Alfir

092 One Month

It had been a month since Lu Gao and I went into seclusion. But instead of meditating in a cave like proper cultivators, we had claimed a small portion of the hillside as our personal training ground. It wasn’t as romantic as those old cultivation stories made it sound—no mystical waterfall, no ancient ruins, just a lot of trial and error under the open sky.

Thanks to my evolved Divine Possession, I had been able to stay inside Lu Gao’s body for an extended period, refining our understanding of Blessed Weapon and other techniques. With each session, we were getting closer to breaking past the limitations of conventional techniques imposed by the Paladin Legacy, pushing both his martial arts and my skills into a realm beyond what this world recognized.

Using Divine Possession continuously had been tough on me. It wasn’t as simple as taking over a body and calling it a day. Maintaining it required expending a spell slot and mana daily, meaning I had to carefully manage my resources to not exhaust myself into a coma. Still, this method had accelerated our training tremendously.

But that wasn’t the only thing that happened in the past month.

Joan D’Arc and Alice… were here.

When Hei Yuan first revealed the Shadow Clan’s latest intelligence to Dave, I nearly made the hasty decision of abandoning everything to track them down. But we had no leads, except for one troubling name: the Eternal Undeath Cult.

I could feel it in my bones. Something big was going to happen here in Deepmoor.

Even Gu Jie felt it. She had prophesied that a powerful misfortune was accumulating within the Shadow Clan itself. If something major was coming, this was ground zero.

And if that was the case, fleeing might have been the correct answer.

But that wasn’t the answer we wanted.

Hei Mao wouldn’t be satisfied with just leaving. His past, his lineage—there were too many unanswered questions. To the boy, there were a lot of stakes for him. Ren Xun had proposed two possibilities:

1. The Shadow Clan was collaborating with the Cult.

2. The Cult wanted something from the Clan, and that’s why the misfortune was gathering.

Either way, trouble was brewing.

With all this in mind, I had given the order for everyone to focus on increasing their cultivation and strength as much as possible.

As for Ren Xun, I had tasked him with the delicate mission of negotiating with Hei Yuan.

I could only hope that Hei Yuan would listen.

That aside...

I had learned a lot in the past month.

For example, bypassing the cooldown restriction of normal skills by channeling more mana into them. It was a simple concept in theory, but the execution required an absurd amount of precision and control—too much mana, and the skill would destabilize; too little, and it wouldn’t activate at all.

What’s more, I had discovered that certain skills could be empowered if I poured additional mana into them. This only worked on evolved skills, but even then, the results were astonishing. A simple technique could become something far beyond its original limits, as if I were breaking the very laws that governed this world’s system.

"Agh... Tis my woe..."

Lu Gao let out a groan, stretching his limbs. His expression was calm, but I could tell he was feeling stiff after another grueling session.

"Should we switch?" he asked, rolling his shoulders. "It's not that I am ungrateful, Master... but..."

I rejected the idea immediately. "No. You need to get used to your new body."

Lu Gao sighed but didn’t argue. He knew I was right.

His left arm, once no different from the rest of his body, was now pitch black, a writhing mass of contained power.

The demonic taint inside him had been a hidden factor, something we only discovered after countless experiments. Instead of trying to purge it, we had redirected it, concentrating it into a single limb—his left arm. By doing so, we had turned it into something beyond flesh, something that could be wielded as a weapon rather than a curse.

And from that process, Hollow Point: Incursion was born.

It was a technique created from the clash of demonic taint and spiritual purity, a violent but controlled explosion of two opposing forces. Of course, Lu Gao no longer needed to push himself to dangerous extremes to use it—after mastering the technique, he could activate it at will.

"So how do you feel?" I asked.

"Never been better, Master."

Lu Gao took a deep breath, channeling mana into his lungs, using the Hollow Breath Technique.

A technique that had proven to be shockingly compatible with replicating qi cultivation through mana. It was through this method that we had developed Mana Road Cultivation, a means to bypass traditional cultivation limits and create something entirely new.

"I miss my sword, though," remarked Lu Gao. "I know I shouldn't be picky, but..."

Lu Gao’s sword had long since splintered from overuse. But that didn’t matter.

He didn’t need it.

He clenched his blackened fist, mana swirling around it like a vortex, and stepped forward.

With a sharp exhale, he drove his fist into the ground—Hollow Point: Incursion.

The earth shuddered beneath us, and in the next instant, purple flames erupted everywhere, consuming the hillside in a chaotic, twisting blaze. Lu Gao managed to perform such a feat, even with his broken dantian, and this was all thanks to Mana Road Cultivation.

What was Mana Road Cultivation?

It was a method that Lu Gao and I devised together, a way to cultivate without meridians or a dantian—something no native of this world would have even considered possible. It worked by saturating the body with mana, forcefully stimulating qi in the process.

Another way to put it? We were tricking the body into thinking it was cultivating.

It wasn’t without its flaws. Unlike true cultivation, Mana Road Cultivation didn’t extend lifespan, nor did it grant the mystical abilities that cultivators gained through the refining of their essence, bloodline, or soul.

But it followed the same ranking system, emitting the same pressure as an equivalent cultivator of the same rank. The only difference? There were no minor categorizations, no stars to denote the progress within a realm. You either advanced, or you didn’t.

In terms of power-ups, unique attributes, or advantages of this cultivation method, we still have nothing on that front, but the theory was sound. It would take time to know just how good this cultivation method was, but so far, no complications had arisen in practicing the Mana Road Cultivation.

"Master, thank you for this opportunity—"

"Less yapping, more cultivating," I shut down Lu Gao rather quickly. "In the end, this is all a product of your hard work and providence, so don't attribute your success to me. We know too little of what exactly we are doing, and we can't be sure for certain that the Mana Road Cultivation is the right path. We are making progress. That's good, but we must also be wary every step on the way."

Speaking of progress, our research into this system had also led to another major revelation—the reason why I had always perceived qi as particles while mana felt like waves.

The explanation was simple:

· Mana traveled in waves, originating from the Great Subconscious—the unseen force that connected all minds, memories, and possibilities.

· Qi, on the other hand, was static—it existed between Heaven and Earth, bound by the fundamental laws of this world.

In truth, Qi never actually moved. The way cultivators hoarded it, gathered it into their meridians and cores, created the illusion of movement. But what they called “Qi” was likely just life force, vigor—some aspect of existence they had mistaken for an energy they could control.

It made sense why mana and qi were incompatible. Mana was fluid, ever-changing, adapting to the mind’s intent. Qi was fixed, shaped by natural laws.

I let out a breath, shaking my head. There was still too much to unpack. But for now, I had to focus.

Lu Gao spoke.

"I'm ready."

He reached into his robes, withdrawing a tome—a thick, ancient-looking book with a white cover emblazoned with golden scripture. The White Path of the Paladin Legacy.

We had deliberately avoided using it until now.

Using a Legacy Advancement Book was a guaranteed way to accelerate his growth, unlocking Innate Knowledge and allowing him to use my skills with greater ease.

But that would have defeated the entire purpose of our experiment.

If Lu Gao had unlocked his Immortal Soul from the start, Lu Gao could have immediately gained an instinctual understanding of my abilities while under Divine Possession. There would have been no need to develop new techniques—no Hollow Breath, no Hollow Point: Incursion, no Mana Road Cultivation.

We wouldn’t have learned anything.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Once you open that book, there's no turning back. It’ll bind itself to your soul, and your path as a Paladin will be set in stone. From here on, you'll be walking a path not most would dare walk... One day, you'll have to swear an Oath. Dedicate yourself to a cause. Find the meaning of 'God' in ways that mattered. The challenges would escalate dramatically once you accept to inherit the Legacy of the Paladins, and it was an understatement to say it would affect your way of life severely. "

Lu Gao smirked, his pitch-black left arm shimmering with restrained power.

"I've already made my choice," he said. "It's time to see how far I can go, Master."

I was still inside his body, sitting in the back seat under the effect of Divine Possession, so I could feel it all—the eagerness buzzing beneath his skin, the expectations brimming in his heart, the hope that shone in the depths of his soul.

It was overwhelming, almost suffocating in its purity.

But I didn’t hesitate.

"You’re free to do as you like," I told him. "I trust you, disciple."

With those words, his emotions shifted.

Eagerness transformed into action.

Expectations became commitment.

Hope turned into certainty.

Lu Gao exhaled and reached for the Legacy Advancement Book. The golden-embossed tome rested on his lap, emanating a faint, holy radiance—it was a direct fragment of the System, something that would rewrite his very being. And then he tried opening the book, but failed…

Nothing happened.

The book remained closed.

Lu Gao furrowed his brows and tried again, pressing his hand against the cover. He poured his will into it, his intent, but the tome remained stubbornly shut as he tried to pry it open.

“Ngggh…”

A silence stretched between us.

It seemed Lu Gao wasn't so lucky that he might be carrying an Immortal Soul like Gu Jie or Fan Shi.

Lu Gao asked, "Master… how are souls even immortalized?"

As he continued struggling with the tome, his voice was calm, but I could tell he was thinking, trying to understand the reason behind his failure. To an extent, Lu Gao was aware of how my power system worked. It was part of his education, so it wasn't strange for him to ask about Immortal Souls or allude to it.

I gave him the answer as naturally as breathing.

"A soul’s immortality is innate," I said. "The soul exists beyond life and death—it's eternal in itself. What the Legacy Advancement Book does is awaken that eternity, express it in a way that the world can see."

Lu Gao nodded slowly, still staring at the unmoving tome. "Then why won’t mine awaken?"

I exhaled, trying to piece together what small lore knowledge I could offer. "Because… not all souls are robust enough or have enough history to manifest their true potential."

That was the truth. Back in LLO, the only NPCs who could awaken their Legacies were the ones who were reincarnations of past champions, or had souls that had accumulated enough meaning.

The System recognized weight. If a soul was too young, too blank, it simply lacked the foundation to unlock the true path of a Legacy.

Lu Gao looked down at the book. His voice was quiet, thoughtful.

"Then… I cannot open it."

There was no bitterness in his tone, no resentment. Just a simple statement of fact.

"Then let me try," I said. "I've been wanting to test this... I hope this works..."

I switched with Lu Gao, taking control of his body. The moment my hands touched the book, I felt resonance—a sense of connection that hummed deep in my bones.

The tome shuddered as I pried it open… but it didn’t turn to motes of light.

I immediately understood why.

"I already have the White Skill Path unlocked," I muttered. “So this is understandable.”

Back in LLO, I had only obtained a few skills from the White Paladin tree, but I never fully advanced into the White Path. Skill Points were very expensive after all, and I only picked skills I needed from the White Path.

I switched back to Lu Gao, allowing him to regain control.

And this time—

The book dissolved into countless motes of light, streaming into his body.

Lu Gao inhaled sharply, his aura fluctuating wildly as the Paladin Legacy surged through him. His Immortal Soul had awakened.

I watched the process with interest, my mind racing with new possibilities.

So… this was a convenient loophole.

If I had enough Legacy Advancement Books, I could theoretically awaken any number of mortals to a Paladin Legacy, as long as I opened the book first before handing it off. Was it necessary to do it while under the effect of Divine Possession, or could I just pry them open and hand them?

I wouldn’t know, unless I tried them.

A sense of pride swelled within me, expressing it through my heart and sharing it with Lu Gao.

“Congratulations,” I said. “You’ve taken your first steps into the White Path.”

Lu Gao took a deep breath, still feeling the lingering effects of the Legacy Advancement Book settling into his soul. His body trembled, not with weakness but with overflowing power, and his foundation strengthened in ways it never had before.

We had achieved our goal—one month of relentless training, testing, and refining. Mana Road Cultivation, Hollow Point: Incursion, the evolution of Hollow Breath Technique, and now Lu Gao’s advancement into a Paladin.

Was it realistic to get this far in just a month?

For others, probably not.

But for us, it had been a stroke of luck, a series of breakthroughs, each pushing us toward something greater.

"It's been a month now..." I remarked softly. "Let's return to the others."

"Yes, Master!"

It was time to return to the others.

I just hoped Ren Xun had convinced Hei Yuan about the impending threat. As Gu Jie had prophesied, something big was coming, and I needed the Shadow Clan to be ready.

Ren Xun had Dave’s support—if anyone could turn the tables, it was them.

I was about to activate Zealot’s Stride when my Divine Sense flared in warning.

A hundred hostile presences.

One, two, three… no, five… no—more than a hundred.

Their auras ranged from Mind Enlightenment to Will Reinforcement, with a handful of Spirit Mystery experts mixed in.

Lu Gao’s cultivation was only at Will Reinforcement, but with Divine Possession boosting him, he was roughly at Jiang Zhen’s level. If I were to take the wheel and lock in, I should be able to elevate our combat potential to an exponential degree.

 But was it enough?

Right on time, Dave’s Voice Chat suddenly connected to me.

“My Lord—Shadow Clan’s under attack!” Dave’s voice was urgent, but still controlled.

My thoughts snapped into place.

Dave didn’t have an Item Box, but he could use Voice Chat like I could—at least that made communication easier. Since he was in control of the main body, he should be able to use the Item Box, giving me confidence that he and the others would be fine.

“Prioritize protecting our people,” I ordered. “I’ll be there as soon as I can…”

I cut the connection.

A dozen black-masked cultivators finally stepped out from the shadows, surrounding me. Their dark porcelain masks were carved with bloody scriptures, their silent presence exuding nothing but hostility.

Shadow Clan was several hundred kilometers away... or maybe more.

At my fastest speed, I could probably make it back in thirty minutes or less.

…Much less, considering the current Lu Gao under Divine Possession was faster and stronger than we started.

I studied the masked cultivators, my voice sharp.

“What do you want?”

No answer.

Instead, their spiritual pressure spiked, talismans appearing in their hands.

I didn’t waste time.

I bolted.

Zealot’s Stride activated, propelling me forward to buy time for my skill, but—

From the shadows above, dozens more cultivators intercepted me, blades gleaming.

My body reacted instantly—

Flash Step!

I displaced myself, dodging the incoming sword strikes. In the next breath, I was already stepping into the air, running toward the Shadow Clan’s direction.

While moving, I channeled power into Egress, preparing to teleport back—but then—

Something went wrong.

I felt it through Divine Sense.

Multiple lives were suddenly snuffed out.

The ones holding talismans—they were the first to die.

My eyes widened.

A sacrificial spell.

I thought of using Featherhome, but they were faster.

I barely had time to blink before—

—The familiar hill, landscape, and masked cultivators vanished.

I was suspended in midair, looking down at an endless blackened forest.

"Where… is this?"

091 The Story So Far

Dear readers,

You might be wondering.

Where’s the story going?

An excellent question. After all, so many threads had been woven into this grand tapestry—some stretching across continents, others buried in history’s shadows. Let’s take a moment to untangle a few, shall we?

The Black Clan. The Shadow Clan. 

One reigned, the other not so much.

But what about the Abyss Clan? A name rarely whispered, yet weighty enough to stir unease. What role did they play? Were they merely another piece on the board, or the hand that moved the pieces?

And then there was Hei Mao.

He bore the surname ‘Hei’—a thread that could tie him to any of these clans. Could he truly be one of them? Perhaps he was the missing link, the key to unraveling the fate of his slaughtered family. A pawn waiting to be promoted, or a king who had yet to claim his throne?

How about Tao Long? Anyone here forgotten his name already?

If anyone still remembers him, let’s ask—just where was Tao Long at this moment?

Once a promising name in the world of cultivation, now swallowed by silence and history. Now, he served the Ward, an organization that desired to defend this world from Outsiders. If you were so curious where he was, he was probably skirting the Stormcall Continent’s borders, trying to look for a certain vampire and priestess…

Let’s shift our focus to a different place.

Two figures—one bound in faith, the other in blood—now lost in the decayed, wretched heart of the Black Forest.

Joan, the priestess. Alice, the vampire princess.

How did they end up on the Stormcall Continent? Was it fate, or something far more sinister?

Yet, even as their whereabouts remained uncertain, their reputation grew elsewhere. Rumors whispered of a demonic cultivator and a Buddhist freak—a duo wreaking havoc across the Deepmoor Continent. A demon and a monk, feared and ridiculed in equal measure.

Now, dear reader, what were the chances that these two figures were the very same priestess and vampire we last saw wandering through the Black Forest?

Fascinating, wasn’t it?

The contradiction was jarring, especially how they initially appeared in the Stormcall Continent. What did the black masked cultivators want with them? Surely, you knew… If you didn’t, then go back to Chapter 28, and yes, I’m being sarcastic. Humor me.

The group was still hosted—if one could call it that—by the Shadow Clan. A month was all they were given before Hei Yuan would bloody his hands.

What would become of them?

Would they break free, or sink deeper into the clan’s machinations?

My best guess was… they’d triumph against all odds. Predictable? Well, don’t judge too early. After all, it was just a guess. Who knew what twists and turns awaited them along the road?

And finally… The Paladin.

David. Da Wei. The man walking a path none had dared before.

He sought to reshape the very nature of cultivation. To mold a system that did not belong in this world into something that could thrive within it.

And now, with Blessed Weapon evolving and new techniques being born, what was in store for him?

What would his Order of Paladins become?

And more importantly…

Would this world even allow it?

So many threads. So many destinies.

So, dear reader, you’re right—it’s a lot to keep track of.

But wasn’t that what made it exciting?

Ah, that was long-winded, wasn’t it?

Was I talking too much?

Oh my, apologies…

I suppose I got carried away. But you can’t really blame me, can you? There’s so much going on—scheming clans, lost prodigies, demonic priests, vampires, princesses, and our dear protagonist trying to brute-force his way into rewriting cultivation itself. A tangled mess of fate and ambition, the very essence of this world.

But… where were my manners?

Introductions.

Yes, that was bad manners on my part.

Ahem.

Hi, I am the Narrator.

…Too much?

Too on the nose?

Well, deal with it.

This was my first appearance, after all. To be fair, I’m not even a character. You won’t see me walking around in fancy robes, spouting cryptic wisdom, or challenging arrogant young masters in a crowded tea house.

No, no.

I served no other purpose than to narrate.

I’m not some cosmic entity who exists beyond time and space. I don’t manipulate fate. I don’t watch over the world with omniscient amusement, sipping celestial tea and chuckling at mortal struggles.

And no, before you get any ideas—I am neither a God nor an Immortal.

I am a phenomenon.

An afterthought.

An echo.

And to a rare, enlightened few, I am something more—the Voice that speaks to the Void.

And you, dear listener, dear reader, dear wandering soul?

You are the Void.

Intriguing, wasn’t it?

But enough philosophy.

Back to the Story…

Where were we? Ah, yes.

The world of cultivation.

A land where logic takes a backseat to those who have the biggest dantian and the loudest arrogance. Where throwing hands was an official method of debate, and if you don’t have a heaven-defying bloodline, a secret master, or a mysterious jade slip hidden in your robes, then congratulations—you’re cannon fodder!

Here, resentment was measured in lifetimes, not in petty grudges. Face was the most valuable currency, worth more than spirit stones, more than divine artifacts, more than one’s own internal organs.

And immortality?

Oh, the great lie of the cultivation world.

The one thing every fool chases, convinced that if they just cultivate hard enough, long enough, and ruthlessly enough, they could escape the cycle of life and death.

But the truth?

Even gods can die.

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

This story wasn’t about them.

It’s about a certain Paladin. A man who decided that divine blessings, faith, and holy zealotry belonged in a world that had never heard of such things. A man who believed in power through belief, rather than belief through power.

It’s about lost children of fallen clans, about betrayed geniuses, about warriors of blade and spell, all clawing their way up a mountain that may or may not even have a peak.

So, dear Void, dear listener, dear witness to it all…

Shall we continue?

"This is incredible, but..."

Lu Gao was confused.

Delightfully confused.

And all because of his Master.

It wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling, really. Being around his Master often led to questions—too many questions—ones that he never would have asked before, ones that didn’t even seem relevant to cultivation.

Like, why was mortal food so important?

Or, why did his Master want to know if he still sh—

Wait. No. Don’t focus on that. That wasn’t the point.

Let’s rewind.

It had already been a few days since they began their training arc.

His Master’s words, not his.

What was even a training arc?

Lu Gao didn’t know. But his Master had said it with such confidence, such authority, that he simply accepted it. After all, wasn’t that what being a disciple meant?

Yes.

A disciple.

His Master had called him that. His disciple.

And that alone made him feel like the best there ever was.

Was that weird?

Maybe.

But did he care?

No.

Lu Gao moved his mana, shifting it through his broken meridians in a way that felt unfamiliar, yet strangely reminiscent of how he once used qi.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt like he was cultivating again.

That alone made him happy.

But it wasn’t just the cultivation that had changed him. His Master had changed him too.

Lu Gao had learned—through strange, often baffling conversations—that life wasn’t all about cultivation or strength.

His Master was kind.

So kind, in fact, that the so-called righteous cultivators felt painful to look at in comparison.

And then, of course, there was the sharing of bodies.

Which sounded… wrong, when put like that. But in truth, Lu Gao had simply gotten used to his Master’s presence within him, their consciousnesses intertwining whenever Divine Possession was invoked.

His Master once said, "The body is a temple. One must cherish the body."

Which… contradicted a lot of his Master’s own actions.

For instance, he kept eating mortal food. Something most cultivators wouldn’t approve of.

In his Master’s defense, he was a foodie.

And, as he had so eloquently put it—

"I was curious if I still shit."

Lu Gao would have preferred never hearing that.

But that was his Master’s eccentricity at work.

Again, don’t focus on the shit. That wasn’t the point.

The point was the temple.

Because one day, in between bites of shrimp, his Master had said something that stuck with him.

"It’s more of a personal belief," his Master had mused, "so don’t take it too seriously."

"The body is a temple."

"And people go to temples to pray. They seek answers. Find strength in their faith. Hope for the better."

Then, he had asked—

"If the body is the temple… then where are the people?"

Lu Gao had stared at him, deeply contemplating this profound question.

And then he answered—

"Maybe it was the shrimp."

His Master had laughed.

A genuine, hearty laugh.

"You kind of have a point," he had admitted, using cultivators as an analogy. "Every time a cultivator consumes pills, slaughters people, or cultivates, aren’t they doing the same? Praying for a long life, seeking answers in their Dao, finding strength in their faith and way of life? If the body is a temple, then a cultivator's faith must be built upon the idea of consumption."

Lu Gao had furrowed his brows.

"So… did I answer right?"

His Master had merely shrugged.

"Maybe."

Then he had added, "I don’t really know. There are a thousand answers to every question."

But that answer wasn’t enough for Lu Gao.

Because if his Master had posed the question, then his Master must have had an answer of his own.

So Lu Gao had asked—

"To your analogy, Master… if the body is the temple, then where are the people? What would be your answer?"

And his Master had smiled.

A small, knowing smile.

Then, without hesitation, he had answered—

"You."

"Gu Jie."

"Hei Mao."

"Ren Jingyi."

"Jiang Zhen."

"Dave."

"Ren Xun."

"Ren Jin."

"The people to my temple are the bonds I’ve created."

And that—more than anything—struck Lu Gao’s heart in ways he had never expected.

Beautiful, wasn’t it?

That was David for you.

He was raised right, so credits go to his parents.

But let’s move on.

We have others to check in on, after all.

So, let’s return to the Shadow Clan’s premises, where a certain young noble was engaging in a most arduous and noble task.

Ren Xun was teaching Hei Mao to read and write.

"Hei Mao, pay attention."

Ah, Ren Xun.

The second son of an imperial prince.

He had status. He had wealth. He had honor.

And he wanted none of it. 

He had joined this journey for one simple reason—to chaperone the Master in hopes of finally convincing his father to let him go.

Because Ren Xun didn’t want status.

He could use wealth and honor, but status? Responsibility? The heavy chains of nobility?

He never cared for any of that.

Ren Xun was a man who loved puzzles and adventures.

He fantasized about being a minstrel, a sea explorer, a treasure hunter, or a wandering scholar. 

So many dreams.

So many things he could never be.

Because he wasn’t allowed to be.

His father’s enemies were aplenty. And his grandfather’s enemies were ten times that number or maybe more. That meant his movements were restricted, his adventures carefully monitored, his every action weighed against the consequences it might bring to the family.

Sure, the Empire’s eight continents were vast, but he had seen enough of them.

That was how prolific his activities had been.

How desperately he sought the freedom that always eluded him. And then there was that girl, the woman who opened his heart to all of the possibilities that he’d never seen before. Because of her, he learned to be brave, confronted his father, and for once decided he could be something other than a prince’s son.

"Ren Xun?"

The voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing Hei Mao was staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

"What does this character mean?" Hei Mao pointed at the scroll, his small fingers tracing the ink strokes with great concentration.

Ren Xun grinned.

"And here I thought you weren’t paying attention."

Hei Mao huffed. "I was! You just took too long to answer."

"Is that so?" Ren Xun chuckled, reaching out to flick the boy’s forehead lightly.

Hei Mao scowled, rubbing the spot before grumbling under his breath.

Ren Xun simply laughed.

The boy was like the little brother he never had.

Then, his gaze landed on Hei Mao’s wrist.

The bracelet.

A simple accessory, just a single jade magatama strung on a dark cord.

A gift he had given the boy.

"You really like that thing, don’t you?" Ren Xun mused, tilting his head.

Hei Mao blinked at him, confused.

"Huh?"

"That bracelet. I’ve seen you cherish it more than the gifts from Gu Jie and Lu Gao." He smirked. "You sure you’re not playing favorites?"

Hei Mao immediately panicked.

"No! I—That’s not true!" He waved his hands frantically. "I like their gifts too! They’re—They’re really useful!"

Ren Xun gave him the look.

Hei Mao froze.

Then…

A defeated sigh.

Averting his gaze, Hei Mao muttered, "I just… like yours a lot."

Ren Xun’s smirk softened.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Hei Mao hesitated.

And then, in a small voice, he confessed—

"I used to be a ghost."

Silence.

Ren Xun blinked.

"Come again?"

Hei Mao nodded slowly, looking down at his hands. "Big Brother Wei did something, so I could be a… kind ghost."

Ren Xun was befuddled.

A ghost?

He looked at Hei Mao again, as if searching for some ethereal quality he had somehow missed.

Nope.

Still a normal-looking boy.

"You’re telling me…" Ren Xun started slowly, "that you were an actual ghost? I thought Senior was joking!"

Hei Mao nodded.

Ren Xun ran a hand down his face. This group. This insane, ridiculous, absurd group.

"Alright, fine," he exhaled. "But what does that have to do with the bracelet?"

Hei Mao’s grip tightened around the jade.

"Because…" He bit his lip. "You said it wards off evil spirits and ghosts."

Ren Xun blinked.

Then it hit him.

Hei Mao smiled—a small, bittersweet smile.

"It makes me feel like I’m not a dirty ghost anymore."

His fingers curled around the jade, as if holding onto something precious, tangible.

"It makes me feel like I can keep going… without losing control. Without harming good people along the way."

Ren Xun stared at him for a moment.

Then, ever so gently, he reached out—ruffling the boy’s hair.

"Idiot," he murmured, his voice oddly fond.

Hei Mao huffed, swatting his hand away.

But he was smiling.

And so was Ren Xun.

See?

David had a point after all.

In the same way a person could be a temple, Ren Xun was doing the same.

And the bond he had created with Hei Mao?

That was what allowed the boy to have more faith in himself.

But what about Hei Mao?

Could he be a temple to someone else, too?

The answer was simple.

Yes.

The moment Ren Xun’s heart was touched by the boy, Hei Mao also became his temple—a place where he could confide, reflect, and seek answers.

That was the nature of human connection, wasn’t it?

A cycle.

A web.

A thread tying one soul to another.

Hei Mao continued his studies, flipping through scrolls with focused determination.

"What’s this one mean?" he asked, tapping at a particularly complicated character.

Ren Xun leaned over, glancing at it.

"That one? It means ‘destiny.’ Or ‘fate,’ depending on the context."

Hei Mao frowned. "Weird. Fate has a word?"

Ren Xun chuckled. "Of course it does. Cultivators love talking about fate. They use it as an excuse for everything."

Hei Mao snorted. "Sounds dumb."

"Oh, absolutely." Ren Xun grinned before leaning back. "Speaking of dumb… Want to hear something embarrassing?"

Hei Mao looked up, intrigued.

"Sure."

Ren Xun exhaled, looking at the ceiling with a wistful expression.

"There was this girl I liked. Lin Lim."

Hei Mao’s eyes widened. "Wait—really?"

"Mm." Ren Xun smirked. "She was a beggar. A blind one."

Hei Mao blinked. "Wait—what?"

"She led a whole group of beggars. I met her by accident when I snuck out of the palace one night. She was… different."

"Different how?"

Ren Xun’s eyes softened.

"She didn’t care about my status. She didn’t care about my name. To her, I was just some rich brat complaining about problems that weren’t problems."

Hei Mao raised a brow. "Was she wrong, though?"

Ren Xun laughed. "No, she had a point."

Lin Lim had changed him. To Ren Xun, she was his temple.

She had taught him that freedom wasn’t just about leaving the palace—it was about choosing your own path.

She made him realize he didn’t want to be a prince, a pawn in his father’s political games.

"I wanted to be free," Ren Xun murmured. "To travel. To see the world. To be more than just some rich brat."

And that was what led him to bargain with his father.

"I told him," Ren Xun said, "that if he truly wanted me to fulfil my duties as a royal, he had to agree to one thing."

"And that was?" Hei Mao asked.

Ren Xun smiled.

"He had to give Lin Lim and me his blessing when we got married. Gosh… I loved that woman…"

Hei Mao stared.

"Wait. That’s your condition?"

"Yep."

"So you’re saying… if you ever go back, it’ll be to marry Lin Lim?"

"That’s right."

Hei Mao grinned.

"That’s kinda romantic."

Ren Xun sighed dramatically. "I know, I know. I’m an idiot."

"You said it, not me."

They laughed.

And they talked.

And then they talked more.

Maybe it was because Hei Mao was still young, at least mentally. The point was, he was still unburdened by the same chains that held Ren Xun back, but there was something about his presence that was comforting.

Perhaps this was why Ren Xun didn’t mind teaching him.

Hei Mao was learning fast.

It was almost ridiculous.

But then again, his Spirit Mystery realm cultivation probably had a lot to do with that.

Still, he was seriously sharp for a kid.

Though when he wasn’t studying, he did… odd things.

For example, talking to the goldfish.

Yes.

You heard that right.

Please don’t tell me you’ve forgotten already.

Hei Mao could talk to fish.

Why?

Who knows?

It was one of those mysteries even David probably couldn’t explain.

One day, while on a study break, Hei Mao sat by Ren Jingyi’s aquarium, staring at her with a pensive expression.

The fish blinked up at him. "What’s wrong with you?"

Hei Mao sighed.

"I can’t find anything about the black-masked cultivators. Everything about them is vague. It sucks."

The fish tilted her head (in whatever way a fish could tilt its head).

"You’re really stumped, huh?"

"Yeah." Hei Mao sighed again.

"Why don’t you ask His Eminence?"

"I will," he muttered. "Just… I wanted to figure it out myself first."

Ren Jingyi hummed.

"You’re kinda stubborn, you know that?"

"I know."

Then, after a brief silence, Hei Mao peered at the fish.

"Hey, you getting bored?"

The fish pouted.

"Not really bored. Just… lonely."

Hei Mao blinked.

"Lonely?"

"Yeah. Big Sister Gu Jie’s been focusing on her cultivation lately, so I don’t really have anyone to talk to."

That made sense.

And when a fish was lonely, there weren’t many solutions.

So—

She did what any reasonable, intelligent, spiritually-advanced goldfish would do.

She ate her Spirit Stone.

Again.

Hei Mao narrowed his eyes.

"You’ve been eating those a lot lately."

Ren Jingyi mumbled through her mouthful. "Mmmf. And?"

"You’re almost at the Third Realm, you know. Also, you are getting more and more eloquent."

"Yeah? And?"

Hei Mao shrugged.

"Dunno. Just saying."

The fish paused, blinking up at him.

Then, suddenly—

SPLASH.

A wave of water shot out from the aquarium, soaking Hei Mao’s face.

Hei Mao froze.

Ren Jingyi grinned. Well, grinned like a fish, because she was a fish.

"Hah. That’s what you get."

Hei Mao wiped his face.

"You’re getting fat."

Ren Jingyi gasped.

"I take it back. You’re the worst. So mean."

Hei Mao simply smirked.

Some might argue that a talking fish was too cliché in an xianxia setting.

Some might say it was a staple—a fundamental part of the genre.

However, in reality, it was simply the natural progression of things.

Like me, it was more a phenomenon than something bound by the rules of existence.

Ren Jingyi’s spark continued to grow.

She was changing.

She still couldn’t use Qi Speech—that required at least Fourth Realm cultivation—but she was getting there.

The question was…

Would she even want to talk?

Truth be told, she preferred brooding over talking.

She wasn’t exactly a social fish.

Except when she was talking to Hei Mao.

Why?

She didn’t know.

But if she had to guess…

Perhaps it was because they both lost their families at a young age.

The memories weren’t crystal clear, but the impression remained.

And the more Ren Jingyi’s spark and existence grew stronger, the more her memories began to assert themselves.

Vague impressions from the past would come to her, slipping through the veil of time like whispers in the water.

Like how her Momma Fish was… corrupted.

A demon.

A black-robed cultivator.

And then—

A shadow of a memory.

His Eminence.

Da Wei.

Picking her up.

It was making her uncomfortable.

Ren Jingyi wasn’t sure if she wanted to remember.

If she wanted to know.

What did it matter?

She was happy now.

Wasn’t she?

The water in her aquarium rippled as Gu Jie returned.

She shelved a few manuals before turning toward Ren Jingyi, a small smile on her face.

"Jingyi, have you eaten?"

Without waiting for an answer, she started feeding her all sorts of herbs.

Ren Jingyi wasn’t going to complain.

Food was food.

She nibbled at the herbs, watching as Gu Jie gently rested her chin on her palm, looking at her fondly.

For a moment, Ren Jingyi wanted to talk to her.

To say thank you.

To ask… why were you always so kind to me?

But she couldn’t.

She wasn’t there yet.

And she hated that.

There were only two people she could talk to at her current cultivation, Hei Mao and His Eminence. Sometimes, she wanted to talk to His Eminence. But she couldn’t find the courage.

Frankly…

She was scared of him.

Of Da Wei.

Of what he knew, of what he was.

Of what he could see in her.

So instead, she listened.

Gu Jie began telling stories as she fed her.

Stories about the things she experienced.

Anecdotes from His Eminence’s eccentricities.

And sometimes, just doting on her, like a big sister would.

Life as a fish was… simple.

And Ren Jingyi liked that.

She was happy.

She was content.

But sometimes…

Just sometimes…

She wondered if there was more.

And ironically—

She was scared of becoming more.

At the same time, she wished for it.

It was complicated.

Gu Jie finished feeding the fish and, with a flick of her wrist, retrieved a new Spirit Stone from her Storage Ring, dropping it into the water.

"Eat well, grow strong," she murmured absently.

Ren Jingyi, the fish in question, made no reply—just a flick of her tail as she grabbed the stone with her mouth.

Gu Jie didn’t linger. She turned, dusted off her robes, and made her way to Ren Xun and Lu Gao, who were still searching for any clues about the black-masked cultivators.

"Anything?" Gu Jie asked as she scanned the rows of bookshelves.

Ren Xun shook his head, flipping through an old scroll. "Nothing concrete. Just scattered mentions, vague references. If they were a major faction, there’d be more on them. But it’s as if they don’t exist. I think the Shadow Clan is playing us."

Hei Mao sighed, rubbing his temples. "I thought I’d found something earlier, but it turned out to be some old folk tale."

Gu Jie hummed in thought, picking up a book and flipping through it. Nothing. She closed it and slid it back onto the shelf.

"Then there’s nothing else to do but cultivate," she said, already turning to leave.

Ren Xun groaned. "Of course you’d say that."

Gu Jie just smiled.

She had no time to waste.

Gu Jie was currently at the Will Reinforcement realm, steadily pushing toward Spirit Mystery.

Her progress was fast—faster than it had ever been in her previous time as a disciple of the Heavenly Demon.

The way she was now, she had already surpassed her past cultivation, breaking through limits that once seemed impossible.

It was because of the Warlock Legacy.

When she was just a disciple within the Heavenly Cult, she was never taught offensive techniques. The sect only gave her cultivation methods to raise her realm, but no real power to wield.

But the Warlock Legacy…

It supplemented her with skills.

Powerful, painful skills.

Her Master often used unfamiliar words when explaining the Warlock Legacy, but she was nothing if not studious.

She took out a small booklet, personally penned by her Master. The pages were slightly worn from use, the ink still crisp.

Her Master called it a walkthrough.

A walkthrough to the Repentant Skill Pathway.

According to her Master, skills could be learned in three ways:

1. Through the help of a Specialized NPC

2. By obtaining a Skill Book

3. By completing a Quest

"What was even an En-Pi-See?" Gu Jie had once wondered aloud.

It sounded profound, like some grand Daoist principle, but was completely lost in translation.

After some deep thinking (and some headaches), Gu Jie understood that NPCs were just what her Master called instructors—people who taught skills.

Then there were Skill Books, magical tomes that bestowed knowledge through inheritance.

Gu Jie had neither of these.

Which meant she had only one option left—Quests.

So, what were Quests?

A Quest was a set of goals that needed to be completed to gain a skill.

For example—

She had learned Fake Death by brushing with death too many times.

She had learned Curse by wishing someone bad luck or ill fate.

And most recently, she had learned Curse Reversal by casting Curse on herself a hundred times and enduring it.

Gu Jie flipped through the booklet.

The skills Fake Death, Curse, and Curse Reversal were crossed out—completed.

But there were two more skills she wanted.

Two more she needed.

· Great Curse

· Repentance

Learning Great Curse required her to Curse herself a thousand times.

Since she had already done a hundred, she only needed nine hundred more to go.

As for Repentance, she needed to cast Curse Reversal a thousand times.

It was going to be painful.

So she needed privacy.

She vanished.

A moment later, she reappeared on the Floating Dragon, where the obscurity formations had already been repaired.

Perfect.

She sat down, took a deep breath, and began.

"Curse."

A shiver ran through her body.

Pain.

Not a mere illusion—real, tangible pain, sinking into her bones, eating away at her strength.

She clenched her fists.

"Curse Reversal."

A golden glow wrapped around her, undoing the affliction.

But sometimes—

"Curse Reversal."

It failed.

And she had to endure the suffering again.

The skill worked most of the time, reversing the curse and granting her temporary buffs and healing.

But that small percentage of failure—

It was agonizing.

"Curse."

A wave of dizziness.

"Curse Reversal."

Relief.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Blood dripped from her lips.

Her vision blurred.

But she continued.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the Spirit Stone, absorbing its qi to replenish her strength.

She wiped her mouth, ignoring the iron taste on her tongue.

Just a few hundred more times to go.

She could do this.

Because she had to.

Gu Jie wanted to be of use to her Master.

It was as simple as that.

Her strength was meager, laughable compared to the true powerhouses of this world. But that didn’t matter. She was willing to work hard, to push herself beyond her limits.

Because when the time came—when her Master needed her—she would be there.

Not as a burden.

Not as someone to be protected.

But as a shield.

So she endured.

She cursed herself, reversing it over and over, forcing her body to adapt, to learn, to grow.

Pain. Healing. Pain again.

She had lost count of how many times she had done it when—

Someone appeared on the boat.

She froze, instantly recognizing the figure before her.

It was Master Da Wei.

No.

It was Senior Dai Fu—inside Master Da Wei’s body.

Gu Jie bowed respectfully.

"Senior," she greeted.

She had long since learned that Da Wei and Dai Fu were not their real names.

She had heard their true names once—deep in her mentalscape, when they defended her from the fragment of the Heavenly Demon.

Yet—

She could not pronounce them.

No matter how hard she tried, the syllables twisted in her mouth, refusing to take form.

So she had settled for the closest approximation—the names they themselves used in this world.

Da Wei and Dai Fu.

Gu Jie met Dai Fu’s calm gaze. "Senior, when will Master return?"

The Holy Spirit, standing before he,r exhaled softly. "Most likely in a month’s time."

His voice was neither rushed nor uncertain.

"His Lord is at a crucial phase in his cultivation. Disturbing him now would be unwise."

Gu Jie nodded. She had expected as much.

She would have to wait.

That was fine.

She had plenty to do.

The others in their group were aware of Dai Fu’s nature. They knew he was a Holy Spirit.

But they didn’t understand what that meant.

Not truly.

They accepted it, acknowledged it, but they didn’t perceive it the way she did.

Perhaps it was because she was a Warlock.

Perhaps it was simply her nature.

But to her, Da Wei and Dai Fu felt different.

Da Wei was like the sun—warm and gentle, an all-encompassing light that illuminated the world.

Dai Fu was like the moon—calm and serene, ever-watching from above, distant yet present.

Both were celestial.

Both were untouchable.

