Chapter 4386 — Into the Dungeon

Wei Zhao quietly surveyed his surroundings, waiting for a chance to sow chaos and slip away. But his captor gave him no such opportunity. One hand clamped on his right shoulder, the man simply vaulted into the air, moving with such astonishing speed that he left not even a blurred afterimage behind. The passersby in the street seemed not to notice the two of them at all.

Wei Zhao's heart sank to the bottom of his chest. He could scarcely stir the true qi within his body—let alone unleash a martial technique, he could not even dream of raising a protective shroud of true qi. With his right shoulder pinned in that iron grip, escape was out of the question; a single twitch and the shoulder would likely crumble to powder.

With no other choice, Wei Zhao abandoned any thought of resistance, letting Ma Tianlang grip his right shoulder and haul him away as docile as a lamb.

Once out of the merchants' guild, Ma Tianlang abruptly picked up speed. Wei Zhao felt his vision swim, and in the next instant he had no idea which corner of Moleng City he had been carried to.

Ma Tianlang brought Wei Zhao to an ordinary dwelling that looked no different from the buildings around it. Inside, there seemed nothing unusual either—but after passing through several hidden doors, the scene changed entirely.

Before them stretched a long tunnel, pitch-dark and leading no one knew where. Ma Tianlang rushed along it with Wei Zhao in tow for what felt like an eternity, until at last he came to a halt.

Wei Zhao carefully took stock of his surroundings. Ahead lay an entrance—this, surely, was the dungeon the man in black had spoken of. Two guards stood at the mouth of it, their cultivation realms impenetrable even to the Golden Finger, which told him they were masters of considerable strength; their auras were far beyond anything an ordinary Nascent Soul expert could boast.

At the sight, Wei Zhao felt a chill of wariness. Every last person he had encountered so far had been no easy mark. With hidden dragons and crouching tigers like these emerging one after another, the Zhongshu Merchants' Guild could not possibly be a mere merchants' guild. What power, then, stood behind it?

Ma Tianlang gave the two guards a nod, then swung his leg and kicked Wei Zhao straight into the dungeon, before striding off without a backward glance.

No candlelight, no glowstone. The dungeon was utterly black, so dark he could not see his own hand before his face, let alone make out his surroundings. All he knew was a grim, spine-chilling gloom that would have frightened an ordinary man half to death.

Wei Zhao, however, was faring well enough. With Ma Tianlang's grip gone from his right shoulder, the true qi in his body flowed freely once more; whatever mishap might arise, he still had the means to defend himself. And the lay of the land around him was perfectly clear to his divine sense.

The dungeon was far from small—at first glance it resembled a modest plaza. Faint wards of a protective formation emanated from the walls on every side, and the stone was exceedingly hard. To break through by force would be a fool's dream for any ordinary cultivator; at the very least, a common Nascent Soul expert could not so much as scratch it.

Only a Xuan Sheng titan could manage it—or a freak of nature like Di Xingdao, nominally at the peak of the Nascent Soul realm yet capable of snuffing out a Xuan Sheng titan in an instant.

"Hey, brat. New arrival? What did you do?" A rough voice suddenly rang out from the darkness.

Wei Zhao turned toward the sound. The speaker was a man whose face was crisscrossed with scars, his features savage and terrifying, his whole body radiating a thick, murderous brutality. One look was enough to tell anyone that this was a fellow not to be trifled with.

Besides the scarred man, quite a few others were locked in the dungeon as well, every one of them staring at Wei Zhao with hooded eyes—some eager to pounce, some gloating, some watching coldly from the sidelines. In short, not a single one of them had anything to do with kindness.

Wei Zhao swept his gaze over them and extended his divine sense to probe each in turn—and was instantly stunned.

"What are you standing there gawking for? Got anything good on you? Hand it over for the old man to share, or don't blame me for getting nasty!" The scarred man thought Wei Zhao had been cowed by him, and sneered in smug satisfaction.

As he spoke, the scarred man released the full force of his aura—the mid Nascent Soul realm, no less. The rest of the dungeon's occupants showed fear on their faces one and all, a clear sign that none of them matched his strength; and unless something had gone wrong, he had doubtless oppressed them in the same way before, which was why they were so cowed now.

Unfortunately for him, the scarred man was giving himself far too much credit. A mid Nascent Soul expert might stand high and mighty out in the world, and might even be enough to inspire dread within this dungeon—but he was not worth Wei Zhao's notice.

A supreme mid Golden Core expert who had broken through to perfection, crowned with trump cards of every description—above all that mixed dan-fire true qi bomb, the ultimate killing weapon he kept hidden up his sleeve—Wei Zhao had never been an existence to be judged by common sense.

Never mind Golden Core experts of his own level; even early Nascent Soul cultivators were nothing but trash before him. As for the mid Nascent Soul realm, that would merely cost him a bit more effort.

The reason Wei Zhao had been so stunned just now had nothing to do with the scarred man at all. It was that among the dungeon's inmates he had spotted an old acquaintance he had been searching for all this time—Lu Bianren!

Never in his wildest dreams would Wei Zhao have imagined that Lu Bianren was locked up in this dungeon. No wonder there had been no word of him all this time; no wonder even the Qingtian Escort Agency's network of contacts had turned up nothing. Shut away in a dungeon, never seeing the light of day—anyone outside who could have found him would have to be a ghost.

As Wei Zhao discovered Lu Bianren, Lu Bianren was likewise sizing up Wei Zhao—though he did not recognize him. After all, Wei Zhao now wore the Thousand-Silk Mask, presenting the utterly unfamiliar face of a coarse, burly ruffian.

Compared with the others, who were gloating, there was no malice in Lu Bianren's gaze; rather, it held a trace of pity. Every newcomer was oppressed by this scarred man—himself included.

The fellow was a mid Nascent Soul expert, while Lu Bianren was only mid Golden Core—a full major realm apart. Nor could he cross realms to fight foes as easily as Wei Zhao could. Before the scarred man he was utterly powerless to resist, unable even to protect himself, let alone lend a hand to a total stranger.

The only thing he could do was feel sympathy. To leap out and openly oppose the man would be no different from courting death. This was a dungeon, after all, and the guards outside took a thoroughly hands-off attitude toward matters within. If blows truly broke out, a death would be a death for nothing.

Seeing that Wei Zhao still made no response, the scarred man knitted his blade-like brows, strode up to him in two steps, and barked furiously, "I'm talking to you! Did you hear me?"

"You talking to me?" Only then did Wei Zhao tear his gaze away from Lu Bianren—without acknowledging him openly before the crowd—and turn to glance at the scarred man, asking mildly in return.

"Damn right I am! You're the only newcomer here—if I'm not talking to you, am I talking to the air? Do you have something wrong with your brain?" The scarred man came striding over, cursing all the while. (If you enjoy this work, you are welcome to come to Qidian and cast