Chapter Sixteen: Advancement of Techniques

Following the waiter’s pointing finger, Dao Sansheng looked over and indeed saw a separate courtyard. On the left stood a spirit beast stable, and on the right was a row of rooms, likely woodsheds. He did not wish to mingle with others, so this suited him just fine.

Soon, after circling to the back of the inn, he found a stone hut, which he surmised must be the hayloft. “Please rest, honored guest. Hot water and toiletries will be brought shortly,” the waiter said before departing.

Inside the stone hut was a small wooden bed. On the floor, remnants of hay and straw, not entirely cleaned up, suggested the place had been hastily tidied. A brand-new set of bedding lay atop the bed. Unbothered by such details, Dao Sansheng simply removed his shoes and sat cross-legged to meditate—a habit of his.

Knock, knock, knock... a sound at the door.

“Just leave things outside, I’ll fetch them myself,” he called, assuming it was the waiter with hot water. But when he opened the door, it turned out to be the burly, bearded man who had traveled with the caravan.

“Young friend, Miss Xue’er asked me to look after you. If anything happens tonight, let me know. I’m close by and can come over in no time. If you don’t mind, let’s exchange spirit sense marks for easier contact.”

A spirit sense mark was a common means of short-range communication, where both parties left a trace of their spiritual consciousness on each other, making it easier to communicate at close distances.

Dao Sansheng hadn’t intended to bother with him, but for Xue’er’s sake, he accepted and exchanged marks. Just as he was about to close the door, the waiter arrived.

“Here is your hot water and toiletries, honored guest. If you want anything to eat, just let me know,” the waiter said cheerfully.

“Bring a jug of warm wine and some fine spirit beast meat for this guest,” the bearded man instructed.

“It’s late, I won’t eat. I still have to cultivate—and I brought my own rations. Senior, you eat; have as much as you like,” Dao Sansheng politely declined the bearded man’s arrangements.

“Then bring it all over, and make sure it’s plenty. There are a lot of us,” the bearded man ordered the waiter.

Dao Sansheng took the things, shut the door, washed up, and sat cross-legged to continue his cultivation.

Although people often said the autumn air was crisp and cool, there were still bouts of oppressive heat. The stone hut was stifling, and though cultivators were usually unaffected by temperature, Dao Sansheng was only at the first level of Qi training—a mere novice, far from such immunity.

He sat cross-legged on the bed, focusing inward. To his surprise, he found two clusters within his dantian: a cold ice crystal and a ball of fire. Sometimes they merged, sometimes they separated, chasing each other around his core.

Dao Sansheng couldn’t make sense of it, so he turned to his spiritual detection mirror. Sweeping it over himself, he was startled by what he saw.

Three Lives Mantra, Earth Chapter
Immortal-grade Technique
Quality: White
Grade: Superior
Cultivation Requirements: None, chooses its master at random.
Cultivation Method: Devouring Evolution
Requires: Flame, Ice Crystal
Technique Description: Can grow into an Immortal Mantra. Currently White Superior grade.

Last time he inspected his technique, it had been merely White Elementary. Now it had jumped three subgrades to White Superior, and a cultivation method had appeared. He had never practiced this technique, yet now he knew it—and his dantian possessed an unnamed flame. If fortune smiled, he would accept it; if misfortune, it could not be avoided. Having already begun, he resolved to upgrade it as best he could.

Sweat poured from his skin; he awoke, unable to bear the heat, his clothes drenched and his face slick with perspiration. This room was clearly unlivable. Dao Sansheng rose and prepared to step outside.

Opening the door, he found it was deep into the night. Quiet enveloped the surroundings. He saw a towering haystack, which seemed an excellent spot to recline and gaze at the night sky. Dao Sansheng climbed up and lay down.

The hay was soft, and as he settled in, he pressed a deep hollow into the stack, his body half enveloped by it, blending into the mound.

All was silent. The stars above shone brilliantly, meteors streaking across the sky. Dao Sansheng thought of his distant homeland, wondering when he might return.

Lost in thought, he heard a noise—footsteps approaching. Turning his head, he saw two figures, then a third appear. Judging by their build and faces, they seemed vaguely familiar.

It came to him at once—these were the three men drinking in the main hall earlier. Dao Sansheng watched as they entered the stone hut, rummaging through things, followed by muffled voices.

“That fellow ran off. Impossible! I saw with my own eyes the waiter bring out the spirit beast meat I’d laced with drugs, and told the innkeeper it was for the distinguished guests staying outside.”

“Big brother, do you think they’ve caught on?” another voice asked.

“Nonsense, how could they? Let’s check over there,” the leader said. The three left the stone hut and headed toward the spirit beast stable.

Dao Sansheng realized they were after the gifts intended for the benefactor Li—the ones that had been carried on the carts during the day for show and ceremony, but would certainly be stowed in storage bags at night for safety. These men were after those storage bags.

He remembered the spirit sense mark the bearded man had left with him. After a moment’s thought, he decided to inform the bearded man, though not in so many words.

“Senior, there are three thieves after the gifts. I got up in the night and saw them heading your way. Be careful,” he transmitted directly.

In the woodshed, six people were lying down. One was on night watch, but had already fallen asleep. The bearded man was among them. The spirit sense message arrived instantly in his mind.

He turned over and tried to rouse his men.

“Xiao Yu, wake up!” He shook him repeatedly with no response, then turned to another, and another, but none stirred.

Only then did the bearded man realize something was wrong with the food. As the leader, he had always been cautious in his years on the road, so while the others drank and ate meat, he abstained, wary of just such an event.

After all, none of them had reached the Foundation Establishment stage; their bodies were still mortal, and ordinary potions could easily sap their strength and dull their senses.

As the three thieves neared the woodshed, their movements grew increasingly stealthy. One crept up to the window, gently pried it open a crack, and peered inside at the six sleeping figures—just as they’d hoped. The two behind him were about to follow when he stopped them.

“We’re two short. Let’s wait and see,” the leader murmured.

The other two exchanged glances and whispered in unison, “Big brother, if we don’t act now, the other two will come back and it’ll be too late.”

The leader hesitated, fingering the storage bags at his waist, as if making up his mind. Then he tossed a dagger into the room, embedding it in one of the sleepers. Seeing no reaction, he relaxed.

He gestured to the others. The two men swiftly climbed through the window and began rifling through the bodies on the beds. Only then did the leader follow them inside.