The Immortal Seeker’s Society and the True Identity

“The feeling is mutual,” Xu Qingzhu replied, drawing forth a high-grade magical artifact—a gleaming longsword.

This particular sword had once belonged to Su Mo, but her previous one had snapped, proving itself to be rather disposable. This was its replacement.

Su Mo watched, a distinct pang of heartache twisting in her chest.

Before their hurried escape, she had thoroughly raided her family’s treasury. The ‘original Su Mo’ had expended a considerable amount of these resources while fleeing her pursuers. What remained, while perhaps not the absolute finest, were still artifacts rarely encountered in the mortal realm.

Otherwise, they would have been forced to seek such items within the treacherous cultivation world itself.

Glancing around, Su Mo noted Lian Huan’s absence before leaning close to Xu Qingzhu’s ear.

“What is this Daoist hiding?”

“Indeed.” Xu Qingzhu already knew, of course, without a word needing to be spoken.

In fact, from the moment the paper sedan chair had first manifested, he had already harbored a faint suspicion of a particular possibility.

—The individual standing before them might not be real.

Masters of the paper-figure craft possessed the ability to conjure a ‘real person’ so lifelike it was indistinguishable from the genuine article.

Such a creation could act in its creator’s stead, imbued with a multitude of powers.

‘Where would they hide it?’ Xu Qingzhu mused, his gaze subtly sweeping the surroundings. He hadn’t anticipated the Daoist would possess a magical artifact capable of concealing his true aura.

It was likely a truly valuable item, a spiritual treasure that eluded his immediate perception, requiring him to expend some time to activate a secret art.

“It seems both of you are aware of what I seek,” Bai Yunbo said, his eyes narrowing. “Can you not simply be straightforward and hand it over yourselves?”

“Hand it over and everything will be fine? How utterly laughable,” Su Mo scoffed, drawing forth her Yin-Thunder Bow.

Bai Yunbo shook his head, for he had long since investigated the true capabilities of these two individuals.

One was at the Great Perfection of Qi Condensation, while the other’s Foundation Establishment stage remained a mystery. Despite the incomplete intelligence, he was confident of his victory.

As a cultivator at the Half-step Golden Core realm, practicing the Red Dust Path, Bai Yunbo harbored no doubt that he was inferior to no one.

“Why should my century of arduous cultivation pale in comparison to your mere meditation, your false asceticism!” he bellowed, his disdain for sect cultivators palpable.

In his eyes, they were all pseudo-cultivators, ignorant of everything, unwilling to learn anything, and merely molded into convenient forms by their respective sects.

This fundamental divergence was but one of many between the Red Dust Path and Sect Cultivation, a schism that had driven both factions to fervent, ceaseless conflict.

Viewed through this lens, the downfall of the Su family seemed an almost inevitable outcome.

With a Red Dust cultivator as their progenitor, the Su family, rooted in such a foundation, could never truly assimilate into the tightly knit circles of the sects.

Such a profound chasm would likely demand a peerless expert to bridge.

But Su Mo had never once entertained such thoughts, and neither had Xu Qingzhu.

She was too preoccupied with the immediate situation, finding herself overwhelmed and struggling to cope.

‘I’m just an ordinary person,’ she thought. Even after transmigrating into this world, she steadfastly held onto that belief.

Her sole motivation for seeking strength had always been self-preservation.

Yet, who among them truly understood their own path? Much later, Su Mo would find herself bewildered, unable to comprehend how she had suddenly transformed into a revered saint in the eyes of others.

“Ignorant fools,” Bai Yunbo sneered, and with a swift flick of his wrist, the paper figures stirred, beginning their eerie dance.

The paper figures, each painstakingly adorned with the faces of mortals, interwove their steps. Their movements were grotesque, yet they advanced with a disturbingly cheerful agility.

One paper figure, brushing inadvertently against the doorframe, saw its delicate paper arm effortlessly slice a deep gash into the wood.

Amidst the spectral chaos, the faint cries of children seemed to echo in her ears, sending a chilling tremor through Su Mo’s very soul.

It was only when Xu Qingzhu moved, his sword slicing with a sharp ‘clack,’ that Su Mo finally registered the incessant jingle of bells.

“Where are those bells coming from?” Su Mo asked, snapping back to reality as she nocked an arrow to her bowstring.

“Whoosh!” An arrow, crackling with lightning, tore through the mass of paper figures.

With the special attack bonus enhancing her shot, Su Mo’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Yet, her satisfaction quickly gave way to utter speechlessness.

Bai Yunbo lifted a wooden bucket and began splashing its contents. The peculiar black-and-yellow liquid drenched the paper figures, astonishingly rendering the usually infallible lightning arrow utterly useless.

Though the arrow tore holes in them, the paper figures refused to ignite, continuing their lively, bouncing movements.

“This Daoist seems to be a folk paper-figure master who has achieved enlightenment through his craft,” Xu Qingzhu murmured, raising his longsword. “His comprehension is exceptionally high, placing him among the generation’s true geniuses.”

“A paper-figure master achieving the Dao?” Su Mo exclaimed, her tongue clicking in astonishment.

