Chapter Twelve: The Banner of a Hundred Spirits

“Not in a good mood? Oh, I see—it’s true, Master isn’t very pleased today. Look at those fools: the questions they ask are simpler than the last, and some are downright absurd,” the young acolyte said, bursting into laughter.

“If Master is so displeased, won’t I be scolded if I go in?” Zhang Xiao asked, a little anxious. He had studied the art of crafting, but never practiced it; to receive guidance from Master Kongling was crucial.

The acolyte covered his mouth and chuckled, “Master, angry at you? Impossible! You’ve only been here a short while, and already reached the Qi Refining stage. Such a talent—how could Master be angry? Hehehe.”

Zhang Xiao agreed, but was startled: the acolyte had so easily discerned his cultivation. Clearly, he was unfathomable—a lucky thing Zhang Xiao hadn’t shown disrespect.

He followed the acolyte into the grand hall. The Pavilion of Thousand Mechanisms was truly worthy of being Kongling Daoist’s residence. Though the hall looked simple, once inside, its hidden mysteries revealed themselves: twelve towering pillars, each a hundred meters high, carved with golden dragons and jade phoenixes so lifelike they seemed ready to soar.

In the hall’s center stood a bronze furnace, ten meters tall and seven or eight meters wide, radiating waves of spiritual pressure. Zhang Xiao guessed it was a treasure of the magical grade, though its precise rank was beyond him.

Kongling Daoist sat cross-legged upon a jade platform. The acolyte led Zhang Xiao forward and announced, “Master, another disciple seeks your guidance.”

Kongling Daoist’s brow twitched in annoyance. “I said no visitors—why bring another?” he wondered inwardly. But since the disciple was already here, he couldn’t simply send him away. He decided to ask first before making any decision.

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. “Ah! Zhang Xiao!” Upon seeing the visitor, Kongling Daoist scrutinized him closely.

When he saw that Zhang Xiao had reached the Qi Refining stage, Kongling Daoist stroked his beard in delight. “You’ve already advanced to Qi Refining? Hahaha! Finally, something today to ease my mind.”

“Disciple Zhang Xiao, greetings to Master.” Though the Daoist was pleased, Zhang Xiao dared not be presumptuous and hurried to perform the proper rites.

Kongling Daoist flicked his whisk, lifting Zhang Xiao with a wave of spiritual power. “Enough, no need for ceremony. Since you entered my tutelage, I’ve wondered when you’d return to seek my counsel. Unexpectedly, you endured until a critical moment. Speak—have you come for advice on cultivation, or on alchemy and crafting?”

Zhang Xiao hastened to reply, “Thank you, Master, for your concern. I’ve devoted myself to refining my cultivation and haven't practiced other attack techniques. With the sect’s tournament approaching, I do have an iron corpse for protection, but my hopes for the top ten are slim. So I wish to craft a spiritual treasure for defense and seek your guidance.”

“Oh, so that’s your purpose. Let me think.” Kongling Daoist closed his eyes in thought. Zhang Xiao and the acolyte stood quietly, each waiting in silence.

After about the time it takes for a stick of incense to burn, Kongling Daoist opened his eyes. “Zhang Xiao, have you considered competing for the position of Founding Disciple in this tournament?”

Zhang Xiao hadn’t expected such a pointed question, rather than immediate guidance. However, his mind was already made up: what was the use of striving for first place, when even the tenth was out of reach? The authority was not as great as imagined. With so many vying for it, why compete? Fifth or sixth would suffice. Second place was never appealing, and the title of ‘Second Senior Brother’ reminded him too much of the pig demon in Journey to the West.

“Disciple has no desire for the Founding Disciple position—only wishes to secure a place in the top ten,” Zhang Xiao answered naturally.

Kongling Daoist was clearly surprised. That position came with great power, yet Zhang Xiao spoke sincerely and surely wouldn’t dare lie before him; otherwise, he’d be guilty of betraying the master’s trust.

“Very well. Since you do not wish to compete for Founding Disciple, I will teach you the method for crafting the Yin-Yang Banner of a Hundred Ghosts. But remember—you must not contend for that position,” Kongling Daoist said. A ball of ethereal light shot from his fingertips.

It flashed and merged into Zhang Xiao’s brow. Focusing inward, Zhang Xiao found the method for crafting the Yin-Yang Banner of a Hundred Ghosts. He quickly bowed. “Thank you, Master, for your generosity.”