And yet, both had saved her.

Dai Fu raised a hand, and a pulse of ethereal light surrounded her.

Instantly, the lingering pain from her self-inflicted Curses vanished. Her energy stabilized, her breath eased.

She frowned. "Senior, you shouldn’t have bothered."

Dai Fu simply smiled. "You can rely on me, you know. The others would help you just as much. We are a Party after all."

Gu Jie opened her mouth, then closed it.

She had no response to that.

So instead, she simply bowed her head and returned to her training.

She cast Curse upon herself again.

She endured the pain again.

She reversed it again.

All while simultaneously cultivating her Qi, refining her body, mind, and spirit.

She worked.

She worked hard.

Ah, my dear reader, are you still there?

Hopefully, this portion of the story wasn’t boring you.

Now, let us turn our gaze to David_69—or Dai Fu, the Holy Spirit. Or perhaps, simply Dave—a nickname His Lordship had bestowed upon him.

Frankly, Dave didn’t care much for names.

They were fleeting, trivial things.

What mattered to him was His Oath—the one he had sworn alongside His Lordship.

As a Paladin, he had fought countless battles, spilling enough blood to drown nations. If all the corpses he had cut down were stacked into a pile, they could fill an entire battlefield, forming a mountain of the dead.

It wasn’t something he was proud of.

But it was something he had accepted.

His faith in humanity was a contradiction in itself.

Humans were weak, selfish, flawed—yet despite all their shortcomings, they endured. They thrived.

And so would he.

Because he had faith—not just in humanity, but in himself.

He had faith in His Lordship.

He had faith in His Lordship’s humanity as well.

That faith was what had sustained him for centuries, and it was the same faith that guided his actions now.

Dave spent his time on the boat, assisting Gu Jie with her training.

She was determined, pushing herself harder than necessary. He admired that about her.

After training, he would spar with her under Hei Yuan’s supervision, in the training ground reserved for them.

Then, as the day wound down, he would socialize with his other companions and share tea with Hei Yuan.

It was a routine, but it was a necessary one.

And so the days passed.

Until one evening, as he sat across from Hei Yuan, sipping tea under the dim lantern light, the old fox finally spoke up.

"Why don’t you mind me supervising your sparring?" Hei Yuan asked, his expression unreadable.

Dave paused, considering the question.

His answer was simple—because he was currently acting on His Lord’s behalf.

Everything he did reflected His Lordship’s honor. And as a Paladin, he would never act in a way that tarnished that honor.

But he knew Hei Yuan would find such an answer unsatisfying.

So he worded it differently.

"One of our prerequisites is that we must be supervised when outside the eastern wing," Dave replied, taking another sip of tea. "So it doesn’t really matter, does it? We’d rather ask you just accommodate our training. It would be a bad look for you if you let visitors hurl their spells around in your territory unattended, wouldn’t you?"

Hei Yuan’s gaze sharpened. "You’re too naive."

Dave chuckled. "Not naive. Practical."

Hei Yuan arched an eyebrow.

Dave leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Your spies aren’t that good. I can sense them from a mile away."

Hei Yuan scowled, but quickly schooled his expression. "Ridiculous."

Dave simply smiled. "It’s fine. I don’t mind being watched. The sparring. Our discussions. The reading we do. Our research. It was irrelevant, unless you mean harm to us."

"And why is that?" Hei Yuan’s fingers tightened around his teacup. "Aren't you wary of your techniques being stolen?

"Of course, I am not worried," Dave set his cup down with a soft clink. "Because even if they saw everything, they lack the means to imitate even a fraction of our power. In the end, if it goes down into a fight… it’s clear to me, you’d lose so much more than me."

A flicker of offense crossed Hei Yuan’s face.

The old fox was cautious—cunning, even—but Dave was not easily ruffled.

He had seen men like Hei Yuan before.

And he knew that, despite the Shadow Clan’s vast resources and experience, they were still playing catch-up.

They simply didn’t have the foundation to grasp what lay beyond their reach. 

Hei Yuan knew it too.

And that was why, despite his irritation, he remained silent.

Dave simply picked up his teacup and took another sip.

The night continued, calm and unbroken.

So…

This was the part of the story that would shake up everything we knew so far.

Let us turn our gaze to Hei Yuan—and by extension, the Shadow Clan.

They were but a shadow of their former selves. Once, they had stood equal to the Black Clan, their closest kin. But now? They couldn’t even compare.

Yet, despite their decline, the Shadow Clan had not crumbled completely.

How had a clan like them survived the tides of history?

It was simple.

Information.

They had one of the most formidable intelligence networks in the Empire. Their umbramancy had weakened, their strength had waned—but their secrets still held power.

And power, in any form, could be leveraged.

With their secret arts, they propped themselves up beneath the tyranny of the cultivation world. Knowledge was their weapon.

Recently, Hei Yuan had received new intelligence. Reports from Yellow Dragon City in the Riverfall Continent had arrived, bringing with them troubling news. Their branch in Riverfall wasn’t as refined as their other networks, but it was still competent.

From the reports, Hei Yuan learned of Da Wei’s involvement with Imperial Prince Ren Jin. He read about the Emperor’s invitation, which confirmed that Da Wei had indeed an appointment with the Emperor himself.

That alone was enough to make Hei Yuan wary.

But that wasn’t what truly disturbed him.

No…

It was the stories surrounding Da Wei.

Hei Yuan exhaled slowly, recalling the report.

A divine healer? A saint of healing and demon-slaying?

Ridiculous.

The reports painted Da Wei as some kind of mythical figure, a cultivator who brought miracles wherever he went.

No matter how Hei Yuan tried to scheme, there was no path forward where his Clan survived Da Wei’s ire.

Thus, he made a calculated decision—

He would do the unthinkable.

He would help them.

The sooner Da Wei left, the safer the Shadow Clan would be.

Hei Yuan folded the report and slid a long scroll across the table.

"I’m willing to assist in investigating Hei Mao’s lineage," he stated, his voice measured.

The truth was, he had given these orders long ago.

Hei Yuan had suspicions about Hei Mao’s bloodline—particularly, a connection to the late Shadow Patriarch, who had vanished without a trace.

But the timeline didn’t match. The disappearance didn’t happen during the Grand Emperor’s punishment of the Black and Shadow Clans. At least, according to Hei Yuan’s investigations.

No, this mystery stretched far beyond that.

It was older than the Abyss Clan itself.

Older than the Grand Emperor’s war against Deepmoor Continent.

Hei Yuan tapped the scroll. "Read it."

Da Wei—no, Dai Fu unbeknownst to Hei Yuan—glanced at the ancient parchment before unfolding it. His golden eyes flickered as he scanned its contents.

After a moment, he spoke. "You’re saying Hei Mao is practically royalty."

Hei Yuan smirked. "If you consider a fallen legacy to be royalty, then yes."

He leaned back, watching Dai Fu’s expression carefully. "Before the Abyss Clan became what it is today, it was a sect—the Eternal Undeath Sect. And it is old. Very old."

Dai Fu frowned. "If this sect was so old, how did you even find records of it?"

Hei Yuan let out a quiet scoff. "Do not underestimate the Shadow Clan."

He wouldn’t admit it outright, but it was pure luck.

Who would have thought that the late Shadow Patriarch’s journal contained historical accounts from three thousand years ago?

Using that as a reference, he had ordered his people to compile a report.

And the results had been… fascinating.

Hei Yuan summarized the findings.

"The Abyss Clan’s origins were not without turmoil. Before it was established, the Eternal Undeath Sect experienced a dark age—a time of chaos."

"It had to do with immortals ascending."

Dai Fu’s gaze sharpened. "Go on."

Hei Yuan continued.

"The sect’s immortals wanted to ascend together, bringing their entire sect with them."

"To do that, they devised a Secret Art—a ritual that would bind the faith of every single member."

"However, there was a couple that refused to ascend."

Dai Fu raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Hei Yuan scoffed, shaking his head. "Because they wanted to stay behind. To grow old and live as mortals together."

"Fools," added Hei Yuan with vitriol.

"The Secret Art could only succeed if every person with the surname Hei consented. The couple’s defiance meant that the ritual failed."

"The immortals were forced to ascend alone."

"With their departure, the Eternal Undeath Sect collapsed—its foundation shattered. Without their divine leaders, they fell into civil war."

"They destroyed themselves."

Hei Yuan’s expression turned unreadable.

"Among the casualties… were the strange couple."

"And their twins—Hei Mao and Hei Mei."

Silence fell between them.

Dai Fu stared at the scroll, his mind undoubtedly racing.

Hei Yuan took a sip of his tea, his tone almost amused. "So tell me, Da Wei… does this change anything?"

Dai Fu slowly rolled up the scroll. "It changes everything."

Hei Yuan smirked.

"Good."

Hei Yuan’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden table. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight to his words as he spoke.

"I have a theory," he began.

Dai Fu, still reading over the ancient scroll, looked up. "Oh?"

Hei Yuan leaned forward slightly. "The Eternal Undeath Sect… I believe it has been reborn."

A heavy silence filled the air.

"Reborn?" Dai Fu’s voice was calm, but the undertone of suspicion was impossible to miss.

Hei Yuan nodded. "Yes. And if I’m right, then the unrest in Deepmoor is their doing."

Dai Fu narrowed his eyes. "You sound certain."

"I am," Hei Yuan said smoothly. "Some of them may even be hiding within the Shadow Clan’s ranks." He let the words linger, watching for any reaction. "But I believe most of them are with the Black Clan."

Dai Fu raised an eyebrow. "And why, exactly, are you so confident about that?"

Hei Yuan smirked.

Ah, that was the thing.

He wasn’t.

The truth was—Hei Yuan was lying.

Not entirely, of course. There was some truth in what he said. He wouldn’t be a very good schemer if there weren’t.

But did he actually know that the Eternal Undeath Sect had infiltrated the Black Clan? No.

Did he actually care if Da Wei saw through his lie? Also no.

Hei Yuan only wanted Da Wei’s group gone.

The longer they stayed, the more dangerous it became for the Shadow Clan.

So he gave them something.

Something useful enough to get them moving.

"If you’re interested in more than just history," Hei Yuan said, his voice slow and deliberate, "then I have something more… relevant."

Dai Fu didn’t reply immediately. He simply watched. Waiting.

Hei Yuan reached into his Storage Ring and withdrew two sheets of parchment.

With a flick of his wrist, he set them down on the table, revealing two eerily lifelike portraits.

"The Eternal Undeath Cult has made its move," he said, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "They’ve been manipulating the Abyssal Clans, feeding them misinformation to stir them into action."

Dai Fu—no, Dave, the Holy Spirit currently occupying His Lord’s body—leaned forward to inspect the parchments.

And then…

His mind went blank.

Because staring back at him from the parchment were two very, very familiar faces.

A blonde priestess with piercing emerald eyes.

And a vampire with rosy pink hair.

Joan and Alice.

"They’re looking for these two," added Hei Yuan. “From what we gathered, these two have been operating in Stormcall. But think about it, bounty posters of them are appearing here instead of Stormcall Continent. Seems suspicious."

Dave’s internal monologue was instant and absolute.

What the actual hell?!

His Lord’s body didn’t flinch, but inside, Dave was cursing up a storm.

How the hell did those two end up here?!

"They weren’t the only ones interested," Hei Yuan continued. "The Black Clan suddenly deployed cultivators there as well. However, chances were, they weren’t Black Clan cultivators but undercover cultists."

Dave’s fingers tightened slightly.

"The Black Clan? Undercover cultists?"

"Mn." Hei Yuan nodded. "And it gets worse." He glanced at the scroll again, voice dropping slightly. "Several of my own people—Shadow Clan cultivators—vanished in Stormcall. They were later found dead."

The air between them grew heavier.

"I take it the Eternal Undeath Cult had a hand in that?" Dave asked.

Hei Yuan’s expression didn’t change. "Obviously. My men weren’t careless enough to get caught by common bandits."

Dave exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to run a hand down his face.

"And you’re telling me all this… why?"

Hei Yuan’s smirk widened. "Because I want you to leave, of course."

Dave almost laughed. At least he was honest about it.

090 Hollow Point

The veranda where we sat embodied the Shadow Clan’s reserved elegance—spacious yet unadorned, its wooden beams darkened by time and a tiled roof curving subtly at the edges. Delicate wind chimes swayed from the eaves, their intermittent notes blending with the evening breeze.

Beyond the railing, a mist-shrouded garden stretched into the distance, its winding paths obscured by drifting fog. Lanterns flickered like distant fireflies, their glow mirrored in the koi pond’s still waters. This was a place for quiet contemplation, for hushed conversations over tea.

And tea, of course, was what we drank.

I took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle within me. The taste was rich—earthy, slightly bitter, yet carrying a lingering sweetness that clung to my tongue.

More than that, it felt different.

The moment it passed my throat, something stirred within me—a faint surge, subtle yet unmistakable. A ripple of energy, threading through my being.

“This tea is quite something.” I set the cup down, studying it. “It tastes... different.”

Hei Yuan smirked, pleased. “Naturally. The roots used to make this tea drink deep from the ley lines of our ancestral land. They absorb qi for decades before a single leaf is harvested.” He swirled his own cup, watching the liquid move. “To cultivators, it is more than mere tea—it tempers the body, sharpens the mind, strengthens the flow of qi.”

I hummed in thought, taking another sip.

Once, I would have hesitated.

The idea of consuming qi-infused anything would have sent me into a spiral of paranoia. After all, my body did not belong to this world. I had once wondered—what if I carried unseen plagues from my old world, or worse, what if this world harbored pathogens fatal to me?

And qi?

What if it wasn’t a blessing but a slow-acting poison? What if my very existence was at odds with the laws of this realm?

That caution still lingered. Brukhelm and Lu Gao were proof enough that qi was not always a gift.

But this tea?

This was fine.

A small amount of qi wouldn’t kill me.

And given the vitality I felt with each sip, I was beginning to think it wasn’t so bad after all.

I swirled the tea in my cup, watching the ripples settle before taking another sip. The warmth spread through me again, laced with that subtle, undeniable current of qi.

Setting the cup down, I leaned back slightly and glanced at Hei Yuan. “So,” I began, “what moved you to invite me for tea?”

Hei Yuan’s lips curved faintly. “Must there be a reason? Can I not simply extend a courtesy?”

I raised a brow. “A courtesy, is it? You and I both know your clansmen might see it differently.” I gestured toward our surroundings—the secluded veranda, the hushed atmosphere, the quiet, private conversation. “Won’t this invite unnecessary speculation?”

Hei Yuan scoffed, shaking his head. “My clan is not so petty. They know I act with purpose.” He met my gaze, his expression calm yet unwavering. “And whether they approve or not, they trust my judgment.”

“Is that so?” I tapped a finger against the table. “Then let’s turn the question around—what made you think I’d accept?”

Hei Yuan studied me for a moment, then exhaled lightly. “Shall I hazard a guess?”

I smirked. “Go on.”

He took his time, sipping his tea before answering. “You thought I might be more forthcoming in a private setting,” he said. “Without prying eyes, you hoped I’d let something useful slip.”

I chuckled, raising my cup in a mock salute. “Not bad.”

“But,” Hei Yuan continued, his expression cooling, “if you believe I would betray my clan’s trust so easily, you will be disappointed.”

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice as if in confidence. “What’s so important about your past that it must remain hidden? Black masks aren’t exactly a fashion statement. If you’re ashamed, I’d understand.”

To my surprise, Hei Yuan actually laughed, shaking his head. “If only it were that simple.”

His fingers tapped idly against the table, but when he spoke again, his tone was steady, deliberate. “I will give you a month.” His voice carried an unmistakable weight. “If, by then, you and your people still refuse to cooperate and leave, I won’t hesitate to bloody my hands.”

I arched a brow but said nothing. “Even if it kills you?”

“Even if it kills me.” His gaze remained steady. “For now, you are free to roam the eastern wing. If you wish to step beyond it, however, you must be accompanied by myself, Hei Mu, or Hei Mai.”

I scoffed. “No need. The eastern wing suits us just fine. Better yet—” I gestured toward the tea, the quiet veranda, the vast library beyond us. “—let us make our resting place in the Umbral Scripture Hall.”

Hei Yuan drained the last of his tea, setting his cup down with a soft clink. Then, rising to his feet, he dusted off his sleeves and regarded me with a measured look.

“I will allow it,” he said at last. His voice was even, but something unreadable flickered in his gaze—curiosity? Wariness? He wasn’t saying.

Then, without another word, Hei Yuan turned on his heel and left.

I let out a slow breath, watching his retreating figure. I had expected him to be more forthcoming, but it seemed my Speech stat wasn’t quite cutting it. Either that, or he was just as adept at maneuvering through words as I was.

No use dwelling on it. I drained the last of my tea and made my way back to the Umbral Scripture Hall.

Inside, the others were gathered as usual—reading, cultivating, or pretending to do one of the two. As I stepped in, their gazes flicked toward me.

“I have news,” I announced. “Hei Yuan has granted us permission to use the library as our resting place.”

A brief silence followed before Gu Jie nodded. “It’s better this way.”

Ren Xun leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed. “Agreed.”

Hei Mao merely shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

From his corner, Dave, ever the dutiful knight, spoke up. “My Lord, do you not trust the Shadow Clan?”

I met his gaze. “It’s not about trust. It’s about caution.” Folding my arms, I added, “Better safe than sorry. We only have one life, after all.”

Dave’s head tilted slightly at that, the metal joints in his Puppet Armor shifting. I could practically hear the gears turning in his artificial skull.

Before he could voice whatever thought had taken root, I cut in, “Yes, I have resurrection magic. But there will always be exceptions.” My gaze swept the room. “The fact that I couldn’t restore Lu Gao’s meridians and spirit roots proves that even my healing has limits.”

At that, I noticed Lu Gao, sitting unnaturally still in the corner. His posture was rigid, his breath uneven. His face had gone pale, beads of sweat forming along his brow.

My eyes narrowed. “Lu Gao… What’s wrong?”

Slowly, as if each motion required immense effort, he raised his index finger.

“I…” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I succeeded.”

Silence.

I took a careful step forward. “Succeeded on what?”

He swallowed. “Blessed Weapon.”

On his finger?

The room tensed.

I kept my voice even. “Lu Gao… calm down.”

His breathing was shallow. His hand trembled.

“If I let go of it,” he rasped, “I feel like I’ll die.”

A faint glow pulsed at the tip of his finger—pure white light, unnervingly sharp.

I took another step forward, voice steady. “Lu Gao, close your eyes.”

He hesitated, then obeyed, his breaths still ragged.

I turned to Dave. “Dispel Divine Possession. Return to my body.”

Without hesitation, Dave complied. His Puppet Armor slumped where it sat, the glow in its eyes fading. A hollow clang echoed through the library as the lifeless metal shell sagged under its own weight.

The moment I returned to my body, I activated Divine Possession—but this time, I seized control of Lu Gao.

A strange sensation washed over me as my consciousness shifted. My own body faded from my perception, replaced by his. The weight of his limbs, the rhythm of his pulse, the tense grip he had on his sense of self—it all became mine.

At the edges of my awareness, his thoughts hovered, small yet burning with excitement, expectation… and raw hope.

He had done it. He had finally succeeded. And now, he was trusting me not to let it kill him.

Meanwhile, my real body—the one I had just left—was under Dave’s control. “Take my place,” I instructed through our mental link via Voice Chat. “Keep up the act and ensure everyone’s safety while I’m gone.”

Dave’s response was immediate. “Understood, my Lord.”

I could no longer access my Item Box in this state. That meant I needed contingencies—just in case I was suddenly exorcised. Egress should be enough to bring us back, but it was better to be prepared.

“Dave,” I said, my voice now coming from Lu Gao’s lips. “Hand me a Featherhome.”

A silver feather appeared, hovering before me. I reached out and took it, tucking it securely inside Lu Gao’s robes.

Featherhome—a consumable item that allowed me to teleport to my party. If things went sideways, we’d have a way out.

I turned to Gu Jie. “Continue cultivating.”

She shot me a skeptical glance but said nothing.

Then, I faced Ren Xun. “Stay alert. Keep teaching Hei Mao. And make sure he learns more than just the characters for ‘black’ and ‘cat.’”

Hei Mao grumbled, still not fully grasping the situation.

I exhaled sharply. “Listen well—Lu Gao and I are at a critical point in cultivation.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie.

For me, this was another step in my experimentation—substituting qi with mana.

I took a deep breath, cast Zealot’s Stride, and rushed forward.

In the next instant, I was running in the air.

Zealot’s Stride had truly paid off. With each step, a faint golden glow shimmered beneath my feet, granting traction where none should exist. I pushed forward, putting distance between myself and the Shadow Clan’s territory. Below me, the landscape blurred—rolling hills, winding rivers, endless sky.

“Lu Gao, you still in there?”

A flicker of his consciousness stirred. “Yes, Master. I can feel everything you do…”

His voice was tight with strain.

I examined our now-golden index finger—the one still crackling with unstable energy. The glow pulsed, flickering at the edges, held together by sheer willpower. I couldn’t afford to lose control now.

As I ran, I focused on the energy surging through it. Was it qi? No—this was mana.

A subtle but striking difference hit me.

Qi had always been easy to grasp with Divine Sense, flowing naturally through meridians, forming the foundation of cultivation. But mana? Mana was different. Harder to perceive, harder to control. If qi was a tangible particle, something I could seize and mold at will, then mana was an elusive wave—fluid, shifting, always slipping just beyond my grip.

I frowned. “Is this a fundamental difference between the two energies?”

Back on Earth, I wasn’t exactly a physicist. My major had been Education—I knew how to break down concepts, how to teach in digestible pieces. Hand me a textbook, and I’d learn well enough to explain it to a classroom. But coming up with original theories? Proving things mathematically? That wasn’t my strong suit.

Yet, here I was, standing at the edge of an entirely new system of power, forced to figure it out as I went.

To be honest, I’d been lucky so far. My method of teaching Lu Gao—meditation, mana perception, absorbing skill flavor texts to deepen his understanding—had all been trial and error. No grand theory. No rigid structure. Just experimentation until something worked.

And now, finally, we had a real lead.

If mana and qi functioned on fundamentally different principles, then understanding that difference might be the key to pushing my abilities even further.

Gaining skill proficiency through understanding flavor texts had been a good start, but that was just the surface. I needed to go deeper.

If I could adapt this world’s skill system to my own, I might even be able to create original skills—something that wasn’t bound by the rigid structure of the Paladin class.

I pushed that thought aside for now and focused my mind, speaking inwardly to Lu Gao.

"Tell me, how exactly did you cast Blessed Weapon on your finger?"

Lu Gao hesitated. His consciousness flickered in the back of my mind, uncertain. “I… I was frustrated. I kept trying to cast it, but no matter what I did, it wouldn’t work. It felt like something was missing.”

I remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts.

"Then, while reading in the Umbral Scripture Hall, I found a book on philosophy. It mentioned how the term ‘weapon’ wasn’t limited to metal or blades. A warrior’s body itself could be a weapon."

That… actually made sense.

If that was the case, could I cast Blessed Weapon on my teeth? No—stretching it too far. It wasn’t just about interpretation. There was something more.

Lu Gao continued, his tone more certain now. “I also recalled an assassination technique taught in my clan—one that used the index finger like a spear. The movements mimicked a piercing thrust, precise and lethal. When I thought about my finger as an extension of my intent, something just… clicked.”

I narrowed my eyes. “So you were able to cast Blessed Weapon because you redefined what counted as a weapon?”

"Exactly. I thought about my finger as a spear, the way I once wielded qi in my clan’s techniques. And then… it just worked.”

I processed his words carefully.

Lu Gao had reinterpreted the very concept of the skill, bending its definition to activate it in a way that wasn’t normally possible. Even though he still struggled to perceive mana, he had bypassed that limitation—not through brute force, but by reshaping his understanding of the skill’s nature.

This… this was valuable.

Perhaps skill activation wasn’t just about following a system’s rules. Perhaps it hinged on how one conceptualized the ability itself.

In hindsight, my method of training—using flavor texts as a reference—followed the same logic. I had just taken extra steps to reach the same conclusion.

A rocky outcrop appeared in the distance, and I guided my descent toward the hill. My landing sent loose pebbles skittering down the slope, the uneven terrain pressing firm beneath my feet.

This spot would do.

There was space here—enough space—and scattered chunks of rock that would serve as decent targets.

Lifting my hand, I examined my index finger, still glowing faintly from the lingering effect of Blessed Weapon. The sensation was… strange. It wasn’t just an enchantment. It was proof that rules could be bent—that sheer will could redefine what constituted a weapon.

"Lu Gao." I shifted my focus inward. "Show me how you did it."

I felt his presence stir within me. His voice came, not as a spoken word, but as a thought woven with memory.

"Master already knows how I did it. You were in my body when I cast it."

"Knowing and understanding aren’t the same thing," I countered. "I need to see how you first learned. How you first trained."

A brief silence.

Then, like a floodgate breaking open, his memories surged forward, pulling me in.

I stood in a training hall, surrounded by murmurs. Elders and instructors lined the perimeter, watching with measured anticipation.

At the center stood a child—no older than eight or nine—dressed in crisp martial robes embroidered with the Lu branch clan’s sigil. His hair was neatly tied, his stance proud, and his eyes…

His eyes shone with boundless confidence.

"Lu Gao will be the one to elevate us."

"His talent surpasses all before him. He will be our answer to the Lu Imperial House."

The voices surrounded him, feeding his growing arrogance. The young Lu Gao smirked as he performed one technique after another, flawlessly executing the basic forms of the clan’s internal arts. His strikes were sharp. His footwork pristine. Every movement radiated untapped potential.

A mentor stepped forward, eyes filled with quiet approval.

"Good. Very good. With this talent, you may even stand among the main clan’s elites one day."

Lu Gao puffed up with pride.

"Of course I will! Why wouldn’t I?"

But arrogance was a fragile thing.

One day, his training took a different turn.

"You lack the right constitution for the main clan’s vaunted techniques," an elder informed him. "You will never master them."

The words struck like a slap to the face. Lu Gao straightened his back, confusion flashing across his youthful features.

"That’s not true! I can learn anything!"

The elder’s gaze was cold steel. "No, you cannot. Your talent lies elsewhere. If you wish to be of use, then refine your skills as an assassin."

Anger burned in his young chest. Assassin techniques? That was for those who hid in the shadows, those too weak to stand openly as warriors.

"I refuse!" he declared. "I will prove I belong among the main clan’s finest!"

The clan had no room for rebellion.

They arranged a match. A duel against a main clan child of his age. A test. A lesson. A way to put him in his place.

The day of the match, the air was thick with expectation.

Lu Gao stepped into the arena with his pride intact. Across from him stood his opponent—a boy dressed in far more elaborate robes, his presence calm, unwavering.

The duel began.

The first exchange shattered his delusions.

The main clan child moved with effortless grace. His strikes carried a force that outmatched Lu Gao’s best efforts. Every attack Lu Gao unleashed was met with superior technique, his footwork countered with flawless positioning.

He was being overwhelmed.

And then—desperation.

Instincts buried deep within his training surfaced. He abandoned his standard forms, shifting into an entry-level assassination technique. His body flickered. A shadowy blur. His fingers formed into a spear-like thrust, aimed at a vital point.

The main clan child barely dodged in time. The attack grazed his shoulder.

The duel was over. Lu Gao had won.

But when he looked around—

There was no applause.

The elders were silent. His opponent wasn’t humiliated—only disappointed.

Lu Gao had been forced to fight like an assassin to secure his victory.

His pride crumbled.

And from that day forward, his path was decided for him.

Or so that would have been the normal course of events.

But reality could be cruel.

The memories sharpened. Details I hadn’t noticed before came into focus—the beads of sweat clinging to young Lu Gao’s brow, the disappointed stares of the elders, the barely veiled sneers of the main clan cultivators.

Lu Gao let go, surrendering his past to me.

The story continued.

His victory had not been celebrated. It had been punished.

The main clan could not tolerate disgrace—not when the boy hailed as their future had been humiliated by a mere branch clan child—and with a dirty assassination technique, no less.

The insult had been unbearable.

A week later, they came for Lu Gao.

They called it a lesson. They called it justice.

But it was vengeance.

He was dragged to the training courtyard—the same place where he had once been admired—and stripped of everything.

His dantian was shattered. Not completely, but just enough to cripple his cultivation indefinitely.

"Consider this mercy," one of the elders said. "You may still live. But you will never surpass your station."

He was discarded.

Left to wallow in his failure.

No longer a prodigy. No longer a symbol of hope.

Just a broken child clawing his way back to the heights that had once been promised to him.

I gasped, tearing free from the memory. The weight of it crushed my chest, the injustice of it all burning like white-hot fire behind my ribs.

A name echoed in my mind.

"Hollow Point."

I breathed it aloud. My voice was steady.

Something shifted inside me.

Lu Gao’s pain, his anger, his relentless struggle—it all poured into the technique, mingling with my own sheer stats and the burning radiance of Blessed Weapon.

And something new was born.

A white-hot surge of power flared along my right arm. Purple and white flames erupted from my skin, devouring my sleeve in an instant.

The heat didn’t burn me. But the sheer force of it sent my pulse racing.

Within me, Lu Gao stirred, stunned.

"What is this…?"

I turned my burning hand, watching the flames curl around my index finger.

This was no longer a simple stab meant to pierce flesh.

This was something far greater.

I glanced at my ruined sleeve, then back at the wild energy crackling along my limb.

"I don’t know what to call it," I said. "You’re the one who made it possible. Give it a name, Lu Gao—my disciple."

Lu Gao was silent.

And then—

A laugh.

Not bitter, not hollow. But something giddy. Almost childlike.

"It is an honor, Master," he said, his voice lighter than it had ever been. "Then… Hollow Point: Incursion!"

I smirked. "Good name."

The air crackled around me as I took a single step forward.

And then—I lurched.

For an instant, my weight vanished, as if the world itself had momentarily lost its hold on me. It felt like an instantaneous movement technique, but… different.

I reappeared in front of a massive rock.

My glowing index finger stabbed forward.

The moment my finger touched the stone—

White cracks exploded across its surface, lightning-fast.

Purple flames surged through the fractures, devouring the core.

For a single breath, the rock held together—as if defying the inevitable.

And then—

It ceased to exist.

Not shattered.

Not broken.

Just… dust.

I exhaled, shaking off the lingering energy. The remnants of the flames danced in the air before fading into nothingness.

Within me, Lu Gao let out a slow, awed breath.

"That was… absurd."

I grinned, flexing my fingers. "Feels like just the beginning of something even greater."

089 Umbral Scripture Hall

The Shadow Clan had arranged for us to stay in the eastern wing, but everyone seemed far more interested in the library. The Umbral Scripture Hall had become our second home, a place where curiosity burned brighter than any lantern. As for me? I hadn’t left since we arrived.

I’d learned a lot, truly. The library wasn’t particularly rich in cultivation methods or techniques—most of what it offered paled in comparison to the gifts I had received from the Cloud Mist Sect, let alone the treasures I had picked up from Ren Jin’s Golden Sun Pavilion. But in terms of historical texts and general knowledge? This place was a goldmine.

Flipping through a worn tome, my eyes landed on a passage discussing the historical significance of black masks. I skimmed through the content. Before the Grand Emperor’s reign, masks had been more than mere disguises—they had signified status and power among certain cultivators.

A promising lead. I placed the book atop a growing pile, each volume holding some thread of connection to the enigmatic black-masked cultivators.

Nearby, Hei Mao sat with furrowed brows, his lips moving as he painstakingly traced words with his finger. Ren Xun knelt beside him, offering guidance with quiet patience. Hei Mao had made it his mission to uncover the truth behind the killers of his family, and learning to read was his first step toward that goal.

I watched them for a moment.

Hei Mao sat hunched over a scroll, his finger tracing unfamiliar characters as he struggled to piece them together. Across from him, Ren Xun watched with the patience of a seasoned teacher, though his arms were folded in what could only be described as suppressed frustration.

“Try again,” Ren Xun said, tapping the parchment. “That word. What does it mean?”

Hei Mao squinted at the brushstrokes, his lips moving silently before he hesitantly muttered, “Uh… ‘shade’?”

Ren Xun sighed. “No. That’s ‘darkness.’”

Hei Mao scowled. “They look the same.”

“To an illiterate fool, perhaps.”

Hei Mao glared at him, his fingers twitching as though resisting the urge to hurl the scroll across the room. “Then why don’t you read it?”

Ren Xun smirked, picking up another scroll. “I already did. Twice.” He leaned forward, lowering his voice mockingly. “Unlike someone, I happen to know how to read.”

Hei Mao ground his teeth but forced himself to focus. “Tch. I’ll get it eventually.”

Ren Xun leaned back, arms behind his head. “We’ll see. At this rate, the black-masked killers will have already died of old age before you learn to read their name.”

Hei Mao froze for half a breath, then exhaled sharply. “Not funny.”

Ren Xun’s smirk faded. He looked at the younger boy’s clenched fists and sighed. “It wasn’t meant to be.” He gestured to the scroll. “You want to learn, don’t you? Then don’t waste time glaring at me—read.”

“Ugh… You are so mean…” Hei Mao grumbled but lowered his gaze back to the parchment. This time, when he traced the words, he took his time, sounding them out carefully.

Ren Xun watched for a moment before nodding. “Better.”

At that, Hei Mao sat up a little straighter.

It made me wonder what Ren Xun was scheming, adopting a harsh persona… or maybe, he was just like that as a teacher. The nostalgia was rather refreshing though. I remembered teaching the same way…

“There’s really a lot of them,” muttered Lu Gao.

I turned to Lu Gao, who was flipping through a stack of scrolls with a furrowed brow. He had been helping with the research, though I had repeatedly insisted he should focus on mastering the Blessed Weapon spell instead.

“I thought I told you to concentrate on your training,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

Lu Gao merely shrugged. “I can do it in my own time, Master. Besides, I needed a break. I was stuck anyway.”

I sighed but let it go. If he wanted to contribute here, I wouldn’t stop him.

Across the hall, Dave was in his usual spot, his clunky armor making him look like a misplaced war puppet among the delicate scrolls and books. Despite the bulk of his form, he had become oddly meticulous in his research, carefully sifting through texts and taking notes—though I suspected part of his focus was just him getting used to the limitations of his new body.

Meanwhile, Gu Jie sat beside Ren Jingyi’s bowl, the two of them cultivating in silence. I had insisted they make the most of the spirit-rich environment, and for once, Gu Jie had found herself unable to argue against my reasoning.

She clutched a spirit stone tightly as she meditated, her breathing slow and measured. Ren Jingyi, on the other hand… well… she was nibbling on a spirit stone.

I paused mid-turn of a page, staring.

It was a strange sight—her fish body bobbing slightly as she bit into the glowing stone, as if she were snacking on some divine delicacy.

I decided to just accept it and turned back to my reading.

Ah! I finally found it. I knew they would have it.

The Shadow Clan had an undeniably rich history, their accumulation of knowledge deep and vast. This place held no shortage of mysteries, and if anything, the Umbral Scripture Hall was proof of that. I had spent days buried in texts, searching, flipping through scrolls and ancient tomes, and now—finally—I held in my hands a comprehensive record detailing the different realms of cultivation.

It didn’t describe how to achieve each realm, nor did it provide any cultivation techniques, but the organization of the information was impeccable. It clearly outlined the structure of the path, making it easier to understand how each realm built upon the previous one.

Cultivation was divided into four major states: The Four Great Attributes, The Three Cosmic Elements, The Trinity Celestial Paths, and The Godly Vessel.

The progression was straightforward. The First to Fourth Realms aligned with the Four Great Attributes, focusing on the foundational aspects of cultivation. The Fifth to Seventh Realms aligned with the Three Cosmic Elements, where one's connection to the greater forces of existence deepened. The Eighth to Tenth Realms aligned with the Trinity Celestial Paths, an esoteric stage that shaped the cultivator’s very destiny. And finally, the Eleventh Realm stood alone as The Godly Vessel, the pinnacle of cultivation.

It looked something like this:

The Four Great Attributes
Martial Tempering (1st Realm) → Foundation of the body, refining strength, endurance, and combat capabilities.
Mind Enlightenment (2nd Realm) → Awakening of the mind, broadening perception, and forming an internal connection to the world.
Will Reinforcement (3rd Realm) → Solidifying willpower, deepening one's spiritual resilience, and enhancing inner control.
Spirit Mystery (4th Realm) → The point where one's spirit begins to transcend the ordinary, stepping into the threshold of profound cultivation.

The Three Cosmic Elements
Soul Recognition (5th Realm) → Awareness and refinement of the soul, beginning the process of merging it with one's cultivation.
Essence Gathering (6th Realm) → Drawing upon and refining cosmic essence, deepening the harmony between body, spirit, and energy.
Bloodline Refinement (7th Realm) → The transformation of one’s bloodline, unlocking latent potential and stepping beyond mortal limits.

The Trinity Celestial Paths
Heart Path (8th Realm) → Walking the path of one’s Dao, solidifying one's beliefs and purpose.
World Path (9th Realm) → The cultivator’s existence begins to influence the world itself, stepping into a realm where they can shape reality.
Endless Path (10th Realm) → A step into the infinite, where one truly approaches the boundary between mortality and divinity.

The Godly Vessel
Perfect Immortal (11th Realm) → The final transformation, where one’s existence transcends all worldly limitations, becoming a true immortal.

I stared at the text for a long while, absorbing the structure of it all.

While I already had a vague understanding of how cultivation realms were divided, this classification was far more detailed and systematic than anything I had encountered before.

I leaned back, rubbing my temples. This information was valuable, but it didn’t exactly provide a direct solution to our current predicament. Still, knowing the structure of cultivation was useful. Who knew? Perhaps it would help me later.

It made me wonder—where exactly did I stand in these cultivation realms?

Since arriving in this world, the thought had crossed my mind more than once. As a max-level Paladin, I had confidence in my strength, but how far would that confidence carry me? In the end, numbers meant nothing here. This wasn’t a game. My power came from divine blessings, but at what level did it compare to this world's cultivation?

I had yet to meet an opponent who truly pushed me to my limits. The closest I had come to that was my battle against the fragment of a Heavenly Demon—a fight that had been difficult only because I had been handicapped. Without my divine authority at full capacity, I was unable to perform at my peak ability. That wasn’t a proper measure of my strength.

Could I stand against a World Path cultivator? Or an Endless Path one? The Perfect Immortal realm was the pinnacle, but I had no way of knowing where I fell on that scale. The thought gnawed at me.

As I turned another page, the sound of soft footsteps came to a halt in front of me.

I looked up.

It was a girl, probably around Lu Gao’s age, clad in the dark robes of the Shadow Clan. Her short, dark hair framed a delicate face—pretty, but unremarkable. Her eyes, however, carried a glint of unease, as if she was struggling with something internally.

I raised an eyebrow. “Can I help you?” 

She exhaled slowly, as if steeling herself, then suddenly lowered her head and bowed—a perfect ninety-degree bow.

Silence fell over the library. The quiet rustling of pages ceased, and I felt the weight of curious gazes turning toward us.

Then, in a voice that quivered between restraint and compulsion, she spoke:

“This one… humbly seeks forgiveness.”

Her tone was stiff, as though she had to force the words out.

I rested my chin on my hand, watching her. “Forgiveness for what?”

Her hands curled into fists at her sides. “For offenses committed… both deliberate and unintended,” she said slowly, as if choosing each word with excruciating care. "For the disrespect shown. For—" she hesitated, struggling, before gritting her teeth and bowing her head lower. "For matters of the past that cannot be undone."

There was no direct mention of what exactly she had done. No confession. No plea. Just vague, formalized words carefully strung together to avoid losing too much face.

I could see it clearly—she did not want to be here, saying this. Yet she had been forced into it by circumstance, by duty. Her pride warred with necessity, but in the end, she had chosen the latter.

But there was a bigger problem…

I frowned. “Who are you?” I kept my voice even, but I was already getting a bad feeling.

She lifted her head slightly, her face turning a furious shade of pink, but before she could answer, Ren Xun sauntered over, smirking.

“She’s the daughter of Hei Mu and Hei Ma,” he drawled, crossing his arms. “The same girl you just slapped a few days back, Boss.”

Oh.

Now that he mentioned it, I vaguely recalled striking someone like that. But I had no particular reason to remember her face. If I had hit her, she must have deserved it.

Yeah… I could be a self-righteous prick sometimes.

The moment Ren Xun said his piece, the girl’s face turned even redder. Then, without another word, she spun on her heel and bolted—tripping over the door frame before scrambling to her feet and fleeing for her life.

“Ah, the gauntlet girl… Now, I remember.” I realized.

Hei Mao, who had been watching the whole thing, shook his head. “You’re being mean again.”

I sighed. “Get back to work,” I told him. “Same goes for you, Ren Xun.”

Honestly, I didn’t care much for apologies. What did a simple bow mean, anyway? It wasn’t like it would magically erase the bad blood between us and the Shadow Clan’s higher-ups. Their political mess was their own. If I was going to get involved, I’d rather back Hei Yuan.

