Establishing a Clan in the Eastern Wilderness: A Daily Divination, Cultivating Longevity in a Grotto

Chapter 107 The Sucker, the Man in Black Robes

Bamboo Rat Ridge.

When Zheng Yuankui and his group arrived, the bamboo forest was quiet, with only the rustling of the bamboo leaves in the wind.

"Set up the formation." Zheng Yuankui waved his hand, his triangular eyes gleaming.

The four Zheng family cultivators spread out, each occupying a position, and took out array flags from their storage bags, inserting them into the soil.

In a short while, a first-grade high-level spirit-trapping array enveloped the entire bamboo forest. The array's light barrier rose silently, isolating the bamboo forest from the outside world.

"Set up bait."

A young disciple took out an iron cage from his spirit beast pouch, inside which were several plump silver-striped rats. These were the favorite food of the sand bamboo rats, a low-grade first-rank food, with delicious meat and abundant spiritual energy. The young disciple took out the silver-striped rats one by one, tied them to bamboo roots with thin ropes, and then stepped aside, a confident smile on his face.

"Third Elder, how many can we catch this time?" he asked in a low voice, his tone full of anticipation.

Zheng Yuankui stroked his beard, a slight smile playing on his lips: "I scouted the location last month; there were at least thirty or forty of them."

"Capture them all and raise them for a year or two, and the Zheng family will have no shortage of food and provisions."

Upon hearing this, everyone's eyes lit up.

Thirty or forty bamboo rats—that's quite a fortune.

A quarter of an hour passed.

Half an hour passed.

The bamboo forest was quiet, without even a sound of wind. The silver-striped rats shivered under the bamboo roots, but not a single sand bamboo rat came out to forage for food.

Zheng Yuankui's brows gradually furrowed.

wrong.

It's too quiet.

Bamboo rats are extremely sensitive to the scent of silver slugs. Usually, as soon as bait is released, they will appear in droves within the time it takes to brew a cup of tea. Why is there no movement at all today?

"Third Elder," the young disciple whispered, his expectant tone turning into unease, "could it be that the sand bamboo rats have sensed something and are afraid to come out?"

Zheng Yuankui did not answer.

He crouched down and carefully examined the entrance to a burrow frequented by bamboo rats. The soil at the entrance was fresh, and the paw prints were clear, indicating that bamboo rats had been there not long ago. But the burrow was empty, without a single rat hair.

He then inspected several other caves.

It's all empty.

Zheng Yuankui's face darkened, and a bad premonition welled up in his heart.

"Search," he said in a deep voice. "Turn the entire bamboo forest upside down."

Four Zheng family cultivators accepted the order and split up to search. A moment later, one of the cultivators returned to report, his face grim: "Third Elder, not a single bamboo rat was found. The bamboo forest is spotless, as if someone had wiped out the entire nest."

"What?" Zheng Yuankui turned around abruptly, his voice rising several decibels. "Not a single one?"

"Not a single one," the monk said through gritted teeth. "Someone made a move before us."

Zheng Yuankui's face was so dark it looked like it could drip water.

He painstakingly scouted the location and laid out his plans, spending a whole month just waiting for this day to reap the rewards. And what was the result? He didn't even catch a single mouse hair.

"Investigate," he said coldly. "Find out who did it."

Everyone looked at each other.

Within a radius of a hundred miles, besides the Zheng family, who else has the ability to capture all thirty or forty bamboo rats in such a short time?

Just then, Zheng Yuankui caught a glimpse of a slightly sunken patch of ground deep in the bamboo forest, as if it had been disturbed.

He walked over, squatted down, and rubbed the soil between his fingers. The soil was soft and loose, carrying a faint trace of residual spiritual energy.

Someone has performed magic here.

"Dig." He made the decision immediately.

The four Zheng family cultivators each used their own methods: some used magical artifacts to dig, some used earth-遁术 (earth-遁术 is a type of magic that allows one to escape through the ground), and some used spiritual power to shatter the soil. After a short while, a natural underground cave was dug open.

The cave was small, about ten feet square, with a damp floor covered in moss. In a corner, a corpse lay curled up, its robes mostly rotten, revealing the stark white bones beneath. Several deep, bone-revealing wounds marred the corpse's chest, and several ribs were broken, clearly indicating it had been killed by a sharp weapon.

The Zheng family members looked at each other in bewilderment.

"Third Elder, this—" a cultivator whispered, "When we came to scout this place last time, we didn't find any corpses here."

Zheng Yuankui ignored him, his gaze fixed on the corpse's waist.

A dusty gray storage bag.

His breathing became rapid.

He crouched down and examined the corpse closely. The bones were intact, the texture as delicate as jade, and a faint luster flowed through them.

He reached out and touched it; it was icy cold to the touch, yet had a hint of warmth.

This is a characteristic that only appears after long-term nourishment by spiritual energy.

"This person is at least a Foundation Establishment cultivator." Zheng Yuankui's voice was very low, but he couldn't hide the trembling in it.

Foundation Establishment cultivator?

The expressions on everyone's faces changed.

