The reigning dynasty in the Central Plains is the Great Tang, which has held the throne for forty-seven years. Under the second emperor, who governs with diligence and strives for strength, all foreign nations submit, and countless envoys arrive at court—a glorious era seldom seen in a thousand years.
Yet, in this year, the Southern Barbarians revolted, led by the chieftains of thirty-six caves, plunging the southern frontier into chaos. Most notable was Wudu Ya, chieftain of the Mangu Cave, who led eight thousand of his kinsmen soldiers to raid border cities, plundering freely before retreating. The Son of Heaven was enraged and commanded Duke Ying, the Governor of Lizhou, Wu Ji, to quell the rebellion with thirty thousand elite troops. Alas, Wudu Ya's sorcery was potent; though the Tang army fought bravely, they could not withstand it.
Wu Ji was forced to appeal to the cultivation sects across the land, leading to various assignments concerning the Southern Barbarians requested from the diverse schools of the Three Teachings and Nine Schools.
Mount Longhu is situated in Hongzhou, in the Jiangnan West Circuit within Tang territory, a journey of three thousand li to the Southern Barbarians.
This was Feng Zikang’s first time leaving Mount Longhu. Although his heart was firm as stone, a thread of novelty and curiosity still tickled him. Guiding his iron sword through the air, he traveled slowly, observing the local customs and landscapes, which he found quite diverting.
Traveling day and night in this manner, he covered the majority of the distance in two days and two nights. However, the closer he drew to the Southern Barbarians, the more the mountains rose, making navigation increasingly difficult. One day, he misjudged his bearing and flew into a dense forest, unable to find his path. He had no choice but to ascend higher and pause to gaze upon the vista.
Before him, the southern peaks stretched endlessly, ancient and verdant. The setting sun slanted across the myriad mountains, casting shadows that played against the light in a spectacle of compelling beauty.
Though Feng Zikang was not a Daoist who achieved enlightenment through communion with heaven and earth, he too felt the exquisite artistry of creation, the work of supernatural forces, and his spirit stirred, touched by a nascent realization.
As he composed his thoughts, he spotted another figure rushing along a mountain path below.
This person was bare-chested, clad only in a piece of hemp cloth that billowed in the wind. From a distance, his features were indistinct; only the dust churning behind him, like that kicked up by a galloping horse, was clearly visible.
“To think I’d encounter another cultivator even in these desolate wilds.”
The speed at which this man ran was nearly comparable to Feng Zikang’s speed while flying, meaning he was certainly no ordinary mortal. Just as Feng Zikang was about to call out a greeting, he heard the man shout loudly, “Which Daoist friend is above? I am Mo Li, a descendant of the Mohist school from Linzi. I request an answer from Daoist friend!”
The man’s voice was like a great bell; when he spoke, it sounded as though a thunderclap had sounded right next to one’s ear—truly a natural manifestation of a Lion’s Roar or some similar divine ability.
As Mo Li rushed closer, his features came into view. He had a narrow face, a high nose, and eyes like lacquer—a handsome visage overall. However, his thick eyebrows were currently knitted together, and his face was etched with sorrow, indignation, and discontent.
Feng Zikang waited until the runner reached him before cupping his hands and replying calmly.
“I am Feng Zikang, a disciple of the School of Military Arts from Mount Longhu. Greetings, Fellow Daoist Mo.”
“Mount Longhu?”
Mo Li raised his eyebrows, a look of suspicion flashing in his eyes. He forced himself to suppress it and asked, “May I inquire where Daoist friend is headed?”
His tone remained polite, yet Feng Zikang perceived a strangely aggressive undertone in his words. The Mohists preach universal love and non-aggression; such rudeness seemed out of character.
Feng Zikang noticed the air of depression clouding Mo Li’s brow, as if he were deeply wronged. He surmised that Mo Li must have encountered some misfortune.
“I am heading toward the Southern Barbarians…”
“From Mount Longhu to the Southern Barbarians, the route lies southwest. Why, Daoist friend, have you turned east?”
Mo Li sharply interrupted him, his question taking on the air of an interrogation.
Feng Zikang offered a faint smile. “Fellow Daoist Mo, we have met by chance. I have no need to explain myself to you…”
“Wicked villain!”