Shaking my head, I turned back to a scroll discussing undead worship and resumed my reading.

A flicker of movement appeared in my peripheral vision.

Another one?

Suppressing a sigh, I glanced up from my reading.

It was Hei Yuan.

The older man’s gaze swept over me, then toward the doorway where the girl had fled. He let out a quiet sigh and shook his head. “That was a mess.”

I closed the book in my hands with a soft thud. “Was it your idea?”

Hei Yuan gave me a look, one that carried a hint of exasperation. “Do you think me so free?” He shook his head. “No. But it seems someone thought to resolve past grievances in this manner.”

He met my gaze then, his expression steady. “Regardless, I will offer my apologies on behalf of the Shadow Clan.”

The way he said it was interesting. Unlike the girl before him, his words carried neither reluctance nor servility. He was polite, but not submissive—maintaining his dignity as a cultivator, yet still sincere.

I studied him for a moment before shrugging. “It’s water under the bridge now.”

He nodded. Then, after a beat of silence, he said, “Come. Have tea with me.”

I tapped a finger against the book cover, considering his offer.

I had no real desire to entangle myself in the Shadow Clan’s internal struggles, but at the same time, building some rapport wasn’t a bad idea. Hei Yuan was someone worth keeping on good terms with.

More importantly…

Tea meant conversation.

And conversation, in the right setting, meant information.

Judging by Hei Yuan’s age and cultivation, he had likely witnessed more than most. If I played it right, I might be able to loosen his tongue and extract something useful.

“Hmmm…” I stroked my chin, pretending to hesitate. “I suppose I could use a break. But if we’re doing this, I’d prefer it be just the two of us. I’m too old to entertain the younger generation.”

I threw out the words in a deliberately grumbling tone, like an elder unwilling to be bothered by noisy juniors.

Hei Yuan raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “You can’t be that old.”

“Well, I feel like it.”

He exhaled through his nose, as if debating whether to argue further, then shook his head. “Fine. Just the two of us.”

I grinned inwardly. Hook, line, and sinker.

088 Lost Again

The forest was a land of decay. The trees stood tall but lifeless, their bark blackened and twisted, as if scorched by an unseen fire. Withered leaves clung stubbornly to gnarled branches, rustling like dry whispers in the stagnant air. The ground was a graveyard of rot—moss-covered bones of fallen trees, tangled roots that curled like fingers, and a thick, unshakable smell of damp earth and decay.

Joan and Alice trudged through the desolation, the former gripping her staff with barely concealed irritation while the latter lazily strolled ahead, arms behind her head.

“This is your fault,” Joan snapped, shattering the silence.

“My fault?” Alice scoffed, turning on her heel to glare at Joan. “You were the one who said, and I quote, ‘Let’s take the narrow path. It feels safer.’”

“And who was it that insisted on backtracking when we saw those creepy masked people? Oh, right—you!” Joan shot back.

Alice smirked, flashing her fangs. “Excuse me for not wanting to be skewered by cultists.”

Joan groaned, rubbing her temples. “Great. So now we’re lost. Again.”

Alice huffed, placing her hands on her hips. “It’s not like we had a map to begin with, priestess. What, do you expect divine intervention to show us the way?”

Joan shot her a glare but didn’t reply. She hated to admit it, but they had been wandering in circles. The twisted trees all looked the same, and the eerie quiet made her skin crawl. Worse, they weren’t alone. The vampire-wannabes and masked figures had been hunting them for days, never getting too close, but never giving up either.

“At least,” Alice continued, “we haven’t run into anything stronger than that serpentine dragon. And even that was just a big, dumb lizard.”

Joan tightened her grip on her staff. “That ‘big, dumb lizard’ could command storms and use lightning magic.” And maybe it was only her who was remembering, but weren’t they support specialists?

Alice waved dismissively. “Details.”

Joan sighed, trying to focus. They needed a plan. Between the two of them, they had decent odds of survival, but there was one fundamental problem:

“Whose bright idea was it to pair a priestess and a vampire?” Joan muttered under her breath.

Alice’s grin widened. “Oh, you wound me. I thought we made a great team.”

Joan shot her a dry look. “If by ‘great team’ you mean we constantly bicker and attract trouble, then yes, we’re perfect.”

Alice laughed. “Well, at least we’re not bored.”

A distant howl echoed through the dead forest. Both of them immediately tensed.

“…Tell me that was the wind,” Joan said.

Alice licked her lips, her fangs glinting. “Nope. And I think we just found our next problem.”

In front of them was an apparition, a ghost.

The ghost wept before them, a translucent figure of a woman barely clinging to the fabric of this world. Her form flickered like a candle struggling against the wind, her long, tangled hair obscuring most of her face. A thick rope was wrapped around her neck, dragging her forward through the air—yet no one was pulling it.

It was a reenactment of her final moments.

Alice crossed her arms, tilting her head at the sight. "Well, that’s creepy."

The woman sobbed, whispering words neither of them understood.

Alice turned to Joan, an impish grin forming. "Go on, priestess. Console the poor soul. Do your holy woman thing."

Joan rubbed her temples, already exhausted. "Alice, we’ve been walking in circles for hours. We're trapped in this cursed forest. The least we can do is try talking to the ghost."

Alice gave an exaggerated groan. "Sure, let’s have a heartfelt conversation with the wailing specter we can't even understand. Sounds productive. Remember? Language barrier?"

Joan sighed and pointed at the skull strapped to Alice’s waist by a linen rope. "That’s what he’s for. Isn’t he?"

Alice scowled, resting a hand on the skull’s smooth, weathered surface. The thing had been their unwelcome companion ever since they had sheltered in a cave to escape a storm. That was where they had encountered the fragment of a powerful vengeful spirit—an ancient being who, surprisingly, spoke their language.

It had tried to kill them, of course.

But after a particularly heated battle and a lot of creative problem-solving, they had sealed part of it into this skull. For some reason, though, the strange interaction between their powers and this world's system had warped it into something… different.

The spirit had turned into a lich.

Still, it was useful, so they kept it—after thoroughly grinding its original body into ash and layering seal after seal on what remained of his skull.

The problem was… it was insufferable.

Alice scowled. "You really want to wake him up?"

Joan gave her a look.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Fine." She muttered a brief incantation, lifting the sleeping curse she had placed on the spirit.

The skull shuddered. Then, with a burst of eerie blue flames, two pinpricks of ghostly light flared within its empty eye sockets.

"BEHOLD, FOOLS!" the spirit bellowed, its voice deep and dramatic. "YOU HAVE ONCE MORE SUMMONED THE GREAT—"

Alice immediately slapped a hand over its mouth. Not that it had one, but she wasn’t in the mood for theatrics.

"Get to translating," she grumbled. “You piece of shit.”

The skull squirmed in her grip. "Unhand me, vile temptress! A creature of such divine beauty should not mar her fair hands by grasping a lowly skull such as I!"

Alice sighed. "He's in one of his moods again."

Joan pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just tell him to translate the ghost’s words before I shove him back in a bag of shit for another month."

Imagine.

Two beautiful women resorting to vile language.

That spoke of just how insufferable the skull was…

The skull grumbled but reluctantly turned its attention to the weeping apparition. The blue flames flickered as it listened, absorbing the ghost’s sorrowful tale.

The ghost continued to weep, her translucent form shaking with each sob. The rope around her neck remained taut, dragging her spectral body forward despite there being no visible force pulling it.

The skull hummed in amusement. "Ah, the poor thing must have died by hanging. But… where’s the tree?"

Joan frowned at the observation, scanning their surroundings. The forest was filled with blackened wood and withered leaves, but none of the twisted trees bore any sign of a rope or a broken branch where one might have hung. It was as if the execution had taken place without any physical support.

Alice, however, simply shrugged. "Who cares?"

The skull let out a dramatic sigh. "Ah, such a lack of curiosity in the minds of today’s youth… Well then, allow me to take the lead!"

He turned his eerie blue gaze toward the weeping woman and spoke in a deep, smooth voice. "My dear, your sorrowful cries pierce even the void! You must have been an exquisite beauty in life. Would you, perhaps, care to—"

Joan clenched her fists and fought the urge to cast Turn Undead right then and there.

Alice snickered at her expression. "Tempting, isn’t it?"

"Painfully so," Joan muttered before an idea struck her. She turned to Alice. "Can’t you use one of your Charm spells on him?"

Alice crossed her arms, contemplating it for a moment before sighing. "Tried it before. Didn’t work. Turns out, he has ridiculously high resistance. Either that or he’s just too obnoxious for the spell to take effect."

Joan groaned. "Of course."

With a dramatic cough, the skull finally turned serious. "Now, now, let’s get to business. The weeping woman… she cries out for an answer." His ghostly flames flickered. "She wails: Why… why did they abandon me… in the Black Forest?"

Alice raised a brow. "That’s… a little too on the nose for the forest’s name, don’t you think?"

The skull chuckled, but there was a malicious edge to the sound this time. "Oh, you haven’t even begun to hear the true horrors of this place." His voice dropped to a whisper, making the air around them feel colder. "This forest is a grave. A prison. A trap. You will never leave. You will wander and wander until the trees claim your mind and your bodies rot into the soil."

Joan and Alice exchanged glances.

Then the skull continued with a lecherous snicker. "However… if you were to show me your bountiful mounds, I might just consider lending you my vast wisdom."

Alice’s expression darkened. "Oh, you’re done talking."

Before the skull could even react, she cast Pain Amplification on him.

The ghostly flames within the skull's eye sockets flared violently as it screamed in agony.

Joan immediately followed up with Bless.

Normally, Bless was a spell meant to bolster allies with divine power. But against an undead creature?

It worked like a purification spell—inflicting debilitating debuffs.

The skull let out another shriek, smoke rising from its surface as holy power burned through its very essence.

"Y-YOU WRETCHES! MERCY! MERCYYYY!" it wailed, twisting in Alice’s grip.

Alice gave Joan a smug look. "Now that’s how you deal with an annoying undead."

Joan merely sighed, adjusting her gloves. "Now then… how about we try this again? Properly. Or do you want me to bless you a second time?"

The skull groaned, his ghostly blue flames flickering weakly. Even after being blasted with Pain Amplification and Bless, he still retained enough resistance to stay intact. Good. If he had crumbled too easily, Joan and Alice wouldn’t have been able to resort to such… persuasive methods.

The floating skull grumbled, "You know… you could’ve just asked me."

Alice hummed in agreement. "He has a point. If he knows this place, maybe he actually knows a way out."

Joan crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes. "And what would the cost be?"

The skull giggled in an unsettling way. Then, it started breathing heavily.

Joan’s skin crawled. "Wait. How are you even— You don’t have lungs!"

Alice, meanwhile, just gave her a flat stare.

Joan gulped. "W-What?"

Alice’s stare shifted—no longer flat, but something worse. Pity.

Joan took a step back. "What?! Why are you looking at me like that?!"

Alice sighed, shaking her head. "Joan, I have seen many things in my long life, but I have never met someone so… naïve, stupid, and innocent all at the same time."

Joan’s eye twitched. "Excuse me?"

Alice gestured at the still-muttering skull. "We could just torture the information out of him. But now, thanks to you, he thinks he has bargaining power."

The skull perked up. "Indeed! If you wish for my wisdom, you must fulfill my desires!"

Joan shuddered. "And that’s exactly why I didn’t want to just ask him!"

Alice groaned, rubbing her temples. "I take it back. You're not just naïve, you're hopeless."

Joan huffed. "And what would you have done?"

“Like I said,” Alice smirked, "Tortured the information out of him. Of course, we then have to tolerate his blathering. But that’s a small price to pay."

Joan opened her mouth to argue but hesitated.

Alice’s smirk deepened. "Ah, but you’re worried about ‘torture of the soul,’ aren’t you?"

Joan looked away. "…It’s bad."

Alice’s eyebrow twitched. "But it’s fine to blast him with Bless just to vent?"

Joan coughed, turning her head. "…It was only once. That’s different."

The skull, gleefully watching their exchange, cackled. "No, no, no! You must fulfill my wishes if you want me to cooperate! I am a man of refined tastes, after all!"

Alice shot Joan a dry look. "See what you did?"

Joan sighed, rubbing her forehead. "Fine. I admit it. I was wrong. And my hypocrisy is bad."

Alice tilted her head. "Hypocrisy might be too much."

Joan raised an eyebrow. "Then what would you call it?"

Alice shrugged. "Mild stupidity?"

The skull interjected, "Ladies, please! Less bickering, more chest—"

Alice immediately blasted him with Pain Amplification again. “Die, piece of shit.”

"This is going to take a while, isn’t it?" Joan sighed and rolled her shoulders before raising her hand again. A soft glow gathered around her fingertips as she prepared yet another Bless spell. Beside her, Alice lazily flicked her wrist, sending another Pain Amplification onto the floating skull.

Blue flames flickered wildly in the skull’s empty eye sockets as it shuddered in her waist. But instead of agony, it let out a loud, obscene moan.

“Ohhh~ Yes! More! Don’t stop now!”

Joan froze mid-cast. Alice’s hand stopped mid-motion.

The two exchanged a glance.

The skull shuddered again, giggling. “I knew you two were the perfect mistresses of pain. Come, let’s make this suffering last forever—”

Alice dropped her arm, cutting off her spell. Joan did the same.

Silence.

The skull’s flames flickered. “Wait. Why’d you stop?”

Joan’s face twitched. Alice clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“Nope. That’s it. Sleeping curse.” Joan suggested, “Do it, Alice.”

The skull shrieked in panic, twisting in its restraints. “No, no, no! Anything but that! I’ll behave, I swear!”

Alice gave Joan a knowing look, and the priestess sighed before lowering her hand. “Alright,” she said. “We’ll leave you awake, but only if you promise to cooperate and—” she narrowed her eyes “—shut up.”

The skull hummed to itself, rocking slightly as if weighing its options. Then, with a wicked cackle, it said, “How about a trade? Show me your undergarments, and I’ll tell you all you need to know—”

Alice’s mana flared. The air around them trembled.

The skull instantly shrank back. “—I mean, I was joking! Just a joke! I’ll talk! No need to be so violent!”

Alice lowered her mana, but her glare remained sharp. “Then talk.”

The skull rattled slightly before its eerie blue flames steadied. “Very well. Listen carefully, mistresses of pain. This place—the Black Forest—is a domain of the Abyss Clan. The masked pursuers chasing you? They’re from the same group.”

Joan crossed her arms. “And?”

The skull continued, “They have a spell—an ancient technique—that allows them to transport people into this forest. You didn’t wander here by accident. You were dragged into this cursed place.”

That explained why no matter how far they walked, they kept ending up in the same damn place.

Joan took a deep breath, her fingers pressing against her temple as she fought back her frustration. "Alright, then tell us—how do we get out of here?"

The skull hummed, its blue flames flickering in thought. "Ah, escape? Now that is a tricky thing..."

"Just answer the damn question," Alice snapped, already looking impatient.

The skull let out a low, rattling chuckle. "Unfortunately, I know of no way out. This place… it is not merely a forest. It is a dimension grafted from another plane of existence, a small world of its own. The Abyss Clan created this space and merged it with the real world. You're not just lost in a physical forest—you're trapped inside their domain."

Joan’s expression darkened. "That explains why my Mass Teleport isn’t working…" she muttered. She had been trying to teleport them out since they realized they were lost, but every attempt failed. Now she knew why—it wasn’t just distance keeping them trapped but an entirely different layer of reality.

Alice scoffed, crossing her arms. "So in other words, you're useless." She raised her hand, ready to cast a sleeping curse.

"Wait! Wait! I can still be of use!" The skull rattled violently in its bindings, panic clear in its voice. "I can tell you about your pursuers! I think I have an idea… of their motivation."

Alice lowered her hand slightly. "Spill."

The flames in the skull’s sockets flared as it spoke. "The black porcelain masks inscribed with blood scriptures were the signature attire of the Abyss Clan’s elites. They excel in formations, umbramancy, and all manners of dark arts. They are a symbol of fear within the Deepmoor Continent. However, what intrigues me is why they are so persistent in chasing you. They aren't just trying to kill you; they want you alive. That at least, I can tell."

Joan and Alice exchanged glances.

The skull continued. "The Abyss Clan is based in the Deepmoor Continent. And yet, they’ve gone through the immense trouble of sending their people all the way to Stormcall Continent to hunt you down. That is no small effort."

Joan frowned. "You were asleep most of the time when they were chasing us. How do you know all this?"

"Ah, my dear priestess, I listen. Even when I sleep, I can hear things. And I heard them murmuring their curses, their orders… their intent."

Joan tapped her fingers against her arm. "Then tell me, oh wise and perverted skull, why are they so obsessed with us?"

The skull cackled. "Oh, I don’t think they care about you, priestess." It twisted slightly in its restraints as if turning toward Alice. "They’re after her."

Joan blinked. "Alice?"

Alice’s expression darkened. "Tch. Of course, they are."

The skull’s flames flickered in amusement. "A powerful demonic cultivator with secret arts… like yours. How could they not want you? Perhaps they covet your bloodline, your knowledge, or the forbidden techniques you carry. Whatever the case, you, my dear lady of the night, are their primary target."

A heavy silence followed.

Alice sighed. "Well, that’s just great."

Joan exhaled sharply. "So what do we do now?"

The skull chuckled again. "If you wish to escape this place alive, there is only one option."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "And that is?"

The skull’s flames flared. "You wait for your captors. Then you capture them instead."

087 Suppressed

Inside the dimly lit patriarch’s office, Hei Yuan sat behind a heavy wooden desk, his fingers pressing against his temples. The walls were lined with old scrolls, clan records, and ancient weapons encased in polished wooden frames. A faint scent of ink and sandalwood lingered in the air.

Across from him stood Hei Ma and Hei Mu, the son-in-law and eldest daughter of the patriarch. They stood stiffly, their expressions taut. The remnants of their earlier altercation with Da Wei still lingered—Hei Mu’s clothes were damp from her unceremonious plunge into the lake, and Hei Ma’s pride was as battered as his broken sword.

Hei Yuan exhaled sharply, his patience thinning. “What were you thinking?!”

Hei Mu scowled, crossing her arms. “We were protecting the clan!”

Hei Ma, always the more composed of the two, bowed his head slightly. “Elder Yuan, that man disrespected us. He humiliated my wife and struck my daughter. Would you have had us stand by and do nothing?”

“Yes!” Hei Yuan snapped, slamming his palm onto the desk. The force sent a few scrolls rolling off the edge, but he barely noticed. “That was exactly what you should have done! Do you have any idea what kind of person you just tried to fight?”

Hei Mu scoffed. “An arrogant brat who likes to throw his weight around?”

Hei Yuan let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “An arrogant brat? You saw his strength firsthand! You think I sat back and let him insult us out of cowardice?” He leaned forward, his piercing gaze locking onto his juniors. “I did it because we have no chance against him.”

Silence fell over the room.

Hei Ma frowned. “Elder Yuan, surely you overestimate him. He’s strong, yes, but—”

“Judgment Severance.”

Hei Yuan’s voice was cold.

“Or whatever that spell is…”

Hei Mu and Hei Ma flinched at the words.

“The technique that erased our formation like it was nothing.” Hei Yuan’s voice dropped lower, as if the walls themselves had ears. “Tell me, do you know what kind of power that is?”

Hei Mu remained silent, but Hei Ma’s brows furrowed. “Some kind of sword intent?”

Hei Yuan nearly laughed at the absurdity. “If only it were that simple.” He leaned back, rubbing his temples. “I don’t know what it was, but it wasn’t ordinary. It swallowed all energy—formation, Qi, everything. Do you understand what that means? Our strongest defenses, meaningless. Our killing array, useless. If he wanted to, he could have leveled this entire island.”

Hei Mu paled slightly but stubbornly held her ground. “Then what? We let him do as he pleases? Hand over our history for some spirit stones?”

Hei Yuan’s lips curled into a sneer. “Some spirit stones? Do you know how much he just paid?”

Hei Ma hesitated. “It was… a lot.”

“One million!” Hei Yuan barked. “He gave us one million spirit stones, without haggling, just to read our records. Now, we have an obligation to him! I was hoping to force him to turn away by asking such an unreasonable price, but what did he do? If we don't cooperate after so much he had compromised, losing our reputation would be the least of our worries... Ask yourself, Ma... Why didn't he just kill you when you failed so miserably in your attempt to kill him?”

This time, neither of them spoke.

Hei Yuan pressed on. “That isn’t the behavior of a man looking to rob us. That is the behavior of a man who could take what he wanted but chose not to. Do you understand what kind of monster we nearly made an enemy of?”

Hei Mu’s hands clenched into fists, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Maybe he's just naive," Hei Ma sighed. “Then what do we do?”

"Look at the mirror and ask yourself that," Hei Yuan closed his eyes for a moment before speaking. “We don't have leverage in the first place and that was for a fact. For now, we cooperate. Give them access to the records. Watch them, but don’t provoke them.” His voice hardened. “And, under no circumstances, are you to mention the Abyss Clan.”

Hei Mu and Hei Ma stiffened.

Hei Yuan’s eyes glowed ominously in the dim light. “That boy, Hei Mao… he’s dangerous. Not because of his strength, but because of who he might be.”

He exhaled deeply, his fingers curling into a fist. “And if Da Wei ever learns the truth, I don’t know if we’ll be able to stop him.”

“I CAN’T ACCEPT THIS!” Hei Mu raised her voice. “WE ARE THE PROUD SHADOW CLAN, MASTERS OF THE ABYSS. THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!”

At the back of Hei Yuan’s mind, he hoped Da Wei slapped some sense into Hei Mu… but clearly, he had only further provoked her bad qualities.

Hei Yuan’s gaze drifted to the dim lanternlight casting shifting shadows across the walls, but his mind was elsewhere—fixated on the massive, overwhelming shadow that loomed over him earlier. Da Wei’s presence had been oppressive, but the true horror lay in the unseen.

His shadow was too big.

That fact alone disturbed Hei Yuan far more than the display of raw power or the wealth of spirit stones Da Wei had so casually thrown at them. He had not told the others, choosing to withhold the information to maintain some semblance of composure among them. If Hei Mu or Hei Ma had known, they would have acted much more rashly, possibly worsening their already precarious situation.

The ability to see the shadows of others was not something just anyone in the Shadow Clan possessed. It was a gift reserved for the Shamans—a sacred, secretive role within the clan. It was the very source of Hei Yuan’s influence, the reason his voice carried weight despite being born into a branch family. His ability to see the depth of a person’s shadow was what made him more than just an elder—it made him a force to be reckoned with.

But that same gift was also a curse.

For centuries, their clan had suffered under the Grand Emperor’s punishment for their past collusion with the Black Clan. Since then, no new clan member manifested Abyss Sight. The rumors whispered that they had been cursed—either by the Emperor himself or by their old, now-bitter rivals: the Black Clan.

And yet… Hei Yuan had inherited the ability.

This fact alone was enough to cause unease among the clan. They feared him. He could feel it in the way certain elders watched him, their suspicion barely veiled. After all, the current patriarch was well past his prime, while Hei Yuan, despite appearing aged, still had centuries of lifespan ahead of him. He had never sought power—never once entertained the thought of seizing the clan for himself—but that did not stop the whispers.

Because of this, Hei Yuan had deliberately held back his cultivation.

It wasn’t his fault that the patriarch trusted him more than the other elders. It wasn’t his fault he had been born a branch member. But none of that mattered. The moment he displayed ambition, they would turn against him. That was why he remained cautious.

“Elder Yuan, we can’t let them leave with the boy,” Hei Mu said, snapping him out of his thoughts. Her arms were crossed, her soaked robes now dry, but her temper had not cooled.

Hei Yuan frowned. “You think forcefully taking him back is a solution?”

“If not force, then at least some claim over him,” Hei Ma added. “That child has already stepped into the Fourth Realm at such a young age. You saw it yourself—his potential is enormous. Wouldn’t it be a waste to let him remain under that… Da Wei’s influence?”

Hei Yuan leaned back, his gaze flickering to the swirling shadows in the room. Hei Mu had accused the boy of being a fake. Such hypocrisy… Still, the truth was… she had been wrong.

Hei Mao was no fake.

Hei Yuan had seen it clearly with his Abyss Sight. Members of the Shadow Clan or the Black Clan always carried deeper, more distinct shadows than outsiders, a reflection of their bloodline and connection to the abyssal arts. That boy… he was one of them.

And yet, he was not raised within the clan.

Maybe he was from the Black Clan? However, considering his story, probably not… The Black Clan have strict breeding policies after all…

Where did the boy truly come from?

That was what troubled him the most. Who had hidden him away all these years? And how had he suddenly appeared now, escorted by such an unpredictable and dangerous man?

“…And if Da Wei refuses to hand him over?” Hei Yuan asked, his voice measured.

Hei Ma’s eyes gleamed with greed. “Then we negotiate. He paid a fortune for access to our library. That means he needs something from us. We use that.”

"Do you truly think he's that much of a pushover?" Hei Yuan’s fingers tapped lightly against the desk. There was wisdom in Hei Ma's words. For now, they had to tread carefully. He could not afford to be reckless—not with Da Wei, and not with the uneasy balance within his own clan.

Still… his eyes lingered on the flickering shadows, thinking there was a ghost hiding there.

He was probably overthinking about it.

The problem with Hei Ma’s suggestion was that what Da Wei needed from them wasn't just knowledge—it was because of Hei Mao.

Hei Yuan had observed it clearly. Every word Da Wei spoke, every action he took, was centered around protecting the boy. The sheer amount of spirit stones he had thrown at them for access to their records wasn’t out of idle curiosity or scholarly pursuit. It was because Hei Mao wanted answers. And Da Wei was willing to back him, even if it meant tearing apart an entire formation without hesitation.

That was not the behavior of a mere benefactor.

Hei Yuan was no fool. He had lived long enough to see countless cultivators come and go, and he knew the look of someone who had staked their claim. Da Wei cherished the boy. Not just as some passing responsibility, but something deeper—perhaps as a disciple… or even as family.

The boy had called him Big Brother, after all.

That single title spoke volumes. It wasn’t something a mere traveling companion would use. Cultivators were not known for forming attachments easily, and yet here was Da Wei, a man who wielded power casually yet terrifyingly, allowing himself to be addressed in such a familiar way.

Hei Yuan tapped his fingers against the desk, his mind calculating.

If Da Wei valued the boy this much, then he would not tolerate anyone taking him away.

Which meant… Hei Ma’s idea of staking claim over Hei Mao was not as simple as it sounded. Da Wei had already placed the boy under his wing. Would he allow the Shadow Clan to impose their authority over him? Would he allow them to dictate Hei Mao’s fate?

No.

And therein lay the danger.

This wasn’t a simple matter of negotiation anymore. If they made the wrong move, Da Wei would not hesitate to destroy them. Cultivators had killed for less. The fact that he hadn’t killed anyone yet was a testament to his restraint, but that restraint had limits. Was knowledge of Hei Mao’s past truly worth provoking a man like that?

Hei Yuan exhaled slowly. He had to be careful. If he miscalculated, it wouldn’t just be his position that was at stake. The entire Shadow Clan could be buried in this man’s shadow.

This was a mess—an absolute mess. His gaze flickered between Hei Mu and Hei Ma, both of whom stood rigid before him, their expressions ranging from frustration to thinly veiled hostility.

He hadn’t wanted to reveal this. Knowing too much could be dangerous. But if he didn’t make them understand, their foolishness could lead the Shadow Clan to ruin.

He closed his eyes briefly, recalling the moment he laid eyes on Da Wei.

The shadow that loomed behind that man… was far too vast.

Hei Yuan’s Abyss Sight had always been a source of prestige within the Clan, granting him insight into people’s nature, their power, their presence. And in all his long years, he had never seen a shadow like that.

Not even the current Patriarch, a Seventh Realm cultivator, could compare.

Da Wei’s shadow was deep, endless, and too unnatural. It twisted and writhed, shifting like it had a will of its own. It did not belong to any single plane of existence. It was ancient. It was watching. It was something that should not be provoked.

Hei Yuan finally looked up, his voice low and firm. “You will not lay a hand on Da Wei or his people.”

Hei Mu scowled. “Are you suggesting we let that arrogant fool trample all over us?”

Hei Ma crossed his arms. “That man wields power carelessly. He humiliated my wife, remember? Or have you gone truly senile? He humiliated me. If we do nothing, what does that say about our Clan?”

Hei Yuan slammed his palm on the desk, the force making both of them flinch. “It says we are wise enough to recognize when we are dealing with something beyond us.”

Silence fell.

Hei Yuan narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t there when I saw him with my Abyss Sight.” He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “That man is something else. His shadow is too large… too unnatural. And remember, I am still an Elder. So you better fix your tone, boy…”

Hei Mu’s lips pressed into a thin line, but Hei Ma scoffed. “You think we should just cower, then?”

Hei Yuan’s patience thinned. “You misunderstand. This is not about cowering. This is about survival.”

He leaned back, folding his arms. “Do you think it’s a coincidence he arrived here, now of all times? The Patriarch is in seclusion, attempting to break through to the Eighth Realm. The process is dangerous enough—any disturbance could cost him his life.”

Hei Mu and Hei Ma stiffened.

Hei Yuan continued, his voice colder now. “The spirit stones we acquired just now—those will be crucial in ensuring his breakthrough. If the Patriarch succeeds, our Clan will finally have a true powerhouse again.” His sharp gaze landed on the two. “But if something happens to him because of your recklessness, the blood will be on your hands.”

Hei Mu’s expression darkened. “You think Da Wei will be a threat to the Patriarch’s breakthrough?”

“I think,” Hei Yuan said evenly, “that he is an unknown. A dangerous unknown. We do not know his full capabilities. We do not know his motives. But what I do know is that we cannot afford a conflict right now.”

Hei Ma let out a slow breath, still looking unconvinced, but at least no longer argumentative. “Then what do you suggest?”

Hei Yuan’s fingers tapped against the desk. “For now, we keep the Patriarch’s seclusion a secret. If Da Wei finds out, we don’t know how he’ll react. And until the Patriarch emerges, our highest priority is avoiding provocation.”

Hei Mu clenched her fists but nodded begrudgingly. Hei Ma sighed, rubbing his neck.

“Good,” Hei Yuan said, his voice softer now. “You may both leave.”

Hei Mu was the first to turn on her heel, storming out with a frustrated huff. Hei Ma lingered for a second longer before shaking his head and following after her.

As the door closed behind them, Hei Yuan finally allowed himself to lean back in his chair.

Hei Yuan let out a slow breath, his fingers drumming against the desk. He had underestimated their reaction.

He had expected resistance—of course he had. But this level of hostility? If he had told them earlier, if he had given them more time to stew on it… things would have escalated even worse.

They might have provoked the other members of the Clan, roused them into action. And if that happened… would they have gone so far as to summon it?

His gaze flickered toward the window, where the lake beyond stretched ominously under the dim light.

The being that slumbered within it.

A last resort. A true desperate measure. A secret known only to a select few.

The thought sent an uncomfortable shiver down his spine. His warning this time would suffice for now, especially after being reminded of the Patriarch’s situation. The spirit stones they acquired from Da Wei probably also helped.

Had Hei Mu and Hei Ma been any more reckless, would they have even considered calling upon it?

That pair… they had no respect for the Abyss Sight.

It was a sacred ability, one that allowed them to see beyond what normal cultivators could perceive. A gift. A burden. A proof of lineage.

And yet, Hei Mu dismissed it outright.

Perhaps it was her own bitterness, her deep-seated resentment at having been born a woman in a Clan where only men could contend for the seat of Patriarch. Had she been born a son, she might have been able to seize power. Instead, she was married off, forced to contend with fate in ways that did not align with her ambitions.

She hated it. And she hated him.

Hei Yuan exhaled, composing himself before calling for a servant. The young man entered swiftly, bowing his head.

“Elder Yuan,” the servant greeted respectfully.

Hei Yuan straightened. “How is Da Wei settling in?”

The servant hesitated for half a breath before answering. “He and his people have taken to their resting place without complaint. However…”

Hei Yuan’s gaze sharpened. “Speak.”

The servant swallowed. “They do not seem… wary. It is as if they hold no fear of being in foreign territory. They rest as if they are in their own domain.”

Hei Yuan’s fingers clenched. Of course they did.

Because Da Wei knew that he could leave at any time.

086 Price of Knowledge

The golden cross-shaped rupture in the air dissipated, its presence fading as if it had never been there. And then…

Something in my shadow stirred.

It was a sword surging after my throat.

I didn’t move.

A Soul Recognition cultivator had struck with practiced precision, aiming to sever my head cleanly from my shoulders.

But I didn’t budge.

The sword connected with my throat.

A soft clink rang out, like a dull chime of metal striking something far denser than steel.

There was no pain. No wound. No blood.

The Soul Recognition cultivator’s eyes widened in shock. His hands trembled against the hilt, pressing forward as if sheer force could make up for the impossible.

It didn’t.

His sword didn’t even leave a scratch in my skin.

I glanced at the blade with mild amusement and turned my gaze toward the man who had ambushed me.

“Did you just do something?” I teased. “Sorry about that. I might be too tough for you…”

His pupils shrank.

I could see the moment his mind refused to comprehend reality.

He had likely spent centuries honing his technique, perfecting the art of killing with a single stroke—yet here I was, standing before him, utterly unscathed.

Before he could react, I grabbed the sword by its blade and squeezed.

Crack.

The steel snapped like dried wood.

A furious shout erupted.

"Hei Ma! How dare you?!"

Hei Yuan shot up from his seat, his robes billowing as his Qi surged. His voice thundered across the wooden harbor, laced with both fury and authority.

I raised an eyebrow.

So, this "Hei Ma" guy acted on his own?

That was…unexpected.

And here I thought the Elder had more control over his subordinates than I thought.

I wasn’t about to just let this Hei Ma walk away, though.

My hand shot forward, and I caught him by the throat.

Then—

A heavy sledgehammer swung from my left, slamming right into my face.

Boom!

The force rippled through the air, kicking up a gust of wind.

My head barely tilted from the impact.

I turned my gaze toward the new attacker—a middle-aged woman with a fierce scowl.

“Let go of my husband,” she demanded.

Her Qi surged around her, battle intent spilling into the air.

Husband, huh?

I sighed.

I grabbed her throat too.

The moment my fingers tightened, she went stiff, realizing her mistake a second too late.

I lifted them both slightly off the ground, staring at them with disinterest.

“This is usually the part where I ask for your last words,” I remarked, my grip firm but not crushing. “…So, any last words?”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Hei Mao shift nervously.

Then, hesitantly, he muttered, “Big Brother… stop being mean.”

I blinked.

A chuckle escaped my lips.

“You’re right.”

And just like that—I let them go.

Hei Ma stumbled back, rubbing his bruised neck, his expression dark with humiliation.

His wife wasn’t much better. She grabbed his arm and yanked him away, keeping a wary distance as they stood beside Hei Yuan.

I cracked my neck, sighing.

“Hopefully, your people would think twice before doing something reckless.”

This place was getting livelier and livelier.

"Shadow Clan! Stay your killing intent!"

The weight of Hei Yuan’s words carried through the air, and the shadows around us stirred in response.

Dark figures shifted within the fog, barely visible through the dim light. Some crouched in the trees, while others emerged from the surface of the water. Their stealth arts were so refined that even now, they barely made a sound.

Weapons gleamed in the dim light—daggers, short swords, needles laced with poison.

A dozen strikes were prepared. None were launched.

Hei Yuan’s command had frozen them mid-action. They hesitated, waiting for a follow-up order.

The elder’s glare was sharp, his fists clenched at his sides. His emotions were a storm barely contained—anger at the insubordination, anxiety over my presence, and something else… fear.

His voice dropped, but his tone carried a deadly edge.

"Do you take us for fools, Ma? Mu?!”

He exhaled deeply, then turned his sharp eyes back to me.

"They do not see what I see," he said, his tone calm but firm. "Their eyes are not yet developed enough to perceive your might."

Hei Yuan’s gaze swept over his kin before settling back on me.

"But I see your might, Da Wei. And it is commendable."

He paused for a beat, letting his words sink in. Then, with a measured tone, he added, "Thus, I am showing you respect. Reciprocate this respect, and we may yet avoid becoming enemies."

The underlying warning was clear.

A show of strength earned their acknowledgment, but not yet their trust. In their eyes, I was still an outsider, still a potential threat. Yet Hei Yuan was wise enough to recognize that conflict would not serve them here—not yet.

I reclined slightly, meeting his gaze with a lazy smile. "Oh? Elder Yuan, are you suggesting we could be friends? I like the sound of that."

His lips pressed into a thin line. "That remains to be seen."

The tension in the air was thick enough to cut with a blade. Hei Ma rubbed his throat, his expression dark with humiliation. His wife, a middle-aged woman with a scowl etched deep into her features, stood beside him, glaring daggers at me.

"Why should we cower?" Hei Ma spat, his voice filled with indignation. "Clearly, this intruder has to be taught a lesson!"

Wow. From "guest" to "intruder" in the span of a few breaths. I almost wanted to applaud.

His wife, emboldened by his words, took a step forward. "I agree with my husband. Moreover, it’s obvious you came here to provoke us." Her piercing gaze flickered toward Hei Mao. "Bringing a child who claims to be a Hei, yet we know nothing about?"

I could feel Hei Mao tense beside me. His fingers twitched ever so slightly, though whether it was from anger or something else, I wasn’t sure.

Hei Yuan, who had been silent for a moment, exhaled heavily. He turned his sharp gaze toward Hei Mu. "Enough. Be patient, Hei Mu. This is not the time to be reckless."

Hei Mu barely spared him a glance before scoffing, her lips curling with disdain. "Patient? What’s there to be patient for?" She jabbed a finger in my direction. "This man is a liar through and through!"

I smiled. "A liar? That’s a bold claim." I rested my hands behind my back. "What exactly do you think I’m lying about?"

Her expression twisted in barely contained fury. "Everything."

Hei Mao slammed the table’s surface, his small fists clenched. His expression was a mix of frustration and determination as he glared up at Hei Mu.

"Big Brother Da Wei is not a liar!" he declared, his voice carrying a rare fervor. "He might be up to mischief sometimes, and yeah, he likes pranking people… but he’s a good person!"

Oh? Look at this kid defending me.

"He might be lazy and won’t help set up camp," Hei Mao continued, "but he is not a liar!"

…Alright, now hold on. Was that last part really necessary? What’s so bad about harmless pranks? And not helping set up camp?

Hei Mu exhaled sharply, shaking her head as if the mere act of arguing with a child was beneath her. "Such a pity," she said, her voice laced with mock sorrow. "For a boy to be so deeply brainwashed…"

And then—she vanished.

I narrowed my eyes, sensing the shift in the shadows. She reappeared under the table, her form partially melding into the darkness beneath it. Her hand wielding a short spear. A clever move—if I were an idiot.

"Bad move."

Because all she did was rile me up.

With a thought, I used Castling on Hei Mao who was still sitting by the table, and swapped his position with mine. At the same time, I shoved the table in front of me into my Item Box.

Hei Mu was still mid-shadow when that happened.

The result? She was left stuck, half-submerged in the wood like a bad painting.

I crouched down to her level, watching her eyes widen in realization. "Clench your teeth," I advised.

And then, I slapped her across the face.

BOOM!

The harbor erupted from sheer force, and Hei Mu was launched through the air like a comet. She soared past the dock, limbs flailing, before landing harshly into the lake with a mighty splash.

The water churned violently where she crashed, ripples expanding outward. Silence followed.

I straightened, dusting off my sleeve. "Well," I remarked, "at least she cooled off."

Some wooden splinters had gotten stuck under my nail though.

Ouch…

That hurt more than having a sledgehammer land on my face. Psychologically speaking, of course.

I sighed and, wincing, plucked out the tiny shards. My eyes flickered to the hole in the wood beneath me, evidence of the force that had sent Hei Mu flying.

And then—

SPLASH!

Water erupted as a figure shot out from the lake under the hole. It was a young woman with a spiked gauntlet, her face twisted with rage. "HOW DARE YOU DO THAT TO MY MOTHER?!"

I barely had time to register the ambush before her fist came hurtling toward my face.

"Oh, for—"

Reflex kicked in. I slapped her with the back of my hand.

Her momentum completely reversed, and she soared through the air, flying off in the opposite direction of where her mother had been flung.

A moment of stunned silence followed. Even I had to process what just happened.

…That was one hell of a jumpscare.

I hadn’t sensed her coming because of the lake’s properties and the shadows that obscured her presence.

Hei Mao tugged at my sleeve, his expression caught between concern and exasperation. "Big Brother Da Wei… Was that really necessary?"

He gestured toward the young woman now sinking into the water. "She’s probably way weaker than that Hei Mu woman."

I waved a hand dismissively. "Relax. I cast Bless and Cure the moment she got the hand, so she should be fine."

As I spoke, the girl surfaced, coughing and flailing. See? Totally fine.