The Su family’s archives contained ancient texts detailing such phenomena, which the ‘original Su Mo’ had been compelled to read, retaining only fragmented memories.

Individuals blessed with immense fortune and profound comprehension could, by virtue of their exceptional craftsmanship, achieve enlightenment through their chosen art.

Be it scissorsmiths, paper-figure artisans, oil vendors, pig butchers, even thieves or coffin makers…

Strange and diverse as they were, these were the scattered, enigmatic forces within the mortal realm that now stood as one of the primary bulwarks against demons and malevolent spirits.

Venture into the remote, desolate mountains where villages dared to carve out an existence, and you’d find that those who settled there were almost invariably such hidden masters.

Such places invariably concealed folk experts.

“This Bai Yunbo can tell fortunes and craft paper figures. What exactly is his origin?” Su Mo wondered, suspecting the Daoist’s reputation was far from insignificant.

‘Are we about to face a situation where we’ve dealt with the small fry, only for the elder to appear?’

“Hahahaha! Scared, are we? This old Daoist is a proud member of the Immortal Seeker’s Society!” Bai Yunbo declared, stroking his beard with an air of profound mystery.

“The Immortal Seeker’s Society?” Su Mo blinked, a flicker of recognition in her eyes.

The name struck a familiar chord, echoing from the pages of the book. It was an underground organization that convened under the guise of seeking immortal destiny, engaging in trade, cooperation, intelligence exchange, and discussions on cultivation methods.

Truth be told, members met under false identities, fostering no genuine bonds. They were a scattered, disparate collective, far from a united and friendly family.

‘You should have said so earlier; I thought you were some formidable powerhouse,’ Su Mo thought, exhaling a quiet sigh of relief. She figured even if she scattered Bai Yunbo’s ashes to the winds, no one would utter a single word of protest.

“Now that you’re aware of the Immortal Seeker’s Society, do you still dare to resist?” Bai Yunbo bellowed, straightening his back with an indignant air.

Yet, the expressions in their eyes were decidedly peculiar, alarmingly out of place.

A jolt of alarm ran through Bai Yunbo; he simply couldn’t believe it.

He, who had divined countless heavenly secrets, had found the Immortal Seeker’s Society to be an elusive entity. How could these two know of it as if it were common knowledge?

‘Could it be that this very couple was among the individuals I conducted transactions with just a few days ago?’

The more he pondered, the more the pieces seemed to fit. Several indistinct figures flickered in his mind, tantalizingly familiar yet frustratingly vague.

In truth, it wasn’t Bai Yunbo’s incompetence at fault; the Immortal Seeker’s Society was genuinely beyond the ken of ordinary cultivators.

The primary reason lay in the two individuals before him, who defied all common sense: one had transmigrated into a novel, and the other had been reborn.

Bai Yunbo’s current predicament and subsequent loss were, therefore, entirely understandable.

“Xu Qingzhu, are you going to fight?” Su Mo asked, observing his inaction. She had almost begun to suspect the Daoist possessed terrifying, hidden power.

‘He’s not even Golden Core, so why is he being so cautious?’

As a mental blueprint materialized in his mind, he saw a phantom figure, strikingly similar to the Daoist, flicker on the rooftop. A subtle smile touched Xu Qingzhu’s lips.

‘Found you,’ he thought, then turned his gaze to Su Mo.

He flicked her forehead, feigning a look of mild displeasure.

“Why are you so anxious about your husband’s business?”

Rubbing her forehead, Su Mo glared at him with wide, indignant eyes, immediately retorting:

“Who’s your wife!”

“No matter, you will be in the future.”

“Impossible, absolutely impossible!”

****

Hair bristling with indignation, Bai Yunbo resolved to teach these ‘presumptuous’ youngsters a lesson in true power.

“I summon the Heavenly Thunder Punishment!” he roared, his voice cutting through their banter.

Both of them turned simultaneously to see him vigorously waving a hanging banner, conjuring a sudden gust of wind.

“Boom!” The sky above truly began to churn with storm clouds, the bizarre phenomenon immediately alarming Dangyang County.

Numerous cultivators openly soared into the sky, standing atop their swords with hands clasped behind their backs, shouting:

“What fellow Daoist dares to…?”

The Demon Suppression Bureau was naturally aware of the disturbance, but despite using their magical artifacts to track the aura, they struggled to pinpoint the exact location.

“The heavenly secrets are in disarray, but the method is quite crude. Sir, it won’t take long!”

After a moment, they managed to break through one layer of concealment, only to suddenly discover another!

They had initially thought it could be easily shattered, but the more they examined it, the more unsettling it became.

“Sir, this technique is far more terrifying than the previous one. We cannot unravel it!”

“Are you saying there’s another master at play?” The Demon Suppression Bureau’s Golden Core cultivator narrowed his eyes.

He gazed up at the sky, his mood growing heavy as thunderclouds billowed overhead.

Fortunately, there was one piece of relatively good news.

A subordinate stepped forward:

“Sir, the cultivator with the severed arm just woke up. He hasn’t uttered a single word.”

“Do not act rashly. Follow me.”

“Yes, sir.”