Whoosh—
The massive pressure of wind came at him from all directions. Even with his cultivation, all Gu Sanqiu could do was channel the power of Decarabian within him to shield his face—lest he be permanently disfigured.
After he’d shared the exact coordinates of the Sanxuan Guild’s hideout, Xiao had clamped his hand on Gu Sanqiu’s shoulder, leaping straight into the sky and rocketing forward in a streak of green light.
No doubt, to anyone observing, that streak of green must have looked magnificent.
But any sharp-eyed spectator could probably see through the light to the young, green-haired adeptus—who, sure, looked undeniably cool—and, beside him, some unfortunate soul whose face was currently undergoing its own horror story.
“This is the place?”
“This is it.”
Landing and barely managing to stay upright, Gu Sanqiu took a long breath and then vigorously rubbed his face, using every bit of his knowledge of both medical recovery and battle trauma to restore his features.
“So, do we charge in directly?”
Xiao looked toward the entrance—a cave emanating a frigid chill. “The air inside is not restricted. There’s likely another exit deeper within. If we want to clear everyone out, we’ll need a plan.”
“Right. A plan. And don’t worry—I already have one.”
Gu Sanqiu sneered. “I’ve been ready for this. I’ve mapped out multiple scenarios to root them out, no matter where they hide. Honestly, an underground cave base is one of the easier types.”
“Why assume underground?” Xiao asked. “Couldn’t it just be within the cave?”
“Because I’ve been extending my spiritual sense this whole time, and while we’re chatting by the entrance, not a single alarm has gone off. This means the cave mouth is just a passage. The real ‘entrance’ to their base is likely much deeper.”
Xiao nodded. In today’s world, most of his battles were waged against unthinking spirits, fueled only by primal instincts. He had little experience with the schemes and ploys required to deal with humans these days.
“You’ve planned for many scenarios, then?”
Gu Sanqiu blinked before giving a wry grin. “Absolutely. The Sanxuan Guild has deep roots in Liyue, and they don’t exactly lack for resources.
“Take the floating-stone base plan, for instance. I even made a contingency for that, just in case their hideout was built on a rock that moved with the winds. That would make things a lot more troublesome to handle.”
“Fair enough.” Xiao’s response was succinct as ever. “Let’s go in, then.”
“No need. I’ve got a better idea.”
Gu Sanqiu grinned, pulling out several odd-looking tools. “Just wait here a minute. In no time, they’ll have only one exit left open to them.”
Xiao didn’t press for details. He simply chose a nearby rock, took a seat, and folded his spear across his chest, watching with quiet curiosity as Gu Sanqiu started his work.
“Leyline flow, check. Flow rate, check. Mountain slope angles, check…”
Sometimes he paced around with a compass, at other times he poured over a map. After recording the baseline readings, he began setting up his formation.
If it hadn’t been for Xiao’s presence, Gu Sanqiu would have gone with a safer approach—halting the Wraith Bone Brush, keeping his Paper Men Technique simmering at low levels to keep the Sanxuan Guild unaware of his true intentions, and then looking for another opportunity to finish them off in one fell swoop.
But with Xiao here, he figured he could afford a little recklessness—provided it ended with his enemies in pieces.
The Mount-Shaking Sutra—a relic tied to the Ruuodraksha Dragon King and a central technique of the Gu family, due in large part to generations of fearless ancestors who dared meddle with leyline power.
Gu Sanqiu’s use of the Earthquake Talisman and his Mount-Shaking Spear came from this very sutra, one of the family’s most well-known texts, prized both for its ease of use and reliability. Over the years, it’d become well known, to the point that Liyue’s researchers, the Treasure Hoarders, and even some graverobbers sought it for their own… purposes.
To Gu Sanqiu, however, it was mostly a handy technique for battle. He rarely bothered with all the nuanced geomancy it described.
“I’m done.”
Gu Sanqiu glanced back at Xiao, pausing.
No, best to spare his face any more damage. He’d just finished massaging it back into shape, after all.
“Back up, then?” Xiao asked as he stood, observing the newly constructed array. “Shall I take you with me?”
“No need,” Gu Sanqiu waved a hand. “Most of the tremors and leyline energy will concentrate downward. Up here, we’ll only feel a slight shake. But to be safe, yes, let’s take a few steps back.”
Xiao took another look at the formation, glancing briefly at Gu Sanqiu’s laid-back demeanor.
“The Mount-Shaking Sutra?”
“Oh? You know it, huh? Yep, that’s the one.”
“You set up this array… with ease?”
Gu Sanqiu blinked, raising a brow. “Pretty much. I’ve got hands, don’t I?”
Xiao considered this in silence before turning, gesturing for Gu Sanqiu to lead the way.
If Xiao’s memory hadn’t failed him, the last practitioner of this technique he’d known had also possessed impressive power, yet had needed ample time to set up an array of this magnitude.
And here was Gu Sanqiu, not even showing a hint of fatigue. Ridiculous.
“All right, ladies and gentlemen, behold: the moment the Sanxuan Guild pays for hiding under Liyue’s nose, leeching off its wealth, yet failing to contribute so much as a copper, all the while scheming against its people.”
Gu Sanqiu grinned and waved dramatically at the cave. “The real reason I’m wiping them out, though, is that they messed with the Gu family. And so, they’re going to die. No resurrection, no summoning, no mercy. I’ll even make sure my friend at the Funeral Parlor doesn’t bother collecting your souls. You’ll all be left as stray spirits or vanish altogether.”
He squatted down and pressed his hand on the array’s activation point.
“Farewell, everyone. May you rot for eternity~”
Boom!
The ground quaked, and the small mountain before them crumbled in a thunderous collapse, right on cue.
Xiao’s eyes narrowed. In an instant, he had his hand on Gu Sanqiu’s shoulder and leaped back with him, clearing the impact zone as the cliffside caved in.
“This is what you meant by ‘minimal disturbance’?”
Xiao shot him a sideways glance, internally processing a thought shared by a certain cat-adeptus in Liyue Harbor:
The Gu family had long suffered from a hereditary… eccentricity, but it seemed this particular descendant was the most affected of all. Was this some progressive malady that worsened with each generation?
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