Chapter 323: Another Spirit Artifact — The Plague Elder

Lu Qing stepped slowly toward the spot where the Plague Gourd had fallen.

Now, the gourd lay half-buried in the crater it had created, utterly still.

No wisps of gray mist curled from its surface—only its dull, ashen body was exposed.

Yet Lu Qing did not close the distance. He maintained a safe distance, cautious.

In his vision, the Plague Gourd emitted a faint, shimmering Zi Se Yi Neng Zhi Guang—a subtle aura of spiritual energy.

【Plague Gourd: A heretical treasure artifact. Damaged. Lower-grade Spirit Artifact.】

【The sacred relic of the ancient evil cultivator, the Plague Elder.】

【Contains Plague Qi—capable of eroding soul, spirit, and flesh, spreading disease. Utterly malevolent.】

【This artifact suffered severe damage in ancient times. Its spiritual essence and power have been greatly diminished and remain unrecovered.】

【At the end of the ancient cultivation era, the Plague Elder fled the Heavenly Five Decline catastrophe, abandoning his body and merging with his treasured artifact, seizing control of its spirit essence to survive.】

...

Lu Qing’s eyes flickered with intrigue.

The information displayed by the gourd was substantial.

First, the mention of the Heavenly Five Decline—this was the first time he’d encountered such a term.

It suggested that the fall of the ancient cultivation era was far more than mere depletion of Qi. Something far more terrifying must have occurred, driving cultivators to extinction and leaving behind almost no legacy.

Second, the reference to the Plague Elder himself—abandoning his body, possessing the artifact’s spirit…

So, was the Plague Elder still alive inside the gourd?

Lu Qing stared at the gourd, motionless.

Minutes passed. No movement. No sound.

It seemed, like the corpse of Qi Jia Lao Si, lifeless—without a master to command it.

But Lu Qing knew better.

Qi Jia Lao Si had only reached the Xian Tian Jing Mastery stage. By all rights, he shouldn’t have been able to manipulate a Spirit Artifact of this caliber.

Even Lu Qing himself struggled just to draw out a fraction of the Qiankun Yiqi Dai’s power.

There was no way this was coincidence.

This gourd was pretending to be dead—playing dead.

And Lu Qing would not fall for such a trick.

He thought for a moment, then produced a cloth bag. With a thought, he triggered it—the bag instantly expanded, swelling to nearly half a man’s height, and lunged toward the Plague Gourd like a hungry maw.

At the very instant the bag grew, a shockwave erupted from within the gourd:

“Qiankun Yiqi Dai! This is impossible! Wait—”

But the voice was cut off mid-sentence.

The Qiankun Yiqi Dai had already swallowed the gourd whole, silencing it completely.

Once the gourd was secured, the bag shrank back to palm-sized and settled into Lu Qing’s hand.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“Now you want to negotiate? Too late.”

He’d known all along—this Plague old ghost hadn’t perished.

If he had, Qi Jia Lao Si—so low in cultivation—could never have controlled the gourd with such precision.

There had to be another force guiding it.

Lu Qing suspected the truth: Qi Jia Lao Si had never truly mastered the gourd.

Everything had been a ruse—crafted by the ancient spirit within the gourd, deceiving everyone.

Facing a cunning old ghost who had survived for tens of thousands of years, Lu Qing wasn’t about to listen to excuses.

Only after complete control was secured would he feel safe.

As for what came after—how to deal with the spirit within?

That was entirely up to him.

With the Qiankun Yiqi Dai safely stowed, Lu Qing turned and returned to the village.

Ji Jia Zhu and the others greeted him with deep reverence.

Having witnessed Lu Qing’s countless miraculous abilities—and the devastating power of that single arrow—they finally understood why the Qinglong City Lord had warned that even Sheng Shan now dared not provoke this young man.

His strength had long surpassed the bounds of Xian Tian Jing.

He was no longer of the same realm.

“Lu Xiao Langjun,” Ji Jia Zhu asked cautiously, “has Qi Changfeng truly died?”

