Before embarking on his "investigation," Wei knew he had to observe the proper protocols. An elder leaving the sect on official business, especially into the territory of a rival, was not a trivial matter. It required informing the Sect Master. He made his way from Silent Bloom Peak to the central, highest mountain in the sect: Jade Emperor Peak, where the Sect Master, a reclusive Spirit Emperor, resided in near-permanent seclusion.
Wei didn't expect an audience. The Sect Master hadn't been seen in public for over a century. Instead, he presented himself at the base of the peak, before the grand 'Palace of Verdant Skies', where the sect's day-to-day affairs were managed by the First Elder. He submitted a formal report, co-signed by Elder Mei, detailing the attack on her spiritual beast and the evidence pointing towards the Blackwood Sect's Iron Rot Spore. He requested permission to travel to the Shadowfen Marsh to ascertain the Blackwood Sect's intentions.
The approval was granted within the hour, delivered by a stern-faced deacon. The First Elder's message was simple: "Be discreet. Do not provoke open conflict. Uphold the honor of the sect."
Wei bowed, accepting the jade slip containing the official sanction. The words were a warning, but the unspoken message was clear: do what is necessary, but do not be caught. It was the perfect mandate.
He returned to his peak to find his friends waiting for him. Elder Jin, the stoic body cultivator, stood with his arms crossed, a silent pillar of support. Elder Guan, the formation master, was pacing back and forth, his brow furrowed with worry.
"The Blackwood Sect's territory is no paradise, Wei," Guan said, his boisterous voice unusually subdued. "Their people are as treacherous as their swamps. Are you sure you don't want me to set up a long-range teleportation array for a quick escape?"
"That would be the opposite of discreet, Guan," Wei replied with a faint smile. "I will be fine. This is merely a reconnaissance mission."
"Hmph. Reconnaissance," Jin grunted, his first words since arriving. "If you find the one who harmed Mei's beast, break their bones. I will deal with the political fallout."
Wei appreciated the sentiment. Their small family on Silent Bloom Peak was fiercely loyal. "I will keep that in mind," he said. He turned to Xiao Yu, who was coiled at his feet. "You will stay and guard the peak, old friend." The serpent let out a low hiss of disappointment but obeyed, slithering back towards the pagoda.
Wei walked with his friends to the sect's main gate, a formality he had to observe. Once he stepped outside the sect's protective formations, he was on his own. He bid them farewell and began walking down the main road, looking for all the world like a simple traveling scholar.
He continued this charade for several miles, until the sect was a distant silhouette behind him. Once he was certain no prying eyes were upon him, he stopped in a secluded forest grove. He placed two fingers in his mouth and let out a low, buzzing whistle, a sound that was absorbed by the trees.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, the air began to hum. From the canopy above, a cloud of black and gold descended. It was not a cloud of smoke, but a swarm of bees, each one the size of a man's fist. Their wings beat with a low, powerful thrum, and their stingers, visible at their abdomens, dripped with a faint, shimmering venom. These were his Golden-Striped Venom Fliers, a species he had cultivated over decades for their potent venom and incredible stamina.
The swarm coalesced before him, forming a solid, living platform about two meters wide. Wei stepped onto it without hesitation. The bees adjusted their positions, their collective strength easily supporting his weight. With a mental command, the bee-cloud lifted silently into the air and shot towards the south at a speed that surpassed most low-grade flying artifacts. It was his preferred method of long-distance travel—unassuming, quiet, and a weapon in its own right. Anyone foolish enough to attack a strange cloud in the sky would be in for a nasty surprise.
The journey to the Shadowfen Marsh took two days. He flew high above the clouds, meditating on the bee-cloud, conserving his energy. The landscape below gradually changed from the lush, green mountains of his sect to a flat, dreary expanse of murky water and twisted, black trees. The air grew heavy and humid, thick with the smell of decay. This was the domain of the Blackwood Sect.
He dismissed the bee-swarm a few miles from the marsh's edge, sending them to forage and await his call. He proceeded on foot, his spiritual sense spread thin, acting as an early warning system. The marsh was a deathtrap. Venomous insects buzzed everywhere, predatory beasts lurked beneath the stagnant water, and poisonous flora grew in abundance. To Wei, however, it was simply a different kind of garden. His poison immunity made him the apex predator here. His eyes scanned the twisted landscape, and he occasionally stopped, his movements economical and precise. He spotted a cluster of 'Swamp Jester's Cap', a mushroom whose spores could induce vivid, terrifying hallucinations. He carefully harvested them with a jade knife, placing them into a sealed container. A few meters later, he identified the 'Corpse-Weeper Vine', a parasitic plant with a sap that caused flesh to slowly liquefy. He collected a vial of the thick, black sap before continuing on his way, his collection of rare materials already growing.
His investigation began in a small, miserable-looking town on the edge of the swamp called Blackwater Crossing. It was a hub for rogue cultivators, mercenaries, and Blackwood Sect disciples looking to trade illicit goods. The people here were sullen and suspicious, their eyes holding a predatory gleam.