Mo Li suddenly erupted in fury. Spreading his hands wide, he roared, and a cloud of black smoke and dust billowed up from the ground, vaguely coalescing into a humanoid shape.
“Profound Stone Mechanism Man! Be summoned!”
“Hahaha! To witness the wonders of Mohist mechanics in such a remote place—this journey is truly worthwhile…”
Feng Zikang laughed aloud, waiting patiently for the dust to settle, eager to see the true form of the bronze automaton.
The Profound Stone Mechanism Man was utterly black, standing nearly twelve feet tall, its face fierce. Though unarmed, it was cast entirely from profound stone; even its fists could tear apart tigers and leopards or shatter steles.
Feng Zikang looked towards its chest, where four white stars were aligned neatly, situated precisely where the heart should be.
“A four-star Profound Stone Mechanism Man. Daoist friend Mo is a disciple at the fourth layer of Qi Induction. What a coincidence…”
Mohist mechanics are famous throughout the realm, and their powerful automata play a significant role when their disciples travel. Current Mohist technology involves blueprints for Mechanism Men crafted from Rough Wood, Profound Stone, Bronze, Silver, and Fine Gold. Except for the Rough Wood type—which is mundane and suitable only for disciples who have not yet entered the Qi Induction realm—the other four types correspond to cultivators at the Qi Induction, Foundation Establishment, Core Condensation, and Nascent Soul stages, respectively.
As for anything higher, nothing has ever been heard of.
The Profound Stone Mechanism Man is further graded by ten stars. Each time a Mohist disciple advances a layer in cultivation, they can re-refine the automaton, adding one white star. The fact that this Profound Stone Mechanism Man bears four white stars on its chest marks it as being used by a fourth-layer Qi Induction disciple.
“Enough nonsense! Take this!”
Mo Li flicked his wrist, and the Profound Stone Mechanism Man lunged ferociously toward Feng Zikang.
“Seventy-odd lives lost at Longshi Ravine—I demand an explanation from you!”
This was a desolate area with no other cultivators passing by. Yet, Mo Li had only been away for a few hours when all seventy-plus villagers in Longshi Ravine met violent deaths. If not for the action of a cultivator, what else could explain it?
A strange compulsion welled up in Mo Li’s chest, as if he were utterly convinced that the man before him was the culprit. Feng Zikang’s languid demeanor further ignited his wrath!
Feng Zikang smiled faintly, drifting backward lightly, easily evading a straight punch from the automaton.
He now understood the root of Mo Li’s fury—he had indeed encountered a tragedy. Mohist disciples despised the slaughter of innocent mortals above all else. Given his own fiercely just nature, he was currently like a powder keg ready to ignite, especially with Feng Zikang deliberately guiding his agitation. At this moment, Mo Li’s anger was teetering on the brink of losing control.
Feng Zikang considered seizing this opportunity to plant the seed of an inner demon in his heart.
Hmph! These self-proclaimed Righteous Path members who refuse to see reason!
Feng Zikang scoffed internally, skillfully evading the automaton’s relentless attacks while attentively studying the Mohist disciple’s fighting style.
Indeed, Mo Li had erected a barrier of cyan light in front of himself. While Mohist tools and mechanisms were formidable, in a direct melee, they were certainly no match for a disciple of the School of Military Arts. Using the automaton to engage the enemy while setting up personal defenses was the most common tactic. Against an ordinary Military Arts disciple of the same rank, such entanglement would surely leave one helpless.
But Feng Zikang was no ordinary Military Arts disciple. If he deployed the powers of the Star River Shuttle or the Soul Bone Sword, he could easily slay Mo Li on the spot. However, that was not his objective; he merely engaged the automaton patiently, waiting for his chance.
Mo Li’s expression was grim. Despite his rage, he had not lost his composure in battle, constantly bolstering the automaton with various auxiliary abilities—sometimes accelerating it, sometimes enhancing its power—a repertoire of endless variations. Feng Zikang found the duel exhilarating, letting out a long cry that echoed across the wilderness.
“Villain! Surrender now, and I will escort you back to the Mo Sect in Linzi for judgment!”
The Mohist school rarely killed; even though Mo Li believed Feng Zikang guilty of such a heinous crime, he still refrained from taking a life.
Feng Zikang chuckled darkly. Seeing Mo Li’s emotions gradually stabilizing, he suddenly shimmered, and his figure vanished!