Chapter 62: Wandering with the Wind

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On Muyu Island, terror was spreading. More people had died—and not just anyone, but the major leaders of the River Bandits. They had originally intended to invite Ironman Tu out of seclusion to quell the strange occurrences on the island, but instead they encountered that monster, and were all torn to pieces.

In such circumstances, many were seized by panic and tried desperately to flee. Unfortunately, by now Muyu Island was entirely shrouded in mist, and no matter how they tried, no one could escape—by water or by land. The island had become a prison.

Each nightfall, the monster would appear, relentlessly hunting anything alive. To survive, the remaining River Bandits could only keep hiding, and thus began a deadly game of survival.

While Muyu Island was enveloped in this sinister atmosphere, outside forces continued to stir.

In the private quarters behind the county office of Qinghe County, the ailing County Magistrate Liao Yonghuai sat serenely sipping tea. Yet what floated in his cup was no ordinary tea leaf, but one crafted from pure gold.

He took a sip, savoring the taste as if immersed in the fragrance of the tea.

At that moment, Advisor Xu Wenmao entered.

“My lord, the River Inspector’s office has replied. They will deal with the River Bandits. This time, the bandits have gone too far.”

Standing before Liao Yonghuai, Xu Wenmao spoke in a hushed, utterly respectful tone.

Seeing this, Liao Yonghuai glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“You didn’t tip them off this time, did you…”

With a trace of strange amusement, Liao Yonghuai’s face twisted into a wry smile.

“My lord, how could I? I am your most loyal servant. I would never betray you. If you doubt me, I’ll bash my head in right here.”

At Liao Yonghuai’s words, Xu Wenmao seemed almost provoked, his expression wild with emotion, as if he would indeed kill himself at a mere nod.

Watching this, Liao Yonghuai burst into hearty laughter.

“Money truly is the best tool for corrupting men’s hearts. It’s fine to use my power to make money for yourself, but my money is not so easily taken. Since you’ve taken it, you’ll pay with yourself.”

His face full of smug satisfaction, Liao Yonghuai waved Xu Wenmao away.

“Ironman Tu, I had intended to keep you alive. But since you are so determined to court death, you can hardly blame me.”

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Looking in the direction of Muyu Island, the smile on Liao Yonghuai’s face faded, leaving only a chill.

“With the River Inspector’s office involved, Ironman Tu’s death is certain. Even the Gao family will have little to say—after all, that official is from the Lu family.”

“But once Ironman Tu is dead, perhaps it’s time I foster another group. Without villains, how would a county magistrate like me keep the peace?”

He withdrew his gaze, sinking deep into thought.

Meanwhile, in Golden Sands Valley, Jiang Chen also turned his attention toward Muyu Island. Though he had been cultivating in seclusion these days, he had kept a close eye on news from the island. At first, his informants could still relay messages through various means, but now all communication had ceased.

“All news from Muyu Island has been cut off. It seems I must go see for myself.”

“Without sufficient resources, my cultivation won’t improve much further in the short term. There’s no need to wait any longer.”

His thoughts decided, clad in his Crane-feather Robe, Jiang Chen rode the wind and soared into the sky.

“To roam with the wind—there is such joy in the path of cultivation…”

As his vision rose, overlooking the rivers below, a rush of exhilaration welled up in his heart.

Whether it was his innate talents or his cultivation, at first he had pursued both for the sake of pure power. Only strength could give him peace of mind. But now, in the process, he had discovered a different kind of joy.

As Jiang Chen set out for Muyu Island, from another direction, the Corpse Daoist also approached the island. He sat atop a bamboo sedan, carried by two corpses, surrounded by a chill aura, gliding above the ground.

“I can already sense the overwhelming yin energy. It seems the tempering of the corpse has nearly concluded.”

On the outskirts of Muyu Island, ignoring the dense fog, the Corpse Daoist gazed toward the island.

“Twenty years of preparation, and at last the corpse refinement is complete. From now on, traversing the path of cultivation will no longer be a dream. Even the elusive foundation of the Dao may be within reach…”

Beaming with pride, he urged his two corpse-bearers forward and entered Muyu Island. As for the thick white mist swirling around, he paid it no mind. It could confuse ordinary people, but to block a cultivator was impossible.

In fact, it was he who had provided the Fog-Dispelling Banner to Ironman Tu, to help him establish himself in Qinghe County. He had truly gone to great lengths for Ironman Tu. Fortunately, twenty years of effort had not been in vain; now, at last, he was about to reap his reward.

As the Corpse Daoist’s bamboo sedan entered the island, the survivors on Muyu Island watched in shock and suspicion. None had expected that anyone could pass through the mist and reach the island; perhaps this meant they still had a chance to escape this haunted place.

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Yet from beginning to end, no one dared approach the Corpse Daoist. His very demeanor marked him as no decent man.

The Corpse Daoist paid them no heed—they were mere expendables.

“The master has arrived. Why do you not come out to greet me?”

His gaze sharp as lightning, the Corpse Daoist fixed his eyes on the summit of the island. He knew Ironman Tu was there.

In the next instant, a brass bell appeared in his hand. This was the Corpse Control Bell, a meticulously refined magical artifact with eighteen layers of restrictions, ideal for commanding corpses.

The bell rang out, its sound dull and unsettling, making listeners’ hearts tremble.

At the sound, Ironman Tu, who had been in deep slumber, was abruptly awakened.

With a furious roar, thick with agitation, he locked onto the Corpse Daoist’s location, bent low, and with a sudden surge of power from his legs, shot forth like a cannonball.

Far from alarmed, the Corpse Daoist was delighted by Ironman Tu’s ferocity. He valued nothing less.

“So, it has succeeded at last. Let me see just how powerful this Corpse Duel, as recorded in the Corpse King Manual, truly is.”

With that thought, he brushed his hand over his storage pouch and drew forth a black coffin.

“Go!”

Forming a seal with his fingers, the Corpse Daoist cast his spell.

The coffin creaked open, and out stepped a two-meter-tall zombie with a greenish face, fierce fangs, and iron-gray skin like cast metal—his meticulously refined Iron Corpse. Not only was it physically formidable, it could spit corpse-fire and was shielded by yin energy; even skilled cultivators would find it troublesome.

With blood-red eyes, sensing a rival, the Iron Corpse charged at Ironman Tu, and in the next moment, the two monsters collided.