Bright Sword: Conquer the monk at the beginning and take down Zhou Weiguo

This sentence caused both of them to fall into a brief silence. The uneasiness in the air grew thicker and thicker. Although the surroundings remained quiet, every sound of wind blowing through the treetops seemed to remind them that the road ahead was not as simple as they had imagined.

"Xiao Hu, are we going the right way?" Qin Cang's voice was low and confused, as if he was asking himself, and also seemed to be asking the person in front of him.

Xiaohu didn't answer immediately. He just lowered his head and shook it gently: "I don't know either. But now, we can only move on."

He wore a gray-green robe, the fabric worn by the wind and frost, yet clean. His steps were steady, his eyes cold and deep, like a deep pool, without a single ripple. His bag was strapped tightly to his back, and in his hand he held an old sword, its scabbard scratched, yet he had polished it spotlessly. With every step, he seemed to be measuring the unknown road ahead, or searching for some truth lost to time.

At this moment, Qin Cang is not alone.

Not far ahead, a hunched figure stalked through the forest. He wore wrinkled linen clothes, a tattered bag draped over his shoulders, and a crooked bamboo hat on his head. He took every step carefully, as if every stone beneath his feet might harbor a snake, insect, or predator. He was Liu San—a news peddler, a veteran who claimed to know everything.

"Hey, Master Qin." Liu San stopped and turned to look at Qin Cang behind him. "Are we really going to go this route? We're up ahead of Black Wind Cliff. Seven people who were looking for the route have died there in the past ten years, and we haven't even recovered all their remains."

Qin Cang glanced at him indifferently, his tone as cold as ice, "Change the line, the line is broken."

Liu San swallowed, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. Even though the weather wasn't hot yet, he felt a chill running down his spine. "But...but no one dares to take this route. If I did, those guys would chop me to pieces."

"They won't." Qin Cang raised his head and looked at the thickening fog ahead, "Because you haven't found the real route yet."

Liu San's expression changed unpredictably after hearing this. After a while, he smiled bitterly and shook his head. "Do you really believe that such a line exists in this world? It's just the crazy talk left by some lunatics before they died."

Qin Cang's eyes were calm, "Whether you believe it or not, I believe it."

These words were spoken calmly, yet with an unshakable resolve. Liu San opened his mouth, but ultimately held back. He knew the man before him was no ordinary quack, much less one seeking fame. What Qin Cang sought wasn't just the route, but a hidden truth.

The mountain path narrowed, tangled with vines and slippery stones. Liu San missed a step and nearly tumbled down the slope. Qin Cang grabbed him by the back of his collar, helping him steady himself. He panted, slumped to the ground, and pointed with a trembling finger at the gap in the forest ahead.

"That's... the place where the legendary line starts." His voice dropped an octave. "But there's no line here. It's just a ghost story made to scare people."

Qin Cang didn't respond, simply walking slowly toward the gap in the forest. Mist flowed around his feet like a pool of white water, swallowing him inch by inch. Liu San gritted his teeth and followed closely. He knew that if he turned away now, he would be haunted by nightmares for the rest of his life, and that piercing gaze in his dreams would pierce him to the very core.

The forest was utterly silent, even the birds seemed frightened by the mystery and kept silent. Qin Cang stood before a bluestone, reaching out to press against its edges. He closed his eyes, his fingertips trembling slightly, as if sensing the hidden veins beneath the stone.

"There is a cavity under this stone," he whispered.

Liu San was stunned for a moment, then squatted down and patted the stone. "How did you know?"

"Sense." Qin Cang answered vaguely, but there was a strange light in his eyes.

"You kid, you didn't really learn some Qimen Dunjia?" Liu San muttered, "This thing is almost lost."

Qin Cang didn't respond. Instead, he pulled a small brass spatula from his pocket and began scraping at the edge of the crack. The spatula scraped against the stone surface with a crisp sound, piercing the silence like the tolling of an ancient bell. After a few strokes, the stone shifted slightly, and a crack actually appeared.

Liu San's eyes widened, his face filled with astonishment. "Really? You're not trying to scare me?"

Qin Cang didn't answer, but simply lifted the stone, revealing a palm-sized dark hole beneath. The edge of the hole was hexagonal, fitting perfectly with the ground's texture. He reached into it and pulled out a dilapidated wooden pipe, intricately carved with patterns and blood-stained around the edges.

"This is..." Liu San leaned over to take a look, his expression suddenly changing. "This is the old thread order! Oh my god... This is something from the legend, how could it really exist?"

Qin Cang looked at the wooden pipe and said in a deep voice, "It's not a legend, it's forgotten."

Liu San's breathing quickened, sweat streaming down his forehead. He finally understood that this journey wasn't about finding a route, but rather uncovering a long-forgotten history. This history wasn't just about life and death, but also about secrets dormant in the darkness.

"Who are you, kid?" Liu San asked in a trembling voice.

A sneer flashed in Qin Cang's eyes. "It doesn't matter who I am. What's important is... I must find this route."

There was no exaggeration or boasting in his tone, just a heaviness and firmness like a rock.

Suddenly, the grass in the forest rustled, and a few light footsteps were heard in the distance. Qin Cang's eyes suddenly flicked to the side, their gaze like a blade darting deep into the forest.

"Here it comes." He whispered.

Liu San's expression suddenly changed. "They... caught up with me? Impossible! I covered my route very well. How could I possibly..."

Qin Cang raised his hand to stop him, a sharp cold light flashed in his eyes, "It's not them, it's something else."

Before he finished speaking, a gray shadow suddenly flashed from the depths of the woods, swift as lightning, and rushed straight to where they were hiding. Qin Cang drew his sword with his backhand, and the sword light cut through the fog and collided with a fierce aura that rushed towards him.

There was a clang of metal, and leaves flew. The gray figure suddenly retreated, revealing a face as pale as paper, without a nose or lips, only a pair of scarlet eyes.

"Corpse disciple." Qin Cang cursed in a low voice, "How dare they let something like this into the mountain."

Liu San was so frightened that he collapsed to the ground, his lips trembling: "This...isn't this a forbidden patrol technique? How could it be..."

"It's not them." Qin Cang's eyes were as cold as frost, "It's the informant."

His grip on the sword tightened, the blade trembling slightly, as if foreshadowing the emergence of even greater hostility. He glanced at the wooden pipe, then resolutely hid it in his arms and turned away.

"Would you like to go?"

Liu San hesitated for a moment, but finally gritted his teeth, stood up, and followed. "The line guards you're talking about are those crazy people who were chosen by the line?"

Qin Cang did not answer, but just sneered, as if laughing at the question being too naive, and also laughing at the world being too cruel.