Kongling Daoist smiled and nodded. “Good. You have both Lunar Stone and Solar Stone, the finest materials for crafting this banner. But your cultivation is not yet sufficient to forge a magical treasure. Using top-grade materials for a mere spiritual treasure would be a waste. In the northern rear mountains, countless rare materials abound. Go and find substitutes. When you craft, just scrape some powder from your Lunar and Solar Stones and mix it in.”

Zhang Xiao thanked him again. Kongling Daoist waved him off, but as Zhang Xiao reached the hall’s threshold, he heard the Daoist’s voice in his ear: “Remember—power is built on strength. Without strength, authority is an empty tower in the sky.”

Zhang Xiao pondered the deeper meaning of these words. Was the Founding Disciple merely a figurehead—great authority, but hollow?

Full of questions, he returned to his bamboo hut, gathered some changes of clothes, and then visited the Maoshan pill chamber to collect some Qi Gathering Pills. These pills quickly restored spiritual energy and staved off hunger for a long time. Each disciple could claim ten monthly. Zhang Xiao usually ate in the Maoshan cafeteria and hadn’t claimed any in three months, so he could now collect thirty.

With the pills in hand, Zhang Xiao set out for the rear mountains. Time was short. Along the way, he studied the method for crafting the Yin-Yang Banner of a Hundred Ghosts. It was indeed extraordinary: if crafted with the prescribed materials, it would be a seventh-grade magical treasure, able to summon a hundred ghosts for defense. Its power would devastate everything within several miles. Moreover, the banner was used in sets of seven; with a full set, one could unleash the Seven-Star Yin-Yang Annihilation Array, which rivaled even ninth-grade treasures.

If he could craft forty-nine banners, he could lay the Four-Nine Killing Formation—no even wandering immortals could escape. Of course, the banner was not so easily made. His Lunar and Solar Stones were only enough for one, not to mention other materials like Soul Thread, Living Shadow Stone, and Soul Transformation Wood, all top-tier ingredients. Crafting one banner was hard enough; forty-nine would exhaust anyone just searching for materials.

Since the cosmic upheaval, the world had changed; mountains and rivers shifted, and Maoshan Sect had become its own realm. Only those guided from outside could enter. The rear mountains stretched for thousands of miles: towering trees, green canopies blocking the sun, fragrant grasses carpeting the ground, and lemongrass everywhere. Rainbows arched over the rugged peaks; it was like a fairyland.

But beneath this poetic beauty lurked danger. A gaunt, ugly figure in light garb raced through the woods.

Suddenly, a giant bear with red fur burst from the grass, charging at him. The bear dwarfed the strange man, blocking out the sunlight as its claw, reeking with a foul wind, swung for the man’s head.

Yet the man stood utterly still, as if paralyzed by fear. The bear’s paw struck his head with a loud clang.

Contrary to expectation, there was no bloody scene. The bear’s blow landed with the sound of metal striking metal, and the man stood unmoved.

The bear, seeing its blow had no effect, and its paw was reddened by the impact, was baffled.

Before it could react, the man’s fingers pierced the bear’s chest like dagger tips, and his hand scooped out a blood-streaked gall bladder.

“Excellent—this gall bladder is full of vitality. Ideal for making low-grade pills,” said the man—none other than Zhang Xiao, who had performed the Corpse Armor technique, merging man and corpse.

He stowed the gall bladder in his bone ring and examined the bloody red-furred bear at his feet. His fingers danced like blades, swiftly stripping the hide.

“This pelt is nice—good for a chair cushion.” He packed it away and ventured deeper into the woods. The monsters of the rear mountains were far beyond ordinary folk’s ability to handle. That bloody bear had only been level 25, but it was an elite beast; a single swipe could shatter stone, and its hide was impervious to blades.

Only his iron corpse had allowed him to survive; otherwise, he’d have had no chance to flee. No wonder so many treasures lay here, yet none of Maoshan’s thousand disciples ever ventured in.

“Hmm? What’s that sound?” A faint cry reached Zhang Xiao’s ears, not far off. He leapt like an arrow toward the source.

Soon, he found the origin in a mountain valley. A massive spider, snowy white and even larger than the bloody bear, stood there.

The spider gleamed with a layer of silver frost, like a suit of armor. Dozens of monkeys were besieging it, their attacks unrelenting. Its eight long claws darted in and out, sometimes shredding a monkey to pieces.

The monkeys, wielding stone clubs, struck at the spider’s back whenever possible. Suddenly, the spider shot a spray of silver silk from its abdomen, binding several monkeys tightly.

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