Chapter 41

Elder Yunyangzi, with his white hair and beard, sat upright in his cloud-patterned Daoist robe, exuding authority. His brows were tightly furrowed into a deep 川-shaped crease.

Glancing at those gathered before him, his tone grew stern as he spoke, “I’ve summoned you today because of a matter concerning the demons.”

His very first sentence cast a heavy atmosphere over the hall.

“Recently, there have been traces of demonic activity near villages close to Luoxian Sect. Each of you should send disciples from your respective peaks to investigate and gain some experience. But remember—safety above all else. Under no circumstances should anything happen to them.”

The elders nodded, all aware of the gravity of the situation. When it came to the demons, none dared to take things lightly.

“Senior brother, what’s the word from above?” Yunding asked, as the others turned their attention to Yunyangzi.

Shaking his head with a sigh, Yunyangzi replied, “The higher-ups have made it clear—the Golden Battlefield remains secure. There’s no way demons could have crossed the World Wall. If they’re appearing here, it means another passage exists. Investigations are already underway, and we’ve been asked to do the same. Two approaches, same goal: we must uncover how the demons have suddenly emerged.”

His expression turned grave. For the human race, the demons were their most dangerous enemy.

The holy war between the humans and demons had raged on for millennia, never once extinguished.

Everyone present had fought in the Golden Battlefield, clashing with demons. They knew better than anyone the brutal nature of their foe.

If the demons truly had found a way to bypass both the battlefield and the World Wall, infiltrating the heart of the Eastern Region, it would spell disaster for the entire human realm.

“Even the higher-ups don’t know the details?” asked Hongniang, visibly uneasy. She recalled glimpses of a future she had divined—hazy and unclear, neither good nor bad.

“This won’t be simple,” Yun Ding warned. “When sending people, make sure experienced disciples lead the team. We can’t afford a disaster.”

“I agree. Best to assign those who’ve been to the battlefield,” added Yun Qianren, for once not opposing his senior brother.

Back then, they had fought side by side in the Golden Battlefield, entrusting their lives to one another. On matters this serious, their bond remained unshakable.

“No time to waste—get to it,” Yunyangzi ordered.

The group dispersed swiftly.

Meanwhile, in a barren mountain far from Luoxian Sect, black smoke filled the air. Death loomed in every direction, and an eerie silence hung over the lifeless land.

“How’s the plan progressing?” a deep, thunderous voice echoed.

Seated atop a throne of bones, the towering figure of Mo Jiu looked down at the kneeling demon slave.

“Reporting, my lord. The plan is nearly complete. Please rest assured,” the servant replied respectfully.

“It had better be,” Mo Jiu growled, stretching his neck as a cracking sound like thunder rumbled through the hall.

“No wonder the Demon Race has spent a thousand years trying to invade the Eastern Region,” he sneered. “This land truly is heaven-sent. In just four years, my strength has grown to this extent. If we can seize Luoxian Sect and devour its spiritual veins, the True Demon Scripture will reach perfection overnight.”

He clenched his fists, eyes gleaming blood-red, his body engulfed in black demon flames. A colossal demonic apparition loomed behind him, filling the hall with its oppressive presence.

“Any word on that bastard?” Mo Jiu suddenly asked, thinking of the one who had humiliated him.

The memory of being tricked still burned with fury.

“My lord,” the demon servant trembled, “we’ve been searching continuously for the past four years, using all our spies in Luoxian Sect. But… the person you described doesn’t seem to be there.”

“Impossible!” Mo Jiu roared, rising to his feet. A violent surge of power blasted the servant backward dozens of meters.

“He’s definitely in Luoxian Sect! I can feel it! That bastard is somewhere in there, living carefree—probably chasing girls, sipping tea, chatting with friends, cultivating the Dao…”

Just imagining it made Mo Jiu’s blood boil.

“But, my lord…” the servant continued fearfully, “our informants have practically searched every disciple in the sect. No one matches your description. No one’s even heard of such a person.”

Mo Jiu sat back down, rubbing his temples.

How could this be?

How could a living person vanish into thin air?

Luoxian Sect had many disciples, but after four years of searching, to find nothing—especially someone with that kind of ability—was simply not possible.

“Keep looking. I don’t believe he can hide forever,” Mo Jiu growled, conjuring the image of Han Luo from his palm using demon flame, before crushing it with a clenched fist.

Boom!
The flame figure disintegrated into ash.

—

Back at Luoxian Sect, at the base of Qianren Peak…

Han Luo had just finished breaking through the protective formation of the peak and was digesting the insights when he suddenly shivered. A chill ran down his spine, and he trembled involuntarily.

“What the hell?” he muttered, immediately activating the five guardian formations embedded in his neck.

In an instant, five jade-green turtle shells enveloped him, startling the nearby Jiu Li’er.

“Senior brother, are you alright?”

“I’m fine… it’s nothing,” he replied, though he didn’t deactivate the formations.

How strange. As a cultivator at the seventh level of Qi Refinement, how could he randomly get chills? Was someone talking behind his back?

Who could it be?

Chi Xiao? Xiaobai?

Over the past four years, he had stayed low-key, and fewer than ten people knew who he really was. He shouldn’t have offended anyone…

He pulled out his little black notebook—his personal blacklist of people who might threaten him—and began going through it line by line.

Eventually, his gaze settled on one name: Mo Jiu.

It had been four years since the demons last stirred, and not a single sign had surfaced.

Could something be brewing again?

To be safe, better retreat to Luoxian Mountain and lay low for a while.

He tucked the notebook away and was about to leave when Jiu Li’er asked curiously, “Senior brother, Piaomiao Peak is right ahead. Why are you turning back?”

“Li’er, it’s your cultivation peak after all. Out of respect, let’s not destroy its formation,” Han Luo said with a straight face, already eager to return to his safe haven.

“No need, senior brother,” Jiu Li’er insisted. “I’ve been meaning to evaluate Piaomiao Peak’s defensive array. If there’s any flaw, it’s better to fix it now than suffer later.”

Seeing her insist, Han Luo could only sigh inwardly.

Jiu Li’er was excellent in every way—except that she was unbelievably stubborn and determined.

In their time together, he had come to sense the immense burden she carried, as if the entire Jiuli Clan rested on her shoulders.

“Alright then. Truth is, I’m a bit tired. After breaking three peak formations in a row, I need time to absorb what I’ve learned. Cultivation is about taking one step at a time—there’s no need to rush.”

He now spoke like a proper senior brother, gently advising his junior on the correct way to cultivate.

Jiu Li’er looked conflicted.

Her rapid progress in array techniques since following Han Luo made her eager to continue, but what he said wasn’t wrong either.

Too much, too fast, with no time to settle—it would harm her in the long run.

“…Okay,” she nodded. “I’ll listen to you, senior brother. Let’s return and consolidate what we’ve learned before going further.”

“Don’t be disappointed,” Han Luo smiled, patting her on the shoulder. “Once we’ve fully absorbed what we’ve studied, we’ll tackle Piaomiao Peak’s formation together.”

Just as they were about to leave, a voice echoed down from the mountain.

“Li’er, what are you doing here?”

The moment Han Luo heard that voice, his heart skipped a beat.

“Damn it,” he muttered internally. “Just how unlucky can I be?”