Chapter 11 — Bowls and Basins Overflowing

It was still dark when Zhou Xuan, exhausted and pale as a sheet, made his way back to the hotel. To scatter that last lingering thread of consciousness, he had been forced to expend even his own vital blood-essence—small wonder his complexion looked so ghastly. Liao Yanqiao was sitting in meditation, refining his qi. Ever since Zhou Xuan had passed on the methods of cultivation, Liao Yanqiao had trained with tireless diligence. The body of a bloodkin was far stronger than that of an ordinary mortal, and Liao Yanqiao's original cultivation had been no mean thing to begin with; add to that the Chi You Heavenly Meridian, and in less than two months he had broken through a threshold that would have cost an ordinary man ten years of bitter toil. He had just barely reached the initial stage of drawing qi into the body. As Zhou Xuan entered, Liao Yanqiao happened to be finishing a full cycle of his exercises. Catching sight of Zhou Xuan's complexion, he squawked, "Master, what have you been up to? Why do you look so awful? Don't tell me you went out on the town? America's always been so open about these things, haha!" Liao Yanqiao's laugh was thoroughly lewd. One look at that grin and Zhou Xuan knew exactly what was running through the fellow's head. "Fie! What nonsense are you spouting? When your master goes out, it's naturally on important business," Zhou Xuan said, eyeing Liao Yanqiao with some surprise. "But you—your cultivation's coming along nicely, isn't it? To reach the qi-drawing stage this quickly—it seems next time I'll have to forge you a flying sword and pass on the way of the sword cultivator. Heh heh! A bloodkin sword immortal! You'd be the first!"

This cheap disciple of his had never harbored honest intentions, and the cultivation method Zhou Xuan had transmitted was merely the second-rate art that old ghost Ling Yun had passed down to him. Besides, Liao Yanqiao carried the bloodline of an ancient demon god—his cultivation progressed at a rate ordinary people could not even fathom. Zhou Xuan still had the strength to keep him in check for now, but if he were to teach Liao Yanqiao the Sword Qi Soaring the Heavens Art, the man's cultivation would likely catch up to his own within a few months—perhaps even surpass it. Strength was what commanded respect; this was the principle Zhou Xuan had always lived by. But things were different now. Zhou Xuan had condensed his Second Primordial Derivation, and in time, once he had driven out the energy of the Seven Treasures Wondrous Tree Staff that remained within the Heaven-Snaring Blood-Transforming Divine Blade, and once the Derivation had condensed into its true form—with the Second Primordial Derivation wielding the blade—Zhou Xuan was confident that even if Liao Yanqiao became a hundred, a thousand times more formidable, he would still be no match for him. "He is, after all, the founding senior disciple of the Yanfa Sect. The instincts of a bloodkin are formidable enough, but his own cultivation must be raised as well. Once we return home, we'll have a great enterprise to undertake. In today's world, every manner of demon and monster comes out to join the fun—without strength, you're nothing." So Zhou Xuan calculated.

At this, Liao Yanqiao was overjoyed. The memory of the day Zhou Xuan had cleaved Anthony in two was still deeply seared into his mind, and he had long envied that earth-shaking sword strike. Now that he heard Zhou Xuan intended to teach it to him, how could he not be delighted? He was just about to rattle off a few flattering words when Zhou Xuan spoke: "Don't say anything. I can't be bothered to listen to your flattery. You are, after all, the founding senior disciple of the Yanfa Sect—strengthening your power can only do good, never harm. Last night I probed the secrets of this Blood-Transforming Divine Blade and grasped a few things. I need to enter seclusion now. You go out and scout around, get a feel for this Las Vegas casino environment. We may have three hundred million dollars now, but the more money the better. Once we've raked in a full bowl and basin, we'll go home!"

"Master, what about that little missy? She's a regular piece of sticky candy! A restless one, too—if she clings to me for dear life, I can't very well knock her unconscious, can I?" Liao Yanqiao said, deeply troubled.

"That is indeed a problem. I can't use mind-control arts—if she wakes up later, she'll think we had ill intentions. To have been abducted by someone from the Japanese Nine Chrysanthemums Sect, her family background can't be simple. There's no reason to provoke her, and we can't let her run around loose either. I suspect the Nine Chrysanthemums Sect and the Shadowflow Sect people may have already reached Las Vegas—after all, we did away with their young master and their grand elder. It would be bad if they found us. When you go out, be extremely careful. Don't get into any conflicts." Liao Yanqiao nodded emphatically. "What's the best way to handle this? We can't use force on the girl. How can we make her behave?" Zhou Xuan racked his brains until his head swam.

Meanwhile, just as Zhou Xuan was pondering how to placate Ling Yan, at that abandoned warehouse—the very place where Zhou Xuan had slain Grand Elder Iga and Mitsui Taro—a dozen eerie figures suddenly appeared. They were wrapped head to toe in black clothing and black cloth, so tightly covered that only a pair of eyes glittering with keen light showed. One figure carefully surveyed the terrain within a twenty-zhang radius of the warehouse. Suddenly he addressed a man who appeared to be the leader: "Lord Aso! The young master's scent is here—the young master has been to this place!" He spoke in Japanese. The black-clad leader called Aso nodded and ordered: "This time the young master came out to trade with Shadowflow's Grand Elder Iga, but they've all vanished without a trace. Shadowflow's people will arrive here soon. We must find the young master, the sacred blade, and that Chinese woman before they do." Aso produced a photograph. It was Ling Yan. "Hai!" the dozen black-clad figures answered in unison. Then their bodies twisted, and they vanished into the darkness just as the first sliver of dawn broke.

The sky was fully bright now, the fiery red morning sun illuminating the earth with radiance. Another fine day! Zhou Xuan stood by the enormous transparent glass wall of the window, watching the ant-like crowds stream ceaselessly below his feet. "It's good to have money! From the seventieth floor here, you can see all of Las Vegas. This room really is spacious enough—luxurious enough. Just too damned expensive—ten thousand dollars a night." Zhou Xuan sighed inwardly.

"Brother Zhou, where's Brother Liao?" Ling Yan came running in, asking the moment she saw him. Today Ling Yan wore a white casual outfit with a large Pikachu printed on it, and tight jeans that set off her figure—making her look all the more slender, willowy, and adorable. Alas, Zhou Xuan's immunity to beautiful women was simply superhuman; he was utterly unmoved. "Oh! He went out on business!" he said flatly. Ling Yan pouted unhappily: "What's with that? He clearly promised to take me out to have fun. Oh, Brother Zhou, why don't we go shopping together?" Zhou Xuan suddenly produced a fire talisman and said, "Ruoshui, do you know what kind of people we are?" Ling Yan was startled, her eyes wide, and said nothing. Zhou Xuan continued: "I am indeed the sect master of the Yanfa Sect, and Xiao Jin is my disciple as well." Ling Yan burst out laughing: "Brother Zhou, you really are a joker!" Before the words had left her mouth, the talisman paper in Zhou Xuan's hand suddenly transformed into a fireball the size of a bushel, floating in midair. Ah! Ling Yan gasped. "Brother Zhou, you have psychic powers! No wonder you're so young and already have so much money. You must have won it all gambling with your psychic powers!" Her eyes were full of stars.