Chapter 300 Xiaoyaozi

While the Wolf Daoist’s mind was filled with tragic resolve, deciding to "bet" once more, the situation on the other side—in the Red Ridge, about twenty li from Rong City—was not as he had expected.

He imagined that the Jackal Daoist in Red Ridge might take advantage of the chaos to immediately storm Rong City. But in reality...

At this moment, the Jackal Daoist had not yet left Red Ridge.

In the Wolf Daoist’s plan, the Jackal Daoist was the protagonist. But at this moment in Red Ridge, he was merely a supporting character—or rather, not even a supporting character, but just part of the "background."

Red Ridge was a low, small mountain range. But "small" was relative. Otherwise, Red Ridge, having been mined by the people of Rong City for many years, would have disappeared long ago.

Red Ridge was hidden within the outskirts of the Stone Forest Mountain in Qing Kingdom, surrounded by towering stone peaks. Only this ridge grew trees and was lush with greenery. A corner was missing to the southwest—the result of years of mining.

Clustered houses, derricks, and piles of gravel and dirt were heaped at this gap, giving it the appearance of a small town. Nearly half of the labor force in Rong City worked here year-round. The result was a gap dug into the ground and numerous crisscrossing mine tunnels excavated underground.

Where the vegetation was thickest on the ridge, there was another Grotto-heaven—some taller, more magnificent houses were built there, offering a commanding view of the surrounding situation of Red Ridge. On a night like this, the houses in the mining area had long since fallen into darkness, but the lights in the houses on the ridge were still lit.

The Jackal Daoist, whom the Wolf Daoist feared, was standing in the central hall of a large house, quietly listening to two other people converse.

The house was built of thick, old bamboo, making it somewhat chilly on this early autumn night. But the three people in the room didn't care about heat or cold—after all, none of them seemed to be ordinary mortals.

Only a single oil lamp burned on the table in the room, illuminating a small area. The Jackal Daoist stood in the dim shadows of the corner, a faint green light glowing in his eyes, listening while looking out the window toward Rong City.

Fifteen minutes ago, fires had broken out in Rong City, making half the night sky glow faintly. Fifteen minutes later, heavy rain clouds appeared over Rong City, pouring rain into the city like an overturned basin. Thus, the fires were now out, leaving only the un-dispersed clouds.

The Jackal Daoist did indeed want to lead the demons into the city immediately, but unfortunately, he was not the one in charge here.

The current person in charge was standing in the hall, his body gleaming with the cold light of metal. This was not a metaphor—it was the master of the Sword Palace mentioned by Wang Bojian, the traitor who once served the Wood South Residence and the Painting Saint, Yang Jianzi.

He looked as though he were cast from steel.

He was fair-skinned, with a neat, short beard, and his hair was tied in a meticulous Daoist bun without a single stray strand. Even his blue-gray Daoist robe hung perfectly straight; the night wind blowing in through the window could hardly make it flutter even the slightest bit.

Whether it was his skin, hair, or clothes, everything shimmered with a faint light. It was as if he were originally crafted from various metals and then polished into the shape of a man.

At this moment, the iron-like Yang Jianzi was conversing with another person. Compared to Yang Jianzi's extraordinary appearance, that person looked... far too ordinary.

He appeared to be nothing more than a middle-aged scholar. He wore a lake-green silk robe and a black gauze square hat. He wasn't particularly handsome or ugly, possessing the kind of common face that would be hard to find again once lost in a crowd.

But now, as Yang Jianzi spoke with him, his body was slightly leaned forward.

This meant the master of the rogue Sword Palace cared deeply about every word this man said, even using such a posture of attentive listening to show respect.

Thus, as the Jackal Daoist turned his head for the third time to look at Rong City in the night, he heard the scholar say, "...it must be a trap set by the opponent. Master, please look at those rain clouds over Rong City."

Saying this, the scholar moved to the window. The Jackal Daoist hurried to step aside. He was in human form now, but there was still yellow down on his cheeks, making it look like he had a golden beard.

The scholar raised his hand and pointed toward Rong City. "The rain clouds are low and heavy, only covering Rong City. They appeared suddenly, and the rain is falling fiercely. With the Master's cultivation, it is not hard to see that someone has used a divine power. Right now, there must be a high-level master stationed in Rong City. If we go rashly now, I fear we will fall right into their trap."

The Jackal Daoist remained expressionless, quickly glancing at his master.

Unfortunately, Yang Jianzi possessed a dignified and solemn face; whether he was smiling or angry, he seemed to be wearing a mask, so the Jackal Daoist couldn't guess his thoughts. But he knew his own thoughts—

He was truly reaching the end of his patience with this guy.

The middle-aged scholar in the hall called himself Xiaoyaozi—he had appeared when Yang Jianzi came to seek refuge near Rong City. The Jackal Daoist didn't know what his background was, nor did he dare to ask. But he knew his master followed his words and trusted him implicitly.

Reasonably, every ambitious leader who wants to dominate a region has a "military counselor" figure by their side. But the problem was what this guy said...

Just like right now.

"The rain clouds are low and heavy, so someone must have used divine power and there's an ambush in the city"—this was something even the Jackal Daoist could infer and guess, let alone his master. But this Xiaoyaozi just had to mysteriously summon the two of them and put on an act before wasting nearly half an hour to say this nonsense.

Then, as he was doing now, he snapped open the Folding Fan in his hand, fanning it gently in front of him, and looked up slightly at Yang Jianzi—

As if he had just revealed some incredible "great secret" and was now waiting to harvest Yang Jianzi's shock and admiration.

The Jackal Daoist sighed inwardly.

It was like this every time. And every time, his master would—

Yang Jianzi took a deep breath, suddenly bowed to Xiaoyaozi, and a stiff smile appeared on his face. "Ah... so that’s how it is! If not for your reminder, sir, I fear we would have truly fallen for the opponent’s scheme!"

The Jackal Daoist sighed again. He really didn't know what Xiaoyaozi's background was... that even his master had to patiently humor him.

He almost wanted to kill the guy.

But he was no fool; he knew if the man really had a major background, acting impulsively would only bring trouble to his master. Thus, in the six years since Yang Jianzi arrived at Red Ridge near Rong City, the Jackal Daoist had been trying to collect any bit of information regarding Xiaoyaozi, hoping to find a way to solve the problem.