Hei Yuan finally stepped forward, his tone serious. "This is no laughing matter."

I stood from my chair, dusting off my sleeve. "Oh? But tell me, Elder Yuan—who started it?" Yep, I’m resorting to the childish tactic of who started it first.

His jaw tightened, but I didn’t give him a chance to argue. "We only wanted to talk," I said plainly. "You were the ones who escalated."

Hei Yuan's gaze darkened. "That’s not the way I saw it." His voice took on a sharper edge. "Not after the spell you cast—"

I arched a brow. "Oh? And you expect me to believe you had nothing prepared?"

His expression didn’t change, but I could feel the shift in the air.

I crossed my arms. "You can’t fool my senses, Elder. You had a formation set up. I don’t even know what it was supposed to do. But I know when you were about to use it."

He opened his mouth, but I cut him off.

"You can argue it wasn’t fatal all you want, but how was I supposed to know that?" My voice turned slightly sharper. "Besides, my spell didn’t kill anyone, did it?"

Hei Yuan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

I smirked. "Yeah. That’s what I thought."

A loud thud echoed as Ren Xun landed beside me, his robes swishing. He clicked his tongue, annoyed.

"Boss, your spell just wrecked the boat’s formations," he complained, shooting me a glare. “I suggest you stop provoking them or we’d be sitting ducks. By we, I meant Gu Jie, Lu Gao, Ren Jingyi, and me…”

This guy tends to switch from Senior to Boss when addressing me. When he was using the latter, it was usually because he was either sincerely annoyed or was in a pleasant mood. It was definitely not the latter.

I finally turned my attention to the boat artifact that had brought us here.

The once-active obscuring spell formations—the ones Ren Xun had so hastily prepared right before we arrived—were now completely gone. The boat looked ordinary now, exposed for all to see.

…Oops.

Before I could say anything, Gu Jie’s voice rang out from the boat.

"Master, permission to leave the boat?"

I waved a hand lazily. "Come on, then."

Gu Jie leaped off, landing gracefully on the dock. Right behind her, Dave followed, his heavy Puppet Armor thudding against the wooden planks. Even without speaking, his clunky metal frame and the sheer pressure he exuded were enough to make the watching Shadow Clan cultivators tense.

Dave placed a fist over his chest and bowed slightly. "My Lord."

I nodded in acknowledgment.

Then, Gu Jie turned toward Hei Yuan and spoke. "Master, may I address Elder Yuan on your behalf?"

I gestured lazily for her to go ahead and sat back down in my chair.

Gu Jie then turned to Hei Mao, her voice gentle but firm. "Hei Mao, can you find it in your heart to try one more time?"

The boy gripped his scarf tightly, his brows furrowed. “I just want to talk. That’s all.”

“Elder Yuan,” Gu Jie continued. "This journey is important to us. We want to help little Mao. The Elder might not believe it, but even if Master does not always act like it, he truly means no ill will."

“Hmmm… I don’t know about that, Gu Jie,” I hummed and added, "The thing is, Elder Yuan looks like he has no desire to share the history between the Black Clan and the Shadow Clan. Moreover, it looks like he has no authority whatsoever. He can’t even control his own people. What do you say, Elder? I don’t want to leave, knowing we are on bad terms. I guess, we have to go on our way without learning much… I wonder, maybe the imperial capital would be a much easier place… compared… to this place… Surely, the Emperor would be a better host."

I was playing coy.

Comparing a subjugated Clan to the Emperor was borderline bullying at this point.

I exhaled dramatically, gazing at the Elder who had remained impassive the entire time. 

"Yes, you won't compromise,” I crossed my legs. “I understand that."

I leaned forward slightly, resting my chin on my hand. "But we’re the same, Elder Yuan. We won’t compromise either."

Hei Mao took a deep breath before speaking up. "I feel the same. I can’t compromise. I sincerely wish to know about my parents… and why my family had to die like that. I want to learn about the black-masked people and their connection with your Clan."

A moment of heavy silence settled over the harbor.

Gu Jie stood to my right. Hei Mao to my left. And Dave stood behind me.

Hei Yuan let out a long sigh and finally sat down opposite me.

To his left, the still-drenched Hei Mu stood, her face twisted with barely restrained anger.

To his right, Hei Ma stood, his arms crossed and his face looked like he ate something bitter.

Now, let’s see if we could actually get somewhere.

Ren Xun grumbled as he hopped back onto the boat, his sleeves rolled up as he inspected the ruined formations. He ran his fingers over the now-inert inscriptions, muttering curses under his breath.

"Tch. Do you know how much effort I put into this?" he complained, already working to salvage what he could. “Lu Gao, come on and help me, will you?”

Lu Gao looked scandalized, “What do you even want me to do?”

I ignored them and turned my attention back to Hei Yuan.

"Let's talk terms, Elder," I said, leaning back in my seat. “How about access to your library? Historical texts… and such… Better yet, just answer Hei Mao’s questions honestly…”

“I stand by my words, I reserve the right not to answer your questions,” Hei Yuan’s expression remained guarded. "However, we are willing to open our library for you. Admittedly, the access to our precious library comes at a price—spirit stones."

Ah. So that’s how it is.

I expected resistance. I expected denial. Instead, they were charging me?

I rubbed my chin, considering it. "How much?"

Gu Jie, standing to my right, whispered, "Master, be wary. They might demand an unreasonable price."

I gestured for her to let me handle it. "Name your price, Elder."

Hei Yuan’s eyes flickered, gauging my reaction. Then he finally spoke, his tone even but laced with expectation.

“One million spirit stones.”

Gu Jie visibly tensed, her usually composed expression breaking for a split second.

"That’s exorbitant," she hissed under her breath.

One million spirit stones? It seemed that the Black Clan was in dire need of resources. But for them to demand such an amount outright…

They must have assumed I was either too desperate or too ignorant to refuse.

I, however, barely blinked. Instead, I rubbed my chin, considering it.

"Fine."

Hei Yuan’s brows twitched in surprise, but he quickly composed himself.

With a flick of my wrist, I pulled out a pouch of spirit stones and tossed it onto the table. The moment it landed, the air vibrated slightly from the sheer concentration of spiritual energy contained within.

Of course, I have enough.

On top of my gains from the auction, coming from various items sold, Ren Jin also gave me pocket money. Still, one million spirit stones were a lot.

The Shadow Clan elder exchanged glances with Hei Ma and Hei Mu, their expressions betraying just how badly they needed these resources.

I clasped my hands together and smiled. "One more thing. I want access to every single record in your library. Everything."

Hei Yuan’s lips thinned. "That was not part of the agreement."

"It is now," I countered smoothly.

A flicker of hesitation crossed his face. "Very well."

He was lying. 

I could feel it in my Divine Sense. He probably planned to hide specific texts or records.

"Elder Yuan, you wouldn’t be thinking of deceiving me, would you?"

The air around us grew tense.

Hei Yuan’s expression darkened for a moment before he sighed.

"I will allow you to read everything. The shadow-related techniques are not to be revealed to outsiders. Even if you threaten me with death, you won’t get your hand on it."

So that was their bottom line.

I reclined in my seat and let out a breath. "That’s fine,” The freedom to read through their entire library was just a bonus. “I have no interest in your techniques anyway."

What I did care about was history—the truth behind Hei Mao’s origins, the Black Clan, and their connection to the Shadow Clan.

With that, the deal was sealed.

I handed over another pouch of spirit stones worth the rest of the million, leaving me with only a few thousand—just enough to sustain Gu Jie and Ren Jingyi’s cultivation at their current levels.

A small price to pay for knowledge.

And yes, it was a small price for me…

085 Tea Time

There was no need to invite trouble.

That was Hei Yuan’s immediate thought.

So, instead of answering, he deflected.

With well-practiced ease, he lied through his teeth, his voice smooth as polished jade.

"Black-masked people? Are you referring to robbers and thieves, Young Master?"

It was a blatant misdirection, but it was the safest route.

Hei Mao’s expression visibly deflated.

That reaction alone told Hei Yuan that the boy was not some cunning schemer.

A slight pause.

Hei Yuan made a quick decision. If he wanted to probe further, he needed to appear agreeable.

So, with a polite tone and a small, ingratiating smile, he addressed the young man properly this time. Hei Yuan emphasized the term ‘Young Master’, hoping to appear agreeable to the young man.

"Young Master Hei Mao, if I may ask—why do you seek these masked men?"

Hei Mao hesitated.

His gaze flickered toward Da Wei, as if silently asking for permission.

Da Wei merely shrugged, "It’s your story to tell."

Hei Yuan observed the exchange carefully.

Up until now, he had seen Hei Mao as a young man with potential, someone with a promising future given his cultivation.

But now…

Now, he saw the truth.

Hei Mao was still just a boy.

A boy who wore his heart on his sleeve, too earnest, too sincere.

Hei Yuan's suspicions grew.

What kind of story was hidden behind this question?

Hei Mao took a deep breath as if preparing himself.

Then, he looked at Hei Yuan.

…And then he looked at Da Wei again, uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

"I… I don’t even know where to start."

A beat of silence.

"Wait a sec."

Da Wei’s voice broke the moment.

With a casual wave of his hand, an ornate table and two chairs appeared out of thin air.

The craftsmanship was exquisite, carved from darkwood and inlaid with delicate golden patterns.

Hei Yuan’s eyebrows lifted slightly. Even for a cultivator, producing something of such quality so effortlessly was no small feat. Seriously, though… Was it really necessary to have furniture in one’s storage ring? It seemed excessive.

Da Wei gestured to the seats, his tone polite but firm.

"For Elder Hei Yuan to understand Hei Mao’s question, he must first learn the context."

His lips curled into a faint smile.

"Please, take a seat."

Hei Yuan sat down, his posture composed but his mind alert.

Hei Mao followed suit, seating himself across from him.

Da Wei, standing between them, waved his hand once more.

With an effortless motion, a tea set materialized atop the table.

It was… unusual.

The teapot was not made of jade or porcelain, nor was it adorned with calligraphy or auspicious symbols like the ones Hei Yuan was used to. Instead, it had a simple, rustic elegance—smooth, dark clay shaped with an artisan’s care, the edges slightly uneven, as if hand-molded. The cups were small and delicate but lacked the refinement of what one would find in noble courts or sect halls.

Hei Yuan narrowed his eyes slightly. This was not the work of a cultivator.

Da Wei poured the tea for each of them, the steam rising lazily into the air.

Hei Yuan discreetly scanned the liquid with his Qi Sense.

Nothing.

No odd fluctuations, no traces of poison, no hidden formations.

…Was this really just ordinary tea?

Hei Yuan still hesitated, but etiquette dictated that he at least acknowledge the gesture.

He nodded toward Da Wei.

"Many thanks."

With practiced ease, he brought the cup near his lips, but didn’t drink.

Instead, he waited.

His amulet, a relic refined by Shadow Clan alchemists, would glow if the tea was laced with any harmful substances.

A few breaths passed.

The amulet remained dull.

Hei Yuan finally took a small sip.

…It was fine.

Not exquisite, not terrible—just fine.

In fact, it was disturbingly ordinary.

Too ordinary.

There was no Qi infusion, no medicinal benefits, no subtle notes of spirit herbs. It tasted like something a mortal would brew.

Hei Yuan’s eyebrow twitched.

Da Wei, watching him, suddenly smirked.

"Oh, it’s exactly as you suspect. It’s just tea made by mortal hands," Da Wei said, as if reading his thoughts.

His voice carried the slightest hint of amusement.

"It was advertised as the finest tea in Riverfall Continent, though. Honestly, I kind of liked it. What do you think?"

Hei Yuan had to fight the urge to put the cup down in disgust.

He had been made to drink mortal goods?

A cultivator of his realm partaking in something so… mundane?

He resisted the impulse to lambast Da Wei for this insult, instead forcing himself to remain composed.

Still, he would not let it sit in his body.

Without a word, Hei Yuan drew upon his Qi, subtly guiding the tea’s essence out of his system.

A faint layer of perspiration gathered at the back of his neck as the liquid evaporated from his pores.

Across the table, Hei Mao casually remarked:

"I don’t drink tea."

Da Wei’s smirk widened.

"More for me, then," he said cheerfully, taking another sip.

Of course.

This man was an eccentric through and through.

Then, suddenly—

"Ah!"

Da Wei let out a soft yelping noise, as if just remembering something.

With a flick of his wrist, a plate of candied fruits appeared before Hei Mao.

The fruits were glossy, vibrant, coated in a thin layer of crystallized syrup.

Da Wei pushed the plate forward, his expression expectant.

"Here. Try these instead."

Hei Mao looked at them for a moment before shrugging.

"I wouldn’t mind a taste."

With another flick of his hand, Da Wei produced a transparent glass and filled it with chilled tea, the amber liquid swirling as condensation formed on the surface.

He set it aside for Hei Mao.

Hei Yuan observed the scene with a neutral expression, but inwardly, he was unimpressed.

Another mortal product.

Hei Mao picked up the glass, took a small sip, then perked up slightly.

"Oh. It’s sweet."

Da Wei’s lips curled into a proud smirk.

"Of course it is," he said, resting his chin on one hand. "I take pride in my status as a foodie. That iced tea? A byproduct of one of my suggestions to a shop during the Yellow Dragon Festival."

Hei Yuan was this close to rubbing his temples and losing composure.

He had lived hundreds of years, had experienced great battles, navigated deadly political intrigue, and stood before some of the greatest figures in the world.

And yet, here he was… listening to a man boast about mortal tea.

Enough of this.

Hei Yuan faked a cough, his voice carrying a hint of impatience.

"Ahem. If we may proceed with the Young Master’s business… I do not have all day."

Hei Mao, still munching on a candied fruit, pushed the plate forward toward Da Wei.

"Thank you, Big Brother," Hei Mao said sincerely. “Er… Senior… I mean, Senior…”

“It’s fine,” said Da Wei.

Hei Yuan nearly froze on the spot.

Big Brother?

This Da Wei… Hei Mao considered him family?

Before Hei Yuan could fully process this, Hei Mao relaxed his shoulders and exhaled.

"Alright. I’m calm now… But I’d like another glass of that iced tea."

Da Wei chuckled, taking the plate of candied fruits before refilling Hei Mao’s glass.

Then, as if remembering Hei Yuan’s presence, he turned his gaze toward him.

"Elder Hei Yuan, would you like some as well?" Da Wei offered, his tone lighthearted.

Hei Yuan shook his head, keeping his expression unreadable.

"No need. Do not mind me."

Da Wei shrugged, leaning back as he took another sip of his own tea.

Hei Yuan exhaled slowly, regaining his focus.

Now, at last… they could begin.

Hei Mao set down his glass, his fingers tightening around the rim as he took a steady breath. His dark eyes, usually filled with youthful energy, now held a quiet storm.

"I used to have a father, a mother, and a twin sister," Hei Mao began, his voice even but carrying a weight that belied his years.

Hei Yuan’s gaze hardened.

Something in the way the boy spoke—not with grief, but with resolve—sent an uneasy feeling crawling up his spine.

Hei Mao continued, his expression unreadable.

"And then one day… they came."

A pause.

"Black-masked cultivators."

Hei Yuan’s chest tightened, but he said nothing, keeping his expression neutral.

"They attacked our home. Burned it down to the ground. My family… they didn't make it."

The boy’s voice did not tremble, but the hand resting on the table clenched into a fist. His nails dug into his palm, yet Hei Mao didn’t seem to notice.

Hei Yuan took a slow sip of his tea, but his fingers had stiffened around the cup.

A child.

A child was telling him about the night his world was burned down.

Da Wei said nothing, only watching. His golden gaze flickered between Hei Mao and Hei Yuan, as if gauging something.

Hei Yuan exhaled through his nose.

He had heard many stories like this before. Tragedies caused by grudges, by old sins that refused to stay buried.

But hearing it from someone this young…

It gnawed at him.

Hei Yuan leaned back slightly, arms crossed. He kept his voice calm and measured.

"And you seek the truth?"

Hei Mao lifted his chin, his expression set in stone.

"I will find it."

For the first time in a long while, Hei Yuan felt something stir in his old bones.

Was it guilt?

No.

Perhaps… respect.

Hei Yuan offered a placid smile, attempting to frame the black-masked cultivators as nothing more than shameless rogues.

"Such villains are heartless. Men like that hold no empathy, no honor. Surely, the heavens will punish them in due time."

The words left his lips smoothly, effortlessly. A well-practiced response—one he had given to many before.

But even as he spoke, his thoughts lingered on Hei Mao’s story.

Was it a coincidence that the boy had come here?

Perhaps.

The world was vast, and black-masked cultivators weren’t exactly rare. There were always those who used disguises to commit atrocities. Maybe the ones who destroyed Hei Mao’s family were just lowly bandits looking to make quick money.

And then Hei Mao spoke again.

"Their masks were pitch black," the boy said, his voice eerily steady. "Made of porcelain. And carved with unreadable scripture… written in blood."

Hei Yuan’s blood ran cold.

His fingers twitched slightly against the porcelain tea cup, but he held firm.

Hei Mao’s dark eyes fixed onto him.

"Do you know something about them?"

Hei Yuan shook his head immediately. Too quickly.

Hei Mao took another sip of his iced tea, seemingly indifferent.

Then, without looking up, he asked:

"Is that... the truth?"

Hei Yuan’s breath hitched.

He met Hei Mao’s gaze, trying to keep his expression neutral. "Of course."

Hei Mao tilted his head slightly, watching him.

"Then why are you lying?"

Hei Yuan froze.

A single heartbeat passed.

He forced himself to chuckle, feigning confusion. "Young Master, I fear I do not understand your meaning."

But in truth, he was nervous.

How?

How had such a young boy seen through him?

Hei Yuan swallowed, then turned toward Da Wei—and found himself staring into cold, unfeeling golden eyes.

A bead of sweat formed at the back of his neck.

It was him.

Da Wei had been guiding the boy.

Hei Yuan suddenly felt cornered, ensnared not by force, but by something far worse—his own emotions.

Because when he looked at Hei Mao…

He saw the late Shadow Clan Patriarch.

And when he met the boy’s earnest, unwavering gaze…

Lying felt… tainted.

Like staining something pure.

Hei Yuan’s fingers dug into his sleeves, his nails nearly piercing through the fabric.

He was angry.

Not at Da Wei. Not even at Hei Mao.

At himself.

The contradiction tearing through his heart, the wavering in his own beliefs—it was infuriating.

For a brief moment, he wanted to lash out, to let his emotions dictate his actions.

But reason won.

This couldn’t go on. He had let himself be cornered for too long. Emotionally cornered, yes. But still cornered.

With a sharp breath, he forced a composed smile onto his face. "I must say, the tea was enjoyable." He set the porcelain cup down with a deliberate clink. "However, I believe it is time for the guests to see themselves out."

The air stilled.

"We aren’t done yet," Da Wei softly remarked.

Hei Yuan narrowed his eyes.

His patience snapped.

The wooden planks beneath him groaned as his Qi surged, a quiet but undeniable force pressing onto the surroundings. It wasn’t an outright attack—but it was a warning. A declaration.

"We are done." His voice carried the weight of his cultivation and the authority of his position.

He had allowed himself to be intimidated by Da Wei’s display of skill, by his casual mention of an audience with the Emperor.

But why?

The empire was vast, its courts filled with frauds and self-important figures. If Da Wei truly had an audience with the Emperor, where was his proof?

"If you are truly on your way to the Empire and claim to meet the Emperor himself…" Hei Yuan’s voice was sharp. "Then where is your evidence?"

He let the words settle, his Qi pressing ever so slightly.

"Perjury is not a light crime. It could very well get you killed."

Da Wei scoffed. "Now, now. Let’s not be too hasty."

Hei Yuan’s gaze hardened.

He was the strongest cultivator in the Shadow Clan, the one responsible for protecting his people. He had endured wars, betrayals, and the treacheries of the Abyssal Clans.

He would not allow an unknown force to shake him.

"Leave," Hei Yuan commanded one final time.

"Or there will be violence."

Hei Yuan’s expression remained firm, though his fingers twitched at his sides.

“You don’t want to go down that path,” Da Wei remarked, his voice carrying a weight that felt unnatural, as if reality itself agreed with him.

Then, with a casual wave of his hand, he added, “Trust me.”

It was the kind of self-assuredness that grated on Hei Yuan’s nerves.

Contempt crept into Da Wei’s tone. “What’s so hard about answering a few questions?”

Hei Yuan didn’t bother responding.

Instead, his fingers moved subtly, activating the formation beneath their feet.

The wooden planks of the harbor hummed, intricate arrays flaring to life. Invisible energy surged, aiming to eject these unruly visitors far from the island.

The killing array remained dormant—for now.

Hei Yuan had no desire to shed unnecessary blood, but these people had to leave.

And then—

A soft whisper left Da Wei’s lips.

"Judgment Severance."

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then—

A golden cross-shaped rupture appeared in the air.

Hei Yuan’s eyes widened in horror as the tear in space devoured everything in its radius—Qi, energy, even the lingering presence of the formation itself.

In an instant, the entire defensive array collapsed.

Even the killing array reserved for emergencies was stripped of its function entirely.

The ground shuddered, and the lake rippled violently, as if it, too, had felt the severing of power.

Hei Yuan froze.

The Clan's most trusted defenses, shattered like brittle glass.

Da Wei exhaled, looking almost disappointed. “Please, let’s just talk,” he sighed, the eccentric expert acting as if nothing had happened. “No need to resort to violence."

084 Hei Yuan

Whatever sound technique the visitor had used, Hei Yuan could ascertain that it was nothing inherently special—except for the raw, overwhelming power behind it. The sheer force had momentarily pushed back the ever-present fog, an impressive feat for such a rudimentary technique.

The boat artifact settled at the wooden harbor, its spells subtly distorting the figures within. Even with Hei Yuan’s cultivation at the level of Essence Gathering, the Sixth Realm, he found it difficult to pierce through the defensive enchantments with his Qi Sense. The vessel itself bore complex spell formations, weaving an obscuring veil that clouded even his trained perception.

Of course, dispelling such formations would be a simple task for him, but to do so uninvited would be an act of provocation—one that the Shadow Clan could ill afford at this moment.

Hei Yuan was old, but not senile. Their patriarch had only recently entered deep seclusion, advancing through a crucial stage of cultivation. During this time, the clan had to tread carefully, lest external forces seek to exploit their moment of vulnerability.

As Hei Yuan observed, he felt a gaze settle on him. It was not one of hostility but of quiet evaluation. Calmly, he returned it with equal confidence.

Stepping forward with steady grace, he cupped his fists in greeting. His voice carried the dignity befitting a senior of the Shadow Clan, balanced between politeness and unyielding pride.

"This one is Hei Yuan of the Shadow Clan. May I ask whom I have the honor of welcoming?"

A figure stepped forward from the boat, his presence towering above the rest—not in height, but in sheer weight of existence. Even before the man spoke, Hei Yuan’s eyes instinctively flickered downward.

The Shadow Clan carried an innate gift—the ability to perceive the shadows of others.

A person’s shadow often reflected their strength. The greater their power, the larger their shadow. Even among powerful cultivators, the variance was clear—those with deep, refined foundations had shadows that loomed larger than their bodies, while the weak had barely a flicker beneath them.

Yet this Da Wei’s shadow was… unreasonable.

It was massive, stretching and coiling like a titan walking among insects. Hei Yuan, a man who had lived for over centuries, could count on one hand the number of individuals whose shadows had unsettled him.

He schooled his expression, forcing a composed smile as the figure introduced himself.

"I am Da Wei."

A name Hei Yuan did not recognize.

He inhaled slowly, the old habits of a cautious man kicking in. If someone of such power had gone unnoticed by their intelligence network, then there were only two possibilities—either Da Wei had risen to prominence too quickly, or he had hidden himself too well.

Neither possibility was comforting.

Still, Hei Yuan had long learned to be measured in his approach. Lowering his gaze respectfully—though not too much—he spoke with steady politeness.

"Forgive my ignorance, esteemed guest. This old one has not heard of your name before. Might I inquire further about your esteemed self?"

His words were carefully chosen, his posture neutral. It was not submission, but recognition. If this Da Wei was truly as formidable as his shadow suggested, then the Shadow Clan could not afford to treat him lightly.

With a flicker of movement, Da Wei stepped onto the wooden harbor.

It was too fast—approaching instantaneous speeds.

Even with his centuries of experience and his cultivation at the Essence Gathering Realm, Hei Yuan found himself unable to fully perceive the moment Da Wei moved. There was no telltale disturbance in the air, no shift in Qi flow, and no flicker of spiritual energy that typically accompanied movement at such speeds. It was simply as if he had always been there.

Hei Yuan suppressed a frown. A gap in perception at his level was rare.

With a careful glance, he studied the man before him.

Da Wei’s physique was lean but well-defined, a clear mark of a martial practitioner. His posture was effortless—neither overly rigid like a soldier nor undisciplined like an amateur. Every movement seemed purposeful yet relaxed, a contradiction that unsettled Hei Yuan the longer he observed.

But his presence…

It was perplexing.

He carried an aura that could be likened to that of a Taoist cultivator, filled with an almost imperceptible tranquility. At the same time, there were traces of something akin to Buddhist asceticism—a quiet, immovable steadiness. Yet for all that, it revealed nothing.

It should have been telling, but instead, it was the opposite—concerning.

The lack of fluctuation in Da Wei’s Qi was unnatural. No ebb, no flow, no resonance with the world around him. It was as if he were a mere mortal.

A mortal that moved faster than Hei Yuan could track.

A mortal whose shadow stretched like a titan’s.

A mortal with a life force so strong it felt like it could smother a room full of Spirit Mystery cultivators.

If Hei Yuan didn’t know any better, he would have truly mistaken him for an ordinary man.

An uncannily handsome mortal at that.

Da Wei’s features were… unbelievable. He had a jade-like complexion, a balance of softness and masculine angles, framed by short, dark hair that swayed gently with the lake’s breeze. He wore elegant jade robes, subtly embroidered with cloud-like patterns.

And yet, despite his striking appearance, there was something odd about it. He wasn’t the kind of handsome that drew immediate attention.

If one wasn’t consciously looking at him, he would simply blend into the background, slipping past perception. A forgettable kind of perfection.

A contradiction.

One more to add to the growing list.

Hei Yuan was deep in thought when Da Wei suddenly spoke.

"Ah… my apologies."

The man’s voice was smooth, carrying an easygoing charm as he glanced at the wooden planks beneath his feet. "I didn’t mean to step onto your harbor without permission. That was rude of me."

He smiled—a polite, almost playful expression as if he had only just remembered basic decorum.

Then, with the same casual air, he continued.

"I hail from the Riverfall Continent. I’m currently making my way to the Imperial Capital for an audience with the Emperor."

His words were light, delivered effortlessly, as if he were merely mentioning the weather.

But to Hei Yuan, they carried the weight of implications.

The first thought that crossed Hei Yuan’s mind was whether Da Wei was an imperial auditor.

Had one been sent to investigate them?

But no—that was impossible.

An imperial auditor had already visited the Shadow Clan a few months ago, and no word of a second inspection had reached them. The Emperor’s enforcers weren’t so inefficient as to send two separate agents in such a short span of time.

Then what was he doing here?

Hei Yuan kept his expression neutral, though his mind worked fast.

“May I ask for what purpose you’ve come to our territory?” he inquired, his tone polite but firm.

Da Wei, still wearing that unreadable smile, replied with an easy shrug.

“I fancy myself an adventurer,” he said casually. “I’ve always been curious about the Shadow Clan, especially after hearing of your detailed history from a close friend.”

At the mention of history, Hei Yuan’s composure hardened.

His Qi tensed, his mind instantly shifting to hostility.

History? That was not something outsiders should concern themselves with.

But then—he hesitated.

He had been reminded, once again, of the gulf between their strength. No matter how he tried, he could not see through Da Wei’s realm. That was proof enough.

Hei Yuan inhaled slowly, steadying himself. Then, keeping his tone polite but unyielding, he spoke:

“The Shadow Clan does not possess any glamorous history worth recounting, nor do we have any desire to welcome guests.”

He cupped his fist, a gesture of respect, even as his words pushed Da Wei away.

“I must apologize, but I must ask you to leave.”

He watched Da Wei carefully.

Would he accept the refusal? Would he take offense?

It was a risky move. Hei Yuan had no idea what Da Wei’s temperament was like—but that only made it more important to test the waters.

After all, what was the logic behind greeting visitors so openly, only to turn them away?

It had everything to do with the Shadow Clan’s spell formations.

If it came to it, he could simply eject these so-called visitors into the foggy maze, unleashing the killing array at the heart of the island.

Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

But then—Da Wei’s expression changed.

The casual air around him vanished, replaced by a serious, almost solemn look.

“Is there a way I can have an audience with the Shadow Clan’s patriarch?” he asked, his tone carrying a weight that wasn’t there before.

At those words, Hei Yuan subtly activated Qi Speech.

The few Shadow Clan members hiding nearby received his silent message.

‘Be ready. If it comes to a fight, we strike first.’

Hei Yuan’s own stance did not change, but his presence became heavier.

“The Shadow Clan’s patriarch is a busy man,” he replied carefully. “He cannot spare a moment for just anyone.”

He deliberately kept his words vague, measuring Da Wei’s response.

Would he insist?

Would he force the issue?

Or… was he here for something else entirely?

Da Wei sighed, his shoulders loosening as he shook his head.

"Well, if that’s the case, then there’s no helping it."

His casual attitude returned effortlessly, as though he had merely shrugged off the conversation.

Hei Yuan only now realized the bead of sweat that had formed on his forehead.

Sweat?

For someone of his realm, that was impossible. His body should have long transcended such weaknesses. And yet, there it was.

He suppressed a frown. What kind of person was this Da Wei?

Meanwhile, Da Wei casually continued, "I’d be fine with speaking to anyone, really. As long as they know the history of the Shadow Clan or the Black Clan well enough."

Hei Yuan stiffened slightly.

The history of the Black Clan and Shadow Clan…

A past that stretched long before the current Abyssal Clan system even existed.

For Da Wei to specifically ask about that…

Hei Yuan's fingers twitched under his sleeves. Coincidence? Or something more?

A pause stretched between them before Hei Yuan exhaled and once again reaffirmed his stance.

His voice was polite but firm as steel.

"Then I must once again ask you to turn back. The Shadow Clan does not welcome tourists."

This time, he allowed a trace of spite to slip into his tone—just enough to express his growing dislike for this conversation.

If Da Wei noticed, he didn't care. Instead, he snapped his fingers, his expression lighting up as if he’d just had a revelation.

"Ah! I have an idea."

Hei Yuan felt a twitch in his brow.

This eccentric.

He resisted the urge to sigh and instead kept his gaze locked onto Da Wei, choosing to listen rather than immediately turn to violence.

"Let's make this simple," Da Wei continued with a grin. "We’ll leave peacefully and won’t bother you anymore... if you agree to one simple request."

Hei Yuan narrowed his eyes. "And what is that request?"

"Just answer a few questions."

Hei Yuan's lips pressed into a thin line.

"I make no promises to answer truthfully," he said coldly. "And I reserve the right to refuse."

Da Wei hummed thoughtfully. "Better than nothing."

Then, without waiting for further protest, he turned his head and called back toward the boat.

"Hei Mao, come here."

Hei Yuan's expression darkened the moment he heard the surname.

Hei.

A name shared by both the Black Clan and the Shadow Clan.

A name burdened with history.

Then, a figure leaped down from the boat—a dark-haired young man in ragged black robes.

Around his neck, a beautiful red scarf embroidered with the symbol of a black cat fluttered slightly from the motion.

And when Hei Yuan studied his face…

There was no doubt about it.

This Hei Mao was undoubtedly one of their own.

And then it struck him as… odd…

Hei Yuan gulped audibly. His throat felt tight. His entire body tensed, his fingers twitching ever so slightly beneath his robes.

For a brief moment—a terrifying moment—he nearly knelt right there and then.

The resemblance was uncanny.

The young man standing before him…

Hei Mao.

His face, his posture, even the sharp intensity in his gaze—it was all eerily similar to the late Shadow Clan Patriarch.

The same patriarch who had vanished long ago, neither confirmed dead nor alive.

Hei Yuan’s heart pounded against his ribs.

No.

It couldn't be.

The late patriarch wasn’t dead. Just missing.

Then who was this young man?

His mind was in turmoil, confusion battling against instinct.

His vision sharpened, focusing on the calm yet penetrating gaze of Da Wei.

The man was studying him. Inspecting him like an insect under a magnifying glass.

Hei Yuan barely managed to suppress the violent surge of emotions welling within him.

For a single irrational instant, he felt the urge to lash out at Da Wei.

Yet he did not.

He controlled himself. Forced his thoughts into order.

Taking a slow breath, he kept his expression neutral and finally spoke.

"Who is this young man?"

His voice was steady. Almost.

Da Wei’s lips curled into a slight, knowing smile.

"This is Hei Mao," he introduced smoothly. "He’s a friend."

Hei Yuan narrowed his eyes.

A friend?

Before he could press further, Da Wei casually added, "He’s the one who’ll be asking the questions. I hope you answer truthfully, because it matters a lot to this young man…"

A pause.

Hei Yuan turned his gaze to the boy—no, the young man—standing before him.

Hei Mao’s expression was firm, his eyes resolute, unwavering.

Even without actively probing, Hei Yuan could sense his cultivation.

Spirit Mystery Realm.

Not particularly strong, but not weak either.

…And yet, strength was not the issue here.

Hei Yuan swallowed down his unease and gave a slow nod.

"Ask away."

Hei Mao did not hesitate.

His voice was calm, yet there was something heavy behind it.

"Do you know about the black-masked people?"

Hei Yuan’s heart sank.

His hands, hidden within his sleeves, curled into tight fists.

So it really was about that…

There was no doubt about it now.

This had everything to do with the shared past of the Black Clan and the Shadow Clan.

With their predecessor.

With the long-buried truth of the Abyss Clan.

083 Lion’s Roar

May the dead find peace beyond this life.
May they find redemption on the other side.
And may whatever awaits them be kinder than the lives they lived.
Amen.

I let out a slow breath as I internally whispered my silent prayer.

Why pray?

For some, it was a way to seek strength.

For others, a way to seek forgiveness.

And for probably a lot of people, it was just a way to look for answers.

Me?

I didn’t really know.

To save my soul? Nah. Too soon.

To ease my conscience? …Dunno.

As far as I was concerned, my conscience was clean.

Or maybe I just felt pity.

I kind of wished they had better endings.

When I first came to this world, survival had been my highest priority. Nothing else mattered but making it to the next day. I tried to make smart choices, but no amount of wisdom stats would cure what the heart wanted, wouldn’t it?

That was how I came to doing Paladin-stuff—helping people, fighting the bad guys, standing up for whatever justice I could believe in.

I was never in it because I thought I was a hero. Not because I had some grand destiny. I was not that delusional. Some people just do stuff, because they could. I didn’t have any noble ideals. I just didn’t like feeling shitty when it came to it.

Simply put, I couldn’t bear to do nothing when I could do something.

So… why didn’t I bother using my skills or items to bring those bandits back?

It wasn’t about justice, morality, or being smart.  It was human selfishness at its finest. I’m not perfect. I’m fully aware of it. Sometimes, I’m inconsistent. Other times, I’m just spontaneously naive. And other times, I could be selfish.

I had people I cared about now.

I wouldn’t use them as an excuse for what I did. The murders I caused were on me.

But still—

It was for my sake that I chose to be selfish. That was the point.

The warp finished.

The Floating Dragon emerged from the twisting void of space, stabilizing as the world settled back into focus. Beneath us stretched a vast, foggy lake.

I turned to Ren Xun, arms crossed, and asked, “What’s going to happen to the bandits?”

His expression was neutral as he recounted. “I found some of their wanted posters back in the city. Their leader?” He exhaled through his nose. “Probably a death sentence. He had a long list of crimes under his name.”

That wasn’t surprising.

“And the others?”

“Labor camps, most likely.” He shrugged. “They weren’t innocent, but they weren’t worth executing either. The law will decide the rest.”

I frowned slightly. “Were they connected to any Abyssal Clans?”

Ren Xun shook his head. “If they were, that’s the Black Clan’s business. They’re the ones in charge of law enforcement on Deepmoor Continent.”

I considered that for a moment before shrugging. “Guess that’s out of our hands, then.”

Justice, punishment—whatever happened next, it wasn’t my concern.

Dave, who had been silent for a while, suddenly spoke up. “Are you fine, My Lord?”

I frowned at him. “…What are you up to?”

His tone had been careful—too careful.

Dave tilted his head slightly, unreadable behind that featureless Puppet Armor. “I am simply asking.”

I sighed. “I’m fine.”

If he had anything else to say, he didn’t push it.

Meanwhile, Gu Jie gently placed the aquarium by the mast, the water inside shifting as Ren Jingyi swam in slow, lazy circles. The fish blinked at me.

On the starboard side, Hei Mao and Lu Gao leaned over the railing, staring out at the foggy lake ahead. The mist stretched endlessly across the water, shifting in slow, eerie swirls.

I turned back to Ren Xun. “Where’s the Shadow Clan? How long will it take to reach them?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he gestured toward the lake.

“We’re here.”

I blinked. “What?”

“This is the place.”

I narrowed my eyes at the thick fog, trying to see past it. Nothing. No structures, no land, no hidden passageways. Just endless mist rolling over the water’s surface.

Ren Xun continued, “There’s a spell formation concealing their territory. Now that I am seeing it firsthand, oh man… this is gonna be a pain in the ass… I’ll need time to decipher it.”

“…How long?”

“Weeks. Maybe months.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That complicated, huh?”

Ren Xun nodded. “It’s not just any formation. The structure is layered, and from what I can already sense, it actively shifts its patterns to prevent unwanted entry.”

I crossed my arms, thinking. Ren Xun was low-key very good with formations, even if he didn’t boast about it.

Admittedly, I didn’t have a good reference for how skilled he truly was. However, the fact that he could analyze formations from a distance and make confident assessments already spoke volumes about his competence.

Still, weeks to months was a long time.

Gu Jie folded her arms and tilted her head. “Master, wouldn’t we waste a lot of time waiting, then?”

I nodded and turned to Ren Xun. “What she said.”

Ren Xun sighed. “It’s not that simple.” He pointed toward the dense fog below us. “Descending blindly would be dangerous. There’s probably a maze hidden within, not to mention all sorts of spells designed to target the mind.”

“And?” I prompted.

“And,” he continued, “there are likely... other things in there.”

I squinted at him. “Other things?”

“Creepy crawlies,” he muttered. 

Now that caught my interest. A maze? Mind-affecting spells? Weird creatures lurking in the fog?

That sounded a whole lot like a dungeon.

And for some reason, that thought made me weirdly excited. The inner PvE player in me was itching to do something. It would be an understatement to say I was bored. I know I’m asking for trouble in looking for some excitement, but maaaan… boredom was a pain in the ass.

Still, there wasn’t much point in going in blindly when I could just cheat.

I focused, extending my Divine Sense outward—and sure enough, I could detect something solid hidden within the fog.

An island, or at least something similar.

If I really wanted to, I could just jump straight onto it.

I shared my thoughts with Ren Xun.

The moment I did, a nervous tic twitched at his brow. “That… would be incredibly rude.”

I frowned. “Since when do I care about being polite?” Sometimes, I just wanted to fuck around and find out… or something.

“Since now,” he said firmly. “These people are hidden for a reason. If you suddenly drop into their territory like some brute, they might take that as an attack. I suggest we wait… They should have detected us by now, however, it will be up to them to welcome us or not.”

Okay. Fair point.

“Also,” he added, “what if there’s a spatial trap? You might end up somewhere very, very bad.”

…Oof.

I winced. That was also a very good point.

Now that I thought about it—yeah. Formations were terrifying.

Gu Jie wandered over to the starboard, peering down into the dense fog. Meanwhile, Lu Gao and Hei Mao had already lost interest in the discussion.

Lu Gao sat cross-legged on the deck, his hands resting on his knees, his breathing steady. Meditating. He was probably squeezing in some extra training, working on the Blessed Weapon spell I had assigned him. Meanwhile, Hei Mao sat by the fish, probably contemplating how he would broach the topic about his family to this people.

Gu Jie, still gazing downward, frowned slightly. “Master… I can feel it.”

I turned to her. “Feel what?”

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she placed a hand over her heart, as if trying to still something within herself. “…Misfortune,” she finally said. “From beneath the fog. It’s thick… like resentment, grudge, and the like.”

Ren Xun sighed. “That’s not surprising.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“That presence could be coming from the spirits of dead Shadow Clan members—those who suffered the punishment of the Grand Emperor.”

“…Or?” I prompted.

“Or,” he continued, “it could be the remnants of challengers who dared to displace the Shadow Clan and failed.”

Ah. That explained a lot.

Ren Xun glanced at the swirling mist below. “The Shadow Clan may be something of an offshoot branch of the Black Clan now, but they were once a major power.” He looked at me seriously. “Don’t underestimate them.”

