The Immortal Clan begins with deductive intelligence.

Chapter 95 Warships (Seeking first subscriptions)

Fallen petals drift on the water, while new reeds sprout in the darkness.

A few days are but a few breaths between the morning bell and evening drum; for a cultivator, they pass in the blink of an eye.

Xu Changqing had made ample preparations, and the deadline for his mobilization order had finally arrived.

As night fell, candlelight flickered in the main bedroom.

Jiang Rou, wearing a plain-colored soft satin jacket and with her black hair half-tied up, sat by the couch, carefully tidying up Xu Changqing's luggage by the dim candlelight.

Xu Changqing stepped forward slowly, gently wrapped his arms around his wife's waist from behind, rested his chin on her shoulder, and said softly, "There's no need to prepare so much. For a cultivator, one or two changes of clothes are enough. Bringing too much will only be a burden."

Jiang Rou's eyelashes trembled slightly, a layer of unyielding sorrow lingering between her brows. She placed her hand on Xu Changqing's hand, her voice slightly hoarse: "The front lines are bitterly cold, and swords have no eyes. You're the kind of person who doesn't like to rely on others. If I'm not by your side, who will take care of you?"

Xu Changqing's eyes softened as he took out a warm, smooth jade from his sleeve and tied it around Jiang Rou's waist.

"I found this jade in the market. It has a calming effect. Although this trip is dangerous, I have my own trump card to protect my life. You can rest assured and take care of your pregnancy on the island."

Jiang Rouzhen leaned her head lightly on his shoulder, saying nothing more, but burying all her concern deep in her heart.

"My husband, take care."

The next morning, as dawn broke.

A misty haze hung over the vast marshland, and a chill seeped into the bones.

Xu Changqing did not allow his clansmen to send him off in a grand manner. Dressed in a gray-blue outfit, with a long sword at his waist and a bamboo hat on his head, he went to Qinghe Market alone.

With the wind and waves at their backs, in just an hour or two, the wide, deep bay outside Qinghefang Market came into view.

Amidst the vast expanse of mist, a colossal figure emerged from the fog and lay horizontally on the river's surface.

It was a colossal warship, towering like a mountain.

The ship was dozens of feet tall, and its entire body was made of dark black, century-old submerged ironwood, gleaming with a cold, hard metallic luster.

The bow of the ship is carved with a ferocious black tortoise swallowing the sea beast, its blood-red mouth wide open, swallowing and exhaling clouds.

On both sides of the ship's hull, dark gold reinforcement array patterns intertwined and flowed with the defensive spiritual shield, like coiled dragons, faintly radiating a chilling spiritual pressure.

Three enormous blue sails blotted out the sky, billowing in the wind, making the entire warship resemble a section of a mountain range cut off in mid-air, pressing down on the water and making it hard to breathe.

Xu Changqing stood on the flatboat, looking up at the colossal object, feeling a sense of awe in his heart.

The Qinghe Sword Sect's ability to suppress a vast expanse of water is just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to such a war behemoth.

He restrained his thoughts and kept his cultivation level just over the fifth level of Qi Refining, so as not to stand out too much in the crowd.

After presenting the scroll of black iron decree, Xu Changqing climbed the gangway and stepped onto the broad, flat deck of the warship.

At this moment, hundreds of cultivators had gathered on the deck, all of whom were conscripted from various vassal families and independent cultivator settlements.

Xu Changqing subtly shifted his gaze, scanning the crowd without making a sound.

Of these hundreds of people, as many as 70% were early-stage cultivators at the first to third level of Qi Refining.

They were dressed in various family costumes, huddled in small groups at the edge of the deck, their faces showing fear and unease.

There were only a few dozen cultivators who had reached the mid-stage of Qi Refining, making them stand out from the crowd.

At the bow of the ship, several scions of noble families, dressed in brocade robes and with jade pendants hanging from their waists, stood out.

Several people were seen talking animatedly in the river breeze.

"I've heard that although Black Wind Pass is dangerous, the demonic beasts there are treasures from head to toe. If we could kill a few mid-stage first-tier demonic generals and exchange them at the sect's supply depot, it would be equivalent to several years' worth of effort for our family!"

