Chapter 83: The Old Blacksmith

"Wangwu Mountain? That's a place of peril. Why are so many people coming here? If not for visiting relatives, I would never have set foot in this place," Lin Fan said, feigning confusion and giving nothing away about his true intentions.

"So that's how it is. I thought you two had come for that matter as well," the young innkeeper let out a long sigh, visibly relaxing.

"It's not really much of a secret; the whole town of Qinghu knows about it." After seating Lin Fan and Yi Xiaoxian at a window table, he lowered his voice, glancing nervously around as if wary of being overheard.

"Half a month ago, a pillar of light burst out from Wangwu Mountain, dazzling and brilliant, shaking all of Sealed Heaven City. Since then, powerful cultivators have arrived every day to try their luck, but many enter and never return, vanishing mysteriously within the mountain. Occasionally, a few do emerge alive, but they're all mad, endlessly screaming about ghosts."

Fear flickered across the innkeeper's face; he did not look like a liar.

Hearing this, Lin Fan and Yi Xiaoxian exchanged a grave glance. As cultivators, they had no faith in tales of ghosts or spirits. For them, death meant utter dissolution of body and soul—there was simply no becoming a ghost. Even the ancient Ghost Clan were not true specters.

“Don’t dismiss it so easily! That day, our entire town witnessed it—a figure like an immortal ascended from Wangwu Mountain, thousands of meters tall, clearly not human," the innkeeper pressed, sensing their doubt.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you," Lin Fan replied with a smile, "but what you’re describing is almost too fantastical. Ghosts are the stuff of legends, and have long been proven to be nothing but myth." He saw through the young man’s intentions—hoping for a generous tip—but did not expose him. As for ghosts, he truly did not believe.

"This is the honest truth. If you don't believe me, go see the old blacksmith in the eastern part of town. His family has lived here for generations. Rumor has it, he sometimes enters Wangwu Mountain and returns alive," the innkeeper said, pointing them to a local figure.

"The old blacksmith? Still, thank you for your answer, but we’re only here for a family visit, not to get caught up in the mountain’s troubles," Lin Fan replied, pulling out a single Yin-Yang Pill. The innkeeper left overjoyed—a pill like that was a rare treasure for any ordinary person.

"Miss Xiaoxian, what do you make of all this?" Once the innkeeper was gone, Lin Fan turned to Yi Xiaoxian with a grave expression.

"We can believe some of it, but not everything," Yi Xiaoxian replied after a moment’s thought.

"For ordinary people, anything beyond nature is a ghost or a god. So while his story can’t be taken at face value, there is a kernel of truth we can’t ignore." She was calm, not one to rush blindly into danger just for a chance at immortal blood.

"I think so too. The innkeeper got what he wanted, but meeting this old blacksmith is probably worth our time," Lin Fan said. Better to err on the side of caution—if the blacksmith truly had some means, their safety would be better assured.

"Let's pay him a visit, then. It's no trouble," Yi Xiaoxian said, covering her face with a veil as she headed downstairs. Lin Fan followed closely, and together they melted into the bustling crowd.

The old blacksmith was a well-known figure in Qinghu Town; Lin Fan needed only a few inquiries to find his home.

The house stood in an out-of-the-way corner, large and somewhat grand.

"A Five Elements and Eight Trigrams Formation? This residence is anything but ordinary," Yi Xiaoxian observed. Her foundation was profound, her background not merely as a scion of the Yi family.

"A discerning young lady. Come in," an aged voice called from within. With a creak, the solid wooden doors opened.

Lin Fan and Yi Xiaoxian exchanged a glance, then stepped inside.

But once they entered, they sensed an odd atmosphere—the courtyard held several other figures, both men and women, nearly ten in all.

“With you two, that makes twelve. We can set out now. My original plan’s changed a bit—everyone pays ten thousand Yin-Yang Pills, the last two pay fifteen thousand each,” said a burly old man, his face a map of wrinkles, but his hands still strong and steady from a lifetime of labor.

“What’s this? Old Blacksmith, is your reputation for nothing?” one man demanded, his face brutish and his tone menacing.

“If you object, you can leave. That’s how I do things. But let me warn you—Wangwu Mountain is no easy place to enter. Even with my ancestors’ notes, I expect to barely escape with my life,” the old blacksmith replied with a cold laugh, his eyes sharp and dangerous, as if he might devour someone whole.

“Ancestor’s notes? Just a scare tactic! You’re old and have no heirs—why not hand the notes to me and let me lead?” The brutish young man suddenly made his move, his powerful aura surging from his body, revealing his cultivation at the fifth level of the Meridian Condensation Realm.

Yet no one else moved; everyone else watched in silence.

"You young ones are bold. But if I had no skill, I'd have died in Wangwu Mountain long ago. Get out. If I don’t make an example of you, how will I keep the others in line?" the old blacksmith snorted. Without visible movement, a radiant beam descended from above, striking the attacker.

A scream echoed through the courtyard as blood mist filled the air—the young man was dead, slain in an instant.

"What terrifying skill! That strike was invisible—perfect for an ambush," Lin Fan thought, frowning. He had caught a glimpse of the old blacksmith’s move, but it was so quick that only the word "instantaneous" could describe it.

He realized now that a flexible sword hung at the blacksmith’s waist. It was that very sword which had split the young man in two. To hide the truth, the old man used his blood energy to reduce the body to mist, leaving nothing for others to find.

“I trust there are no further objections now?”