I leaned against the railing. “So, they’re dangerous?”

“Extremely.”

Ren Xun didn’t usually emphasize things this much. That alone told me how cautious I needed to be.

At that moment, Dave stepped forward. “My Lord, shall I do reconnaissance?”

Considering his constitution and the fact that death was temporary for him, I understood why he was offering. If anyone could handle this without permanent consequences, it was Dave.

Still, I shook my head. “No. It’ll do us better if we’re polite… like Ren Xun said.”

Ren Xun quipped, “For some reason, I feel like you are about to do something… er… wild… Senior…”

“Little Mao?” My gaze landed on Hei Mao, who was trying to act nonchalant. Too nonchalant.

His ears twitched slightly, betraying his feigned indifference.

Seeing me staring at him, Hei Mao sighed and finally took on a more serious expression. “I’ll behave.” He hesitated, then added, “I only wish to know why my family was targeted years ago.”

I nodded. That much, at least, was fair.

We made this trip for him, but that didn’t mean Hei Mao could act so shamelessly he’d do whatever he liked. Hei Mao understood that. If anything, this kid was raised right.

I turned back to Ren Xun. “Is there any decorum that must be followed on how to greet them?”

Ren Xun looked… confused. “…Senior, it should be fine to at least announce your presence.”

I took a deep breath, filling my lungs with air.

Then, I roared.

"Esteemed members of the Shadow Clan!
"We come as guests, not foes.
"We seek an audience with those who govern these waters.
"May the path be opened to us, that we may speak with courtesy and respect!"

My voice thundered across the lake, carrying my greeting to the Shadow Clan.

It wasn’t just any roar—I had used Lion’s Roar, a sound technique I had read about. It was an entry-level technique, but that didn’t mean it lacked power. Considerably, the power behind my roar was mostly supported by my stats alone. My voice surged outward, a martial technique and a sound technique combined.

The effect was immediate.

The fog shuddered as if startled, momentarily thinning under the force of my voice. Even the lake itself trembled, its surface rippling outward in a wide radius.

But the fog was stubborn.

A few seconds later, it regenerated, closing in again like a living thing.

I exhaled, watching the lake settle. "Hope they appreciate the effort."

Gu Jie blinked. "Master… was that really necessary?"

I shrugged. "Would you prefer I knocked? Where do I even knock?"

Ren Xun sighed. "Senior, I don’t think that was knocking. That was more like… kicking the door off its hinges."

Dave chuckled. "A grand entrance is befitting of His Lordship."

I smirked. "Exactly. Gotta make an impression."

Lion’s Roar was the closest thing I could find to Battlecry and Warcry from the War Path. I had always envied those abilities in melee classes back in LLO, so when I saw this technique, I thought, why not? Unlike cultivation methods, physical techniques seemed fair game for me as long as my stats could support them. Sound techniques were skirting the territory of non-physical techniques though.

A tense minute passed.

Then, finally, a response.

The lake shook again.

This time, the fog peeled away, parting to reveal a narrow, winding path leading toward an island hidden within.

At the same time, I felt something press against me— it was Qi Speech.

“The impudence!”

I noticed how the pressure behind the Qi Speech was making it difficult for the rest of my party members to breath. Trying to assert dominance, huh? I shrugged the pressure and then cast Bless on the rest of my party members.

It enabled them to withstand the pressure.

A voice resonated through the mist—deep, measured, and brimming with authority.

"Guests of unknown origin, you have called upon the Shadow Clan. The path has been opened. Step forward with respect, or turn back now."

The words carried an undeniable force, pressing against my chest like an invisible hand testing my strength. It was… ticklish…

But as the last syllable faded, the lingering echoes of my Lion’s Roar still danced across the lake, sending ripples through the water. It was a bit awkward.

There was a moment of silence.

Then, a different, fainter voice muttered in the distance, as if coming from somewhere within the fog.

"...Did they just overpower Elder Yuan’s Qi Speech?"

Another voice, more urgent, "Shut up! Do you want him to hear you?"

I blinked.

Gu Jie glanced at me, her lips twitching. "Master… I think you just embarrassed them."

Ren Xun let out a tired sigh. "Senior… That was unnecessary."

Dave, on the other hand, was grinning. "My Lord, that was very Paladin of you."

I raised an eyebrow. "You mean loud?"

"I mean righteous."

"...Right."

Even Dave was cracking jokes now. The world must be ending.

Shaking my head, I focused back on the cleared path. The fog had parted, and a dark and foreboding island lay ahead.

I gestured forward. "Keep sailing."

Ren Xun lowered the Floating Dragon onto the lake, its bulk settling just by a small wooden bridge that served as a harbor. The vessel barely made a ripple as it touched the water’s surface—a testament to Ren Xun’s control.

Waiting for us by the bridge was a lone old man, dressed in black and purple. His robes were deep in color, lined with faint, intricate patterns that seemed to shift under the dim light. His posture was relaxed, his hands hidden in his sleeves, but I wasn’t fooled—this wasn’t someone to underestimate.

And he wasn’t as alone as he liked to present himself.

With my Divine Sense, I felt multiple presences lurking—some hidden beneath the lake, their qi faint as if they had merged with the water itself, while others skulked in the shadows of the nearby trees, their forms blending unnaturally well into the darkness.

Before I could say anything, Gu Jie stepped forward, her brows furrowed.

"Master, I detect no danger," she reported, her tone carrying an odd note of doubt.

I turned to her, raising a brow. "None?"

"None," she confirmed. "Not a single ounce of… misfortune. It’s peculiar."

That was indeed peculiar.

Gu Jie had survived calamities that even made me balk, things that should have turned lesser cultivators to dust. Her instincts and senses were razor-sharp, refined through trials of blood and fire. And yet, she was detecting nothing.

Either the Shadow Clan had perfected their stealth arts to an absurd degree, or they genuinely didn’t see us as threats.

I glanced back at the old man. His eyes were calm, studying us with an unreadable expression.

Then, he cupped his fist in greeting.

"This one is Hei Yuan of the Shadow Clan. May I ask whom I have the honor of welcoming?"

His voice was deep, but it held a certain fluidity, like silk over steel. His cultivation… from what I could sense, he was somewhere between Jiang Zhen and the fragment of the Heavenly Demon—which put him at Sixth or Seventh Realm. Maybe even lower.

I returned the gesture, my own fist meeting my palm.

"I am Da Wei."

082 Amen

"Be gentle with them," His Lordship said.

The moment those words faded, Dave’s clunky Puppet Armor reappeared on the idle Floating Dragon. The swap was complete—His Lordship had taken his place elsewhere, leaving Dave to deal with the bandits below.

With a mere thought, a longsword materialized in his grip, its gleaming edge a testament to his innate abilities as a Holy Spirit. He flexed his fingers, testing the feel of his new body. This Puppet Armor—crafted with the magic of this world—was still unfamiliar, its weight and movements different from his previous form. There had been no real combat to test it yet. That would change now.

Dave stepped forward and leaped off the Floating Dragon.

The wind howled past him as he descended, the earth rushing up to meet him. When he landed, a cloud of dust billowed beneath his boots, spreading outward in a ring. The impact sent a tremor through the ground, enough to draw every pair of eyes in his direction.

He could feel their gazes—some wary, some dismissive. His presence was something unnatural to this world, but he had learned how to suppress it. With careful control, he adjusted his aura, settling it at the same level as the strongest among them. No need to scare them too much.

A man stepped forward. He was calm and measured—his posture relaxed, but not careless. A man who had seen his share of battles and had the confidence to show it. His eyes flickered over Dave’s form with quiet intensity.

"I am Deng Bai," the man introduced himself. His tone carried authority, the kind born from strength rather than mere bravado.

Dave considered him for a moment, then gave a slight nod. "Dai Fu."

He followed His Lordship’s instructions zealously. Adapting to this world’s vernacular was a form of defense, a way to obscure their origins in this world vastly different from their own. The name was close enough to his own, yet unfamiliar enough to blend in.

Deng Bai’s gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat longer before he smirked. "You move strangely, Dai Fu. Heavy, yet light. Are you a cultivator?"

Dave tilted his head. "Something like that."

"Hah~! Of course, you are..." Deng Bai’s smirk deepened, his fingers flexing slightly. There was no mistaking it—he was ready to test him. "I am sorry, but I will be taking that ship."

Dave shifted his stance, feeling the weight of his new body, the energy flowing through it. This was what he needed—a real fight to measure his limits.

Deng Bai exhaled slowly, his gaze steady. “This is your last chance.”

The bandits around him tensed, hands inching toward weapons, eyes narrowing with anticipation. The air between them hung heavy, crackling with the restrained energy of battle yet to begin.

Dave tilted his head, considering the words. Then, after a moment, he responded, “It’s your last chance too.” His voice was devoid of arrogance, merely stating a fact.

His fingers flexed slightly around his conjured longsword. “I might accidentally kill you all,” he added, almost apologetically. “It’s difficult for me to hold back.”

The bandits scoffed. Some outright laughed. One of them, a burly man with a jagged scar down his cheek, sneered, “Big words for a walking pile of metal. I bet you move slow, because of that thing.”

Dave ignored them. His Divine Sense spread outward like an unseen wave, sweeping through the battlefield. Twenty-eight bandits. Yet, at a glance, only twenty-two stood before him. Six others were hidden—scattered within the vegetation, their auras faint but not imperceptible. And one of them…

Without hesitation, Dave’s left hand slammed downward.

A loud crack echoed as his fingers punched through the ground, stone and soil parting beneath his force. His hand found flesh, grasping something warm and struggling.

A choked gasp escaped as Dave dragged a man up from the dirt—a cultivator, his body wreathed in faint, rippling distortions. A Spirit Mystery realm expert.

Cultivators at that stage always had unique abilities. If it were His Lordship here, he would’ve been curious to see what exactly made them special. But this was not a time for experimentation.

The Spirit Mystery cultivator barely had time to gasp before Dave’s fingers tightened around his throat. Without giving the enemy a chance to react, Dave surged forward, using the man as a human shield.

“Attack!” Deng Bai’s command rang through the night.

The bandits reacted instantly. Those capable of casting elemental projectiles raised their Qi, channeling fire, wind, and lightning into their palms. Spells flared, ready to be unleashed—

Too slow.

By the time their spells ignited, Dave was already among them.

He discarded his longsword, letting it fade into motes of light, and conjured a spear instead. With a fluid motion, he drove the weapon straight through his human shield’s abdomen.

The spear did not stop.

With sheer force, Dave hurled the impaled body forward. The momentum carried both weapon and corpse into the ranks of the waiting bandits. The Spirit Mystery cultivator’s body crashed through their line like a boulder through reeds.

Four men were caught in the trajectory—

• Two Mind Enlightenment cultivators.

• One Martial Tempering cultivator.

• One Will Reinforcement cultivator.

The result? A bandit kebab.

The spear drove through all four bodies, pinning them together in a grotesque display. The brief, stunned silence that followed was broken only by the wet, sickening sounds of bodies slumping to the ground.

Then, as the spear vanished into motes of light, Dave summoned a great axe in its place.

His grip tightened around the haft. His gaze swept over the remaining bandits.

Softly, barely above a whisper, he murmured—

“…I am sorry.”

How many were left?

A quick mental calculation—thirteen Martial Tempering, five Mind Enlightenment, four Will Reinforcement, and one Soul Recognition.

Twenty-two in total.

Deng Bai, standing at the forefront, brandished his sword, the blade humming with an ominous light. His expression darkened as he took a deep breath, his Qi surging around him.

“Kill him!” he bellowed.

Without hesitation, the bandits moved as one.

Deng Bai himself vanished, his body dissolving into a flurry of yellow blossoms—a movement technique so swift that he seemed to flicker between the petals.

“You are courting death!” he roared, his voice bloodthirsty, laced with killing intent.

His blade arced toward Dave’s neck. A fatal strike.

But Dave did not flinch.

He simply reached out—and caught Deng Bai’s throat mid-air.

The momentum of the bandit leader’s attack was instantly halted, his body jerking to a stop with a sharp, strangled sound. His fingers spasmed around his sword, eyes widening in disbelief.

Dave tilted his head. “You are too slow.”

Then, he slammed Deng Bai into the ground.

The force of the impact shattered the earth, sending cracks rippling outward like a spiderweb. A dull thud echoed through the battlefield as Deng Bai’s body crumpled into the dirt.

Dead? Alive? Dave couldn’t tell. It didn’t matter.

He exhaled internally. This was disappointing.

He had wanted to test the spell formations embedded within his blue cape, to see if they had any practical use in real combat. But his opponents…

They were not a good benchmark.

Dave finally let out a real presence—but not his own.

Instead, he allowed the Puppet Armor’s aura to emerge, its strength settling at approximately the Seventh Realm.

The effect was instantaneous.

A ripple of fear passed through the remaining bandits. Their once-determined expressions crumbled, their knees buckling under the weight of the pressure.

One by one, they let go of their weapons.

Swords and spears clattered to the ground as cultivators dropped to their knees, pressing their foreheads against the dirt in submission.

Only the remaining Will Reinforcement cultivators—those still hidden—made a desperate decision.

They ran.

Dave glanced at the great axe in his grip—the weapon he hadn’t even used. With a thought, it dissolved into motes of golden light.

In its place, he conjured a great bow, its massive frame shimmering with a faint divine glow. He had no arrows—he didn’t need any.

The remaining Will Reinforcement cultivators were still running.

"It's futile," he said, "None of you are going anywhere."

Dave spread his Divine Sense, sweeping across the battlefield. There they were.

With fluid precision, he pulled back the bowstring, forming a radiant arrow of energy.

Thwip!

The first arrow pierced through a fleeing bandit’s knee. A scream tore through the night.

Without pause, Dave nocked another arrow.

Thwip!

The second bandit collapsed, each arrow lodged in both his knee and shoulder.

Then the third arrow.

The fourth arrow.

The eighth arrow.

Eight arrows. Four fallen bandits.

Each one now writhed on the ground, clutching their wounds, unable to continue their escape. Dave dismissed the bow, letting it fade from existence.

He turned his gaze upward and called out, “Lu Gao, throw a rope.”

Silence.

Lu Gao and Hei Mao were still on the Floating Dragon, staring down in sheer disbelief. Their faces were frozen somewhere between awe and shock.

Dave tilted his head. Did they not hear him?

Lu Gao shook himself out of it first. Without hesitation, he grabbed a roll’s worth of rope and dropped it over the side.

The rope unraveled down, swaying gently in the wind.

Dave stepped over to Deng Bai’s motionless body. The bandit leader still wasn’t moving. Was he dead?

Dave placed a hand over his chest and cast Great Cure.

A soft golden glow enveloped Deng Bai, sinking into his body. Surprisingly, it worked.

His wounds sealed. His breath evened out. His eyes fluttered open.

Without a word, Dave grabbed the rope and tied him up.

Then, he turned to one of the Mind Enlightenment cultivators who had surrendered.

“You,” Dave said, pointing at him. “Tie yourself to the rope. Then pass it to the next person.”

The bandit blinked rapidly, his expression flabbergasted.

One after another, the bandits fell in line, securing themselves to the rope.

Motivated not by loyalty, nor by hope—

But by the real possibility of death.

Dave walked toward the spot where the bandit kebab had once stood.

Now, the bodies sprawled lifelessly on the earth, no longer skewered together. The spear was gone, vanished with the rest of his conjured weapons, leaving only blood-stained soil behind.

He crouched down and placed a hand over them, casting Great Cure.

A faint golden light spread over their broken forms, seeping into their wounds. Seconds passed.

Only one of them stirred.

The Spirit Mystery cultivator.

Dave tilted his head, surprised. He had assumed they were all dead, yet this one still clung to life. Impressive vitality.

His Lordship would probably feel conflicted seeing people he had indirectly killed. Of course, killing wrongdoers wasn't beneath Dave. It was tasteless killing weaklings though... Still... If there was a way to avoid unnecessary deaths, it was better to take that path with hopes of redeeming the individual. However, sometimes, there was just no helping it.

Dave reached down and grabbed the unconscious Spirit Mystery cultivator, dragging him toward the rope. With practiced ease, he secured him tightly alongside Deng Bai.

Next, Dave turned to the four Will Reinforcement cultivators who had tried to escape earlier. They still lay on the ground, clutching their injured limbs, too weak to move properly.

One by one, Dave dragged them to the rope, tying them up as well.

He glanced at his work. The bindings were pointless.

If any of them truly wanted to break free, the rope alone wouldn’t stop them. Their cultivation levels made such restraints laughable.

However...

Dave was here

That was enough.

None of them dared to try anything.

The air was still thick with the scent of blood.

Gu Jie, as graceful as she usually was, now struggled clumsily with the weight of the aquarium, her arms wrapped awkwardly around its glass walls. Inside, Ren Jingyi swam in slow circles, her tail flicking in agitation as water sloshed over the rim with every step.

Ren Xun trailed behind, glancing around with wide eyes at the aftermath of the battle.

And His Lordship—

His gaze swept over the scene. Over the brutalized cultivators. Over the ones still groaning in pain, tied together by a rope that was more symbolic than anything. Over the lifeless bodies still strewn across the battlefield.

Dave turned to him.

“My Lord, permission to use my Divine Word—Raise.”

His Lordship’s expression remained unreadable. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

Dave didn't expect such a reaction. But still…

He had thought His Lordship might at least consider using one of his consumable resurrection items. Yet, after a moment of silence, His Lordship only spoke a single command.

“Let's bury them.”

Dave watched him for a long moment.

It was hard to tell what His Lord was thinking, but Dave had seen the hesitation—the smallest flicker of something buried deep in his expression.

Regret? Resignation? Something else?

If His Lord had wanted, the dead men and women could have been restored to life. Yet, in the end, he chose not to.

Dave reached out, gently stopping him before he could move forward.

“Allow me.”

His Lordship glanced at him, then nodded.

“Thank you.”

He did not say anything else. Instead, he simply stood there, watching.

Dave might not have known His Lord’s story, nor the kind of life he had led before arriving in this world.

But he understood the emotions coursing through His Lord’s heart.

Perhaps, out of everyone, Dave was the closest to truly understanding His Lordship.

And yet—

At the same time, he couldn’t.

Because Dave lived for the fight.

He had taken many lives before.

And no matter how much he tried to understand, there would always be a chasm between them.

The dead were buried.

There were no words spoken over their graves, no incense burned in their memory. Just the cold, silent weight of the earth settling over their bodies, marking the end of their existence.

After the dead were buried, Dave and Ren Xun left, guiding the prisoners toward the nearest city. The journey was uneventful.

The handover was swift.

Authorities took one look at the battered, broken cultivators—some still groaning, others staring blankly at the ground in silent resignation—and didn’t ask too many questions.

With their task complete, they left.

The Floating Dragon rose into the sky, drifting like a ghostly vessel above the landscape before shooting forward in a blur of motion.

Dave stood at the edge of the deck, looking out at the vast horizon. Then, his gaze drifted toward His Lordship.

The Voice.

The one that had whispered to him, guided him, and accompanied him for so long.

Dave thought back to Joan—to their conversations, to the way she used to theorize about their existence.

"We are manifestations of the Voices we hear," Joan had once said, her words filled with conviction. "We are their best qualities, made real."

Back then, Dave hadn’t cared much for the idea.

But now—seeing His Lord in the flesh, breathing, existing, making choices of his own—

Maybe Joan had a point.

Still, he disagreed with her.

She believed that they were the best qualities of the Voices they followed. But Dave had always believed the opposite.

The Voice itself was the best version of them.

The ideal.

The guide.

A truth to be followed, as long as one had the will to do so.

Yet… His Lordship’s attitude challenged that very belief.

He wasn’t perfect.

Dave had always assumed that His Lordship, the one who had shaped him, was beyond doubt, beyond hesitation, beyond weakness.

But now, he saw the cracks.

Dave knew conflict when he saw one.

And His Lordship was in conflict with himself.

It was something Dave had to acknowledge sooner rather than later.

As the Floating Dragon warped forward, cutting through the skies in an instant, Dave felt something through their connection—a glimpse of something hidden deep in His Lord’s heart.

A silent prayer.

It was so intimate and deeply personal that even Dave, as a Holy Spirit, could barely grasp its meaning.

Yet he heard something.

A whisper.

A single word.

"Amen," His Lordship said.

081 Need for Aquarium

I activated Voice Chat and reached out to Ren Xun.

"Get an aquarium."

There was a beat of silence before he responded, "Pardon?"

I sighed and gave him a quick rundown. “Ren Jingyi had broken through. Her fishbowl had exploded. She was now flopping on the deck, gasping like a fish out of water—literally. Lu Gao and Hei Mao were currently playing a desperate game of 'catch the slippery fish,' and I was standing here making sure no one accidentally stepped on her. Also, I might be enjoying the sight of them desperately catching the fish too much.”

"She what?" Ren Xun sounded incredulous.

"She outgrew her bowl," I said simply. "Awesome, right?"

I could practically hear him rubbing his temples on the other side. "That’s not… Never mind. I just finished my meeting with the local lord, and I know the location of the Shadow Clan."

"Great," I said. "How long until you get back?"

"Give me a day at most. Several hours at the minimum. The city doesn’t have much in glasswork, so getting a proper aquarium is going to take time and effort," Ren Xun explained.

I frowned. "No way to speed that up?"

"Unless you want to settle for a wooden tub, which I assume is not what you want—then no."

I considered it. Wooden tubs weren’t exactly ideal for keeping a potentially evolving fish, but they’d do in an emergency. Still, I figured we could manage waiting for a day more.

"I’ve got enough mana to keep casting Cure at the flipping, flopping fish," I muttered.

On cue, Ren Jingyi slipped through Lu Gao’s grasp again, landing with a wet plop on the deck. Lu Gao swore under his breath and dove after her, but she wiggled away.

Hei Mao, who for some reason could talk fish, was practically pleading with her.

"This isn’t funny!" Hei Mao whined. "Stop making things harder for yourself!"

Ren Jingyi just flopped harder.

Lu Gao groaned. "Why is she so fast?!"

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "Would you two just catch her already?"

Lu Gao and Hei Mao redoubled their efforts, but I had the sinking suspicion this was going to be a very long wait.

I had the distinct impression the fish was having too much fun.

While Lu Gao and Hei Mao flailed around, I casually walked to the side. Then, with a burst of superspeed, I snatched Ren Jingyi by the tail.

She froze.

I stared into her wide fish eyes, and I got the impression she wasn’t having fun anymore.

"Alright," I said, holding her firmly. "You need to stay still so I can cast Cure on you."

She gave a tiny, pitiful wiggle but otherwise complied.

I let out a steady stream of Cure, feeling the gentle warmth of mana flow from my fingertips into her scales. I sat on the corner of the deck, still holding her, watching as the healing spell did its work.

Ren Jingyi had really grown.

She wasn’t a tiny goldfish anymore. If anything, she resembled a carp now—sleek, elongated, but still with that delicate goldfish-like shape. She had stretched rather than bulked up.

Lu Gao, who had been kneeling on the deck, let out a long sigh. His expression was glum.

I raised an eyebrow. "What’s the problem?"

He shook his head. "I failed you."

I frowned. "Failed me? What are you talking about?"

Lu Gao lowered his gaze. "I know why you picked me. It wasn’t just because of my skills or my history. I was meant to be a reference for your cultivation."

I blinked.

Hmmm… I did say something like that when I took him under my wing.

Lu Gao clenched his fists. "I was supposed to be a useful benchmark, but I haven’t even been able to help you make any progress. I—"

I cut him off with a scoff. "You make it sound like it’s your fault I’m not making progress."

He looked up at me, surprised.

I exhaled and leaned back slightly. "Cultivation isn’t some checklist where I can just copy-paste someone else’s path. You’re useful, sure, but you’re not some measuring stick I’m gonna toss aside just because I haven’t broken through yet."

Lu Gao looked conflicted but didn’t argue.

I turned my attention back to Ren Jingyi, who was still limp in my grip, possibly contemplating her entire existence.

I sighed.

At this point, I had reached a level of mastery with the Hollow Breath Technique that allowed me to do it passively. It was second nature—like breathing, really.

And yet… still nothing in terms of cultivation.

I glanced at Lu Gao, his face a mess of conflicting emotions.

Then, out of nowhere, he said, “I don’t deserve to learn from you.”

I blinked. “Huh?”

He exhaled, his expression turning resolute. “I’d like to withdraw.”

Withdraw?

I scoffed. “Withdraw from what?”

Lu Gao met my gaze, serious. “From being your student.”

I laughed. Loudly.

“You think you have the option to withdraw?” I asked, shaking my head. “You’re acting like this is some sect where you can politely hand in your resignation letter. Wait, sects don’t even do that, right? They’d swear you to secrecy and would even cripple your cultivation… Wait, you are already crippled!”

He frowned. “But I—”

“No, no, no.” I waved a hand dismissively. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not teaching you as some kind of charity. Yeah, sure, in the beginning, maybe there was this tiny naive part of me that wanted to help people.” I gave a dry chuckle. “But that was before I realized how useful you actually are.”

Lu Gao flinched slightly.

I leaned forward, voice turning sharp. “You’re a demon-possessed guy in a xianxia world. Do you have any idea how rare that makes you?” That practically made him a Quest NPC of sorts by LLO standards.

Lu Gao didn’t respond, sweating nervously.

Well, more like he could not understand my insanity.

I continued. “You’re a living lab rat—a unique one at that. The fact that I took you under my wing isn’t just out of kindness. It’s because you’re valuable.”

Lu Gao clenched his fists.

I sighed. “Look, I get it. You feel like you’re not worthy or whatever. But let me remind you—you don’t get a say in whether you continue learning or not.” I gave him a pointed look. “Especially after experiencing my Divine Possession and promising you'd be walking this path with me.”

His breath hitched.

Yeah. That got through to him.

Good.

"You are so mean," Hei Mao muttered, pouting as he sat cross-legged on the deck of the Floating Dragon. His red scarf fluttered slightly from the river breeze, emphasizing the childish grievance on his face.

I ignored him and glanced at Lu Gao, who had gone quiet. His brows were furrowed in deep thought, his hands clenched into fists over his knees. Then, as if coming to a decision, he shifted and moved to crouch.

I immediately knew what was coming next.

The moment his knees started to lower, a surge of irritation flared within me.

Without thinking, I grabbed his shoulder, stopping him before he could fully kneel. "Don't," I said flatly.

Lu Gao stiffened. He hesitated, then slowly straightened, confusion flickering in his eyes. "I—"

I sighed. "Just chalk it up to my eccentricity, but I really hate it when people bow or kneel so easily to another."

His expression flickered, and I could see the internal struggle written plainly on his face. He was from a world where respect was often measured by gestures like these, where inferiors knelt before their superiors without hesitation. But I wasn’t a fan of that.

Sure, there were moments where bowing was appropriate—out of sincerity, out of genuine devotion—but groveling over something as small as misspeaking? That was just excessive.

I vaguely recalled an idiom that fits this situation—something about gold beneath one's knees and the idea that a person should only kneel for sacred reasons.

Gu Jie kowtowing and pleading with me in her mental scape was a different matter entirely. That had been… well, complicated. But this?

I let go of Lu Gao’s shoulder and exhaled, shaking my head. "Just don’t do that. It's unnecessary."

My original intention in revealing my Divine Possession had never been for charity or goodwill. It was an experiment—one meant to train, refine, and empower it. Theories I had about its potential were confirmed one by one, the most exciting being the ability to impart skills without needing Legacy Advancement Books, Skill Books, or Specialized NPCs. That realization alone had been a game-changer.

Thus, the birth of my Order of Paladins had come naturally.

Admittedly, the idea was only in its infancy.

Especially with the Legacy Advancement Book for the White Path still in my possession.

It could be argued inefficient for me to continue holding to it. Of course, it wasn’t fair. Not in the slightest. When I revealed my Divine Possession, I made the others believe they were competing to prove themselves worthy of the White Path, but the truth?

I had already decided how I wanted to raise my kids—er, followers.

Yeah, it was a jerk move.

A healthy competition in a classroom setting would provoke development, right? That was at least the idea...

At first, I had intended to use the Legacy Advancement Book on Gu Jie, thinking she would be the best fit. But her unlocking the Warlock Legacy beforehand had changed everything. There was no undoing that choice, and I wasn’t about to make her walk a path that conflicted with her nature.

As for Ren Jingyi? I had bigger plans for her. She was too special for something as simple as the White Path.

That left me with Lu Gao.

The perfect candidate.

"You’re really something else, aren’t you?" I said, clicking my tongue.

Lu Gao, who had just been looking guilty a moment ago, stiffened in confusion. "I—what?"

I shook my head, my expression shifting into one of exaggerated disappointment. "To think you would try to take advantage of my kindness like this. Shameful. Truly shameful."

Hei Mao, who had no idea what was going on, looked between us in visible confusion. "Wait… what did he do?"

Lu Gao’s face paled. "I—I didn’t mean—!"

I heaved a sigh and gave him a long, suffering look. "Unbelievable. I gave you everything, and now you want to leave me? Like a heartless scoundrel?"

Lu Gao opened his mouth, then closed it again, looking increasingly flustered.

Hei Mao looked even more confused. "Wait, wait, what’s happening?!"

"It’s betrayal, Hei Mao," I said, dramatically shaking my head. "Absolute, gut-wrenching betrayal. A wound so deep it can never heal."

Hei Mao gasped. "Lu Gao, how could you?!"

Lu Gao made a strangled noise. "I—That’s not—!!"

Seeing his panicked expression, I finally cracked a grin and laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "Relax, I’m just messing with you."

Lu Gao looked at me like he wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or furious. "You—"

"That said," I cut in before he could recover, "you really don’t get a say in whether you keep learning or not. I want to give more emphasis to that fact. You already learned the Bless spell from me, and you think you can just walk away? Nope. That’s not how this works."

Lu Gao deflated. "...Right."

Hei Mao, still clearly lost, hesitated before awkwardly patting Lu Gao’s shoulder. "Uh… there, there?"

I smirked. "That’s right, Hei Mao. Comfort the poor guy. He just realized he’s stuck with me forever." 

"You are so mean," said Hei Mao a second time.

There was a thump against the Floating Dragon.

I blinked. Did someone just throw a rock at us?

A second later, my Divine Sense lazily swept outward, and I saw them. One, two, three… twenty-eight people.

Half of them were at Martial Tempering, a quarter at Mind Enlightenment, five at Will Reinforcement, one at Spirit Mystery, and one… at Soul Recognition AKA Fifth Realm.

My, my… they sure were ruining a moment.

I peered over the edge and found them staring back. I realized they were using some kind of formation, dampening my Divine Sense. The formation was probably not limited to my Divine Sense, but targeted at detection abilities in general like Qi Sense. The leader stood at the front—a tall man with sharp, chiseled features and a scar running across his lip. He would have been handsome if not for the scar giving him a permanent sneer.

"Greetings, the name is Deng Bai, and this fine boat is now mine," He took a step forward. "You have one chance."

I sighed dramatically, crossing my arms. "Really? You couldn’t have waited? We were having a heartfelt conversation."

Hei Mao, standing beside me, burst into tears.

"I don’t know how to fight!!" he wailed, clutching my sleeve like I was his last lifeline. "Like... I don't know any techniques! There's too many of them! And there's only three of us... and a fish."

"Have more trust in me, plus I am super strong," I sighed again. "Also, no one’s expecting you to fight, Hei Mao."

"But they’re gonna kill me!!"

I rubbed my temples. "Hei Mao, listen—"

"I’m just a kid!!"

"You’re a powerful ghost who used to haunt people!"

Hei Mao sniffled. "That was different!"

I groaned. "Oh, for crying out loud—"

The leader watched this exchange with a deeply unamused expression. "Are you finished?"

I ignored him, activating Voice Chat instead.

"Dave, we’ve got a situation."

My Holy Spirit responded immediately. "Want me to head back, My Lord?"

"Nah. Stay put. I’ll just use Castling."

Castling was normally limited by range, but if I used my Holy Spirit as the target… I could bypass that restriction entirely.

I turned back to Deng Bai and smiled mischievously.

"Say your last prayers, pal. Don’t worry, I’ll ask my friend to be gentle."

And then, I Castled.

080 The Life of a Fish

Ren Jingyi was a fish.

She had been a fish for a long time. She did not know how long exactly, because the concept of time was mostly irrelevant to a fish. There was only the flow of water, the warmth of the sun, the cool embrace of the moon, and the never-ending cycle of eating, swimming, and staring at things.

Right now, she was staring.

The fishbowl was clear, but the world beyond it was strange and distorted. The large figure holding her—Lu Gao—had a serious face, his gaze locked onto Ren Jingyi’s own unblinking fish eyes. It was a silent contest of wills. A battle between predator and prey? No. A battle between two beings bound by fate? Perhaps.

Ren Jingyi did not think too hard about it. Thinking was not a fish’s strong suit.

She swam forward, then backward, then in a lazy circle before stopping to stare once more. Lu Gao had not moved.

Life, as a fish, was simple.

She had few desires. She liked eating, and thankfully, the humans remembered to feed her. She liked swimming, and the water in her fishbowl was always fresh. She liked the sun, though it only reached her when she was placed near a window or when the Floating Dragon drifted into open sky. She also liked staring at things, though she wasn’t quite sure why.

Perhaps it was instinct. A fish’s natural curiosity.

Or perhaps it was because, deep down, Ren Jingyi knew she was not an ordinary fish.

There were flashes—memories that didn’t belong to a simple creature of water. Moments when her mind felt too vast, when understanding came too easily. She did not know what she had once been, but she knew this: she was not born to live in a bowl.

Still, she did not struggle.

It was because she liked her bowl very much.

The humans took care of her. Da Wei, the one who radiated divine presence, had a peculiar fondness for her. Lu Gao, her current holder, treated her with a quiet reverence. The new kid, Hei Mao, sometimes poked at her bowl, watching her as if expecting something miraculous to happen.

They all had their own ways of showing attention to her.

Even the smug guy—Ren Xun—had given her a strange look when they first met, as if trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t quite understand. But out of all of them, her Big Sister Gu Jie was the one she cherished most. Steady, reliable, and always carrying herself with an air of quiet strength, Gu Jie made Ren Jingyi feel safe in this strange world. If she had a choice, she would always swim toward her Big Sister's presence, drawn to the warmth and reassurance it provided.

They were her family.

Ren Jingyi did not mind even if they weren’t fish.

She flicked her tail, sending ripples through the water. Small bubbles rose to the surface.

Yes, life as a fish was simple.

But recently, things had started to change.

Ren Jingyi was growing. She could feel it in the way her body stretched, in the way her appetite surged with every passing day. If not for the confines of her bowl, she was certain she would have already outgrown her current form. It was an uncomfortable truth, one she wished she could ignore.

Worse still, there was that strange phenomenon occurring within her.

Whenever she had a sudden funny thought or felt particularly full, something inside her stirred—a burst of warmth, like a hidden star igniting in her core. The first time it happened, she had been startled, nearly flipping herself over in the water. It was a strange sensation, one she didn't particularly enjoy. Every time it happened, she would grow, and every time she grew, her hunger became more unbearable.

She didn't want to grow.

If she grew too much, would she still fit in her bowl? And if she couldn’t stay in her bowl, where would she go? The outside world was too vast, too uncertain. Here, in the gentle sway of her water, she felt safe.

A shadow loomed over her. Lu Gao was staring again, his expression unreadable.

"Jingyi," he muttered, eyes narrowing slightly. "Is something wrong? Did you get fat again?"

She wished she could answer. She understood his words, yet no matter how much she longed to reply, all that came out were bubbles. Because she was a fish.

Sometimes, she wished her family were fish too.

If Lu Gao were a fish, then maybe he would understand her. If Big Sister Gu Jie were a fish, then… maybe they could share a bowl. Wouldn’t that be nice? Floating together in the same little space, away from all the overwhelming vastness of the world?

Maybe?

Before she could dwell too much on that thought, Lu Gao sighed and turned away.

"He still won’t talk to me," he muttered, rubbing his forehead.

"I keep telling you," Da Wei’s voice rang out from nearby. "She’s a fish, man. But I understand your frustration. I want to talk fish too."

Lu Gao called over Hei Mao.

"Come talk to her," he said, gesturing at the bowl. "You’re the only one who can understand her."

Ren Jingyi tensed.

Hei Mao could talk to fish. Or at least, he could talk to her. And if he could talk to her, then…

Would he find out?

Would he learn that she was purposely holding back? That despite the hunger gnawing at her insides, she was stopping herself from eating too much, afraid of what would happen if she grew too big?

She didn't want them to know.

Because then, they might try to change her mind.

Hei Mao walked over, tilting his head as he looked into her bowl.

"What's the problem?" he asked.

Ren Jingyi would have sighed if fish could sigh.

Most of them couldn’t understand her, which was fine. It kept her thoughts to herself, hidden in the little world of her bowl. But Hei Mao was different. For some reason, the new kid could talk fish. And right now, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be talked to.

She felt… claustrophobic.

Which was ironic, considering the biggest, clunkiest person in their group—Dai Fu—the always-reliable Big Sister Gu Jie, and the smug Ren Xun had already left for a mission. The boat wasn’t crowded anymore. It should’ve felt more open, more comfortable.

But it didn’t.

Her scales prickled as she thought about it. Maybe it was because of this feeling inside her, the one that kept bursting like little stars, trying to push her to grow. Maybe it was because she didn’t want to grow.

Ren Jingyi missed her Big Sister Gu Jie already.

She didn’t really understand why they left, only that it was probably for a mission His Eminence had bestowed upon them. Not that she fully grasped what His Eminence wanted most of the time, but she knew one thing—he was the highest authority here.

Even so, she recognized him as Master, because Big Sister Gu Jie did the same. And if Big Sister did it, then it had to be right.

A finger reached toward her bowl.

"Don't poke the fish," Lu Gao warned.

Hei Mao looked guilty, pulling his hand back. "I wasn’t going to poke her," he defended himself. Then, as if to make up for the suspicion, he added, "The fish is uuuhh… What’s the word? Something is happening to the fish... like, she's getting fatter..."

His words made every one pause.

Even His Eminence, who had been quietly reading a book, stopped turning the pages and shifted his gaze toward her.

Ren Jingyi froze.

Why? Why did she always feel nervous when His Eminence looked at her? It wasn’t that she feared him—no, not exactly—but every time his attention turned to her, she had this strange, inexplicable flashback.

A giant something, scooping fish like her out of the water.

She didn’t know why she remembered that, or even if it was real.

All she knew was that every time she thought about it, she felt very, very small.

“Oh,” muttered His Eminence, “She’s really doing it, huh?”

Ren Jingyi was a fish, and she liked being a fish.

Life was simple. There was no need to hunt, no need to fight. Everything she needed was given to her, a bounty from her Master, His Eminence Da Wei.

She didn’t have to think too hard. She didn’t have to worry.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it?

If she kept growing, she would outgrow her bowl. And if she outgrew her bowl, she wouldn’t be able to enjoy being a fish anymore. She’d have to hunt for herself. She’d have to live like the others, struggling and striving.

She didn’t want that.

Yet, despite her wishes, the feeling returned—that strange sensation in her core, like a tiny explosion of light.

A star formed inside her.

Hei Mao yelped. “The fish’s presence is growing!”

Lu Gao, who had been calmly watching her, suddenly stiffened. "Incredible… She’s raising her cultivation in such a short period of time."

Another pulse. Another star.

“No way,” Lu Gao breathed. “She’s raising another star again!”

Ren Jingyi fought against it. She tried to suppress the sensation, tried to stay small. But it was difficult. The stars kept forming inside her, one after another, spinning like little suns in the depths of her being.

Seventh Star.

Eighth Star.

Ninth Star.

And then—

She broke through.

Lu Gao gasped. “She’s reached the Mind Enlightenment!”

Ren Jingyi didn’t really get it. All she knew was that she was definitely bigger than before.

Fish life was a good life.

That was a fact for her.

But was she still a fish if she couldn’t fit in her bowl?

Cracks spider-webbed across the glass. She barely had time to react before—

Shatter!

Her beloved bowl exploded into shimmering fragments. Water splashed everywhere, drenching Lu Gao and Hei Mao. For a moment, there was silence. Then—

“Ahhh! The fish is crying!” Hei Mao pointed in horror.

Ren Jingyi flopped helplessly on the deck of the Floating Dragon, gasping. She couldn’t breathe!

Panic surged in her body. The world outside of water felt suffocating—like being wrapped in tight, suffocating air. She flailed, her gills burning.

“The fish is gonna die!” Hei Mao screamed. “She’s gonna die!!”

Lu Gao was already moving, trying to scoop her up, but his hands were shaking. “Get water—do something! We need—”

“Enough.”

Da Wei’s voice cut through the chaos.

The deck stilled. Hei Mao froze mid-panic, mouth still open. Lu Gao held his breath.

Da Wei muttered something under his breath.

“Divine Word: Life.”

A golden glow surged through the air, wrapping around Ren Jingyi like a warm current. The burning sensation in her gills faded. The suffocating tightness in her body loosened.

