Chapter 166: Qian Hong
The black-robed cultivator was so furious he vomited blood, while Mo Hua, who had used Fireball Technique, appeared utterly at ease.
In the days that followed, the Qian Family's cultivators ceased their attacks. Mo Hua spent his time drawing formation diagrams, strolling about, inspecting the spirit mine, admiring the mountain scenery, and calculating how many days' worth of meat still remained in his Storage Bag.
That day, noticing Elder Yu's grave expression, Mo Hua could not help but ask: "Elder Yu, has the Qian Family made another move?"
"Not yet," Elder Yu replied, taking a slow sip of wine, "but that old turtle Qian Hong should be arriving soon."
"Old turtle?"
"Qian Hong."
"Oh, the head of the Qian Family?" Mo Hua's expression grew cautious. "Is Qian Hong formidable?"
Elder Yu snorted dismissively. "About the same as Qian Zhongxuan."
"Then how did he become the head of the family?"
Elder Yu chuckled. "There are many hidden currents in such matters. In cultivation clans and sects, there are countless who sit in high seats yet do nothing. To rise to power, strength and skill are not the only measures. If one can boast, scheme, deceive, and flatter, that is often far more effective than honest work."
A cold sneer tugged at Elder Yu's lips. "Those so-called 'superiors,' dressed like gentlemen, are often little more than hollow fools."
Mo Hua's eyes widened with new understanding. "So… Qian Hong is one of those fools?"
"Not exactly."
"Then he's the scheming kind?"
Elder Yu nodded. "Indeed. Qian Hong's mind runs deep. Now that Qian Zhongxuan has suffered a great defeat, he will surely come to pick up the scraps."
"Pick up the scraps?" Mo Hua blinked. "Even scraps from his own family?"
Elder Yu gave a dry laugh. "The Qian Family is large. Counting the bloodlines, they're all one clan. Yet because they are one clan, they are not family at all. When everyone is 'one of us,' that only means everyone is fair game."
Mo Hua scratched his head. "So the Qian Family is that full of infighting?"
Elder Yu raised an eyebrow. "Did you think I called them white-eyed wolves for no reason? The Qian Family treats their own kin just as they treat outsiders. If there's meat, they'll eat it, no matter whose flesh it comes from."
Mo Hua clicked his tongue in disbelief. "Then what shall we do?"
Elder Yu stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Time to think about running."
"Running?" Mo Hua's eyes brightened. "You mean the spirit mine's been fully mined?"
Elder Yu shook his head. "No. We won't finish it."
Mo Hua sighed in regret. "That's such a waste…"
Elder Yu chuckled. "When we eat the meat, it's only fair to leave the Qian Family some soup."
...
As night fell and mountain winds howled, a new group of cultivators arrived at the Qian Family's encampment. Leading them was none other than the Qian Family Patriarch, Qian Hong.
Qian Zhongxuan stood in the cold outside the camp with his men, respectfully awaiting Qian Hong's arrival.
Qian Hong was a man past middle age, his hair half white, his features handsome yet proud. His eyes were sharp, scanning like an eagle sizing up its prey.
Qian Zhongxuan clasped his hands. "Welcome, Patriarch."
The surrounding Qian Family cultivators bowed in unison.
Qian Hong gave a curt nod and followed Qian Zhongxuan into the camp.
Once seated and alone, Qian Hong asked, "How goes the battle?"
Qian Zhongxuan gave a brief summary.
Qian Hong sighed. "Elder Qian, you were too hasty. They're trapped inside and cannot flee. You should have worn them down slowly. Your impatience caused unnecessary losses."
Qian Zhongxuan's face flushed with shame, but he could not refute it.
Whether he attacked, defended, or surrounded them, the result was failure, and there was always someone ready to find fault.
He had indeed lost, spent countless spirit stones, lost many men, and utterly disgraced himself.
He could only grit his teeth and say, "The Patriarch's words are wise."
Qian Hong glanced sidelong at him, his tone slow and deliberate.
