Immortal Freeloader 97 (Patreon)

Even as I was running toward my first potential direct confrontation with a cultivator, what I was feeling was not fear, but excitement.

“Something must be wrong with me,” I muttered, but even as I said that I knew exactly where that feeling had been coming from. I had always been a competitive person, and liked to be better than other people. Not exactly the most flattering self-perception, but also true.

Otherwise, I wouldn’t have spent my life trying to be a world-class sprinter before everything had been derailed by an injury and I stumbled into my career as a professional boy toy.

My attitude was much different than the time I was trying to visit the cultivation market. Back then, cultivation was still a mystery. I had no idea what I would find at the market, armed with nothing but a bunch of defensive talismans.

Seeing that crazy swordsman Xantum casually slaughtering others hadn’t particularly helped me to calm down — thanks to every divine being he turned out to be the kind of outlier like a natural disaster than a normal encounter, closer to a meteor strike than a flood.

This time, I was more confident. Be it direct combat techniques or indirect support skills, I was strong enough to compete against even Peak Qi Gathering cultivators directly, and even if they had some surprises, I had more than enough surprises of my own.

Particularly with my formation skill taking the next step, allowing me to assemble formations much faster. Not instantly, but enough to turn a strategic tool into a tactical one.

“First time for everything,” I muttered as I moved to meet with the approach of the cultivator. The detection radius of my formations spread a hundred miles away from the capital, but I managed to catch up with him when he was still ninety miles away.

I observed him from a great distance, keeping my presence concealed just like he had been trying to do. A man, middle-aged, wearing coarse linen clothing, with a sheathed dagger the only weapon he was carrying. And, he had a large sack in his back.

An itinerant cultivator.

I wasn’t immediately able to pin down his exact stage, because he was trying to keep his cultivation hidden even as he ran. Just like me, he was trying to keep his cultivation hidden through martial skill — many itinerant cultivators did that. Unfortunately, he was nowhere near as skilled as a martial artist to do so against me.

A Bone Forging Martial artist, and Qi cultivator who was somewhere between the Third and Fifth stages.

I could easily ambush him, but I chose not to. He was not a threat, but a valuable source of information. I needed to understand why he suddenly appeared, and how it would go.

I moved a few miles back, and first prepared to set a formation that I could hide under just in case. I was confident in confronting him, but only an idiot wouldn’t take a safety measure that would only take a few seconds.

There was a nice valley that intersected with the path of the cultivator, which had a good geography that would help me to set the formation. At my level, I wasn’t restricted to geography anymore, but it would still quicken the process. I waved my hand, and a few strings of Qi spread around the valley, creating seven nodes to lay concealment and a protection formation. It could defend against a Peak Qi cultivator attack once, but if the need arose, I could reinforce it further.

With my escape path prepared, I stepped away from the valley, and started waiting for the cultivator behind a tree. I changed my clothes and put on a mask, and when he was near enough, I jumped to his path.

“Hello, fellow cultivator,” I said casually, which contrasted with the way I flared my Qi, and his face blanched.

“Fellow cultivator,” he replied, his tone respectable but tense as his eyes darted around, trying to assess my cultivation, and indirectly, his chances of success if he decided to fight.

From what I could gather, the confrontations between cultivators often turned into fighting, but it was not common for them to end up in death. Between itinerant cultivators, fighting was often a way to probe their general skill. The rest of the discussion went based on the difference in strength, especially when the stakes were not personal.

The stronger cultivators didn’t casually kill the weaker ones, because fighting was expensive in terms of Qi, not to mention there were many ways a weaker cultivator could harm a stronger one.

Assuming, the difference in strength was not an insurmountable gulf.

Now that we were closer, and I was flaring my Qi freely, I could see that he was at the Sixth Stage. Three levels above me. I was merely at the Third Stage, but with my Gate Transformation Technique at Major Integration, they were robust enough to match the output of a Fifth Stage.

