Ironclad Golem

Several miles away from Yang Fan and his companions, two elderly men, well past their seventies, stood atop a desolate hillside, unfazed by the chilling night breeze. They strolled leisurely through the ominous Ghost Corpse Mountain as if it were a pleasant garden.

One of the old men, with snow-white hair and a youthful face, wore a robe of silvery moonlight and carried himself with an air of grace and calm. His elegant demeanor suggested a man who, in his youth, must have been irresistibly charming. Of particular note was a peculiar ring adorning his slender fingers, which glimmered faintly under the moonlight.

The other elder, clad in a simple grey robe, had a deeply lined face and a beard as white as his hair. He walked with a slight limp, but despite his frailty, an indescribable aura of authority emanated from him. His otherwise dim eyes occasionally flickered with a sharp glint, enough to make any nearby ghosts retreat in fear.

From every perspective, the presence of these two aged men, strolling casually through the heart of the haunted mountain, spoke of their extraordinary nature.

"From what I see, everything is proceeding as you predicted. The third-generation disciples of your 'Mist and Rain Manor' have successfully located the thousand-year-old tomb and even lured that damn Fat Ghost Daoist over here," the grey-robed elder murmured in a low voice, his gaze distant as if seeing far beyond the horizon.

"Indeed," the elegant elder smiled faintly, a hint of pride coloring his tone. "The plan has gone better than expected. My disciples have suffered few casualties, and they even managed to kill a fierce ghost and a two-hundred-year-old iron-armored zombie."

The grey-robed elder snorted coldly. "If it weren't for that unexpected young apothecary, your 'Mist and Rain Manor' might not have had such an easy time."

"Old Yang," the elegant elder said with a knowing smile, his eyes twinkling as he looked at his companion, "do you really not recognize that young apothecary? Did he not seem familiar to you?"

"What? Could it be..." The grey-robed elder's gaze suddenly sharpened, disbelief flashing across his face.

The elegant elder's smile turned mocking. "For Yang Fortress to produce such talent is no small feat. Had it not been for your lucrative promises, I wouldn't have let my disciples risk their lives searching for the thousand-year tomb and aiding you in ambushing that formidable Fat Ghost Daoist."

A shadow passed over the grey-robed elder's face, and he sighed deeply. "You and I have long been allies of convenience. Though 'Yang Fortress' and 'Mist and Rain Manor' have had their share of minor skirmishes, we've never stood idly by when the other faced danger. Now, with only ten or so years left of my lifespan, I must eliminate certain threats, or they will become a perpetual scourge for the future generations of Yang Fortress. This is the weakest I've ever seen the Fat Ghost Daoist. How could I let this opportunity slip away?"

Suddenly, a cold, sharp voice cut through the night. "If I've seen it, it's mine for the taking."

The voice belonged to a plump-faced Daoist, whose piercing gaze swept across the area before fixing greedily on a crevice in the hillside. His presence exuded an aura of authority, and his eyes gleamed with avarice.

Chu Qiuran's expression was grim. This expedition to the thousand-year tomb was a trial set by her family's ancestral elders, and even her father and the other senior family members regarded it as a matter of utmost importance. Any mistake would be unacceptable.

"Who dares skulk in the shadows? Come out and face me!" the plump Daoist bellowed, his voice like a blade, cutting through the night. A ripple of invisible spiritual pressure accompanied his shout, and his eyes, cold as a serpent's, locked onto a grassy mound.

At his words, the others turned in the direction he indicated.

From behind the hill, a graceful woman clad in an imperial gown floated into view. She sighed softly and, with poised elegance, offered a respectful bow. 

"Senior's spiritual sense is truly formidable. I apologize for concealing myself. This humble one is Chu Qin and greets you respectfully."

This imperial-garbed woman was the very same mid-stage Condensation Realm cultivator Yang Fan had encountered during his sword flight the previous night. At the time, Yang Fan, using the identity of the demonic cultivator Shi Qianhan, had subdued her with his superior spiritual consciousness.

Seeing her now, Yang Fan remained calm, as if he had already known she was hiding nearby.

"Aunt... is it really you?" Chu Qiuran's expression shifted, and the other disciples of Mist and Rain Manor quickly bowed in respect.

"Greetings, Aunt!"

"Greetings, Senior!"

Chu Yuyan's face lit up with joy upon seeing the woman. "Aunt, you're here as well?"