She gasped—and then, to her shock, she was breathing again. 

On land.

Kind of.

It was a strange sensation. She wasn’t quite breathing like a land creature, but neither was she suffocating like a fish out of water. It was as if the water inside her had merged with the air around her, allowing her to exist in this bizarre in-between state.

It felt wrong. But also… not deadly.

“I have a plan,” Da Wei announced. “So calm down… and please don’t accidentally step or slip on her.”

Hei Mao, who had been hopping from foot to foot in panic, immediately froze in place, his foot hovering midair before he carefully placed it down.

Lu Gao exhaled in relief. “If it is you, Master... then there is nothing to be afraid of.”

079 Manly Emperor?

It had been a couple of days since we left Ironmoor City. The shadows of that place still lingered in my mind, but for now, we were in the clear. I had changed from my previous disguise and now wore the Lofty Jade Proposition. For a mere cosmetic item, it was surprisingly comfortable against my skin. More importantly, I only needed a thought to remove it, revealing my divine gear underneath—ready for battle in an instant.

Hei Mao no longer maintained the effects of the Disguise spell. He was back to his usual childish appearance, his red scarf wrapped around his neck. It fluttered slightly with the gentle breeze that passed through the Floating Dragon. The sight of him like this, relaxed and natural, was oddly reassuring.

Lu Gao, on the other hand, had not changed much. His disguise had never been too drastic, but I had to admit—shorter hair suited him. He sat in a corner, clutching the fishbowl, locked in a silent staring contest with Ren Jingyi. The fish remained as expressionless as ever, unblinking, while Lu Gao’s eyes narrowed in intense focus. He was probably having an inner turmoil, since the fish raised her star once more… Sadly, my Divine Possession was on cooldown at that time.

Ren Xun had also swapped out his old attire, shedding the beggar-like merchant disguise he had used previously. Instead of the garish, eye-catching robes he had worn back in Yellow Dragon City, he had opted for something more neutral. It was a wise choice—low-key but not suspiciously plain.

And then there was Dave. He seemed far too comfortable in his new body, the Puppet Armor. It had been an experiment at best, yet he wore it with the ease of someone who had inhabited it for years. I had asked him if it was inconvenient, but he had waved off my concerns.

“I’m fine,” he had said, his voice carrying the same familiar tone, despite the mechanical timbre the armor gave it. “Actually, I think I prefer it this way.”

I didn’t know whether I should be relieved or disturbed.

The Floating Dragon continued its course along the river, the rapids carrying us swiftly downstream. Ren Xun had been the one to suggest following the river’s path.

“It’ll be faster this way,” he had reasoned. “The current boosts our speed. Less effort, and no need to rely solely on the ship’s formations.”

Sitting cross-legged on the deck, I turned to him. “Do you have any idea where the Shadow Clan is?”

Ren Xun merely shrugged. “Shouldn’t be too hard to find.”

“That’s reassuring,” I said dryly.

He smirked, rubbing his chin. “If we ask nicely enough, the local Lords should have the information we need. Unlike in Ironmoor City, they won’t be as paranoid.” He paused, then added, “Probably.”

“Probably?”

Ren Xun sighed. “Ironmoor City had become a powder keg. Everyone was watching everyone else, ready to pounce. It’s different in the outer territories. We might actually find someone willing to speak without trying to stab us in the back.”

I wasn’t sure if I should feel comforted or wary.

One of my few regrets about leaving Ironmoor City was that I never got the chance to poke around. There was a Demonic Cultivator lurking somewhere in that city, hiding in plain sight, and on top of that, a murderer was on the loose. Normally, these were the kind of things that would gnaw at my curiosity, but circumstances forced my hand—I had more pressing matters to attend to.

Still, the thought lingered.

I felt two gazes on me. Hei Mao and Dave.

As my Holy Spirits, they were bound to me on a cosmic level, their thoughts and feelings often overlapping with mine. They must have sensed my dissatisfaction, the nagging feeling of unfinished business.

I shrugged. “No big deal,” I said casually. “We can always circle back later if we really need to.”

Hei Mao tilted his head, his small face filled with uncharacteristic solemnity.

“But…” he hesitated, as if weighing his words.

I held up a hand. “I do have a prior obligation,” I reminded him. “In case you forgot, I have a meeting with the Emperor in—”

“A hundred days?” Ren Xun interrupted with a smirk.

I nodded.

He shook his head. “Seventy-six days now.”

I blinked. Right. Time had slipped away faster than I expected.

Hei Mao looked apologetic.

I waved off his concern. “Talking with the Shadow Clan and learning the truth shouldn’t take that long.”

Ren Xun folded his arms, considering my words. “As long as we leave ourselves at least a thirty-day leeway, we should be able to make it to the Imperial Capital on time.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. Ren Xun had been surprisingly agreeable about this whole detour. Too agreeable. I leaned forward slightly, resting my chin on my knuckles.

“You’re being awfully cooperative,” I mused. “Should I be concerned? Would this get you in trouble?”

Ren Xun chuckled, shaking his head. “It should be fine,” he assured me. “As far as anyone is concerned, you’re free to do whatever you think is right.”

“That’s a very vague answer,” I pointed out.

His smirk widened. “My status as the son of a prince gives me certain… protections.” He waved a hand lazily. “Moreover, my Ren name carries a bit of weight.”

I arched a brow. “You mean it gives you immunity?”

Ren Xun sighed. “Immunity is a strong word. Let’s just say… invoking it might bring too much attention.”

I hummed in thought. Having a prince’s son with us was both an asset and a potential liability.

Gu Jie suddenly spoke up. “What’s so special about the Ren name?”

Her voice was calm, but there was curiosity beneath her words. She wasn’t the only one wondering.

From what I remembered, there was no such thing as a Ren Clan among the Seven Imperial Houses. It wasn’t a name I had come across in any of the records detailing the great noble houses of the Empire. So why did Ren Xun speak of it as if it carried some sort of unspoken authority?

Before answering, Ren Xun tweaked the formations on the boat. A soft hum vibrated through the deck as the Floating Dragon shifted, its weight lifting. A moment later, we were flying.

“The rapids have slowed down,” he explained offhandedly. “Might as well take the faster route.”

He turned back to Gu Jie, folding his arms as he considered his words. “To understand the Ren name, you first have to understand the nature of the Empire itself.”

That got my attention. This wasn’t something I could find in books, so I listened well.

Ren Xun leaned against the railing. “The Grand Ascension Empire is unique,” he said. “Throughout history, empires are built by dynasties, passed from one generation to another. The lineage of rulers dictates the continuation of a dynasty, and when one ends, another takes its place.”

I nodded. That much was common knowledge. The rise and fall of empires was an inevitable cycle.

“But the Grand Emperor was different.”

He glanced at us, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “On the day of his coronation, he declared himself both the beginning and the end of the Grand Ascension Empire. He claimed that there would be no dynasty after him, that his rule would persist until the end of time. That his death would mean the death of the Empire itself.”

The weight of his words settled over us.

I scoffed. “That’s arrogant.”

Ren Xun chuckled. “You’re not the only one who thought so. When he made that declaration, no one believed him. After all, no one can live forever. A cultivator can extend their lifespan, but there are limits. Even in the most ancient Taoist texts, it is said that while one may pursue longevity, true immortality is impossible.”

“And then,” he continued, “the first millennium passed… and the Grand Emperor remained. Looking no older than a middle-aged man.”

Silence.

Even I had to admit, that was impressive. Inhumanly so.

Made me think if he was a vampire himself.

Lu Gao groaned, rubbing his temples. “Is this going to be another long lecture?”

Ren Xun faked a cough. “I was just getting to the point.”

And then he continued his story:

The Seven Imperial Houses were powerful—too powerful, in fact. They were the Grand Emperor’s limbs, but even a ruler’s limbs could develop their own ambitions. They wanted power for themselves. That was their nature. To deny such an instinct would be an act of foolishness itself.

And so, after a thousand years of waiting, they schemed.

They tried to manipulate the Emperor, hoping that his long life had softened his mind. They disguised their ambitions behind flowery words and high-minded ideals. They spoke of the common people, of democracy, of the need for a new system. They urged him to step down, claiming it was time to pass the throne to the next generation, to evolve beyond the tyranny of a single ruler.

At first, the Grand Emperor ignored them.

Then he grew annoyed.

And when the Grand Emperor became annoyed… he acted.

“For the first time in his thousand-year reign,” Ren Xun said, “he took women to his bed.”

I nearly choked. “Wait, what?”

Ren Xun’s lips twitched. “You heard me.”

“No, no, I mean—are you telling me that for a thousand years, the Grand Emperor was a virgin?”

It was a stupid question. I knew my priorities were completely out of place, but… I couldn’t help it.

Hei Mao stared at me in horror. Lu Gao remained impassive. Gu Jie had a complicated expression on her face, as if she, too, couldn’t quite decide how to react.

Ren Xun, for his part, gave a helpless shrug. “It’s true. The Emperor possessed restraint beyond mortal comprehension. For a thousand years, he remained untouched by the pleasures of the flesh. Some would call him a great hero among heroes for such discipline.”

I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be impressed or terrified.

“But,” Ren Xun continued, “when the Seven Imperial Houses grew too loud, he finally lost his patience. And so, in a single night, he bedded the most powerful women from each of the Seven Imperial Houses.”

Silence.

“…You’re telling me his solution to court politics was to—?”

“Yes.”

“…And that worked?”

Ren Xun smirked. “It worked perfectly.”

Each of the seven women bore him a child, and the Grand Emperor, ever the pragmatist, used this to his advantage. He granted each child a vast territory to govern, forcing the Seven Imperial Houses to focus on their own bloodlines.

In an instant, the imperial court—once a nest of scheming snakes—turned into a battlefield of succession.

Instead of plotting against the Emperor, they now fought amongst themselves.

However, the story didn’t end there.

“The Emperor,” Ren Xun said, eyes gleaming with amusement, “was feeling particularly petty. And so, he made another declaration.”

I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of declaration?”

“He declared that the common people deserved a representative as well.”

“…What?”

Ren Xun’s smirk widened. “And so, in front of the gathered court, on the golden throne of the Empire itself, the Grand Emperor bedded a commoner woman.”

Dead silence.

Gu Jie looked deeply disturbed.

Hei Mao, despite being a Holy Spirit, was blushing furiously.

Lu Gao remained unshaken—clearly, he had heard this story before.

I, meanwhile, was still trying to process what I had just heard. “Hold on. You’re telling me he did the deed in the throne room? In front of everyone?”

Ren Xun nodded. “Demonstrating his bravery.”

That… that was certainly a way to describe it.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “…And let me guess. The child that came from this act of ‘bravery’ was—?”

Ren Xun nodded. “My father.”

I stared at him.

“The Emperor gave him the Ren surname,” Ren Xun said. “He then declared that should his son, Ren Jin, suffer an untimely death or any unfortunate calamity, he would eradicate the Seven Imperial Houses.”

And that, I realized, was the real masterstroke.

It wasn’t enough to force the imperial Houses into infighting. The Grand Emperor made them protect the very child who symbolized everything they hated. With a single move, he turned their power against them, ensuring that none would dare lay a finger on Ren Jin.

No wonder the Ren name carried weight. No wonder Ren Xun claimed he could act as freely as he did.

“…Your grandfather is a terrifying man,” I muttered.

Ren Xun laughed. “That, Senior Da Wei, is an understatement.”

I imagined that, in reality, the Seven Imperial Houses were simply waiting for the Emperor to die while preserving their own power. The Black Clan was probably no different.

Ren Xun eventually brought the Floating Dragon down under the cover of trees.

"There’s a city a few kilometers from here," he said. "I’ll go gather information. You all stay here."

Gu Jie frowned. "Are you sure that’s wise? The last time we split up, we got tangled up in Ironmoor and wasted days."

Ren Xun waved her concern away. "I know the lord of this city. His father was a good friend of mine."

I pulled out a set of Magic Scrolls, handing one to each of them.

"These are Great Teleportation scrolls," I said. "If anything goes wrong, use them to get back here immediately."

Gu Jie cupped her fists and bowed. "I will not fail this task."

Dave thumped his metal chest before leaping off the boat.

Ren Xun smirked. "Thanks, Senior. I’ll be back soon with good news.."

I watched as the three of them disappeared into the trees, leaving me to my thoughts.

“Dave, listen up.”

I activated Voice Chat, connecting to Dave. His presence flickered into my awareness, a faint thread of will intertwining with my own.

"I need you to debrief Ren Xun about the vampires. Give him every detail we have. Whoever’s pulling the strings needs to be stopped, and I can't be everywhere at once."

“Understood, My Lord.” There was a pause before Dave responded. "Does His Lordship want him to spread the word?"

"Exactly. We need the leaders of Deepmoor Continent to be aware of what's coming. Whether they believe it or not, they have to make preparations. Vampires aren’t just monsters—they’re a force capable of reshaping the balance of power. Even if we don’t know whether we were dealing with the real stuff, it still wouldn’t hurt to be cautious."

Dave let out a short hum of acknowledgment. "I’ll do my best to make a convincing case, My Lord. Ren Xun’s got connections, and his words won’t be ignored. But My Lord do realize this could stir up a lot of unwanted attention?"

I exhaled slowly. "That’s the idea. Better they prepare for a war that never comes than wake up to a battlefield they can’t escape."

"Fair point. I’ll handle it." Dave’s presence faded from my awareness as he focused on the task at hand. “Take care, My Lord.”

I hoped… I was just being paranoid.

078 Divine Flood Dragon

Tao Long’s body convulsed as an unseen force clawed at his insides, ripping through his meridians like a thousand venomous needles burrowing into his flesh. His breath hitched, and a metallic tang filled his mouth—his own blood, welling up from deep within. The pink-haired Blood Demon’s curse was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"This vile sorcery—!" Tao Long’s voice was hoarse as he grit his teeth. He could feel the very foundation of his cultivation trembling. His internal energy surged in desperation, coiling around his dantian in layers of protective force, but the curse was relentless, gnawing away at his essence with a sinister, unseen hand.

A searing pain lanced through his limbs, as if countless phantoms were tearing at his soul. His once indomitable vitality, cultivated over centuries, now felt like a candle flickering in the wind. His meridians pulsed erratically, barely holding together under the relentless assault.

He staggered, falling to one knee atop the storm-ridden sky. “Damn it!” This was no ordinary hex. It was a malediction crafted from the very essence of resentment, its roots sinking deep into his karmic threads. If he did not suppress it soon, his cultivation might suffer irreparable damage.

Through the haze of agony, Tao Long lifted his gaze just in time to see the two women vanish into the void—space twisting and folding around them as they fled. The Buddhist Witch’s teleportation spell had activated just as the Blood Demon’s black beast dissolved into ashes.

Tao Long clenched his fists so tightly that his nails pierced his palms.

“They escaped!”

He let out a ragged breath, the storm around him responding to his fury with violent bursts of lightning. The mirage of the azure dragon behind him let out a silent roar, yet even its might could not purge the insidious energy slithering through his body.

"Blood Demon… Buddhist Witch…" Tao Long spat out each title with venom. He had fought countless foes in his lifetime—righteous cultivators, demonic beasts, even heretics who wielded the power of devils. But never had he suffered such humiliation. To be cursed so effortlessly, to watch them slip through his fingers like fleeting mist… it was intolerable.

His fingers wove a series of intricate hand seals, golden lightning crackling between them. He was no mere cultivator—his lineage was of the Celestial Azure Serpent, a proud descendant of the dragon race. His body was far more resilient than mortals, his soul tempered by tribulations few could endure.

Yet…

Even with all that, he had been powerless against the wicked spell.

Tao Long wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, his fingers trembling slightly from the lingering pain. A mere curse had forced him into such a pitiful state. The shame burned within him hotter than the lightning that coursed through his veins.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself into stillness. The storm continued to rage around him, but he no longer commanded it. For the first time in centuries, he had been wounded so severely that even the heavens refused to respond to his call.

Seating himself cross-legged in the air, he began to circulate his qi. His meridians were in shambles, his dantian quivering as it fought to retain its integrity. Had he been any weaker, had his cultivation been even a fraction lower, this curse would have crippled him permanently.

But he was Tao Long. A Divine Flood Dragon of the Azure Serpent Lineage.

With a single gesture, he inscribed a sigil in the air before him—the ancient character for Longevity (壽). The golden script pulsed with celestial energy, illuminating the dark clouds like a second sun. Another character followed, this one for Healing (癒), swirling in a slow orbit around him as he meditated.

His breath evened. His pulse steadied.

Tao Long possessed countless arts inherited from his powerful bloodline—he could summon storms with a whisper, manipulate the vast oceans with a flick of his fingers, and call down divine lightning upon his enemies. But among his many abilities, his healing arts were one of the most profound. With proper cultivation, they could mend flesh, rejuvenate the spirit, and extend longevity beyond mortal comprehension.

And yet…

Even after a dozen breaths, he felt the weight of the curse still pressing upon his soul. It clung to him like a shadow, a lingering taint that refused to be purified.

Unreasonable. Tao Long’s brows furrowed. A Blood Demon and a Buddhist Witch—an abominable pairing, yet their coordination had been near flawless. The Blood Demon had landed a devastating curse while the Buddhist Witch had provided the means of escape. “Even I could not react in time.”

The admission was bitter, but he did not deny it.

Slowly, he moved his fingers, but his limbs felt heavy—his body, once brimming with vitality, now sluggish and weighed down. His qi still circulated, but his movements were dulled, as though he had been bound by invisible chains.

A cold glint flickered in his eyes.

“The next time we meet, Blood Demon… Buddhist Witch… There will be no escape.”

As someone who had ascended to the Ninth Realm, Tao Long naturally possessed arrogance befitting his strength. But with his long life came countless battles, and this was not the first time he had found himself on the backfoot.

His mind drifted back to that battle.

The Heavenly Demon.

Even though that man had only been at the Eighth Realm, his sheer combat prowess had proven insurmountable. Tao Long had fought alongside two others—cultivators who stood at the peak of the world—and yet, even together, they had barely managed to match him, let alone subdue him.

The Virtuous King had suffered such grievous wounds in that battle that he was forced into closed-door cultivation, indefinitely sealing himself away to recover.

The Heavenly Sword, one of the greatest warriors of this era, had met an even worse fate. He had been thrown into a strange spatial distortion, cast into an unknown void by the Heavenly Demon’s unfathomable strength. His fate was still uncertain.

And Tao Long?

He alone had emerged from that battle relatively unscathed.

Not because he had been the strongest—no, that honor had gone to the Heavenly Sword in terms of raw offensive prowess—but because of his inborn vitality. As a Flood Dragon, his regenerative abilities far surpassed that of ordinary cultivators. Wounds that would have left others crippled for life were nothing more than minor setbacks to him.

The vivid sensation of that battle still lingered in his bones. The moment when that accursed man had drawn power from some unknown dimension, his entire presence shifting as if he had become something beyond mortal comprehension. That fight had been one of the hardest he had faced in the past millennia.

And yet, even then, he had not fallen.

Tao Long exhaled sharply, shaking away the memory. Now was not the time to dwell on past battles. He had prey to hunt.

Raising his hand, he channeled his qi into a tracking spell. Thin, glimmering threads of water formed in the air around him, dispersing into the wind. His Rain-Seeking Technique—a method of tracking through precipitation, covering vast distances but lacking precision. If he combined it with Lightning-Calling Sight, a technique requiring an elaborate ritual but providing pinpoint accuracy, he would be able to locate any target, no matter how well they hid.

At least, that was the theory.

Yet… he found nothing.

His expression darkened.

The curse he had cast upon them—the curse that ensured rain would always follow his prey—had been dispelled.

"Impossible…" Tao Long muttered, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

His rain had followed them even across dimensions before. For it to simply vanish meant that the Blood Demon and the Buddhist Witch possessed means far beyond his initial estimation.

Frustration coiled in Tao Long’s chest like a slumbering serpent roused from its rest. His lightning-calling spell had yielded nothing. The rain-seeking technique—his supposedly infallible method of tracking—had been broken. His prey had slipped from his grasp, and he had no means to pursue them.

A storm rumbled in his heart, but he forcefully suppressed it.

Instead, he reached into his storage ring and retrieved an ornate wooden disk, carved with intricate formations that pulsed faintly with spiritual energy. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the formations, letting go of the disk as it hovered before him.

The air shimmered, distorting as if rippling water had swallowed the space above the disk. Then, from the mirage-like haze, an image of an elderly man took form.

Shouquan.

The leader of Ward.

A figure of immense wisdom and unwavering resolve, Shouquan’s long beard cascaded like a waterfall of silver, his sage-like eyes brimming with the weight of centuries. Though merely a projection, his presence carried an authority that few in this world could ignore.

“Tao Long.” Shouquan’s voice was calm yet firm, like the steady current of an ancient river. “Have you completed your task?”

Tao Long cupped his fists in salute. “This junior humbly reports failure. The Blood Demon and the Buddhist Witch have eluded me.”

Shouquan’s gaze did not waver, nor did his expression betray any sign of disappointment. Instead, he sighed as if this was merely another piece in a long, frustrating game of weiqi.

“I see.” His voice carried a hint of resignation. “This would have been much easier if the Emperor had lent us his assistance.”

Tao Long’s frown deepened.

“The Emperor… rejected our invitation a long time ago already.”

Why would the Emperor involve himself with this matter at their request?

The Emperor of the Grand Ascension Empire, the one who stood at the pinnacle of the world, had refused to lend his strength to Ward’s mission. A mission that should have been at the heart of every power’s concern.

Defending the world from the Outsiders.

“The arrogance of monarchs,” Tao Long said, his tone laced with restrained disdain. “To think he would turn a blind eye to the encroaching threat simply because it does not yet knock on his gates.”

Too bad.

Tao Long liked the Emperor enough that he used to think humans weren’t so bad.

Shouquan chuckled, though the sound was devoid of mirth. “The great factions are much the same—the Alliance, the Empire, the Temple, the Union—all with their own ambitions. They acknowledge the threat, yet they all believe themselves untouchable.”

“We will continue our work,” Shouquan declared, his voice resolute. “With or without the great powers of this world. Return to your work when you have recovered, Tao Long. If push comes to shove, the Grand Emperor would probably be able to handle it. After all, he has the Heavenly Eye. However, it was important you’d be there when that happens, so that you could help. Goes to show the importance of Ward and that he could trust us.”

Tao Long’s expression darkened as he pondered over Shouquan’s words.

The Grand Emperor was a man with too much pride in his bones, a monarch who dared to name himself the Final Emperor, as if declaring to the heavens themselves that after him, there would be none.

Arrogant, yes. But such arrogance was not without merit.

For he possessed the Heavenly Eye.

An innate gift that only appeared in times of great strife, the Heavenly Eye was a power that granted its wielder insight beyond mortal or immortal comprehension. It was said to see all things under the heavens, granting its user both prescience and divine authority.

And now, such a gift had manifested once more.

The last recorded wielder of the Heavenly Eye had appeared three thousand years ago.

Back then, Tao Long had been but a rough-edged youth, filled with reckless ambition and little concern for the great tides of history.

And yet, the fact that this power had reemerged after so long…

It spoke volumes.

Shouquan’s voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“Tao Long,” the elder’s mirage flickered slightly, but his presence remained commanding, “what is your assessment of these Outsiders?”

Tao Long exhaled, gathering his thoughts before answering.

“They are not natives,” he stated firmly. “Their cultivation methods are foreign, unlike any system known to us. Their energies do not align with the natural laws of our world.”

He hesitated for a moment before adding, “And then, there is the issue of the language barrier.”

Shouquan’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That alone is telling. If they were mere wanderers from another continent, we would at least recognize some similarities in dialect. But if even our most ancient linguistic arts fail to decipher their tongue… then their origins truly lie beyond our realm.”

Tao Long nodded grimly.

Shouquan folded his arms behind his back. “And their strength?”

Tao Long’s fingers twitched slightly. He had no desire to admit the truth, but honesty was paramount in this situation.

“At least as strong as me,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “Possibly stronger.”

Shouquan’s brows lifted slightly.

“Of course, making a direct comparison is difficult,” Tao Long continued. “Their cultivation system is entirely foreign. Their abilities do not follow the principles we know, and their techniques operate on an unfamiliar logic. However…”

His golden eyes gleamed with a solemn light.

“…one thing is clear: they are dangerous.”

Tao Long exhaled slowly, steadying his thoughts before he continued.

“Should we seek the Emperor’s assistance?” he asked, his voice calm but firm. “With the Heavenly Eye, he can perceive beyond time and space. If anyone could locate these Outsiders, it would be him.”

Shouquan did not answer immediately. Instead, he let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temple as though Tao Long’s words had only deepened the burdens weighing upon him.

“Tell me,” Shouquan said instead, his voice slow and deliberate. “Why do you think you were sent here, instead of the others?”

Tao Long fell silent.

Of course, he already knew the answer.

He prided himself on his skills, on his bloodline, on the vast arsenal of techniques at his disposal. But within the Ward, he was hardly the best tracker. There were others who surpassed him in divination, others who specialized in reading the flows of fate.

So why had he been the one deployed?

Because if it had been anyone else—the Emperor would have taken offense.

Tao Long’s lips pressed into a thin line.

The Grand Formation that encircled the Emperor’s domain was no ordinary barrier. It was an all-encompassing array, one that allowed him to perceive everything within his borders. Not even a speck of dust was beyond his awareness.

And yet, this same formation also forbade entry to powerful outsiders.

Unless they were born within his domain…

Or had gained his personal acknowledgment.

Tao Long had both.

A native of the Stormcall Continent, raised in his youth upon the lands of Riverfall Continent—his roots were tied to the Emperor’s domain. More importantly, he had once aided the Emperor himself in a time of great tribulation.

It had been a mere coincidence back then.

He had not known the young warrior struggling against insurmountable odds would one day rise to claim the greatest throne beneath the heavens.

But the Emperor had not forgotten.

“…I understand,” Tao Long finally said, inclining his head slightly.

Shouquan nodded. “The Emperor will not interfere. Not unless the balance of the world itself is at stake.” He folded his hands behind his back. “And even if he were willing… are you truly prepared to be in his debt?”

To owe the Emperor a favor—it was not a price one paid lightly.

“…No,” he admitted. “I am not.”

Shouquan offered a knowing smile. “Then continue your pursuit by your own means. Do not expect the Final Emperor to move for us.”

Tao Long gave a short nod, but Shouquan wasn’t finished.

“You must also ensure that the Ward’s presence in the Empire is recognized. If we are to be of any use in the coming calamitous events, the Emperor must see our worth.”

Tao Long frowned. “And how am I to do that?”

Shouquan exhaled. “Best case scenario? You kill the Outsiders.”

Tao Long’s lips thinned. That was obvious.

Shouquan continued, “At minimum, you must hinder them—stall their movements while ensuring civilian lives are not caught in the crossfire. And if possible, position the Heavenly Eye to its greatest advantage before the tragedy I foresaw comes to pass.”

Tao Long straightened. “A tragedy? Why are you saying this to me… just now?”

He didn’t mean any disrespect by his tone of voice, but Shouquan could be very secretive in his own way. Tao Long had expected no less, but it was hard getting used to.

Shouquan’s expression darkened.

“I have seen a rift opening,” he said gravely. “From within, undead and demons shall spill forth, a tide from the depths of hell itself.”

Tao Long clenched his jaw. He was no stranger to battle, nor to the horrors that lurked beyond the known world. But for such creatures to manifest within the Empire—

“…If disaster is inevitable,” he said carefully, “then shouldn’t we inform the Emperor? Better yet, shouldn’t he be the one to handle this?”

Shouquan let out a mirthless chuckle. “Do you truly think the Emperor does not already know?”

Tao Long stiffened.

“The Grand Emperor is ambitious,” Shouquan murmured. “You must consider the possibility that he has his own designs—that he seeks to capture these Outsiders rather than eliminate them. To take advantage of their presence.”

Tao Long’s brows furrowed.

“If he truly wanted to capture them,” he said, “then with his Heavenly Eye, wouldn’t he have done so already?”

Shouquan gave him a knowing look.

“If the Emperor would move, we would have known it by now,” Tao Long admitted, exhaling slowly.

Shouquan inclined his head. “Precisely. And yet, he remains silent.”

A tense silence stretched between them.

“…Why?” Tao Long finally asked.

Shouquan’s voice was calm, but heavy with meaning.

“Because his prescience precedes mine.”

Tao Long’s breath hitched.

“He has likely seen a different future, one where he does not need to act—one where he is confident in the outcome.”

Tao Long fell silent, digesting the implications.

If that was truly the case… then what was the point of him being here?

Shouquan seemed to read his thoughts.

“We still need his cooperation,” he said. “Or, better yet, his allegiance to the Ward.”

Tao Long exhaled through his nose.

This was not a mere chase anymore.

This was a test of worth—both for himself and for the Ward.

Shouquan’s expression was unreadable as he regarded Tao Long through the floating mirage. “What did the Outsiders look like?”

Tao Long exhaled slowly, recalling the details. “One had crimson eyes and pink hair, the other had emerald eyes and golden hair. The pink-haired woman wielded dark arts, while the blonde exuded a sacred aura—likely a Buddhist practitioner.”

Shouquan’s gaze darkened, but instead of concern, an odd look flickered across his face.

Tao Long raised a brow. “What is it?”

Shouquan shook his head. “They are not the ones who will bring calamity upon the Empire.”

Tao Long’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible.”

He had arrived in the Empire prepared—his first task had been to investigate all disturbances. Every trace, every rumor, every ripple in the vast ocean of the world’s Qi. The presence of two foreign entities with unusual cultivation methods had matched the profile of the Outsiders he sought perfectly. There was no mistake—these two were the ones.

And yet…

Shouquan sighed. “The Outsider who will bring tragedy upon the Empire… is not a woman.”

Tao Long frowned. “Then who is it?”

Shouquan gave him a long, almost pitying look.

“…A man.”

Tao Long waited, his patience thinning. “And?”

Shouquan’s lips parted.

“…And his fish.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Tao Long blinked.

His expression remained composed, but his mind had come to a complete halt.

“…His what?”

077 Brewing Storm

The storm raged across the sky, dark clouds twisting like writhing serpents. Lightning flashed, illuminating the figures soaring within the storm’s embrace—two riders, one upon a beast of purity, the other upon a beast of taint.

Alice, a pink-haired vampire with crimson eyes, rode astride a Bicorn. The beast’s two horns glinted like curved daggers in the erratic bursts of light. The creature galloped through the sky as if the wind itself were its domain. Beside her, Joan, a blonde priestess with emerald eyes, guided her Unicorn forward. The creature’s single spiraled horn cut through the downpour like a beacon of divinity.

And both women were absolutely furious.

Alice muttered darkly under her breath. “This is ridiculous. Every step of the way, delay after delay. Do you know how frustrating it is to—”

“Whose fault do you think that is?!” Joan shouted over the howling storm.

Alice rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s not my fault people are so enamored with me.”

Joan groaned, gripping the reins of her Unicorn tighter. “You enthralled an entire outpost, Alice! We wasted hours unravelling that mess!”

Alice placed a hand on her chest in mock offense. “I did not enthrall them. They simply fell for my natural charm.”

Joan shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “You walked in, smiled, and suddenly a whole squad of knights were groveling at your feet!”

Knights?
Probably not.
Soldiers?
Most likely.

“I digress,” Alice smirked, fangs glinting. “That’s not enthrallment—that’s charisma.”

Joan let out a frustrated yell. “You turned their captain into a thrall!”

“That part might have been intentional,” Alice admitted, tossing her cerise hair back. “But I had to test if my powers were dulled in this world. How was I supposed to know he’d be so susceptible?”

Joan pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. “We’re supposed to be covert, Alice. Covert.”

Alice waved a hand dismissively. “And yet, no one’s chasing us, are they?”

Joan didn’t respond immediately, though the look on her face suggested she was counting to ten to keep from throwing Alice off her Bicorn.

Thunder cracked around them, a bolt of lightning streaking dangerously close. Alice barely flinched, merely sighing. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll be good for the rest of the trip.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it,” Joan muttered.

The storm churned ahead, and the two riders pressed onward.

Lightning tore across the sky, a jagged spear of light splitting the heavens. The deafening roar of thunder followed an instant later.

Joan reacted immediately, raising her staff. A shimmering golden barrier flared to life around her, deflecting the rain and stray arcs of electricity. A second later, she turned and cast another toward Alice, shielding her from the storm’s wrath.

Alice scowled. “I had it under control.”

Joan shot her a look. “You were about to get fried.”

Alice scoffed but didn’t argue. Instead, she focused on keeping her Bicorn steady as they rode through the turbulent sky. The storm raged around them, but after what felt like an eternity, they finally broke through the thickest part of the clouds. Rain still lashed against them, but at least they had some breathing room.

Their mounts surged forward, hooves striking nothing but air, carrying them at speeds that blurred the world beneath them. The city lights below were mere specks swallowed by the storm’s gloom.

Joan gritted her teeth and turned to Alice. “Where is David now?”

Alice placed a hand over her chest, feeling for the isolated drop of blood within her heart. The connection flared—distant yet unmistakable. It was part of a Blood Pact she had forged with him eons ago, a bond not even time could sever.

Her frown deepened. “He moved again. A few kilometers from where he was before.”

Joan blinked. “He moved again? Through that?” She gestured at the storm they had barely managed to pierce.

Alice nodded. “I don’t know about the storm though…”

Joan looked like she was about to cry. “Why is he so fast? He doesn’t even have a mount!”

Alice’s grip on the reins tightened as memories stirred. David was always a competent warrior. An adventurer. But the thought of him moving so quickly—without a steed—left her unsettled.

Joan, seeing her expression, quickly added, “He did find a quest to procure a mount, you know. He just never bothered to do it. He kept saying his Egress skill was enough.”

Alice arched a brow. “And?”

Joan let out a tired sigh. “And… the portal system our world follows is rather advanced. This world clearly… doesn’t have a portal system of its own…”

Alice stared at her for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she flicked the reins of her Bicorn, urging it forward.

“He’s lazy like that,” she muttered.

Being lazy on the wrong things was more like it.

Since dropping into this world, Alice and Joan have been on one excursion after another. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another—beast attacks, cultists, demonic incursions, and more. Every time they thought they had a moment to breathe, trouble found them again.

It didn’t help that the language barrier between them and the locals was immense. Alice had a natural talent for picking up new languages, but even she struggled with the dialects here. Joan, on the other hand, relied entirely on divine intuition—and that wasn’t always accurate. More than once, she had accidentally blessed a gathering of cutthroats.

How was that even possible?

Didn’t she have a passive skill that could detect karma?

Before they knew it? Alice had slaughtered a group of black-masked thugs who were trying far too hard to pretend to be vampires.

“Honestly, it was embarrassing,” Alice muttered under her breath, recalling the encounter. They had the pale skin, the dramatic capes, and the exaggerated hissing down to an art—but the moment she actually sank her fangs into one of them, they tasted human. Utterly human. And weak.

Meanwhile, Joan… well, Joan had cured an entire settlement of vagrants and stopped a plague.

And somehow? That had angered the local aristocrats.

Alice scoffed. Typical.

Joan, riding beside her, furrowed her brows. “You’re scoffing.”

Alice tilted her head. “Am I?”

“Yes.”

Alice gave an exaggerated sigh. “Just thinking about how ridiculous it is that you, of all people, managed to stir up noble ire.”

Joan groaned. “Don’t remind me.”

Alice smirked. “Oh, I will. You should’ve seen their faces.”

She may not have spoken the language fluently, but she had seen it in their eyes—the way the aristocrats seethed, the way they bristled at Joan’s miracle. Of course, Alice knew an aristocrat if she saw one… The self-worth was too obvious…

Alice was an aristocrat herself. Not in this world, but an aristocrat was an aristocrat, no matter the language barrier. The moment she laid eyes on those nobles, she knew what they were thinking.

It wasn’t about power.

It wasn’t about faith.

It was about control.

And Joan had just taken it from them.

Funny thing, they’d probably manage to get this ‘control’ back the second she and Joan left the place. That was just the way things were…

Alice’s Danger Sense flared.

She reacted instantly, snapping her gaze toward the incoming threat. “Joan! Shield—now!”

Joan needed no further warning. With a practiced motion, she raised her staff, golden light erupting from its tip. “Shield of Faith!” she declared, forming a shimmering golden barrier around Alice. Then, in the same breath, she reinforced herself. “Shield of Eternal!” A second, far sturdier shield enveloped her, its holy radiance warding off the storm’s darkness.

A pillar of azure lightning struck down from above. It wasn’t chaotic like natural lightning—it was controlled, precise, and lethal. A divine strike. And it was fast.

It came in a straight, unerring path—too deliberate to be random.

An attack.

The moment the lightning struck her barrier, Alice felt the strain. Of course it cracked, she thought with an exasperated sigh.

As a vampire, she had fought against the Church more times than she could count. She knew their spells, their tactics, their weaknesses. She knew that an ordinary Shield of Faith wouldn’t hold against a high-tier smiting spell.

Which was why she had prepared.

With a single thought, she activated the spell stored in her Spell Resonance.

Shield Drain.

Dark energy pulsed around her, a second barrier forming in a brief flicker of violet light. The cracking Shield of Faith shattered completely, but instead of leaving her defenseless, the broken fragments were absorbed into her new defense. The lingering force of the divine lightning was drained into the void, leaving her untouched.

Joan, meanwhile, remained entirely unscathed. The Shield of Eternal around her didn’t even flicker. As expected.

Joan glanced at Alice, her eyes sharp. “That wasn’t a stray bolt.”

Alice scoffed. “Obviously.”

Joan immediately repositioned herself forward and raising her staff once more. “Shield of Faith!” Another golden shield overlapped her existing one, reinforcing her defenses even further.

Alice narrowed her crimson eyes, scanning the stormy skies. “Now then… who dares?”

A streak of lightning split the stormclouds apart. From the cascading light, a figure emerged.

A young-looking man, dark-haired and draped in arrogance, floated before them. Behind him shimmered the mirage of a massive serpentine dragon, its azure form coiling in and out of visibility like a phantom of the storm. The air around him crackled with power, the residual charge of his arrival making Joan’s unicorn shift uneasily.

Alice sniffed the air.

Dragon.

Not entirely, but enough that her instincts flared.

The man spoke, his voice firm and commanding.

Alice, naturally, understood none of it.

She sighed. “Great. Another one.”

Joan, to her credit, remained composed despite the obvious language barrier. She gripped her staff, ready but not aggressive, waiting to see how things would play out.

Alice, however, had other concerns. She observed the man closely, her crimson eyes narrowing as she activated a passive ability she’d always found useful—one that let her sense life force and vitality. It was rarely wrong.

And this man—

Alice’s expression darkened. “Joan. He’s not as young as he looks.”

Joan tensed. “How old?”

Alice pursed her lips. “Old.”

“How old?”

Alice’s gaze flicked to the stranger again, reading the layers of accumulated life force within him. “Not ancient,” she muttered, “but definitely seasoned by vampire standards. The kind of lifespan that makes common undead jealous.”

Joan groaned. “Of course. Because nothing in this world can ever be normal.”

Alice silently agreed. The lifespan discrepancies in this world were ridiculous. Some mortals burned out in forty or fifty years, barely managing a full century if they were lucky. And then there were these people—the ones who clung to life with Legacy-based powers or whatever mystical nonsense this world followed.

Centuries. Millennia.

It wasn’t fair.

Even Alice—a vampire, an existence fundamentally meant to last—felt a little envious of the sheer absurdity of these so-called “superhumans.”

She sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t suppose you suddenly learned the local language in the past five seconds?”

Joan shook her head. “Nope.”

Alice clicked her tongue. “Figures.” She looked back at the stranger. “Alright, pretty boy. What exactly do you want?”

"We should retreat," Joan said, her voice calm despite the storm still raging around them.

Alice almost fell off her Bicorn.

"Excuse me?" She gawked at her companion. "Retreat? Joan, we outnumber him two to one!"

Joan didn't budge. "That doesn't matter."

Alice scoffed. "Doesn't matter?" She gestured toward the dark-haired man floating before them, his aura flaring like a coiled dragon ready to strike. "He’s strong, sure, but we are strong. And last I checked, two beats one."

Joan shook her head. "I won’t fight him."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "And why not?"

Joan sighed as if the answer should have been obvious. "Because he’s accumulated too much good karma."

Alice blinked. "What?"

Joan pressed a hand to her chest. "I follow a path of virtue. I can’t just attack someone so steeped in positive karma. It would go against everything I believe in."

Alice clicked her tongue in annoyance. Of course she forgot about that blasted passive priests had—the one that let them see karma like some divine scoreboard.

"So what, you’re saying he’s some kind of saint?"

Joan tilted her head. "I wouldn’t go that far. He could be a self-righteous murderer, for all I know. But if someone’s racked up that much good karma, it means they’ve done a lot of good. And I’m not about to pick a fight with a person like that without a good reason."

Alice exhaled sharply, tapping her fingers against her thigh.

