Chapter Four: The Useless Good-for-Nothing

After the ransom was settled, Lady Yang acted swiftly, returning in the time it took to burn two sticks of incense, bringing with her spirit stones and resources worth two thousand in total. Among these, one thousand were plain spirit stones, while the other half was made up by a magical artifact with nine seals—a substitute for the remaining amount.

This artifact, known as the Spiritfire Gourd, contained inside a spiritual flame called White Spirit Blaze. When wielded, it could spew forth this spirit flame, and one could also add other types of fires to it to increase its power. All in all, it was quite a fine offensive tool.

After refining the artifact, Yang Xuan felt thoroughly satisfied. Having spent much of his time in Huangfeng Mountain, he had only ever possessed two magical tools—one for attack and one for defense—the latter of which had but seven seals and was considered a lesser-grade item.

Now, with this new weapon to safeguard his path, his future travels and any campaigns to earn merit and land would be considerably safer.

“Xuan’er, you see, about Qian…” Lady Yang’s face betrayed a fleeting pain as she watched Yang Xuan finish refining the artifact. The Spiritfire Gourd had been procured for Yang Qian, intended as his protective tool once he broke through to Foundation Establishment. Yet now, she had to hand it over at a less-than-favorable exchange, causing her heart to ache.

Nine seals it already bore, needing only one more to become a mid-grade artifact. On the market, it would fetch at least fifteen hundred spirit stones; giving it to Yang Xuan meant a direct loss of nearly five hundred.

“Don’t worry. I am not one to go back on my word. I’ll go release Qian now.” Elated, Yang Xuan paid no heed to Lady Yang’s impatience. He hung the artifact at his waist, then led the way toward the dungeon.

Lady Yang longed to follow but, not wishing to risk Yang Huaiyun suspecting she’d coerced Yang Xuan, she had no choice but to return.

Yang Xuan passed through several courtyards and soon arrived at a compound built against the mountain. Here, the number of patrolling guards thinned noticeably.

Such measures were necessary in this world of cultivation, where countless spells could change one’s face and form. To prevent prison breaks, strict security was expected.

“Second Young Master!” Having dismissed the guards outside the courtyard and stepped within, a burly man nearly two meters tall, clad in black armor and exuding a heavy scent of blood, emerged from the guard post by the dungeon.

Sensing the man’s aura, Yang Xuan narrowed his eyes. “You’re an Innate Martial Artist. Why are you reduced to guarding a dungeon? Has our Huangfeng Mountain’s Dao Army grown so extravagant, employing even the likes of you for menial tasks?”

In this world, martial artists were a unique feature. The path of martial cultivation was said to have been created by the Celestial Court, inspired by the mighty bodies of the Wu Tribe. Unlike cultivators, who required spiritual roots, anyone could pursue martial arts. Thus, every clan or sect, great or small, maintained a force of martial artists—known as Dao Soldiers—to protect their interests.

An Innate Martial Artist was the second tier among warriors, equivalent to a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

“Reporting to Second Young Master, I committed a grave mistake and was expelled from the Dao Army,” the burly man replied, his eyes darkening as he bowed.

“I see.” Yang Xuan nodded, resuming his walk toward the dungeon. After a few steps, he paused and asked, “What is your name?”

“Your servant is called Bull,” the man answered in a deep rumble.

Hearing this, Yang Xuan couldn’t help but steal a glance. The name was rustic but undeniably apt.

“Come with me. Lead me to my unfortunate third brother.”

“Yes, sir!”

...

The dungeon, a dank and shadowy cave, was filled with groans and whimpers, adding to the already oppressive gloom.

“A few days ago, our Huangfeng Mountain joined forces with Green Creek Isle to the north and attacked a den of demonfolk. These creatures were captured there. Since their slave marks have not yet been set, they are being held here for now,” Bull explained, noticing Yang Xuan’s interest in the half-human, half-beast prisoners.

Yang Xuan nodded. “Why only demonfolk?” But as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized his blunder.

For a cultivation family, only non-humans were enslaved with marks for labor; humans were rarely imprisoned. If an enemy was from another clan, they were ransomed. If not, or if they couldn’t pay, they were executed. Human prisoners from noble families were generally housed comfortably, not thrown into dungeons.

Thankfully, Bull misunderstood, thinking Yang Xuan was inquiring about other non-human races.

“Second Young Master, within Fuyou County, aside from demonfolk, few other races are seen. Thus, one rarely encounters any others here.”

“I see.” Fearing he might again say something foolish, Yang Xuan remained silent, gesturing for Bull to hurry and bring him to Yang Qian.

Before long, they reached Yang Qian’s cell.

Upon seeing the scene inside, Yang Xuan could only shake his head. Any talk of suffering was clearly just for show.

As the son of a feudal lord, even though Yang Huaiyun had ordered his confinement, the guards were hardly fools. If the master’s son were to perish, they alone would bear the blame.

The supposedly miserable cell was illuminated by several luminous pearls set into the stone walls. A thick, luxurious carpet covered the damp floor, and a lavish bed stood in one corner. Yang Qian, who should have been suffering, was instead feasting and drinking, attended by several beautiful maidservants. Were it not for his disheveled hair and the grim setting, one could almost believe he was here to enjoy himself.

At Yang Xuan and Bull’s approach, the two guards outside the cell grew visibly uncomfortable. Favoring one young master risked offending the other—a no-win situation.

Yang Qian’s mother indeed wielded great influence on Huangfeng Mountain. Yet Yang Xuan was no pushover either—his own elder brother was the heir, his sister married into another powerful family. With such support, his position was strong. Now that he himself had become the mountain’s third Foundation Establishment cultivator, his already formidable faction had grown even stronger.

No matter how persuasive Lady Yang or the other wives might be, they could hardly shake Yang Xuan’s standing—after all, he was now a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

“Second Young Master, you’re here!” The two guards wiped the sweat from their brows, offering cautious flattery.

Yang Xuan ignored them. He had no intention of troubling those who merely survived between the cracks of greater powers.

“Brother Qian, it seems imprisonment suits you well! No need to cultivate—just endless merriment. I’d thought to release you, but perhaps you’d rather stay.”

He signaled Bull to open the cell and walked in, shaking his head.

“Yang Xuan, spare me your false concern! I’ll have you know, once I’m out of here—” Yang Qian, who had been lounging on the floor, sprang up and jabbed a finger at Yang Xuan. Yet before he could finish, he suddenly found himself lifted bodily into the air.

Yang Xuan, the culprit, had used a spell to suspend him aloft. Cleaning out his ear, he asked with a smile, “What was that? What did you say you’d do once you’re out?”

“You broke through to Foundation Establishment?” Yang Qian, struggling in midair, exclaimed in shock.

“I owe it all to my dear brother! Were it not for you, I’d never have broken through on the brink of life and death. I’m ever so grateful,” Yang Xuan replied, his tone turning icy in the latter half. With a flick of his right hand, Yang Qian was sent flying, his head slamming into the wall.

A cry of pain, and Yang Qian fainted on the spot.

“Useless wretch!” Yang Xuan cursed under his breath. “Take him out and return him to Lady Yang. If Father asks, tell him I’ve forgiven the fool!”

With that, he ordered the two guards and the servant girls, and left.