"Still, Elder Qian, you've worked hard. The clan will remember your… efforts. From here on, allow me to handle the aftermath. You need not trouble yourself further."
Qian Zhongxuan nearly cursed aloud.
"Remember my efforts?" Meaning, no actual credit at all!
"Patriarch," he protested, forcing composure, "you are busy with family affairs. How could we trouble you with the spirit mine? Just give me a few more men, and I will surely take it!"
"Elder Qian," Qian Hong frowned. "I trust your ability and would gladly leave this to you. But after such losses, I cannot explain that to the clan."
His voice grew solemn, tinged with false sorrow. "The damage has already been too great."
Qian Zhongxuan sneered silently in his heart.
Hypocrite. Where were you before? You just waited for me to fight Elder Yu to exhaustion, spend my fortune and manpower, so you could waltz in and reap the rewards.
Then all the merit, the spirit mine, and the prestige would be yours.
A perfect scheme.
He cursed himself for his greed, for taking the bait and agreeing to manage this mess in the first place.
Worse, he never imagined Yu Changlin would have so many unpredictable tricks. The loss this time was truly ruinous.
Qian Hong lifted his teacup and took a leisurely sip. "Elder Qian, are you dissatisfied?"
Qian Zhongxuan was filled with rage but knew he had no standing to protest. He could only bow and grit out, "I will obey the Patriarch's command."
"Good." Qian Hong lowered his gaze, a faint smile curling his lips. After a pause, his tone shifted casually.
"Tell me then, Elder Qian, why did you fail this time?"
Qian Zhongxuan hesitated, then said, "Among the demon hunters, there is a formation master."
Qian Hong raised an eyebrow. "A first-grade one?"
"Perhaps not quite, but not far from it…"
Qian Hong shook his head. "I consulted Master Qian. The Earthfire Formation used by that formation master contained only seven formation runes."
"This…"
Qian Hong's smile carried mockery. "Seven runes barely qualify one as a proper formation master, yet in your eyes that's nearly first-grade? You may not be a formation master yourself, but such an error is disappointing."
For any formation master, each rune marked a vast difference in mastery, it was not a small gap, but a chasm.
Qian Zhongxuan's face burned with shame. He could not argue.
Qian Hong continued. "Any other reason?"
Suppressing his anger, Qian Zhongxuan said, "There was also a cultivator skilled in spell arts…"
Qian Hong's eyes glinted with derision. "One?"
"I… am not certain. Possibly more than one…"
"High cultivation?"
After a pause, Qian Zhongxuan muttered, "Likely below late Qi-Refining…"
Qian Hong laughed softly and shook his head. "Elder Qian, Elder Qian. A formation master who can only draw seven runes, and one—or perhaps a few—cultivators below late Qi-Refining…"
He sighed with feigned exasperation, his gaze mocking. "And this is enough to cause you such heavy losses? How am I supposed to defend you before the clan? Who would believe such excuses?"
Qian Zhongxuan's face turned crimson, his fingers whitening from his clenched fists.
Seeing he had pressed far enough, Qian Hong relaxed his tone.
"Enough. What's done is done. Further talk is pointless. Leave the rest to me."
Qian Zhongxuan's face alternated between red and white. He bowed stiffly.
"May I ask what the Patriarch intends to do?"
Qian Hong smiled with composure, took another sip of tea, and said mildly, "As I said, there is no need to rush. I have my methods."
Qian Zhongxuan swallowed his resentment and said deferentially, "Then I shall rely entirely on the Patriarch."
Outwardly respectful, inwardly sneering, Qian Zhongxuan thought, In terms of ability, we're equals. He's just thicker-skinned and more ruthless.
He might have failed to deal with those demon hunters, but he doubted Qian Hong—the opportunist—would fare any better.
That formation master and that spell cultivator looked unremarkable, yet once encountered, one learned how troublesome they truly were.
A flash of disdain crossed Qian Zhongxuan's eyes as he silently awaited Qian Hong's impending humiliation.
(End of Chapter)