She hated to admit it, but Joan did have a point.

Not about the karma nonsense—that was just priestly superstition—but about their positioning. They were both casters.

Alice specialized in high-speed aggression and spell layering, while Joan was a defensive support specialist. Neither of them was built for prolonged melee combat, and this man reeked of someone who thrived in magical close quarters. After all, why would this man proudly present himself in front of them?

If he was an artillery mage of sorts, he would have stayed hidden and continued to bombard them with spells, instead of appearing in front of them.

Of course, that didn’t mean Alice was about to run away.

"If it does come to a fight," she muttered, "I can take him."

Joan gave her a look. "Alice—"

"I can take him," she repeated, more firmly this time. "If push comes to shove, I’ll handle it in single combat."

She was a pure-blooded vampire, after all. She had her pride.

But Joan wasn’t backing down. "We should focus on finding David," she reminded.

That, Alice couldn’t argue with.

David was still moving. His location had shifted yet again, further out of their reach. If they wasted time fighting some random powerful stranger, they'd just fall even further behind.

Alice clicked her tongue one last time. "Fine," she muttered. "We’ll play it safe."

The dragon-kin finally grew tired of talking. His expression hardened, and without another word, he raised both hands. Azure lightning crackled, condensing into two massive electrospheres that hummed with destructive energy.

Alice clicked her tongue. "Took him long enough."

With a single fluid motion, she dismounted her Bicorn. Her wings—black, leathery, and bat-like—unfurled from her back with a powerful snap. As her feet hovered just above the ground, she reached behind her and unslung a parasol from her Shadow Space.

Not just any parasol. Her parasol.

Unlike the so-called "champions of the realms," who carried the blessings of the Lost Supreme—Item Boxes, divine artifacts, ridiculous system protections—immortal souls like her had to rely on their own power.

That was fine. She preferred it that way.

The first electrosphere hurtled forward, crackling with raw power. Alice flipped open her parasol, tilting it just slightly. A translucent barrier formed along her parasol's curved surface as she activated Magic Guard.

The impact sent a ripple of force through her body, but she held firm, redirecting the brunt of the attack to the side.

Meanwhile, her Bicorn took the other electrosphere head-on.

The beast let out a pained shriek, its hooves scraping against the storm-wet air as the lightning coursed through it. But it was a tough creature—it held for just long enough to do what she needed.

"Go," she whispered.

The Bicorn responded instantly, lowering its horns and charging straight for the dragon-kin.

A perfect distraction.

The dragon-kin barely had time to react as the creature slammed into him, sending him skidding backward.

Alice, hovering above, smirked.

The Bicorn would die, of course. But it wasn’t true death. As an immortal steed bound to her soul, it would simply resurrect inside her, ready to be summoned again when needed.

Joan, standing further back, raised her staff. She twirled it counterclockwise, her voice ringing out over the storm as she chanted in an ancient tongue.

A golden light enveloped them.

Alice felt the familiar pull of Mass Teleportation.

Right on cue, her Bicorn was obliterated.

A combined water-lightning spell surged toward it, colliding with such force that the creature didn’t even have time to scream. It simply dispersed into fine ash, its essence retreating back into her soul.

Alice grinned.

"You’ll pay for that," she whispered.

She stretched out her hand, fingers weaving in a practiced motion. A dark mist coiled around her wrist before taking shape—a phantasm of a straw doll, eerily resembling the dragon-kin.

“Wretched Effigy.”

The moment she clenched her fist, the doll’s limbs twisted, fraying at the joints.

A curse.

One that would ensure he wouldn’t be catching up to them anytime soon.

As the teleportation completed and the world around them shifted, Alice gave a small wave, her grin never fading.

"Better luck next time, lightning boy."

076 Grand Escape

"One last thing," I fixed my gaze on Ren Xun. "Why not the Black Clan? They wear black masks too. Who’s to say they’re not involved?" I gestured toward Hei Mao. "You might not know his full story, but it’s written in his eyes—he wants vengeance. So tell me, are you hiding something? What are the odds that the Black Clan are the true culprits? What if you are misleading us?"

“That’s…” Ren Xun tensed, a bead of sweat forming at his temple. Yet, to his credit, his voice remained steady. "Senior, I cannot say for certain. I have no proof of their innocence or their guilt." He exhaled, glancing at Hei Mao. "And yes, I know his story. He told me two nights ago. As for my motives, I only follow my father’s orders—to ensure you don’t… er… slaughter the wrong people."

I barked out a laugh. "So you were worried about that." I clapped him on the back. "Relax. I don’t make a habit of massacring innocents."

Hei Mao gave me a deadpan look. "You’re mean."

I snorted. "What, you wanted me to go berserk?"

"It would be cool."

Ren Xun muttered under his breath, "No, it would not."

I ignored them, turning my thoughts to the real issue. The Black Clan or the Shadow Clan—one of them had a hand in Hei Mao’s tragedy. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But this was bigger than just masked assassins.

Gu Jie tapped her fingers against her arm, her expression unreadable. "We should act under cover of darkness," she said. "Midnight is best."

A solid plan. Fewer eyes, fewer interruptions. I nodded. "Agreed."

I glanced at the others. "Objections?"

Ren Xun shook his head. "Night suits our purpose."

Hei Mao’s wavering resolve solidified. The others followed, nodding one by one.

"Then we wait."

I turned to Lu Gao and handed him Ren Jingyi’s bowl. "Watch her."

Lu Gao scowled. "I’m not a fish sitter."

"She trusts you," I said flatly. "Consider yourself honored."

He opened his mouth to argue, but I was already moving on. "The rest of you, return to Iron Kettle. Lay low until midnight. Dave, stay."

The group dispersed. I waited until they were gone, then turned to Dave. "You’ve been on edge. What’s wrong?"

"My Lord, I am fine. Thank you."

I started walking, and he followed without further instruction. The streets bustled around us, the city's rhythms shifting with the hour. Too many ears to speak openly. I switched to Voice Chat.

"Anything to add to Gu Jie’s report?"

"Gu Jie reported signs of misfortune looming over the city, though she could not pinpoint its source. With her counsel, we agreed that cooperation with the local law enforcement would bring the least calamity." Dave’s response was immediate, steady. "The lass wished to protect you, My Lord, in her own way. Forgive her impudence."

I waved it off. "And this misfortune—what did you find?"

"I dealt with it, My Lord. There was a vampire in the next cell I was kept in."

I frowned. "A vampire?"

"Yes, My Lord. Or something close to one."

"You’re certain? Could’ve been a demonic cultivator. Plenty of those dabble in arts that make them resemble the undead."

Dave hesitated. "That was my first thought."

I gave him a sharp look. "But?"

He exhaled. "It claimed to offer me immortality."

My fingers twitched. "And?"

Dave’s voice remained level, though I caught the edge of restrained frustration. "It planned to turn both the detainees and the enforcers into its familiars. Said it was going to start a riot."

I clicked my tongue. "Bold of it to assume things would go that smoothly."

Dave snorted. "It was boastful about it. Said it had already laced the city's food and water with dormant blood. Just needed the right trigger to activate it. Apparently, it was caught right before it could turn the entire city into its slaves." He paused. "A low-level creature, but confident in its master plan. Kept mentioning a ‘benefactor.’"

I narrowed my eyes. "And this benefactor?"

Dave hesitated. That pause told me everything.

"No name. Only that vampire was gifted a formation method. Something tied to its transformation scheme."

I rubbed my temple. First devils in Riverfall, now this.

"Did it suspect you?" I asked.

"No, My Lord. Likely took me for a low-tier cultivator who have an odd technique."

That tracked.

"He even wanted to make me a vampire kin rather than a mere familiar."

I scoffed. "Let me guess—he wouldn’t shut up because of your Charisma stat?"

Dave allowed himself a smirk. "Indeed, My Lord."

Figures. High Charisma was a cheat in more ways than one. Even enemies turned into monologuing fools.

"And what did you do next?"

"Multiple Holy Smites from the next cell over."

I blinked. "Wait, what—"

"Turned him to ash."

I let out a low whistle. "That explains the delay in your release."

"Yes, My Lord. The enforcers were scrambling over the sudden ‘disappearance’ of a detainee."

I sighed. "I would’ve preferred you consulted me first. And Gu Jie, too." I shook my head. "You didn’t leave any traces, did you?"

"I ensured there was nothing left before they found the remains." Dave’s tone was more serious now. "Hid the ash. Apologies, My Lord. It happened too quickly, and I wished to report directly to you."

Honestly, I didn’t mind.

“Next time, hold nothing back. Speak to me first,” I said, halting mid-step and turning to face him fully. “And?”

Dave met my gaze, his expression grim. “I found a black mask.”

I exhaled slowly.

Hellspawned devils in Riverfall.
Blood-drinking pretenders here.
And now, black-masked figures lurking behind it all?

Just what was so special about this world that calamity kept converging upon it?

I exhaled through my nose. “Keep the vampire matter to yourself for now.”

Dave nodded. We continued walking in silence until I abruptly turned into an alleyway. He hesitated for only a moment before following.

“My Lord,” he said, glancing around warily. “What are we doing here?”

I pulled out a Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation, holding it up for him to see. “I’d rather not embarrass myself if this doesn’t work.” The entire escape plan depended on my ability to get everyone out. Calling it ‘embarrassing’ if I failed was an understatement.

Dave raised an eyebrow. “My Lord intends to bypass the city’s spell formations with that?”

“More or less.”

He hummed, tapping the chin of his helm. “The theory holds merit. The city’s formation arrays function on distinct principles; interference may not be an issue. Still, caution is best.”

“See, this is why I keep you around.” I grinned.

Dave inclined his head. “I am honored, My Lord.”

I focused on the scroll. The wax seal remained intact. Running a finger over it, I felt the faint pulse of magic thrumming beneath. Just as I was about to break the seal, Dave’s hand shot out, gripping my wrist.

“I should do it, My Lord.”

I frowned. “What?”

“If the formation reacts, My Lord can simply dispel me.”

I gave him a flat look. “Dave.”

“Better yet,” he continued, unbothered, “if instant death awaits on the other side, at least My Lord won’t suffer.”

I narrowed my eyes. “That’s a rather dramatic way of saying ‘let me be the guinea pig.’”

Dave shrugged. “I prefer ‘calculated risk.’”

Annoyingly, he wasn’t wrong. Handing him the scroll would be the smart choice. But if I was being honest, I wanted to experience the sensation of using genuine magic. Faith-based spells had their limits. If I studied teleportation long enough with my Divine Sense, perhaps I could replicate it…

Yeah. I was making excuses.

Dave crossed his arms. “My Lord has only one life. My Lord should cherish it more.”

I sighed. “I could just use Castling on you if I get caught in the formation.”

“And if it’s an area-wide countermeasure?”

Damn him for being reasonable.

“Fine,” I relented, shoving the scroll into his hands. Then, pulling out another, I handed it to him as well. “I want to test its accuracy. Go, then report back.”

Dave smirked. “Understood, My Lord.”

And with that, he tore the scroll open.

Dave vanished in the blink of an eye. One moment, he stood beside me, Magic Scroll in hand. The next, he was gone—snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

I waited. A second. Then a minute longer.

Our connection remained intact. The Voice Chat link still held. Good.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

Dave’s voice came through, steady as ever. "My Lord, I have arrived at the spell’s maximum range. The incantation was true, and I remain unharmed."

I exhaled, tension easing from my shoulders. Step one was a success.

"I’d like to scout the location myself, get a proper estimate," I admitted. "We need the best possible route to the Floating Dragon." But I wasn’t the one there. Dave was. "For now, you’re my eyes. Recon first. If anything feels off, use the Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation to retreat."

"As you command, My Lord," Dave answered without hesitation.

I listened as he described the scene in real time. The layout of the streets. The enforcers’ patrol routes. The formation engravings embedded in the walls. He even noted how the moonlight reflected off certain rooftops—because of course he would. Knightly types always had a flair for poetic details.

For thirty minutes, I absorbed everything. Then, in another blink, Dave reappeared beside me, as if he had never left.

"The scroll was incredibly accurate, My Lord," he reported. "I suspect our bond refined its precision. It placed me exactly where I envisioned—no deviation."

I smirked. "Good. That means we can use it without worrying about misfires."

We had a way out. Now, it was just a matter of making our move.

I activated Voice Chat again. "Hei Mao, how are the others?"

"They are fine," Hei Mao responded immediately. "Everyone is lying low at the Iron Kettle, as you instructed."

"Good. Meet me at the shop."

"As you wish."

I turned to Dave. "Follow me."

As we walked, I filled him in. "We haven’t been idle these past four days. Ren Xun secured me roughly Class 4 knowledge in book form. Lu Gao handled supplies and secured a shop deal. And Hei Mao acted as a deterrent—his Fourth Realm cultivation is enough to dissuade most troublemakers."

Dave nodded, saying nothing. He was waiting to see where this was going.

We reached the blacksmith’s shop. Hei Mao was already there, arms crossed, waiting.

The shopkeeper, Old Hua, spotted us the moment we stepped inside. His wrinkled face split into a grin.

"Ah, you’re here," he said. "It’s done."

He led us to the back of the shop—where an armor set stood displayed on a sturdy wooden stand.

The moment I saw it, I knew.

Styled after the armor of the Round Table—the mother organization of the first Paladins—it gleamed under the dim lantern light. The breastplate bore intricate engravings, a radiant cross entwined with celestial runes. The pauldrons, shaped like noble beasts—lions and gryphons—exuded an air of guardianship, their fierce visages frozen in a silent vow. The gauntlets had finely layered plates, balancing dexterity and defense, while the greaves were sculpted for swift, unburdened movement. A flowing blue cape, embroidered with silver, completed the ensemble, its fabric carrying the dignity of a knight’s oath.

Regal. Righteous.

It was for Dave.

He stood motionless, gloved fingers tracing the engravings. Though his helm concealed his face, I could picture the expression—pure, unfiltered surprise.

Man, I just made Dave speechless.

That gotta be an achievement.

Old Hua cleared his throat. "This here is the Puppet Armor, built according to the blueprints you provided." His voice carried a hint of pride as he gestured to the gleaming set. "Lightweight but durable. The internal mechanisms are reinforced, allowing flexibility without sacrificing defense. I adjusted the puppet framework, so it doesn’t strictly follow Buddhist methods—figured that wouldn't suit your request."

"Good call," I nodded.

The blueprints weren’t entirely my own. I had copied them from the pile the Cloud Mist Sect provided, then cross-referenced them with the knowledge at my disposal. A refinement here, an adjustment there—until the final design became something practical.

"Tested the joints myself," Old Hua continued. "Automation functions work as expected. Pour Qi into it, and it'll act on command. Not perfect, but a damn fine piece of work, if I say so myself."

"That’s all I needed to hear." With a flick of my wrist, I stored the Puppet Armor into my Item Box.

Old Hua stretched out a hand, palm up. "Now, about my payment."

I reached into the Item Box and retrieved two handfuls of Lost Legends Online gold coins, letting them clink into his waiting palm.

The old blacksmith whistled. "Good stuff. Tougher than standard metals, too—these'll make fine materials for my next projects." He weighed them briefly before pocketing the lot.

I cupped my fist and bowed. "Many thanks, Master Hua."

He grunted but returned the gesture. "Don't get yourself killed out there."

“What’s the Puppet Armor for?” Hei Mao squinted at me, arms crossed. “What am I even doing here?”

His current disguise—a red-haired martial artist with a wild, untamed look—was striking. Then again, with the sheer variety of eccentric cultivators flooding the streets, he fit right in.

Dave was the one to answer. “My Lord, I have an inkling as to its purpose.”

“Of course you do," I said. "It’s for you.”

I led them into another alley, away from prying eyes. Once we were clear, I pulled the Puppet Armor from the Item Box. Dave stepped forward, straightened his back, and activated Divine Possession.

The Puppet Armor responded instantly. The formations along its surface flared to life. Runes glowed, Qi circuits thrummed, and with a final pulse of energy, the armor moved.

A tremendous pressure erupted from it.

Hei Mao tensed beside me, his stance subtly shifting as the oppressive aura of a Seventh Realm cultivator filled the alley. It was the same pressure I had felt when facing the Heavenly Demon.

Dave’s was slightly stronger.

I raised a brow. “Not bad. You probably could’ve been stronger.”

Dave turned his armored hands over, clenching and unclenching his gauntleted fingers. “Stronger, indeed. Normally, Divine Possession would halve my attributes, yet I find myself unaffected.”

I clicked my tongue. “That’s unfair.”

But it made sense. The Puppet Armor was designed to house an artificial spirit. If the Cloud Mist Sect’s records were accurate, it should be a perfect vessel for Divine Possession.

“However, my Ultimate Skills are beyond my reach.” Dave nodded and then thought about it. “Thankfully, my other skills remain usable.”

I hummed in thought. “Sounds like Brukhelm’s situation back at the Yellow Dragon Festival.”

The method was different, of course. Brukhelm had been confined to a specific form of power, while Dave’s possession of the armor was a far more refined approach. Regardless, this was a major boon. A cultivator whose strength could be measured in this world's system should deter plenty of trouble.

I gestured toward him. “Can you lower the pressure you’re releasing? No need to invite unnecessary eyes.”

Dave straightened. Slowly but surely, the oppressive energy receded until it matched Hei Mao’s level.

I grinned. “Perfect. Now, let’s move. That spike in pressure will have drawn attention.”

Midnight arrived.

We gathered in our room at the Iron Kettle. The atmosphere was tense but determined as I handed each of them a Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation. One by one, they accepted the scrolls like fragile treasures. Even the bowlfish got one—I dipped a scroll into its fishbowl, watching it float at the surface.

…I really hoped that would work.

I swept my gaze over them. “Gu Jie, you lead the way.”

She nodded, rolling her shoulders. “Understood.”

Gu Jie went first, activating her scroll. She relied on Sixth Sense Misfortune to scout ahead, waiting for any premonition of disaster before confirming the path was safe. When nothing struck her down, she sent word through Voice Chat.

“It’s clear. Proceed.”

That was all the others needed. One by one, they activated their scrolls, vanishing in bursts of light.

And then… only Ren Jingyi, Dave, and I remained. He stood beside me, ever the vigilant knight. “My Lord, I shall protect thee in this moment of vulnerability.”

I exhaled and focused. My awareness sank into the depths of Divine Possession.

Ren Jingyi stirred. I exerted fine control, carefully manipulating her delicate fins. Her tail flicked upward, curling just enough to tear the scroll floating in her fishbowl.

A flash of light engulfed the water. The bowlfish vanished.

Back in Voice Chat, Gu Jie made a startled sound. “I—I caught it!”

I stared at her, noting her half-scared, half-relieved expression.

Good. That was one less worry.

I released my hold on Ren Jingyi and returned to my body. A faint golden light shimmered beside me as Dave emerged from the Puppet Armor, dissolving into his Holy Spirit form. With a swift motion, I reached out and stored the empty suit into my Item Box.

“We shall move as one, My Lord,” he said, his voice steady.

I nodded. No need to waste an extra scroll.

Without hesitation, I tore mine.

The world blurred. Space twisted.

And then we arrived.

The others were already gathered, crouched in the shadows near the docks. The Floating Dragon bobbed gently in the water nearby, looking as unassuming as ever.

As I approached, Ren Xun whispered, “I’ve already snuck aboard and disabled the formations. It didn’t take long.”

I raised a brow. “You’re unexpectedly good at this.”

“It’s my second talent,” He smirked but was already moving, his voice low. “Let’s avoid flight for now and take the river…”

We wasted no time. Under the cover of darkness, we boarded the boat, slipping into our positions.

The Floating Dragon glided across the water, slow but steady. No creaking wood, no splashes—just the faintest ripple disturbing the surface.

No alarms. No pursuit.

Only the quiet, careful rhythm of our grand escape.

075 Black Mask

Gu Jie had always possessed an uncanny talent for gathering information. When one's cultivation revolved around avoiding misfortune, a keen sense of observation became second nature. It was no wonder she excelled at piecing together scattered clues into something more.

Arms crossed, she leaned forward, her voice steady and measured. “The black masks are tied to the undead. Thousands of years ago, a cult arose, devoted to the study of undeath—not merely its practice, but the philosophy behind it.” She paused, sweeping her gaze across us, making sure we followed. “That cult was purged. Or so history claims. Yet lately, there have been whispers of their resurgence. The disturbances in Deepmoor follow their pattern almost exactly.”

I frowned. “You’re saying they’ve returned?”

Gu Jie nodded. “Or perhaps they never truly left.”

That alone was concerning, but her expression told me she had more to say.

“There’s also the matter of a demonic cultivator infiltrating the Abyssal Clans. The rumors say they were behind the deaths of the Black Anvil Sect’s vice sect master and the City Lord’s son.”

Lu Gao stroked his chin. “Some say it was the sect master himself who died. Any truth to that?”

“No way to verify, but someone important certainly perished,” Gu Jie replied. “Regardless, if the Abyssal Clans are involved, then this is far worse than we thought.”

A heavy silence followed.

Then—Hei Mao fell to his knees.

No. He kowtowed.

My breath caught as his forehead pressed against the ground.

“Master,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I beg you… Let us hunt them down.”

Master?

I stared, stunned. Where was the sharp-tongued youth, always ready with a smug remark? The awkward boy who squirmed under too much attention?

Now he knelt, trembling, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

My chest tightened.

Ren Xun hesitantly raised his hand.

I exhaled. “Speak.”

He shifted under my gaze, clearly uneasy, but he forced himself to continue. “You asked me once about the black-masked cultivators.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I did. Get to the point.”

“Uuuh… I might have forgotten to say some things… He straightened, as if bracing for my reaction. “The Abyssal Clans… they once wore black masks as a symbol of their allegiance.”

Everyone tensed. Even Hei Mao, burning with quiet rage, stilled.

Ren Xun continued carefully. “I don’t know anything about worshiping undeath. But I recall reading about the masks. They were once a mark of their affiliation—though not all still follow the tradition.”

Ah. So that was his aim. A subtle attempt at damage control. He feared I’d take this knowledge and declare the entire Deepmoor Continent an enemy.

I wasn’t that reckless. Or that foolish.

Cultivators had a flair for dramatics—declaring blood feuds over spilled tea, waging sect wars over minor slights, swearing vengeance unto the tenth generation.

But that wasn’t me.

I arched an eyebrow. “So you’re telling me the black-masked figures we’re dealing with… might not actually belong to some ancient cult of Undeath?”

Ren Xun nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m saying. Just because they wear black masks doesn’t mean they’re all from the same group. It could be a faction within the Abyssal Clans… or something else entirely.”

Fair enough.

“Noted.” I didn’t press the matter further. “Anything else?”

Ren Xun exhaled, his shoulders loosening slightly. Clearly, he had expected me to start a war over this revelation. “No, that’s the main thing. I just wanted to make sure you had all the facts before making any decisions.”

I glanced at Hei Mao. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, but he held his tongue. The fury from earlier still simmered beneath the surface, though he did a decent job of containing it.

I gave a slight nod, mostly to myself. “Then let’s focus on what we actually know and not jump to conclusions.”

I tapped my fingers against my arm, letting Ren Xun’s words settle before asking, “Alright. Then tell me—how did the Abyssal Clan system even start?”

I had read about the Abyssal Clans. Or at least, what was permitted for outsiders to know. At the very least, they were an established force known across the continents.

Ren Xun took a deep breath, crossing his arms. “You want the short version or the long version, Senior?”

“The important parts. And keep the embellishments to a minimum.”

He smirked. “You wound me.” Then his expression turned serious. “The Grand Ascension Empire didn’t simply rise from nothing. It spread through conquest, and at the heart of it all stood the Grand Emperor himself. The way history tells it, he didn’t just command armies—he personally carved his way across continents, defeating experts one by one. His strength alone was said to be enough to suppress an entire continent with a single hand.”

I raised an eyebrow. That sounded like the usual historical embellishment, but I let him continue.

“At first, the Emperor intended to halt his expansion at six continents. That was his original goal. But then, he encountered a problem… Deepmoor.”

I tilted my head. “What made Deepmoor different?”

Ren Xun’s lips pressed into a thin line. “The cultivators of Deepmoor had powerful backing—the Abyss Clan.”

I frowned. “The Abyss Clan. Not the Abyssal Clans we know today?”

“Correct. They were different back then—more… fanatical. Their entire existence revolved around war. Not just any war, but war without end. They funneled undead from the Evernight Continent, unleashing an endless tide of corpses against the Empire. No matter how many soldiers the Empire sent, the Abyss Clan replenished their forces with the very dead they slew. It was an unrelenting nightmare.”

A chilling tactic. One that made me understand why even an empire as vast as Grand Ascension would hesitate. It reminded me of liches and necromancers back in LLO, but with a twist.

I exhaled. “So how did the Empire stop them?”

Ren Xun exhaled. “At first, they didn’t. The Empire suffered heavy losses, and the Grand Emperor realized that if he kept pushing, he might not win. So instead of throwing his forces into a losing war, he changed tactics—he sought an alliance.”

“With who? Get to the point.”

“The White Clan of the Evernight Continent,” Ren Xun answered. “They were powerful in their own right, but unlike the Abyss Clan, they weren’t obsessed with war. The Grand Emperor forged a marriage alliance with them. With their support, the tide turned. The Abyss Clan was eventually suppressed, and Deepmoor’s cultivators had no choice but to submit. Riverfall Continent followed soon after, becoming the eighth territory under the Empire’s rule.”

I absorbed the information, piecing it together with what I already knew. The Grand Emperor had been powerful enough to subjugate entire continents—yet even he had struggled against Deepmoor’s undead-fueled warfare. It had taken an alliance to end the conflict.

And now, centuries later, rumors of black-masked figures and undead cults were surfacing again.

“Sounds like history’s trying to repeat itself,” Gu Jie muttered.

Ren Xun pressed on, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of history. “After suppressing the Abyss Clan, the Grand Emperor didn’t leave things as they were. He didn’t trust them. Not completely. So he forced a marriage alliance upon them to ensure their cooperation. The Abyss Clan, knowing they had no other choice, agreed—but only on the condition that certain… practices would still be permitted in Deepmoor.”

I frowned. “Practices like what?”

Ren Xun met my gaze. “Necromancy. Blood rituals. Dark arts that would’ve been forbidden in the Empire’s heartlands.”

“And the Emperor allowed that?”

“Not exactly. He imposed strict conditions. The Abyss Clan was forbidden from practicing umbramancy—their most feared legacy—and they were tasked with policing Deepmoor’s cultivators, ensuring their practices remained within ‘acceptable’ limits.” Ren Xun exhaled. “On top of that, the Emperor ordered an annual audit. Imperial officials would arrive each year to ensure they weren’t stepping out of line.”

I could already guess how that went. “And they just accepted that?”

Ren Xun let out a dry chuckle. “Not without fury. To them, umbramancy wasn’t just a technique—it was their very identity. Stripping it away was like gutting their soul. But they played along. On the surface.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re saying they didn’t actually accept it, did they?”

If I had the option to skip the cutscene, I would’ve taken it. But I kept listening.

Ren Xun shook his head. “Of course not. They schemed.”

“Typical,” Lu Gao remarked.

“To outmaneuver the Emperor, the Abyss Clan split itself in two. One branch swore loyalty, rebranding themselves as the Black Clan. They upheld the alliance, followed imperial law, and played the role of obedient subjects.”

His voice darkened.

“The second branch disappeared into the shadows.”

Gu Jie exhaled, already seeing where this was going. "And they became the Shadow Clan."

Ren Xun nodded.

"I’ve come across their name once or twice in my investigations… but never anything conclusive. I’ve never heard of the term ‘Abyss Clan,’ but I knew the Black Clan and the Shadow Clan shared a past."

"Because they erased it," Ren Xun confirmed. "The Black Clan rewrote their records, severing all ties to the Abyss Clan. They even abandoned the black masks. Officially, the Shadow Clan didn’t exist. Unofficially, they continued practicing umbramancy, preserving the Abyss Clan’s true teachings."

Hei Mao’s eyes narrowed. "And the Empire just let that happen?"

"They didn’t know," Ren Xun admitted. "Not at first. By the time suspicion arose, it was too late. The Shadow Clan had already buried themselves too deep, and every attempt to root them out ended in failure. Over the centuries, they faded into myth."

His expression darkened. "But that wasn’t the end of it."

I crossed my arms, waiting.

"With the Emperor’s favor, the Black Clan wasted no time solidifying their position. They used their newfound authority to legalize certain… techniques."

"Techniques banned in the rest of the Empire," I guessed. “That was part of the deal with the emperor, yes?”

Ren Xun inclined his head. "Yes. Exactly. But it wasn’t just for their own benefit. The Black Clan created a system to shield the Shadow Clan from scrutiny—the Abyssal Clan. They structured it from the ground up, drawing in sects, families, and factions from across the continents who practiced taboo arts. Instead of being hunted or exiled, these groups were given a place to exist legally—under the Black Clan’s supervision, of course."

I frowned. "So the Abyssal Clan… isn’t actually a single clan?"

"No. It’s an entire network." Ren Xun’s tone was matter-of-fact. "A collection of disparate groups, bound together by the same need—survival. The Black Clan’s logic was simple: contain them, regulate them, and make them useful. It was a compromise—a way to turn a threat into an asset."

And one that could benefit the Empire in the long run. Better to control something dangerous than to destroy it outright.

I let out a slow breath. "And that actually worked?"

Ren Xun exhaled. "For a time. But secrets never stay buried forever. Eventually, an Imperial Auditor uncovered the truth. The Black Clan’s involvement was exposed, and the Emperor was furious."

I didn’t need to ask what happened next. The answer was obvious.

"He personally punished them, didn’t he?"

Ren Xun lowered his head. "Yes. Half the Black Clan was slaughtered. The Shadow Clan suffered the same fate. But even with such a brutal reckoning, the damage had already been done. The Shadow Clan survived, and the Black Clan remained as Deepmoor’s rulers. Yet since that day, they’ve been bitter rivals, blaming each other for their downfall—never realizing it was the Emperor who orchestrated their division."

I tapped a finger against my arm. "The Black Clan must see the Shadow Clan as traitors who ruined everything."

"And the Shadow Clan sees the Black Clan as the ones who got caught," Ren Xun finished. "Their feud has never ended. Even now, they scheme against one another, fighting for control over Deepmoor." He hesitated. "At least, that’s what I’ve heard. I imagine the Black Clan is still in a far better position than the Shadow Clan…"

I took a deep breath, letting the weight of the story settle in. "So these black-masked people we’ve been wanting… they might be from the Shadow Clan?"

Ren Xun’s expression darkened. "It’s possible," he admitted. "But be careful—don’t mistake the Abyssal Clan for your enemy. It’s just a system, a shelter for many factions. If you want the real culprits, the ones pulling the strings from the dark, then the Shadow Clan is where your investigation should lead."

There was an unspoken plea behind his words. He was warning me—not just about the Shadow Clan, but about the danger of making a reckless move.

I met his gaze and nodded. "I understand."

Then I turned to Hei Mao. "What do you want to do?"

Hei Mao clenched his fists but didn’t hesitate. "I trust Ren Xun."

That was expected. Ever since he received the bracelet with the magatama, he had acknowledged Ren Xun in his own way. I glanced at Ren Xun, who looked somewhat pleased but was clearly trying to maintain a neutral face. Yeah… his affection points were definitely working overtime.

Hei Mao exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I’ll stay calm and follow your lead."

I nodded. "Then it’s decided. Our next destination is the Shadow Clan."

Gu Jie clicked her tongue. "Leaving the city won’t be easy."

Ren Xun crossed his arms. "With the formations reinforced? No chance. I have confidence in Senior’s strength, but if Senior destroys those barriers, we’ll have more trouble than we can bargain for."

He wasn’t wrong. Blasting our way out would put a giant target on our backs—not just from the city guards, but from every major force in Deepmoor. The Black Clan, the Imperial Auditors, the Abyssal Clan—all of them would descend on us in an instant.

But I already had a plan.

I turned to Ren Xun. "How confident are you in sneaking the boat out of the docking area?"

Ren Xun blinked, then grinned. "Compared to breaking through the city’s formations? Infinitely easier." He cracked his knuckles. "Getting the boat out quietly is a much smaller problem than deciphering an entire city’s defenses."

"Good," I said. "Then we’re doing that."

Ren Xun pumped his fist, his grin widening. "If I fail, I’ll spell my name backward from now on."

I stared at him. "That’s some dedication."

He smirked. "It’s called confidence."

I shook my head. "We’ll see."

074 Trapped in the City

Four days. We had been stuck in Iron Kettle for four days.

I was getting sick of it.

We sat at a modest roadside stall—one of those places with creaky wooden tables, chipped bowls, and a vendor who had likely served enough travelers to predict their orders before they even spoke. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling oil, fragrant herbs, and the rich, spiced aroma of slow-braised meat.

My bowl held steaming rice, tender pork belly glazed in a dark, caramelized sauce, and greens stir-fried in garlic and sesame oil. A clay cup of herbal tea sat untouched beside it. I barely needed food, but some xianxia spices weren’t just flavorful—they carried minor effects, sharpening the mind or calming the nerves. A cultivator could live off Qi alone, but I’d take a good meal over silent meditation any day.

It wasn’t like I could interact with Qi the same way a cultivator does.

Across from me, Hei Mao idly poked at his food. His disguise—woven by the Magic Scroll of Disguise I’d given him—remained intact. Back in Lost Legends Online, the scroll had been a gimmick, letting players assume NPC appearances from preset models. Here, the effect lasted indefinitely unless disrupted by physical stimulus of a certain level.

I rested my chopsticks against my bowl. “Lost your appetite?”

Hei Mao exhaled sharply, irritation flashing in his eyes. “How much longer are we staying?”

I felt the same. The city enforcers had been dragging their feet, keeping ‘suspicious’ individuals detained under flimsy pretexts. They were stalling.

Lu Gao set his chopsticks down and leaned forward, voice lowered. “I overheard something last night about the murder.”

I kept eating, but my focus sharpened.

“The victim was the vice sect master of the Black Anvil Sect,” he said. “But there are conflicting accounts. Some claim it was actually the sect master himself, and the truth is being concealed.”

Ren Xun furrowed his brow. “Why cover it up? A sect master dying would be a big deal, but they’d still have to announce it sooner or later.”

Lu Gao shook his head. “It’s not just that.” He glanced around, lowering his voice. “The City Lord’s son was killed that night as well.”

That made the air grow heavier.

Ren Xun clicked his tongue. “No wonder the city’s locked down.”

The Black Anvil Sect was powerful, but it was still just one force among many. A sect master’s death was an event, but not necessarily a disaster for the city. But the City Lord’s son? That was a political nightmare.

Hei Mao’s fists clenched. “And they still haven’t found the murderer?” His voice was low, tight with barely restrained emotion. 

“They say it was a demonic cultivator,” Lu Gao folded his arms. “The body was found completely drained of blood.”

I stopped eating. That sounded an awful lot like a vampire.

The more I traveled, the more I encountered things that shouldn’t exist outside Lost Legends Online. Either LLO had drawn inspiration from this world… or something far stranger was happening.

Hei Mao let out a frustrated sigh, shoving a piece of pork into his mouth. “So we’re stuck here because some freak is running loose?”

I finished my meal and set my bowl aside. “We’re not going to sit around waiting. Ren Xun, come with me.”

Ren Xun blinked. “Where?”

“A bookstore.”

He looked at me like I’d suggested something absurd. “A… bookstore?”

I brushed off my robes and stood. “I need to check something.”

We paid and stepped onto the bustling streets.

As we walked, I turned to Ren Xun. “How does the Empire control the dissemination of knowledge?”

Ren Xun considered the question before replying. “Knowledge is divided into five classes. Class Five is the lowest—meant for outsiders. It includes common knowledge, things a traveler might learn simply by passing through. Most publicly available books fall under this category.”

“That was what I expected. And Class Four?”

“Class Four covers knowledge on cultivation—the first four realms. It includes fundamental techniques, theories, and general information on Qi.” Ren Xun’s tone was even, practiced. “It also includes city-sensitive knowledge—things that might affect security or governance but wouldn’t shake the Empire itself.”

I nodded. That made sense. “Class Three?”

Ren Xun hesitated, just for a moment. “Class Three pertains to the greater world—the balance of power beyond individual cities and regions. It contains knowledge that could influence powerful sects or shift the Empire’s standing.”

I raised a brow. “So if I wanted to know which sects secretly oppose the Empire, that would be Class Three?”

“Exactly,” he said. “Information like that, in the wrong hands, could be dangerous.”

“And Class Two?”

His expression grew serious. “Class Two knowledge is directly tied to the Empire’s fate. Only high-ranking officials, sect leaders, and the imperial court have access to it.”

“And Class One?”

Ren Xun exhaled slowly. “The highest tier. Class One knowledge is enough to stir immortals. It includes secrets of true immortality, the fundamental truths of this world, and matters that could unravel existence itself.”

I took a moment to absorb that. “And you? What do you have access to?”

Ren Xun gave a wry smile. “Class Four. Maybe a few things that brush against Class Three. But if you’re looking for a bookstore…” He gestured at the crowded street. “You’ll only find Class Five knowledge.”

Basic history, travel guides, useless trivia. Not what I needed.

I sighed. “Figures.”

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to look.

The bookstore was nestled between two larger buildings, its wooden sign worn but still legible. Ironmoor’s Grand Repository. A grand name, though I doubted it lived up to it.

The moment we stepped inside, the scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with scrolls and bound books—some stacked haphazardly, others arranged with care. The lighting was dim, the only illumination coming from flickering lanterns set along the wooden beams. A few customers browsed in silence, the occasional rustling of pages and murmurs of interest breaking the stillness.

I ran a hand along the spines of the books before picking one at random. A guide to Ironmoor’s flora—complete with neatly drawn illustrations of herbs and medicinal plants. It might prove useful. I tucked it under my arm and moved to another shelf.

The selection was varied—regional histories, travelogues from wandering cultivators, basic Martial-Tempering manuals. Nothing groundbreaking, but I hadn’t expected anything more. According to Ren Xun, this shop only carried Class Five knowledge—the most basic, publicly available information.

Still, I didn’t mind. The books Gu Jie and Old Song had procured for me held more insightful knowledge about the world and the Empire, but it wouldn’t hurt to supplement that. I pulled another book from the shelf, this one detailing the legends of Deepmoor Continent. A glance at the preface told me it was half speculation, half folktale. But even legends held a kernel of truth.

I was about to check out when movement outside the store caught my eye.

Through the window, a line of shackled people was being marched down the street. A burly man led them, prodding them forward like cattle. Chains clinked with each step, rattling against the stone.

Slaves.

I frowned, fingers tightening around the book in my hands.

Among the pile of books I had gathered, one mentioned the Empire’s slavery system. I flipped through its pages, scanning for relevant passages, but I still turned to Ren Xun for confirmation.

“What’s the Empire’s stance on slavery?”

Ren Xun glanced at the scene outside and let out a quiet sigh. “Slavery is only permitted here, in the Deepmoor Continent,” he said. “The rest of the Empire abolished it long ago. The people you see there—” he gestured toward the chained procession, “—are likely criminals deemed unredeemable.”

I closed the book and studied the captives more closely. Some wore hardened expressions, their gazes sharp with defiance. Others were hollow-eyed, already resigned to their fate.

“And what makes someone ‘unredeemable’?” I asked, not bothering to hide my skepticism.

Ren Xun hesitated. “…That depends.”

I gave him a sidelong glance, but he offered nothing more.

A scream split through the marketplace.

Not just a cry—this was raw, desperate. One of the slaves was thrashing against his chains, his voice hoarse yet unyielding.

“This is wrong! Slavery is wrong! I didn’t do anything!” His wrists strained against iron bindings as he struggled. “I have a family! They’ll starve without me! Please! Someone—someone help!”

The slaver leading the group shoved him forward, nearly making him stumble. “Keep moving.”

“I’m not a murderer! I didn’t kill anyone! Please, believe me!” The man’s sobs were ragged, his body trembling as he fought against his fate. “I swear! I swear on my ancestors—!”

I reached out with my Divine Sense.

He was lying.

I exhaled quietly and watched as they dragged him away, his screams fading into hoarse sobs. No one paid him any mind. Merchants barely looked up from their stalls. A few passersby whispered, but there was no outrage. No sympathy. Just another day in Ironmoor.

Still, I took no joy in watching.

A light thump on my shoulder pulled me from my thoughts.

“You alright?” Ren Xun asked. His tone was casual, but there was something else in his gaze—concern, maybe.

I studied him for a moment.

I considered asking how confident he was in their judicial system. Whether he truly believed every slave was guilty beyond doubt, their fate justified.

But I let the thought pass.

Instead, I turned back toward the bookstore and stepped inside. “Come on,” I said. “We still need to buy these books.”

Back at Iron Kettle, we gathered the others and made our way toward the meeting spot.

Word was Gu Jie and Dave were finally being released today.

