Xiangzi’s Record of Immortal Cultivation-Chapter 75: Wen San’s Head

The craft of digging pits was something Xiangzi had learned from Wen San.
Back when they encountered Zhang Dachui’s gang of horse bandits on the outskirts’ slope, Wen San had relied on his pit-digging skills to achieve a remarkable feat, capturing the scar-faced Luo Er in one fell swoop.
Xiangzi, ever meticulous, sought out Wen San the next day to learn the secrets of this technique.
Wen San, naturally puffed up with pride, taught Xiangzi every trick he knew without holding back.
Now, lying quietly in the pit, Xiangzi suddenly chuckled—
If Wen San were still alive and knew Xiangzi had used his teachings to evade pursuers, he’d probably boast and swagger for days.
But alas, Third Brother would never get the chance to show off again.
At that thought, an irrepressible wave of emotion crashed against Xiangzi’s heart, his breathing growing ragged.
Xiangzi took a deep breath.
The dense forest rarely saw sunlight, and the cramped pit reeked of dampness, laced with the decay of rotting leaves—a suffocating stench.
Yet Xiangzi seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed on the Li family guards above.
His face betrayed no emotion, his eyes clear as water, locked onto something dangling from one guard’s spear.
It was a human head.
Wen San’s.
—
Xiangzi’s fists clenched, veins bulging.
He knew this was Li Gui’s ploy to lure him out.
He also knew that with Uncle Jie and Master Tang unconscious, acting rashly would lead to disaster.
Yet, for reasons he couldn’t fathom, every part of him—heart, mind, body—burned with an inexplicable urge.
For a fleeting moment, he nearly lost control.
Suddenly, the spear above shifted, and a pale face entered his view.
That face still bore the same smug expression it had in life, brimming with pride.
Even after the blood was wiped away, the ghastly pale face seemed to smile, as if Wen San were still alive—
Xiangzi even had the fleeting illusion that Wen San might, as always, toss out another boastful quip.
The grinning head snuffed out Xiangzi’s impulse.
Gazing at it, Xiangzi smiled too, silently murmuring in his heart:
Third Brother, you’ve been wronged.
Then, his eyes burned as he stared at the guards—his gaze as fervent as a man beholding a beloved woman.
He studied them intently, etching their faces into his heart, his bones.
Time dragged on until the Li family guards finally left.
But Xiangzi didn’t climb out—his emotions had surged and crashed, and after relentless fighting, he was exhausted, drained.
A bone-deep fatigue seeped from his marrow, oozing through every pore.
Worse, several wounds on his body still bled, sapping his vitality.
Killing an entire Li family guard squad and digging this pit had taken everything he had.
Though all were at the Blood Enegry Barrier, the Li family guards were a cut above the east wing of Harmony Rickshaw Yard.
They’d paid with three lives to leave fresh wounds on Xiangzi’s body.
The most troublesome were the injuries on his left shoulder and right chest—left by the ninth-rank warrior Liang Hua.
Xiangzi glanced at Liu Tang and Uncle Jie, both unconscious beside him, a bitter smile tugging at his lips.
Of the three, he was somehow the least injured?
After a long while, as the blurry starlight above grew brighter and no sounds stirred outside, Xiangzi crawled out of the pit.
He quickly checked his wounds, then applied medicine to Uncle Jie and Liu Tang.
Uncle Jie had taken five arrows—terrifying to see, but none hit vital spots. He’d passed out from blood loss, but the medicine should rouse him.
Liu Tang’s injuries, however, were dire.
Eight bullet wounds from a gunpowder rifle, one grazing his heart by a hair’s breadth. Only his ninth-rank minor completion physique had kept him alive.
Such severe wounds wouldn’t yield to ordinary medicine.
—
Xiangzi fetched water from a nearby stream, roughly cleaning the wound on his right chest.
After a moment’s thought, he pulled a firestarter from his pocket.
With a puff at the copper tube’s base, a wisp of flame flickered to life.
He grabbed a handful of dry soil and sprinkled it over the flame—
Zzt!
A pale golden flame surged upward.
This was a trick he’d gleaned from watching the guards’ torches—since mineral dust in the air could ignite, why not soil?
It worked. The soil must have been laced with traces of five-colored gold ore.
Without hesitation, Xiangzi smeared more dry soil onto his chest wound and held the firestarter to it.
His right chest erupted in a dim, ghostly flame.
The fire vanished in an instant, leaving the acrid smell of charred flesh.
Xiangzi hissed in pain, glancing down to see his chest scorched black, as if branded by an iron.
The ore-laced soil was far more potent than he’d expected.
Damn it!
Too much, too inexperienced.
Thankfully, his past life’s obsession with survival shows had paid off—this crude method stopped the bleeding.
With a wry smile, Xiangzi stretched his limbs and repeated the process on Liu Tang’s critical wounds.
With the panel’s enhancement, his movements were swift and precise.
He had to be fast—flames in the dark would surely betray their position.
Perhaps the searing pain roused them, for Liu Tang and Uncle Jie stirred almost simultaneously.
Xiangzi’s heart eased. He whispered, “We can rest a bit, but we need to move soon. That fire might’ve drawn the Li family’s attention.”
Liu Tang, too weak to move, waved a hand. After a long pause, he rasped, “No one dares enter the mining zone at night.”
Xiangzi froze, then sighed in relief, leaning against a tree. But Liu Tang’s words sank in.
Suddenly, he sat up straight.
Liu Tang forced a weak smile, pointing at the bloodstains on the ground. “But we really need to go. This mining zone… it’s got demon beasts at night.”
Xiangzi nodded, helping Uncle Jie up. Together with Liu Tang, they vanished into the dense forest.
In a vast cave, a roaring bonfire blazed.
True to his ninth-rank entry-level warrior status, Liu Tang’s robust vitality shone through. Barely clinging to life moments ago, he could now move.
Liu Tang told Xiangzi and Uncle Jie to stay in the cave while he scouted outside alone.
Xiangzi didn’t stop him—Liu Tang knew this mining zone far better, having come here countless times as an apprentice with Lin Junqing.
Even this cave was one Liu Tang had found from memory.
Xiangzi gathered dry grass to make a bed for Uncle Jie.
Despite resting, Uncle Jie’s face remained paper-white.
Xiangzi frowned—by all accounts, Uncle Jie’s vitality should’ve kept him from looking this bad, even with arrows lodged in him.
As if sensing Xiangzi’s concern, Uncle Jie smiled. “Don’t worry, Xiangzi. I’m not dying here.”
Xiangzi nodded, forcing a smile. “Of course, Uncle Jie. You haven’t even married yet! All your stuff’s still back at the yard.”
Uncle Jie chuckled, but his gaze lingered on the arrowheads.
Xiangzi was still here, so his smile betrayed no hint of abnormality.
But he knew his time was short—the arrows were coated with demon beast poison.
With that thought, Uncle Jie beckoned with a grin. “Come here, Xiangzi. Let’s have a chat.”