"Indeed! We have cultivated diligently for over a decade, and what we truly lack is a thoroughly enjoyable and bloody battle to prove our Dao heart!"

These people were only at the fourth level of Qi Refining. They held the mid-grade magic weapons bestowed upon them by their families. Instead of the desolation of rushing to their deaths, their brows revealed a fanatical desire and expectation to make a name for themselves.

Xu Changqing glanced sideways.

How incredibly naive!

But faced with that overwhelming, fearless torrent of demonic beasts, all they had was a few surges of unbridled passion.

How many of them can survive with their tails intact?

Xu Changqing turned his back, leaving the noise and fervor behind, his hands tucked into his wide sleeves, and leaned against the ship's railing.

A river breeze caressed his face, lifting a strand of hair by his ear.

Xu Changqing looked out at the horizon, where layers upon layers of lead-gray cumulus clouds were spreading into the depths of the marshland.

"clang--!"

A deep, resonant chime echoed from the top of the ship's deck, drowning out all the noise on the deck.

The spirit-gathering array at the bottom of the warship suddenly started operating.

The massive ship shuddered, breaking through the vast river winds, and slowly set sail towards the Flowing Cloud Immortal City deep within the great marshland.

As the sky gradually darkened and the sun set in the west, the river water was dyed a thick, dark red.

The warships cut through the waves, and the scenery on both banks had long lost its novelty.

As far as the eye could see, there was only a vast expanse of muddy water.

The vast deck gradually fell silent, with only the dull sound of waves lapping against the ironwood hull.

The monotonous, repetitive sound of water was like a dull saw, scraping at everyone's taut nerves.

The excitement and anticipation receded like the tide, replaced by an indescribable boredom and inexplicable restlessness.

Xu Changqing leaned against the gunwale, feeling the growing chill in the river breeze. He took a deep breath and was about to turn around and go back to the lower deck to rest.

"You bastard surnamed Sun, are you blind?! You're just running into me without any eyes!"

A vulgar curse suddenly rang out, shattering the suffocating silence on the deck.

"Who do you think you are, daring to yell at me like that? You're the one who's blind, blocking my way, and yet you dare to bark like that!"

Another, slightly younger voice, yet exuding a feminine and arrogant air, retorted without hesitation.

Xu Changqing paused, turning his head to look.

In such a depressing environment where life and death are uncertain, a single spark is enough to ignite the pent-up resentment in a cultivator's heart.

"court death!"

After only a few exchanges, a sharp blade was drawn with a clang, and a chaotic light of surging spiritual energy suddenly shone on the dark deck.

The previously lifeless cultivators around them perked up at the sight of the spectacle, quickly forming a circle and pointing and whispering.

Xu Changqing stepped aside, his brows furrowing almost imperceptibly.

Sect warships are equivalent to military formations, and should be governed by strict rules that cannot be overstepped.

Logically speaking, private duels between cultivators are a major taboo on the ship. The slightest mistake could alert the defensive array patterns on the bottom of the ship or attract high-level demonic beasts lurking underwater.

The two had been locked in combat for several breaths, their blows making the deck thud loudly. Not only did no Sword Sect deacon step forward to stop them, but even the disciples maintaining order were nowhere to be seen.

"Could it be that the rules on this ship are different from what I expected?"

Xu Changqing pondered to himself, his gaze passing through the shadowy figures to the two cultivators locked in combat.

They were all at the third or fourth level of Qi Refining, and their moves were crude, yet every strike was aimed at vital points, completely disregarding that they were on a sect's troop transport ship.

Just as everyone was making way and the situation was escalating.

"laugh--!"

A sharp, incomparably powerful azure sword energy descended menacingly from the upper floors of the ship's deck.

The sword energy moved with incredible speed, sweeping away everything in its path.

"Bang!"

The two cultivators, who had been locked in fierce combat, were struck as if by lightning. Both coughed up blood and flew backward, crashing heavily onto the ironwood deck, rolling and howling in agony.

The surrounding cultivators were horrified, fell silent, and retreated repeatedly.