Wei entered the town's only tavern, a grimy establishment called 'The Leech's Kiss'. He took a seat in a dark corner, ordered a cup of foul-tasting wine, and simply listened. He didn't need to ask questions. The spiritual energy in a place like this was a chaotic soup of greed, fear, and malice. He let the conversations wash over him, filtering out the useless boasts and drunken ramblings.
After an hour, he caught something of interest. A group of three cultivators in the black and grey robes of the Blackwood Sect were talking loudly, celebrating a recent windfall. They were all in the Core Formation realm, a significant power in a place like this.
"...the old fool paid a fortune for it," one of them, a man with a prominent scar across his nose, bragged. "Just for a single spore-pouch of Iron Rot. Said he had a grudge against some beast master."
"Serves them right," another laughed. "Those Verdant Serpent peacocks think their beasts make them invincible. Hope it was a prize-winner."
Wei's expression did not change, but a cold, sharp light entered his eyes. He had found them. It was almost too easy. These fools were either incredibly arrogant or incredibly stupid to speak so openly. He continued to listen as they boasted about their plans to use their newfound wealth to buy resources for their breakthrough to the next stage. They mentioned they were heading to their private training ground, a small, secluded island a few miles deep into the marsh, to begin their cultivation.
Wei finished his wine and left the tavern. He followed them from a distance, a ghost in the shadows of the twisted trees. Their "private island" was a miserable patch of semi-solid ground surrounded by thick, foul-smelling fog. A simple warning formation had been set up, but it was child's play for him to bypass.
The three disciples sat in a triangle, spirit stones arrayed around them, preparing to cultivate. They were completely oblivious, secure in their own territory. This was the moment.
Wei did not rush in. He stood at the edge of the island, concealed by the fog, and began his work. First, he dipped one of his Venom-Quenched Soul Needles into a tiny vial. The poison was 'Spirit-Lethargy', a slow-acting agent that didn't harm the body but made the circulation of spiritual energy sluggish and difficult. He sent the needle, guided by his spiritual sense, on a silent, looping path through the fog. It pricked the disciple on the right, the loudest of the three, in the back of the neck. The man flinched, swatting at his neck as if annoyed by a mosquito, but found nothing.
Wei waited. Ten minutes later, the disciple's brow furrowed in confusion. He was struggling to absorb the energy from his spirit stones. His companions, deep in their own meditative states, noticed nothing.
Now, Wei acted. He extended his hands, and the Thousand Phantom Threads shot from his fingertips. They were not aimed at the weakened disciple, but at the other two. The threads moved like ethereal serpents through the fog, wrapping around the ankles and wrists of the two unsuspecting cultivators.
The man with the scar, the leader, felt the disturbance first. His eyes snapped open. "Who's there!" he roared, his spiritual energy flaring.
But it was too late. Wei clenched his fists. The threads tightened, biting deep. At the same time, he sent twenty soul needles streaking through the air. They did not aim to kill, but to pin. Ten needles pierced the leader's joints—shoulders, elbows, hips, knees—sealing his meridians and locking his body in place. The other ten did the same to the third disciple. Both men roared in pain and shock, their spiritual energy flaring uselessly against the bindings and the internal disruption.
The first disciple, his spirit already sluggish, could only watch in horror as his companions were neutralized in an instant. He tried to stand, to fight, but his limbs felt like they were filled with lead.
Wei stepped out of the fog, his face calm, his eyes as cold as a winter night. He looked like a scholar, not a Spirit King.
"The Iron Rot Spore," Wei said, his voice soft but clear. "You sold it to a man who used it to attack an elder of my sect. A foolish mistake."
The leader's eyes widened in terror. "An elder... you're from the Verdant Serpent Sect! This is a misunderstanding!"
Wei ignored him. He walked to the weakened disciple, who was now trembling uncontrollably. With a single thought, a soul needle appeared in front of the man's forehead.
[New Target Acquired: Core Formation Realm, Stage 4.]
[Mission: Administer lethal poison.]
"For your crimes," Wei said flatly, "the price is your life."
The needle shot forward, piercing the man's glabella. It was coated in a fast-acting poison that destroyed the spiritual sea. The man's eyes went wide, then dull. He collapsed without a sound.
[Target confirmed deceased. Cause of death attributed to Host's poison.]
[Host has received: 800 Sovereign Points.]
[New poison detected in target's system: 'Blackwood Miasma'. Analyzing... Analysis complete. Host can now convert 'Blackwood Miasma' into spiritual energy.]
Wei felt the familiar warm current as the system absorbed the latent poisonous energy from the disciple's body, a unique miasma cultivated by all Blackwood Sect members. It was a small but noticeable boost to his cultivation.
He turned to the two remaining disciples, who were now struggling frantically against their bonds, their faces masks of pure terror. He had two more targets, and a long investigation ahead of him.