Murim to XianXia: A Martial God’s Cultivation Journey

Chapter 20: Friend

Luo Ling wrapped the panther carcass in a bedroll of leaves and tied it up in a tight knot with some vines. It’d take at least an hour to remove the skin and Lord Ping would not wait that long. He also could not take the corpse to the village as it might attract some less-than-savory attention.

After all, few could resist the allure of the bronze marbles.

The best he could do at the moment was to hide the body and return after escorting his clients back to the village.

Luo Ling stacked the headless body of the panther in three layers of blanket made from leaves. He hoped it was enough to mask the bloody scent.

“What are you doing?” Li Hong asked, curious. He stood at a safe distance from Luo Ling and observed intently.

“This beast's corpse is a trove of treasure. I’m planning on coming back later to skin it.” Luo Ling said, tying the vines into a tight knot. His face scrunched up in strain as he had to use a great deal of his strength.

“It’s just a failed demonized beast—barely worth anything, right? What makes it valuable to you?”

“Well,” Luo Ling said, choosing his words carefully. “What seems like scraps to some can be a fortune to others. The skin and meat alone could fetch a few bronze marbles. For mortals, even a single bronze marble can mean comfort—maybe not much to you, but enough to change our lives, even if only for a little while.”

Luo Ling tried his best to explain the importance of the beast carcass without degrading himself too much. Even if he had accepted his status as a member of the bottom rung of society, he still didn’t want to lose the basic bit of pride he had as a peak expert in his previous life.

“Ah!” Li Hong exclaimed. He poked a finger towards the leaf-wrapped corpse. “So, this corpse is important to you and you want to hide it from others, right?”

“You can say that.” Luo Ling bobbed his head in agreement. The youth understood, and that’s enough. He didn’t feel like explaining further.

“I see.”

Luo Ling zoned him out of his mind and busied himself into thinking of ways to hide the scent. Even with layers of leaves, some perceptive animals could still sniff out the bloody scent. If even a scratch appears on that velvety black fur, the transmigrated martial transcendent would feel his livers hurt.

“Hey, you could use this.”

Luo Ling turned around, feeling a quick pat on his left shoulder. And once again, he had to fight the instinctive urge to brandish his knife at whoever was behind him. He gritted his teeth but decided against reminding the youth. Clearly, the brat didn’t take his words to heart.

Blissfully unaware of his plummeted status in the younger child’s heart, Li Hong offered a pair of parchments— one green and the other yellow. He looked pleased with himself as he pushed them at Luo Ling.

“What are they?” Luo Ling questioned, intrigued. He could tell they were talismans as their appearance bore a resemblance to the one Lord Ping gave him.

Even the middle-aged cultivator had his head turned in their direction, apparently interested in what his disciple was up to.

“This one is a Masking Talisman,” Li Hong said, slightly pushing out the green talisman. Then, he pointed at the yellow one, “And this one is a Tracking Talisman.”

He allowed a smirk on his face and puffed his chest proudly. “Mom said to always help my friends in their time of need. Here, rip the green one slightly and stick it on that thing.”

Luo Ling didn’t accept them outright but chose to peer into the youth’s eyes. It was said that eyes are gateways to the soul and a person’s true intentions are often projected in their eyes.

Friend? The word felt foreign—would a cultivator, born into privilege and power, truly see him as an equal? Luo Ling's mind wrestled with the idea; disbelief weighed heavy.

The people in the village always talked about how cultivators were a proud bunch and would rarely put the mortals in their eyes. This evaluation had proven itself after he met those two disciples from the Fragrant Crown Sect. Although they masked it well, Luo Ling still noticed the veiled disdain in their attitudes when they were interacting with Mother Yi.

And this Li Hong, a disciple of someone like Lord Ping who could be as strong if not stronger than a martial transcendent, thought of him as a friend?

To be honest, Luo Ling found it hard to believe.

“Hey! What with that face?” Becoming aware of Luo Ling’s morphed facial expression, Li Hong protested. “You’re brave, smart, and even Master sees it. You’re different from the people in the town—they’re not worth my time. Why wouldn’t I consider you a friend?”

Luo Ling suddenly came to a realization. He had been thinking too much. Li Hong was a cultivator, and that’s true. But it was also a fact that he was only a child with a good upbringing, if not a little sheltered. Perhaps he was not yet corrupted by the hubris.

The few cultivators he met until now were all grown men. They had seen the world and knew the workings of society better than a naïve child. They knew their worth better, thus drawing a clear line between them and those with less importance.

This Li Hong, if he ignored his gorgeous clothing and slightly pumped-up attitude, didn’t seem to be much different from the children in the orphanage.

Luo Ling’s worldview was refreshed again.

“Thank you.” Luo Ling pulled his lips into a smile. A genuine smile that he had not shown to anyone else after coming to this world.

A friend… maybe…

-~X~-

Their return garnered everyone’s attention. The mass of expectant hunters and the village chief stood by the gate and welcomed them with large smiles on their faces.

Lord Ping took it upon himself to let the masses know about his success in subduing the maneater. This earned him a round of applause as well as slogans of praise and worship.

Luo Ling couldn’t help but doubletake at the zealous masses. He finally witnessed the popularity these cultivators enjoyed.

Not even the martial artists of Murim were this revered by the common masses.

The village chief and the hunters' leader respectfully escorted Lord Ping and his disciple back to the inn with great fanfare.

Luo Ling sneaked away taking advantage of the crowd. Although he had a Masking Talisman hide its scent, Luo Ling still wanted to get it done with soon otherwise he’d not feel at ease.

He didn’t take the direct road back to the spot where he had hidden the body. Daluo was blissfully unaware that his shameless advertisement to Lord Ping was mostly the truth; the transmigrator knew the outskirts of the woods like the back of his palm.

Luo Ling expertly trod the winding mud roads, his every step measured. His bow was held snug, an uneven stick acting as its arrow, and pulled to the limit. He broke that thing from a tree branch he crossed on the way.

His footsteps abruptly stopped, and he spun around swiftly, a full one-eighty. With a precise flick of his fingers, he released the tension on the taut string. The makeshift arrow whistled through the air, slicing its way into the dense bushes several meters ahead.

“What the hell!?”

The scream of pain had a gruff undertone and indistinctively belonged to a male, hidden behind the veil of the dense foliage, his identity was still unknown.

But Luo Ling didn’t care.

“Leave,” he warned. “Or next time it’ll be a real arrow.”