The attack came in the form of a merciless slash, fast and flowing. His dagger jumped out, and half of his body was alight with Qi. A part of me, after years of living on Earth, shouted at me to run away, which was the appropriate response when a madman with a knife attacked.

It was even more intimidating when the said knife was covered with glowing Qi that lengthened the dagger five times, moving in an intricate pattern, like he was trying to attack the five locations at once, making it very difficult to understand.

As he attacked, his cultivation became even clearer. Fifth Stage.

I was unable to predict where was trying to attack. Retreating was the safest option … but I chose something different. I raised my palm, and waved gently. My Qi responded by spreading like a blanket in an effort to deflect all five attacks.

Three of the attacks had turned illusionary, while the other two had been deflected easily, the difference in skill levels proving vital. His Qi dagger attack was sharp and deadly, but my curtain of Qi embodied the concept of the Verdant Palm to a degree that was supposed to be impossible.

I felt a tension in me unravel. Even with all my advantages, a part of me had been afraid, that I wouldn’t be able to deal with the unfamiliar attack and would be defeated before reacting. But, it looked like I had underestimated the palm technique. I prepared for the second round…

Only to find the nameless cultivator kneeling in front of me. “Senior,” he said, his tone filled with fear and reverence in equal amounts, showing total submission, showing that he was ready to pay a lot for his disrespect.

Alright, maybe I was still underestimating the importance of such a great skill.

“Speak, what are you doing here?” I said.

“I’m here for the bounty, senior,” he replied readily. I didn’t bother asking who was the bounty target. It was clearly Aisnam. “I didn’t know such an esteemed one like yourself was interested in it. My apologies.”

“Which bounty?” I asked, deciding that it was a good way to ask that question.

“The one from Linnass, senior,” he said

“A mere mortal kingdom. I thought that finally, her family had decided to put a bounty,” I said. “What’s the bounty?” I said.

“Two hundred spirit stones, and a Profound artifact,” he said.

I frowned. It was an impressive amount. While the treasury of the mortal kingdoms might have more, they were under the protection of the cultivation families. Of course, such a bounty was not the fair price for a cultivator of Eight Stage, but it was very generous for an injured cultivator of Second Stage who struggled against martial artists even with the help of an artifact.

I had to admit, it was a nice ploy. There were only two possibilities. Either Aisnam had used her last trump card, and the assassins would be able to get rid of him easily; or she had more trump cards, and they would be revealed.

A cheap way for the rival faction of her family to get rid of her.

As I processed the effectiveness of the trick, I realized another reason why cultivators hadn’t taken over mortal kingdoms, which wasn’t fully restricted by their Pact. By taking the role of the Queen Regent, Aisnam had turned herself into an easy target, where the itinerant cultivators could target her with the flimsiest of excuses.

Cultivator politics were complicated.

“And, you want to move immediately, instead of discovering the reason for bounty?” I asked.

“This junior is stupid and impatient,” he said. “I didn’t know Senior was protecting her.”

“Not a problem. Mistakes are the domain of youth,” I said, acting like an old man. “It just shows in your lack of experience. You’re lucky to survive and learn.”

I was talking to gain some time. I wasn’t willing to kill him, and while I could break his cultivation for his ‘disrespect’ I didn’t want to do it either. Not because I was being too merciful … but I was wondering the best way to manipulate him.

It clicked.

“Another lesson. Don’t forget, small fish is not tasty,” I said.

His eyes widened. “You mean.”

“Exactly. I’m here because I expect them to increase the bounty. I will only act once the bounty rises to a point that satisfies me,” I said, giving a reasonable excuse for my intervention. Whether the ones behind it would believe, I didn’t know, but it was worth a try. “Now, leave your sack and the book that’s hidden under your shirt, but you can keep your dagger,” I said, like I wasn’t robbing him.

“Thank you, Senior,” he said as he followed my order, bowed one last time, and left.

Leaving me with my loot and my thoughts.