The plump-faced Daoist cast a cold glance at Chu Qin, his expression indifferent. "You, a second-generation elder of Mist and Rain Manor, trailing these juniors into Ghost Corpse Mountain—what are you scheming? Were it not for my current weakened state, I might have missed your presence entirely."

Chu Qin, her graceful figure highlighted by the night, smiled bitterly. "Senior is overly suspicious. As a second-generation elder, it's my duty to observe the juniors during their trial. I'm also here to intervene if they face unexpected dangers. Surely Senior doesn't think we'd send our elite disciples into Ghost Corpse Mountain without some form of protection?"

The plump Daoist stared at her for a long moment, and a heavy silence fell over the group. The younger disciples dared not make a sound, and even Chu Qin shifted uneasily under his gaze.

Yang Fan, blending in with the crowd as an inconspicuous apothecary, did everything in his power to suppress his aura, employing the "Withered Tree" technique to avoid drawing the Daoist's attention. Instinct told him that this plump Daoist was far more dangerous than any Condensation Realm cultivator he had ever encountered. Whether the Daoist had reached the Foundation Establishment stage, however, remained uncertain.

If the plump Daoist were indeed a Foundation Establishment cultivator, even the combined strength of everyone present might not be enough to defeat him. Yet, at the same time, it would be impossible for him to wipe out the Mist and Rain Manor disciples completely.

Of all the people there, only Hu Fei dared openly show hostility toward the plump-faced Daoist. The madman bared his teeth and waved his hands in a crazed, erratic manner.

The Daoist paid him no mind. After a moment of contemplation, he spoke again, "For now, I'll accept your explanation. However, though you were the first to locate this thousand-year tomb, now that I am here, I will be taking my share of the spoils."

Chu Qin smiled graciously. "Since Senior is present, of course, we would be honored to have you join us in exploring the tomb."

The Daoist nodded but warned in a cold tone, "Let me be clear—if any of you try to flee or report back to Mist and Rain Manor, don't blame me for being ruthless."

His icy gaze swept across the group, silencing them all. Even Yang Fan, as the Daoist's eyes passed over him, felt a bone-deep chill, as if his blood had frozen.

If Yang Fan, with his late-stage Condensation Realm and near-perfect Refining Qi cultivation, felt such cold terror, the weaker disciples fared far worse. They stood petrified in silence, unable to even breathe loudly. Only Chu Qin and Chu Qiuran managed to maintain a semblance of composure, while the madman Hu Fei, of course, remained an exception.

"You are wise to understand, Senior," Chu Qin said with a deferential smile. "With you leading us, we'll certainly have a better chance of surviving the dangers in the tomb."

"Hmph," the Daoist snorted. "At least you know your place. I have no desire for a bloodbath right now."

As he descended from the sky, the dark, shadowy mist surrounding him dissipated. Once on the ground, he seemed no different from an ordinary cultivator, though none in the group dared show him any hint of disrespect.

"Send someone to dig at that opening. I've already probed it with my spiritual sense—it leads to a thousand-year-old tomb. But the tomb is filled with an overwhelming yin energy, and there are peculiar disturbances. Even my spiritual sense could only penetrate about ten feet."

The Daoist spoke with calm authority, issuing his commands without hesitation.

Chu Qin exchanged a glance with Chu Qiuran, and soon several third-generation disciples from Mist and Rain Manor stepped forward to begin excavating.

"Senior," Chu Qiuran hesitated, "if more zombies appear during the digging..."

The Daoist waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry. I'll monitor the area with my spiritual sense. If any zombies or ghosts emerge, I'll alert you."

The Daoist was well aware that he had no guarantee of success in this tomb. For now, he needed to maintain an alliance with the Mist and Rain Manor cultivators. As for how the spoils would be divided in the end, no one could say.

Yang Fan remained silent on the sidelines, his expression inscrutable. He had already entered a state of heightened awareness, able to sense the situation in the tomb down to several dozen feet below. However, he dared not use his spiritual sense openly, fearing the Daoist might detect it.

The excavation proceeded smoothly. The tools

 of the cultivators made quick work of the soil, and within an hour, they had revealed the tomb's ancient entrance—a stone door carved with strange runes and symbols, its surface lined with cracks.

Suddenly, Yang Fan's eyes flickered as he sensed a subtle but unmistakable presence lurking deep within the tomb—a presence that filled him with unease.