“Yes,” Lu Qing nodded.

Ji Jia Zhu exhaled in relief.

Even though he’d seen Qi Changfeng reduced to dust by that arrow, the strange powers Qi Changfeng had used earlier had left him uneasy.

Only now, with confirmation from Lu Qing, did he feel certain.

“By the way, Lu Xiao Langjun,” Ji Jia Zhu added, “how is my son now?”

“I’ve already purged the Zhang Qi Yin Ji from his body. His condition is stable. With rest, he’ll recover fully.”

Lu Qing waved his hand, dissolving the Array Light Screen that had shielded Ji San Gongzi.

Ji Jia Zhu watched, awe deepening.

He bowed deeply to Lu Qing before hurrying to his son’s side.

Lu Qing turned to the Old Doctor.

“Master, how do you feel?”

The Old Doctor, having finished his cultivation, smiled.

“I’m fine now. Thanks to your Ling Fu, that gray mist had little effect on me.”

“Then this matter is resolved,” Lu Qing said. “Shall we continue our journey?”

“Indeed,” the Old Doctor agreed.

“Lu Xiao Langjun, Chen Lao Qian Bei,” Ji Jia Zhu called out, startled as he approached, “are you truly leaving?”

“Yes,” Lu Qing replied. “The villagers here protected your son before we arrived. Especially that young woman who stayed by his side—she never left his side. Please, Ji Jia Zhu, do not neglect them.”

Ji Jia Zhu’s expression hardened.

“Of course not. I, Ji Jia, would never be so ungrateful. You have my word—I will care for these villagers as my own.”

The Old Doctor spoke up.

“These villagers once suffered from leprosy. Though healed, they still carry lingering ailments. I’ll leave a prescription. Have someone skilled in medicine prepare a salve from it. Applying it regularly may not erase the scars entirely, but it should restore them to near-normal health. And once your son recovers, this formula can help clear the remaining blemishes on his face and body.”

Ji Jia Zhu bowed deeply.

“Thank you, elder. I, for my son, and for these villagers, shall never forget your kindness.”

He was utterly respectful—this man’s Sword Qi Domain had left him shaken.

Even as a cultivator of the sword, he felt his own skill was like a child’s first steps compared to the Old Doctor’s mastery.

The Old Doctor walked to the carriage, retrieved ink and paper, and wrote a prescription, handing it to Ji Jia Zhu.

Lu Qing hesitated, then added his own formula.

“Ji Jia Zhu, this is a tonic to restore his constitution. Follow the instructions. In less than half a month, his health should be fully restored.”

“Thank you both,” Ji Jia Zhu said, bowing again.

Inside, he was filled with quiet joy.

He’d seen his son’s condition—weak, pale, his left side and face marred by painful sores.

These prescriptions were a lifeline—timely, precious, and exactly what they needed.

With all matters settled, Lu Qing and the others prepared to depart.

“Ji Jia Zhu, until we meet again.”

Once everyone was aboard, Lu Qing gave a slight nod, then slipped into the carriage.

Ma Gu cracked his whip.

The carriage began to move slowly, then surged forward as Green Qi Flow erupted from its undercarriage, forming a glowing trail that shot like lightning into the distance.

Ji Jia Zhu and the others stood at the village entrance, bowing in silence as the carriage vanished into the horizon.

Only when it was no longer visible did they turn back.

“Family Head,” one of the Ji Jia Xian Tian Jing murmured in awe, “that Lu Xiao Langjun… he truly is a man of the heavens. No wonder the City Lord fears him so.”

“Indeed,” another sighed. “And that Old Elder—his Sword Qi like a dragon… it’s what every sword cultivator dreams of achieving.”

“Not to mention Qi Jia Lao Si,” a third said. “How could he become so powerful? That gourd—where did it come from? What kind of treasure is it?”

The question hung in the air.

They fell silent.

They all knew Qi Jia Lao Si’s past—once weaker than them, barely a match.