A Foundation Establishment cultivator, an ancestor-level figure in the Zheng family, how could he have died in this desolate underground cave?

All eyes turned to the dusty gray storage bag.

A Foundation Establishment cultivator's storage bag.

How many good things must be inside?

Spirit stones, elixirs, magical artifacts, cultivation techniques —

Any one of these items would be enough for the Zheng family to eat for several years.

"Third Elder, hurry up and get it!" someone urged, their voice trembling, not from fear, but from excitement.

Zheng Yuankui took a deep breath and reached out to untie the storage bag from the corpse's waist. It felt heavy in his hand. Without even checking its contents, he decisively said, "This place is no place to linger, let's go!"

As the group climbed out of the cave, put away the array flags, and were about to leave the horizon, a streak of sword light pierced through the sky.

As the sword light faded, a masked man in black robes descended from mid-air and landed steadily at the edge of the bamboo forest.

Flying on a sword.

At least a Foundation Establishment cultivator.

The faces of the Zheng family members instantly turned deathly pale.

The joy and excitement from just now vanished in an instant, replaced by a deep-seated fear.

They've gotten themselves into trouble.

The man in black robes swept his gaze across the crowd as if they were ants. His eyes lingered for a moment on the storage bag in Zheng Yuankui's hand, then he snorted coldly and raised his hand to beckon.

Zheng Yuankui felt an irresistible force seize the storage bag in his hand, and the storage bag flew out of his hand and landed in the hands of the man in black robes.

The man in black robes probed his storage bag with his divine sense, and after a moment, his brows furrowed.

"Where did you find this storage bag?" His voice was cold and devoid of emotion, as if he were interrogating a criminal.

Zheng Yuankui's throat bobbed, and he spoke with difficulty, "Reporting to Senior, it was in an underground cave, on a corpse—"

"lead the way."

Zheng Yuankui dared not disobey and led the man in black to the cave entrance. The man in black probed the ground with his divine sense, scanning every corner of the cave.

The remains are still there.

But the object clutched in the corpse's hand was gone.

That item was the target of his trip.

The man in black robes withdrew his divine sense and turned to look at Zheng Yuankui. There was no emotion in his eyes, yet they sent a chill down Zheng Yuankui's spine and made his legs go weak.

"What did you take from the corpses?"

"No—no—" Zheng Yuankui stammered, cold sweat streaming down his face, "This junior only took the storage bag, and didn't touch anything else—"

The man in the black robe neither believed nor disbelieved.

He raised his hand, his five fingers like claws, and placed them on Zheng Yuankui's crown.

Soul Search.

Zheng Yuankui's body convulsed violently, his eyes rolled back, and he made a "hoarse" sound, like a chicken being strangled.

A moment later, the man in black robes released his grip.

Zheng Yuankui's body went limp and collapsed, his head was deformed, blood was flowing from his seven orifices, and he died.

His eyes were still open, his pupils dilated, and his face showed the fear and resentment he felt before his death.

The man in black robes turned around, and with a flash, disappeared into the bamboo forest.

The Zheng family members stood frozen in place.

Their third elder, a peak Qi Refining expert and an absolute authority in the Zheng family, died just like that.

Like an ant, easily crushed.

The wind rustled through the bamboo forest, making the bamboo leaves sound like they were weeping softly.

"Third Elder—" A young disciple threw himself onto the corpse, wailing inconsolably, "Third Elder!"

The others stood silently, their eyes red-rimmed, their fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

sorrow.

anger.

fear.

Powerless.

A mix of emotions swirled within them, yet no one dared utter a single word about revenge.

Foundation Establishment cultivators, what can they offer in return?

In the world of cultivation, weakness is the original sin.

Without strength, even anger is a luxury.

An older member of the Zheng family knelt down and closed Zheng Yuankui's unseeing eyes, his voice hoarse:

"Carry the Third Elder back."

"Then—what about the storage bag?" someone asked in a low voice.

The older cultivator gave a wry smile: "What storage bag? We've never seen anything like it."

Everyone fell silent.

Yes, I haven't seen anything.

The black-robed man took the Foundation Establishment cultivator's storage bag before the cultivator could even get a good look at it.

They spent the whole day searching, but they didn't catch the bamboo rat, the Third Elder died, and the storage bag was gone.

They gained nothing and even lost their lives.

This is the fate of low-level cultivators.

In this cannibalistic world of cultivation, being alive is already a stroke of luck.

The group lifted Zheng Yuankui's body and silently left Zhushuling.

They came full of vigor and high spirits, but left like stray dogs.

Several miles outside the bamboo grove.

The middle-aged man hovered in mid-air, holding a Bagua compass in his hand. The compass needle spun wildly, yet could not find a stable point. The aura of the object he was looking for had completely vanished.

"Impossible," he murmured, his brow furrowed. "The aura of that mask couldn't have vanished into thin air. Unless someone used extremely sophisticated magic to seal it away."

He put away the compass and looked into the distance.

"In the remote borderlands, a place where even a seventh-rank aristocratic family can't be helped, what kind of experts could there be?" He sneered.

No rush. He has plenty of time to search.

He was determined to get that mask.

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