high, grinding sound that made the air itself waver.
The weapon did not stop. It pierced through the far boundary of the bubble, punching cleanly through the crystalline shell. For a moment, light bled from the wound like a second sun.
Then the world convulsed. The sea below heaved upward. Water twisted upon itself, roaring as though the ocean had turned in fury. A pillar of white light erupted far away, flaring and collapsing within a single breath. The seabed groaned, folding like fabric beneath an unseen hand, and the shock rippled outward, bending the horizon itself.
Inside the bubble, the impact was muted but unmistakable. Below, the Foundation Establishment cultivators broke off their fighting, glancing upward in alarm as the sky above them flickered with light.
“Careful,” Chi Shen snapped. “Are you trying to kill everything around us? Dissolve the technique if it punches through the barrier. Another few strikes like that, and the Thousand Shattered Islands will turn into the Several Hundred Shattered Islands.”
Jin Rong nodded absently, eyes fixed on the spot where Hua Duzi had vanished. The failed strike and the wound had forced him to withdraw, but only for a moment. This fight had only just begun.