Yet now, with that gourd, he had reached Xian Tian Jing Mastery, even overwhelming the Old Elder’s domain.

No doubt—it was an artifact beyond imagination.

But now, with Lu Qing present, that gourd was lost to them.

No one could touch it.

“…It seems,” one of them said quietly, “that after the Qi Lu Fu Su, the world has truly changed. Strange things are everywhere. This era may no longer be ours to rule.”

Ji Jia Zhu, seeing the despair in their eyes, spoke up.

“Enough. Don’t dwell on it. Yes, the world is strange now—but isn’t that also our chance? Haven’t you felt it? Our cultivation has been easier lately. If we train diligently, we might one day reach the strength of Lu Xiao Langjun.”

The words struck a chord.

The Xian Tian Jing members stiffened, their eyes clearing.

A flicker of shame crossed their faces.

“Family Head is right,” one said. “We’ve lost our spirit.”

Ji Jia Zhu shook his head.

He, too, had been shaken by Lu Qing’s power.

But as Family Head, he couldn’t let despair spread.

He stared toward the road where the carriage had vanished, his heart heavy with thought.

He would need to decide how best to care for the villagers—his promise must be kept.

...

Lu Qing had no idea what the Ji Jia members had said after he left.

But he didn’t worry.

Ji Jia Zhu wasn’t the kind to break his word.

Not only was Ji San Gongzi too honorable to betray trust, but Ji Jia Zhu himself—head of a family—knew too well the cost of betrayal.

Inside the carriage, Hu Lao San questioned Hu Ze Zhi.

“Xiao Lian… after leaving the city gate that day, where did you go? Your uncle’s letter said you never attended the Xuan Xin Zong recruitment ceremony. And what about Zheng Ge Da and Wang Gu Niang? They vanished too—no trace. I’ve searched their homes in Qinglong City, but no one’s there.”

Hu Lao San recalled the panic he’d felt upon reading his sister’s letter.

If not for knowing how vast Zhong Zhou was, and how impossible it was to find someone without leads, he might have left the city to search.

Hu Ze Zhi finally spoke, her voice thick with emotion.

“Father… you don’t know. That day, Zheng Ge Da and Wang Gu Niang never intended to escort me to Xuan Xin Zong. They were only after my Xuan Xin Ling… all along.

If it weren’t for Lu Gongzi and the others saving me… I might never have seen you again.”

Hu Lao San’s face twisted in rage.

“Those scoundrels! Treating me like a friend, helping them settle in the city—how could they betray me like this? I’m blind! A fool!”

The betrayal cut deep—shock, fury, and fear all mixed together.

Without warning, he dropped to his knees in the carriage and bowed deeply toward Lu Qing and the Old Doctor.

“Thank you, Master and Elder, for saving my daughter’s life. If not for you, I wouldn’t know how to live the rest of my days.”

Lu Qing gently lifted him up.

“Please, no need for such reverence. We only happened to be there. It was your daughter’s fortune that she met us.”

“Lu Gongzi,” Hu Lao San said, tears in his eyes, “after my wife passed, Xiao Lian became my only hope. I can’t imagine life without her. Your kindness… I’ll never forget it. I’ll serve you as a servant, even as a beast, if that’s what it takes.”

He couldn’t kneel, but his gratitude was real and unshaken.

Lu Qing smiled and comforted him.

Suddenly, his expression changed.

He turned to Ma Gu.

“Ma Ye, find a place to rest soon. We’ll stop for midday.”

Then, more seriously, he looked at the Old Doctor.

“Master, when we stop, I’ll need to enter seclusion.”

The Old Doctor frowned.

“Is something wrong with the gourd? Do you need my help?”

He had seen Lu Qing take the Plague Gourd.

In truth, he’d long suspected the existence of Lu Qing’s unique, soul-absorbing treasure.

Lu Qing had never hidden it.

And now, remembering the gourd’s eerie presence—its unnatural stillness—his concern grew.

“No need,” Lu Qing said calmly.

“I can handle it. Just help me with Hu Fa afterward.”

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end