Summon: Holy Spirit didn’t have a time limit, so Dave still persisting wasn’t strange. It was one of those mechanics where summons could stick around indefinitely unless dismissed or destroyed. Still, the thought of him standing around in full plate armor for days amused me.

I connected to Gu Jie via Voice Chat. “Think they’ll actually let you go today?”

“Mn. Affirmative,” she replied between bites. “They already told us we’re free to leave.”

That made things easier.

…Huh. How did I know she was eating? Voice Chat didn’t transmit things like that. Maybe there was a way to improve it…

Five minutes later, we arrived at the meeting spot—a small food stall at the street corner.

Gu Jie was casually munching on sweets, her fingers lightly dusted with sugar. Beside her, Dave stood in his full knightly getup, posture as rigid as ever.

I waved them over.

Gu Jie set her sweets aside and rose to her feet, offering a martial artist’s bow.

Dave thumped his chest in salute.

I nodded in acknowledgment. “Let’s talk elsewhere.”

We found a quiet park with only a few visitors strolling about. A decent enough place to speak without prying ears. There was a wooden bench near a stone lantern, so I sat down, still carrying Ren Jingyi’s bowl. The others took their places—some standing, some leaning against trees.

Dave remained beside me like a statue. The rest of the group naturally formed a loose circle.

Gu Jie’s gaze lingered on Hei Mao for a beat too long, her expression unreadable.

Hei Mao shifted awkwardly. “It’s, uh, a disguise,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “From a Magic Scroll… that he gave me.” He gestured vaguely in my direction.

Gu Jie hummed, her eyes flicking from his too-pretty face to his unnaturally vibrant red hair. “I see.”

She turned back to me. “We probably won’t be able to leave anytime soon,” she said, dusting off her hands. “I overheard some guards talking. They’re reinforcing the perimeter.”

Ren Xun frowned. “I can read the formations from here,” he murmured, tilting his head slightly as his gaze swept the air. “And that says a lot about how strong their defenses are.”

Hei Mao crossed his arms. “What are they defending against?”

Lu Gao clicked his tongue. “Probably the rumors,” he said. “You know—the Demonic cultivator and the Buddhist freak stirring up trouble.”

Dave offered a different perspective. “Or,” he said, voice calm but firm, “the formations aren’t to keep something out. They’re to trap something inside.”

Silence settled over us.

Even now, they still hadn’t found the murderer.

Gu Jie faked a cough into her fist, then straightened, shifting into a more formal stance. “I have my report.”

I nodded for her to proceed.

She raised a finger. “First, I successfully procured vegetables for the fish.”

Internally, I winced. Over the past three days, I’d bought enough fish food to feed an entire school of Ren Jingyis. At this rate, she probably thought she was living in a luxury buffet.

Gu Jie, oblivious to my mild suffering, continued. “Second, I investigated the black-masked people.”

At that, my attention sharpened.

Not just mine. Hei Mao, who had been leaning casually against a tree—well, as casually as he ever got—immediately stiffened. His whole demeanor shifted. Eyes narrowing, hands curling into fists.

If he were still a ghost, I had no doubt the miasma rolling off him would’ve sent half the city guards running.

Instead, what I felt was something colder.

Bloodlust.

Raw. Seething. Ice-cold.

The others couldn’t sense it, but I could. It pulsed through the bond we shared—the link between a Paladin and his Holy Spirit.

I clenched my jaw slightly. This wasn’t just a matter of curiosity for him.

This was personal.

I met Gu Jie’s gaze. “So, what can you tell me about them?”

073 Sidequest? Nah…

On the Floating Dragon, I sat cross-legged in my usual corner, idly swirling the water in Ren Jingyi’s fishbowl. The ripples distorted her golden scales, making her look almost otherworldly. I had been waiting, watching. Something told me she was close.

Then, in an instant, it happened.

A surge of Qi pulsed from the bowl, subtle yet undeniable.

“Holy shit,” I nearly dropped it. "By the heavens!"

Ren Xun, lounging nearby, bolted upright. "What shit is holy?! What in the name of the ancestors—" His eyes narrowed as he saw me clutching the fishbowl as if it were a priceless treasure.

I barely registered him, my entire focus on the trembling water. "She broke through," I muttered, half in awe, half in disbelief.

Ren Xun blinked. "Who did?"

"The fish," I said.

Silence.

"The fish?" His voice turned flat.

"The fish," I confirmed. "She stepped into the First Star of the Martial Tempering Realm."

Ren Xun stared at me as if I had just told him the heavens had collapsed. Then, slowly, he leaned in, scrutinizing the fishbowl as though expecting some trickery. The Qi was real—tiny, flickering ripples in the water, like embers dancing in the wind. Ren Jingyi herself floated in place, golden scales gleaming with an intensity they had never possessed before.

Across the boat, Lu Gao muttered, "The fish broke through? But… it’s only been a few weeks."

Yes, Lu Gao. I understood you completely. The young man had spent years trapped in his crippled state, his meridians shattered beyond repair, unable to cultivate a single step forward. And yet, here was my pet—my damn goldfish—defying the heavens as though fate had never bound her in the first place.

Ren Xun exhaled through his nose, rubbing his temples as if warding off a headache. “Senior… you mean to tell me that while cultivators suffer through life-and-death trials, endure years of arduous training, and wager their very souls against tribulations, your fish—a domesticated, insignificant fish—ascended in a matter of weeks?”

"Well, when you put it like that—"

"That’s because it is like that!" He groaned. "What next? Will it sprout legs and challenge me to a duel?"

Ren Jingyi, oblivious to the existential crisis she had just inflicted on a her fellow cultivators, swam in slow, lazy circles.

Lu Gao sighed, shaking his head. "Maybe I should’ve been born a fish."

Ren Xun muttered something about needing a drink.

I simply leaned back, watching Ren Jingyi with newfound curiosity.

“I got an awesome fish, huh? Lucky me.”

The Floating Dragon idled over the mooring area, a vast stretch of hardened dirt where boat artifacts of all sizes were docked. Grand vessels lined with intricate formations pulsed with light, while humbler crafts, like our own, blended into the crowd. The towering walls of Ironmoor loomed in the distance, with attendants and guards ensuring order among the arrivals.

I stepped onto the dirt pier, rolling my shoulders. The ground was firm beneath my feet, marked by the faint traces of past landings. The air carried the scent of dust, lingering spirit energy, and the faint metallic tang of the city beyond.

Hei Mao stood beside me, gazing at the sprawling cityscape ahead.

After a long pause, he muttered, “Was cultivation truly meant to be this difficult?”

Ren Xun scoffed, adjusting his robes as he stepped off the boat. “Young Master, please,” he drawled with a dramatic sigh. “While some humans may claw their way to the First Realm in mere weeks, for a beast—no, a fish—to achieve such a feat simply by existing? Preposterous.”

Hei Mao blinked.

I blinked.

Lu Gao turned to stare at Ren Xun.

“…Young Master?” Hei Mao echoed, his tone laced with confusion.

Ren Xun merely shrugged. Given how the city guards had treated Hei Mao earlier—with hesitant deference and carefully measured respect—it wasn’t hard to see why Ren Xun had chosen to follow suit. His attitude shifted like the wind when it suited him.

That was when a truly terrible idea took root in my mind.

I could’ve ignored it. Let it slip away into the void of what-ifs and missed opportunities.

But I didn’t.

I let the intrusive thoughts win.

“For the next five minutes,” I declared, grinning, “Hei Mao, you’re going to speak like a Young Master.”

Hei Mao frowned. “And how exactly am I supposed to—”

Ah. He needed a reference.

I turned to Lu Gao. He stiffened as if I’d just pointed a blade at his throat.

“Lu Gao, teach him.”

“…What?”

“You heard me. Make him sound like a proper Young Master.”

Lu Gao’s expression flickered between confusion and reluctant horror before he finally sighed and beckoned Hei Mao closer. The two huddled together like scheming conspirators, Lu Gao whispering with exaggerated flourishes while Hei Mao listened with unnerving seriousness.

Ren Xun, watching this spectacle unfold, turned to me with open skepticism. “Is this truly wise?”

“We’re not impersonating nobility,” I reasoned.

Ren Xun exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “He might do it too well.”

I sighed. “You’re being way too obvious.”

Ren Xun sighed back—dramatically, of course—arms crossed as he tapped his sleeve in mock impatience. “What’s taking Gu Jie so long?”

I was about to use Voice Chat when movement caught my attention. One of the Ironmoor Guards—the same who had inspected our boat earlier—was approaching.

Lu Gao and Hei Mao immediately broke from their whispered plotting.

Then something subtle but undeniable shifted in Hei Mao.

His posture straightened, his gaze grew half-lidded with quiet arrogance. Not an overt display, but the kind that suggested he expected the world to bend around him.

That was… fast.

Either Lu Gao was a phenomenal teacher, or Hei Mao was a terrifyingly good student.

The guard stopped before us, his expression carefully neutral, but his stance betrayed tension. “There has been a murder inside Ironmoor,” he announced. “For the time being, the mooring grounds will be restricted under law enforcement jurisdiction.”

That explained the silent increase in guards, their presence thickening like a storm on the horizon.

The guard turned his attention to Hei Mao, inclining his head in a shallow bow. “Young Master, if you and your entourage intend to stay in the city, I advise you to enter now.” He hesitated, then added in a lower voice, “Or, should you prefer to avoid… complications, you may wish to depart while the path is still open.”

…This guard was doing us a favor.

I felt my pulse quicken. If law enforcement held this area too long, someone might start inspecting identities a little too closely. The last thing we needed was to be mistaken for Black Clan impostors.

I activated Voice Chat, directing my thoughts to Hei Mao.

“Ask about our companions. Use the tone of a Young Master.”

Hei Mao didn’t falter. Chin lifted slightly, he exuded the quiet arrogance of someone accustomed to having answers delivered to him. “And what of my companions within the city?” His voice was the perfect blend of measured impatience and effortless authority.

The guard hesitated a fraction too long before replying, “They are being held for questioning. For now, the city is under lockdown—no one enters, and no one leaves.”

I immediately switched my Voice Chat to Gu Jie.

“What the hell is happening in there?”

Her response was crisp. “We’re being detained. A murder took place, and the city won’t reopen until the killer is found. There’s Martial Law… They are not engaging in any extrajudicial killing or questionable activities, so it should be fine to give them what they wanted.”

…That was inconvenient.

The guard, oblivious to my silent exchange, continued, “You have two choices, Young Master. Abandon them and proceed as you wish, or remain outside until the investigation concludes.”

Like hell I was leaving my people behind.

I activated Voice Chat again for Hei Mao.

“Tell him we have nothing to hide and will enter the city.”

Hei Mao nodded, then let out a soft scoff. “We have nothing to conceal. We will enter.”

The guard studied him for a long moment, then withdrew a fresh permit and presented it with a slight bow. “Very well. Take this. It will grant you passage through the gates.”

With that, he turned and slipped into the crowd of enforcers, vanishing into the shifting tide of armor and robes.

I let out a slow breath. That had gone smoother than expected.

Ren Xun hesitated, his tone unusually polite. “Senior… is this wise?” Always the voice of reason. Just for that alone, I was glad I brought him with me.

I glanced at him. Still, it was brave of him to question me openly. A few weeks ago, he would have swallowed his concerns and followed without complaint. He was beginning to understand my temperament—or at least, he thought he was. 

I met his gaze. “Together, we are strongest. And my strength is the only certainty we have.”

Ren Xun exhaled through his nose but didn’t argue.

I lifted the fishbowl and held it out to him. “You’re on goldfish duty.”

He blinked. Then, with visible reluctance, he accepted it. His grip was careful, his expression one of resigned disbelief. “Of course, Senior.”

With that settled, I turned toward the towering Ironmoor Gates. The flow of people had thickened, law enforcers moving in controlled formations, their gazes sharp and searching. A tension hung in the air—an unspoken fear, the weight of a predator lurking unseen.

I squared my shoulders and stepped forward. “Let’s go.”

Hei Mao handed the permit to Lu Gao with a slight nod. Without hesitation, Lu Gao stepped forward, exuding an air of absolute authority.

“Young Master and his esteemed entourage have been granted passage into Ironmoor,” he declared, his voice smooth and commanding. “This is our permit. Do be quick about it.”

I raised a brow. Overbearing yet refined, arrogant yet articulate—he played the role of a high-ranking attendant flawlessly. I mentally shot him a thumbs-up. Not that he could see it.

The guard barely spared us a glance before waving us through.

Inside the city, I activated Voice Chat and contacted Gu Jie.

“Where are you?”

“Some kind of outbuilding. City enforcers are questioning us. Dave’s in the next cell over.”

Not great, but it could’ve been worse.

“What’s your read on the situation? I can swap places with Dave if things go south.”

“We’re being treated decently. No need for violence. I’d say we’ll be out in a day or so.”

I cut the connection and switched to Dave. If Gu Jie was downplaying the situation, I needed a second opinion. My Divine Sense’s lie detection didn’t work at this range, so cross-checking was the next best thing.

“Same questions I gave Gu Jie. Where are you? How’s their hospitality?”

Dave’s response mirrored Gu Jie’s.

Good. She wasn’t sugarcoating things.

Now we needed disguises.

I led the party into a narrow alley, the kind that smelled faintly of damp stone and questionable liquid spills. Without a word, I reached into my Item Box and pulled out a set of robes—plain, worn, and far less ostentatious than what we currently wore. Given that we had already passed Hei Mao off as a Black Clan cultivator, the next best thing was posing as merchants.

I handed Hei Mao a Magic Scroll of Disguise. “Make yourself older. Change your features, change your hair color. Blend in. Gu Jie taught you how to use one, right?”

“Y-yes, I can handle this!” Hei Mao took the scroll and activated it while the rest of us swapped outfits.

Lu Gao pulled out a small knife and, without hesitation, sawed off part of his hair, letting the uneven strands scatter onto the stone. Ren Xun, on the other hand, went straight for the dirt, smearing it across his robes before running a greasy hand through his hair.

I frowned. “We’re pretending to be merchants, not beggars.”

Ren Xun didn’t even glance up. “We shouldn’t look too rich. That’ll just invite scrutiny.”

Lu Gao scoffed. “And looking like street trash won’t? No one trusts a destitute merchant.”

I let them bicker and turned to Hei Mao, who had just finished his disguise.

Then I stared.

His hair was now a deep crimson, long and flowing like a war hero from an ancient epic. His features were too sharp, too sculpted—like an artist had painstakingly carved him from divine jade. And his physique—his absurdly muscular physique—strained against his sleeves as if he had been training exclusively in boulder-crushing techniques.

Hei Mao hesitated under my scrutiny. “Uh—” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I read an old novel about a martial artist with red hair. Thought I’d, y’know… try it.”

I exhaled slowly. Right. Hei Mao was still a kid at heart.

I turned to assess my team—one dirt-smeared monk, one overly polished young master, and one unnecessarily shredded redhead. Oh, and a goldfish in her bowl.

A simple side quest for fish food had somehow spiraled into this.

I sighed. “Let’s just get this over with.”

072 Signs of Trouble

Ironmoor City loomed before them, its towering black iron walls exuding an oppressive weight. Within, the streets bustled with merchants, artisans, and wandering cultivators. The air carried the thick scent of molten metal, punctuated by the rhythmic clang of forges.

Gu Jie led the way, her steps steady and unhurried. Dave followed closely behind, clad in full armor—helm to greaves, polished to a mirror sheen. He was here as a bodyguard, and his mere presence should be enough to dissuade unwanted attention. Unlike his lord, he was a Holy Spirit. That alone would make most think twice before provoking him.

Or, as his lord had put it, his aura was brimming with Buddhist principles—or something along those lines.

As they moved through the crowd, a voice echoed in his mind.

"How fares Ironmoor City?"

Dave blinked behind his visor.

"Oh, good, the Voice Chat works at long distances. I’ll need to test its full range later... But that’s not the point. Can you hear me, Dave?"

Dave responded at once.

"Yes, My Lord."

Gu Jie gave him a sidelong glance. “What is it?”

His lord’s voice returned.

"A reminder—cause no trouble. If you witness anything that violates our oath, report to me at once."

Dave gave a slight nod. “Yes, My Lord.”

Turning to Gu Jie, he relayed the message.

She smirked, tucking the permit into her sleeve. “Understood.”

Ironmoor City was a city of iron and stone, where the strong dictated the law. Black-robed cultivators patrolled the towers lining the inner walls, their swords gleaming under the pale sun. The streets were paved with dark iron slabs that clanked underfoot, and the forges roared ceaselessly, sending plumes of thick smoke into the sky.

Unlike Yellow Dragon City, which carried the air of sectarian refinement, Ironmoor City was a war camp in all but name. Even the common folk walked with wary steps, their gazes sharp, ever mindful of those who carried weapons.

Dave remained silent as he followed Gu Jie. He had seen many cities like this—places where power dictated survival. Nothing here was unfamiliar to him.

After some time, Gu Jie finally spoke. “Senior, I’d like your counsel.”

Dave turned his helmeted head slightly toward her. “I defer to your judgment.”

She arched a brow. “Come now, humor me.”

He considered her request before answering. “If it were me, I’d linger in taverns and listen. Drunken men speak freely. If something truly dangerous was afoot—beyond my means to handle—I’d leave the city and seek safer ground.”

Gu Jie chuckled. “That was my plan from the start.”

She glanced ahead, her voice quieting. “Master Da Wei… he is family to me.”

Dave said nothing, merely listening.

Gu Jie continued, her voice softer but firm. “Master is invincible, but I am merely a weak woman. Even so, I wish to aid him. To protect him. To safeguard him. The heart, after all... is a fragile thing.”

She halted and turned to face him fully. “Even the Heavenly Demon, thought to be undying, perished despite his rumored immortality arts. What of Master? He may be stronger, but strength alone does not shield one from folly. What does that tell us of his past? Uuuh… Apologies, Senior… I was lost in my thoughts…” 

Dave regarded her through the narrow slit of his helmet. After a pause, he said, “His Lordship is not the Heavenly Demon.” 

Gu Jie nodded. “I know.” 

“But,” Dave continued, “I agree with your views. Even if our strength is meager, we must protect His Lordship.”

It was both truth and a challenge. A reminder.

Dave was not blind. He knew Gu Jie cared for their master. But caring and committing were not the same. Was she willing to stand as a shield? To accept what came with devotion?

For all her bravado, had she truly resolved herself?

Gu Jie tilted her head slightly. "Senior," she began, shifting from the solemnity of the previous topic, "why do you always call Master ‘His Lordship’? Are you a noble? Is he a noble? That would explain his mischief, his eccentricities… perhaps even his upbringing."

Dave frowned beneath his helmet. The question caught him off guard. "A noble?" He considered the word. "Not in the way you mean. But I do not disagree with your assessment."

Gu Jie raised an eyebrow. "Then what do you mean?"

Dave was silent for a moment, choosing his words with care. "His Lordship is noble, yes. But more than that… He is my Faith." His voice carried an unshakable conviction. "He is the closest thing I will ever have to a God in a godless world."

Gu Jie blinked at him, digesting his words. "That's… a lot to place on one person."

Dave exhaled, the motion barely noticeable beneath his heavy armor. "Perhaps." His thoughts drifted to the past. The Lost Gods. The irony of that title had never escaped him.

At times, he wondered—was the Voice that guided all immortal champions truly a singular entity? Were their whispers from one unseen, unknowable being… or merely echoes of many?

Gu Jie did not press further. Instead, she lifted a hand and pointed ahead. “There.”

Dave followed her gaze to a sturdy, two-story building reinforced with iron-plated walls. A large wooden sign hung above the entrance—Iron Kettle. The scent of roasted meat and spiced ale drifted from within, mingling with the ever-present tang of metal that permeated Ironmoor City.

"A tavern?" Dave asked.

Gu Jie nodded. "Seems like there's an inn attached, too. If luck favors us, we can handle both matters at once—gathering information and securing a place to stay."

Dave studied the building a moment longer before nodding. "Then let’s proceed."

Without another word, they stepped inside.

The tavern was alive with sound—gruff laughter, murmured conversations, the occasional sharp bark of a merchant haggling over prices. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling meat and frothy ale, undercut by the omnipresent iron tang that clung to everything in this city.

Gu Jie moved through the crowd with ease, weaving between tables like she had walked such streets all her life. Dave followed. His full armor turned more than a few heads, but no one dared approach. There was an unspoken rule in places like this—if someone looked like trouble, you left them alone unless you were prepared to deal with the consequences.

Reaching the counter, Gu Jie slid a few coins to the barkeep—a burly man with a thick scar running from brow to chin.

“Two mugs of ale.”

The barkeep grunted, pouring two foaming mugs from a massive keg before pushing them across the counter. “Enjoy.”

Gu Jie nudged one toward Dave. “Here.”

He hesitated, staring at the wooden mug for a long moment before finally picking it up. The scent of barley and hops hit him first, followed by the bitter tang of strong brew.

He took a sip—

—and nostalgia struck like a hammer to the chest.

He stilled.

The tavern was one thing.

But The Tavern…

For the first time in a long while, Dave felt something close to longing. The warmth of a hearth, the boisterous camaraderie of warriors sharing tales of battle, the unshakable sense of belonging.

He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss home.

“Something wrong?” Gu Jie asked, noticing his pause.

Dave set the mug down and shook his head. “No… just memories.”

Gu Jie took a sip from her own mug, humming in thought. “Funny. I didn’t think spirits had nostalgia.”

“Even spirits remember where they came from,” Dave murmured.

Around them, conversation ebbed and flowed, whispers carrying through the smoky air.

"Did you hear? The Black Anvil Sect is doubling their security. Something about a thief."

"That demonic cultivator they're talking about—some say she’s not alone. That Buddhist freak might be working with her."

"Abyssal Clan ships were seen docked near the southern piers. Think they’re here for business or trouble?"

"I tell ya, those black-masked bastards give me the creeps. Walkin' around like ghosts, never speaking unless they have to."

Dave stilled.

Black-masked bastards?

His senses sharpened as he sifted through the noise. Across from him, Gu Jie did the same, fingers lightly tapping her mug as she absorbed the scattered rumors.

Eventually, she smirked. “Well, looks like we came to the right place.”

Dave gave a slight nod, lifting his mug again.

Gu Jie leaned in slightly, her voice lowering. “I’ll be back. Gonna scurry around and interact with the local rats.”

Dave raised a brow beneath his helmet. “And your safety?”

Gu Jie smirked. “I can handle myself just fine. And if things go south, I’ll make a run for it. I still have a magic scroll.”

Dave studied her for a moment, then sighed. Lifting a hand, he let a soft light radiate from his fingertips. A faint shimmer settled over Gu Jie before vanishing a second later.

She blinked. “A Blessing?”

“A little insurance.”

Gu Jie grinned, patting her chest. “Appreciate it.” Then, without hesitation, she grabbed her mug and downed the rest in one go, slamming it onto the table with a satisfied sigh.

And just like that, she was gone—disappearing into the back of the tavern.

Dave leaned back in his seat, exhaling slowly. His gaze swept the room, watching, listening. For now, he would wait.

Then, he heard it.

“…slave market opening tonight. Got a few rare breeds, even one with a bloodline.”

Dave’s fingers clenched around his mug.

His presence dimmed. His heartbeat slowed.

And then, through the tether of Voice Chat, he reached out.

“My Lord, I have news.”

A beat of silence. Then—“What is it?”

“There is a slave market opening tonight.”

His Lordship exhaled on the other end. The voice that returned was even, but beneath it lay the weight of restraint.

“We can’t do anything about them. They’re enforced by the estate.”

Dave lowered his head slightly. The ale in his mouth turned bitter—not from the brew, but from the truth of those words.

Back home, this wasn’t the first time Dave had encountered something like this.

There were always things beyond His Lordship’s reach, beyond his own. No matter how much strength His Lordship gained, some things were tangled in the very roots of the world itself.

Dave and His Lordship were merely visitors in this land. Outsiders.

And yet…

Dave pressed a silent prayer in his heart—selfish in its nature.

Let us not cross paths with this slave trade.

Because if they did—if His Lordship saw it firsthand—

No. He knew what would happen.

For all his eccentricities, for all his detached sensibilities, His Lordship was a kind soul. A soul that neither sought insult nor demanded respect.

But when it came to cruelty?

His Lordship had never been one to turn a blind eye.

And Dave knew, with unsettling certainty, that if something unsightly were to unfold before them, His Lordship would not hesitate to act.

And then there would be war.

In this strange world, where they were outnumbered beyond measure, Dave understood what that meant. If it came to the worst-case scenario—it would be them against the world.

A shift in the air pulled him from his thoughts.

He turned his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. Gu Jie weaved through the crowd, her expression sharp and set. She reached their table, barely sparing a glance at the half-finished mugs before speaking.

“Let’s go.”

Dave blinked. “What’s the plan?”

“We are leaving. I got what we came for.” Gu Jie patted her storage ring—a recent gift from Jiang Zhen. “Bought all kinds of greens the fish might like. Finished my own investigations, too.”

Dave didn’t question it. If there was one thing he had learned from this group, it was that priorities could be odd. He stood, following her as she briskly exited the Iron Kettle.

Something was off.

Dave quickened his pace to match hers. “What’s wrong?”

Gu Jie exhaled sharply. “I overheard something.”

Dave remained silent, letting her continue.

“There are confirmed reports of demonic cultivators infiltrating the Abyssal Clans.” Her voice was low, cautious. “If that’s true, we’re better off leaving. Now.”

Dave frowned. “Are the Abyssal Clans so different from the major clans? I thought they didn’t get along with demonic cultivators?”

“They don’t.” Gu Jie’s eyes flicked around as they walked, her tone steady. “The Abyssal Clans may practice what others find grotesque—grave-robbing, soul studies, necromancy—but they still follow strict laws. The Empire permits their dark arts, but only within certain limits.”

“And the Black Clan enforces those limits.”

Gu Jie nodded. “Exactly. If demonic cultivators have slipped through the cracks, it means things are about to get very messy. If the Black Clan gets involved, it won’t be a fight we want to be caught in.”

Dave’s gaze swept the street. No immediate sign of trouble, yet the weight of tension pressed against his instincts.

He exhaled, adjusting his gauntlets. “Understood. Let’s get out of here.”

Without another word, they moved—quick, but controlled. Two figures slipping through the streets of Ironmoor City, leaving its dangers behind.

Or so that would have been the case…

The usual city murmur carried a tension beneath it—an unease that had not been there before. The way merchants packed their stalls earlier than usual, the way cultivators cast furtive glances toward the sky, and most tellingly, the increased presence of uniformed guards patrolling the streets.

Dave had seen this kind of shift before.

Something had happened.

By the time they neared the city gates, the problem became clear.

A line had formed. Not the usual slow trickle of people leaving a city, but something far more unnatural. Travelers stood in clusters, whispering in hushed tones. Some fidgeted with nervous energy, while others—especially those in robes of authority—looked frustrated at the delay.

At the front, armed guards blocked the gates, their spears crossed.

A large notice had been nailed to the iron-plated walls beside them.

[By Order of the City Lord – MARTIAL LAW IS IN EFFECT. No One May Leave Until Further Notice.]

Gu Jie stopped just short of the line. Dave did the same, his stance shifting slightly.

Troublesome.

Gu Jie clicked her tongue, folding her arms. "Just our luck."

Dave’s gaze moved to the guards. They were disciplined, standing rigid and unwavering. These weren’t common city enforcers—they had the air of trained cultivators. Black iron armor reinforced their bodies, and their weapons were lined with inscriptions. Wards, perhaps. Defensive measures.

"Trouble?" Dave murmured.

“Big trouble, if they've shut down a trade city like this.” Gu Jie tilted her head. "I got nothing from my Sixth Sense though… but we’d definitely be in trouble and mired with weeks’ worth of misfortune if we don’t cooperate."

Martial law wasn’t something imposed lightly. Not in a place like Ironmoor, where wealth flowed in and out like a tide. For the city lord to issue such an order…

Something had forced his hand.

Demonic cultivators? The Abyssal Clans? The Black Anvil Sect?

Too many variables.

A cloaked traveler ahead of them in line turned to grumble to his companion.

"Damned city lord must've lost his mind. This'll ruin businesses!"

"Shh!" His friend hushed him. "Didn’t you hear? The city lord’s son was attacked. Poisoned, they say. Barely survived. Lots of important people dying recently…"

Dave and Gu Jie exchanged glances.

Poison?

It didn’t fit with the earlier whispers about demonic cultivators. Assassination through poison was an entirely different method—one that belonged to a different kind of enemy.

Gu Jie lowered her voice. "Well, this complicates things."

"Agreed," Dave said. He glanced back at the crowded city behind them. "Do we turn back?"

Gu Jie tapped her chin, considering. Then, with a small, sly smirk, she shook her head. "No. We get out. One way or another."

Dave had a feeling she was going to say that.

After all, Gu Jie still had a Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation. However, Dave was unsure how the scroll would interact with the spell formation surrounding the city. Though he couldn’t perceive it as well as His Lordship, he knew they existed, wrapping around Ironmoor.

However, before he could even dissuade Gu Jie, she tensed and started retching…

Gu Jie had been composed and calculating—her usual self. But then, something changed. Her smirk faded, her fingers tensed ever so slightly within her sleeves. She composed herself with a little effort, but it was unmistakable... She was still shaken...

Dave had fought alongside enough warriors to recognize when someone had sensed a threat before it arrived. It was like watching a veteran swordsman pause mid-step, just as an unseen blade whistled toward their back.

His grip on his gauntlets tightened. What did she feel?

Her voice was quieter this time. “No… we can’t just leave.”

Dave tilted his head slightly. "Changed your mind?"

Gu Jie’s shoulders squared, her fingers curling deeper into her sleeves. “Something’s wrong. If we leave now, it won’t just be trouble—it’ll be disaster. For us. For this city.”

Dave studied her. Gu Jie was many things—sharp-tongued, pragmatic, fearless. But she wasn’t one to imagine danger where there was none.

Was this intuition? Or something more?

Then—

A ripple of pressure.

The weight in the air shifted, growing dense. The murmuring crowd fell silent.

Dave’s attention snapped to the figure striding forward. Heavy boots against iron-plated ground. A measured, deliberate step. The kind of authority that did not need to be announced.

Black robes. Cultivator’s uniform. And emblazoned upon his chest—

黑—"Black."

Dave's mind turned cold. A Black Clan cultivator.

The man’s gaze swept over the gathered travelers, his presence pressing down like an iron hand. When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, unyielding.

"You will all remain here."

Tension rippled through the crowd. Some bristled, others averted their gazes. No one dared object.

"The Black Clan is conducting an investigation into a matter of national security. We will be gathering everyone in this square for questioning."

Dave exchanged a glance with Gu Jie. She was completely still, her expression unreadable.

The cultivator continued. "Your cooperation is expected. For your time, you will be compensated."

Dave's thoughts moved swiftly. Compensation. That meant this would take time. National security. That meant they weren’t after just a petty criminal.

His gaze flickered to Gu Jie.

She wasn’t trembling. She wasn’t afraid. But there was something in her eyes—a rare thing. Annoyance.

Where did the cool, composed Gu Jie go?

Dave watched as she exhaled, rolling her shoulders as if physically shaking off whatever had unsettled her. Then, just as quickly, she smoothed her expression back into something resembling her usual confidence—except for the slight twitch in her brow.

A tell.

Gu Jie sighed. "It should be fine if we follow his words." She rubbed her temple, her tone carrying an odd mix of resignation and irritation. "In fact, I’d say it’s the least misfortune if we do. Senior, I still don’t understand my ability that well. But I believe it’s better this way."

Thus, the two decided to stay and cooperate.

071 Ironmoor City

The Floating Dragon hovered above the treetops, circling the outskirts of the city like a hawk sizing up its prey. From my vantage point on the deck, I got my first look at Ironmoor City. The name fit. The entire place looked like it had been hammered out of the earth itself—tall, grim stone walls reinforced with streaks of dark iron, squat buildings packed tightly together, and a web of narrow streets winding between them like cracks in a boulder. Smoke curled from dozens of chimneys, blending into the grayish haze that hung over the city. Even in the early morning, the streets bustled with movement.

Ren Xun stood near the control panel, eyes sharp as he scanned the horizon.

"Ironmoor City," he announced, hands resting on the wheel. "Originally a mining settlement, but it grew into a trade hub thanks to the iron veins running deep beneath it. The city’s got a reputation for being rough, but it's orderly enough. The local sect keeps a tight grip on things—Black Anvil Sect, known for their craftsmanship and, well, their tempers. They control the forges and set the prices on iron and steel. You want quality weapons, you go to Ironmoor."

He adjusted the ship's altitude, lowering us slightly. "The market district is right near the main gate, easy to spot from up here. Beyond that, you’ve got the Black Anvil Sect’s compound taking up a huge chunk of the city’s western quarter. There’s also an arena in the center—fighters from all over come here to test their skills, settle disputes, or just put on a show."

I leaned over the railing, watching the streets below. "Sounds lively."

Ren Xun snorted. "Lively is one word for it. Dangerous is another. If you know the right people, you can find almost anything here, but the Black Anvil Sect doesn’t take kindly to troublemakers. They don’t bother with formal trials. If you break their rules, you get exiled, beaten, or buried."

That was good to know. Not that I planned to cause trouble.

"So," I said, "where’s the best place to eat?"

Ren Xun gave me a flat look. "Senior, with all due respect, do you ever think about anything besides food?"

I grinned. "Of course. But food is still a top priority."

Lu Gao let out a chuckle. "There’s a famous tavern near the market called The Iron Kettle... or so I've heard. They serve Black Iron Stew—said to put hair on your chest and steel in your bones. Never tried it myself, but I hear it’s a favorite among the miners and blacksmiths."

I nodded approvingly. "Sounds promising."

Gu Jie, who had been silent until now, leaned against the railing, her gaze fixed on the streets below. "We should be careful," she said. "The Black Anvil Sect won't be the only power here. There are mercenary groups, rogue cultivators, and traders with too much greed and not enough sense in the world. I knew that for a fact. If we’re not careful, we might find ourselves entangled in something we don’t want to be part of."

Hei Mao looked uncertain. "So... should we go in disguised?"

Ren Xun smirked. "That depends. Do you want to cause a scene or slip in unnoticed?"

I clapped my hands together. "Let's get a closer look first. No need to rush in blind."

Ren Xun nodded and adjusted the controls. 

Lu Gao whistled low as we approached Ironmoor walls. "I heard stories about this place, but damn... I didn’t think the walls would be this high."

He wasn’t wrong. The city was surrounded by an imposing black stone wall, easily five times my height, reinforced with dark iron plating at key points. The whole thing looked more like a fortress than a trade hub. Watchtowers loomed at even intervals, each manned by armed sentries, and beyond the walls, the city stretched out in a mess of squat, sturdy buildings packed tightly together.

Ren Xun was standing at the helm. He glanced back at us. "That’s because the city isn’t just protected by its walls. It’s policed by Black Clan cultivators. There is prestige to this city in a sense."

Gu Jie raised a brow. "Black Clan? And what’s their connection to the Black Anvil Sect?"

Ren Xun scoffed. "It’s in the name, isn’t it? Black Anvil Sect—Black Clan. The sect isn’t just a group of blacksmiths and fighters; they’re the Black Clan’s enforcers in this region or the closest thing to it. The two are practically one and the same."

That explained a lot. The iron grip on the city, the no-nonsense reputation, the fact that they didn’t tolerate troublemakers. It wasn’t just a sect throwing its weight around—it had the backing of an actual Imperial House.

I turned back to Ren Xun. "Have you been here before?"

"Twice," he admitted. "This is my third time."

I filed that away for later. Ren Xun had connections in more places than he let on. Well, he was the second son of an imperial prince, so I shouldn’t be too surprised.

Eventually, Ren Xun guided the Floating Dragon to a halt just outside the city walls. We weren’t the only ones with a flying vessel—several other floating boat-like artifacts were docked nearby, their hulls shimmering with defensive formations. Armed men and women stood guard around them. Some wore uniforms I didn’t recognize, but Ren Xun pointed out a few uniformed cultivators.

"The local militia," he said. "They help keep the peace, but only when it’s convenient."

I was about to ask what that meant when a trio of cultivators on flying swords approached. They hovered in the air for a moment, then slowly descended until they were floating adjacent to our ship. Their leader, a man with a thick beard and an impatient expression, called out in a firm tone.

"Calm down. This is standard protocol."

His two subordinates landed beside him, their swords sheathed, but their presence was anything but relaxed. I could tell they were used to throwing their weight around.

I activated Voice Chat and sent a quick message to Ren Xun. “I’ll leave this to you.”

Ren Xun’s response was immediate. “Affirmative.”

With an easy, confident stride, he walked up to the trio of guards and cupped his fists in a respectful salute. "Honored Ironmoor guards, I am Ren Xun, captain of this fine vessel. How may I be of service?"

He delivered the words with the kind of flamboyant flourish that made me want to roll my eyes, but it did its job. The bearded cultivator nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Inspection."

Ren Xun smiled. "Of course. By all means, inspect away."

The bearded guard gave us a long, appraising look. "Business or pleasure?"

Ren Xun grinned. "Depends."

The guard’s eyes narrowed.

Ren Xun chuckled and relented. "We’re here to resupply. Our final destination is the Imperial Capital."

"Tourists," the guard muttered with a snide twist of his lips.

One of the other guards was scribbling on a piece of paper, barely paying attention to the conversation. Curious, I glanced at what he was writing. It wasn’t just a log—he was making annotations. He’d sketched a crude diagram of our boat and was jotting down the number of people inside.

My eyes flicked to the other boats. The merchants must love this place, judging by the number of times "merchant" was ticked on that paper.

Trade in this world was an interesting thing. Unlike in LLO, where merchants needed massive caravans, storage rings changed the game entirely. Yeah, Item Box existed in LLO, but they were something a mere NPC would never be able to have. A single trader in this world could theoretically carry an entire shop’s worth of goods in a small ring on their finger. 

I let my Divine Sense extend outward, scanning the adjacent boats. As expected, all of them had some level of cultivation. Some were minor, barely at the first realm, but a few carried the weight of seasoned fighters. The presence of boats made more sense now. It wasn’t about the merchants themselves—it was about accommodating the guards they hired.

The second guard, the one still jotting notes, glanced up and said, "You should check out the market for weapons. Might find something useful." Then, with a smirk, he added, "Maybe even hire some guards."

Yeah, right. In his Qi Sense, we must have looked like chumps.

But then their leader turned his gaze to Hei Mao. The other two followed suit.

And just like that, their entire attitude shifted.

The leader of the guards immediately cupped his fists and bowed. "Young Master."

The other two followed, their backs straighter, their expressions now full of restrained deference.

I expected them to recognize him—Hei Mao was a walking anomaly—but I didn’t anticipate this level of ass-kissing. There was only one explanation.

They had no idea who he was.

They just knew what he was.

Hei Mao’s Fourth Realm cultivation must have rattled them. These guards were strong, but not that strong. One was Third Realm, the other two were Second Realm. To them, Hei Mao wasn’t just some wandering traveler—he was a monstrous genius. A prodigy who could crush them with a flick of his wrist.

Or maybe it was his features. He shared the same surname as the Black Clan. Combined with his level of cultivation, it wasn’t strange these guards might have misunderstood his origins.

It wasn’t like Hei Mao’s nature as a ghost was that obvious, after all.

I used Voice Chat to warn him. “Don’t tell them your name.”

Hei Mao, to his credit, didn’t even flinch. He simply returned the bow and said, "You’re doing good work. The city’s security is in capable hands."

The guards puffed up a little at the compliment, nodding in satisfaction.

“Just want to clarify something, but…” Ren Xun squinted at the city gates. "What's up with that? Why are they closed? Last time I was here, while the boat inspection was pretty much mandatory, I don’t remember the gates being closed in this time of the day.”

The leader of the guards straightened his back. "Ironmoor City is on high alert."

That immediately set off alarms in my head.

"A Demonic cultivator and a Buddhist fanatic have been stirring up trouble for the Abyssal Clans and some affiliated sects," the guard continued. "Until the situation is under control, all entrants need a permit in advance."

I exchanged a glance with Ren Xun. That was an odd combination—demonic cultivators and Buddhist fanatics weren’t exactly known for getting along. Even I knew that. But I wasn’t about to pry when the guards were already being cooperative.

The leader of the guards nodded reassuringly. "That said, we can expedite the process for you."

I had a strong suspicion that was thanks to Hei Mao’s presence.

"The boat has to remain outside," the guard added. "But with your permission, we can post a guard here."

Ren Xun cupped his fists and offered a respectful nod. "We appreciate the generosity."

One of the other guards produced a small, official-looking document and handed it to Ren Xun. "Just show this to the gate guards, and they'll let you through."

Simple enough.

The guards finally departed, one of them assuring us that they’d send someone to watch over the boat. Ren Xun handled the formalities rather competently. The kid might have been a self-proclaimed wastrel, but he knew how to work a situation.

Gu Jie turned to me. "Master, permission to investigate and arrange a room while we wait here?"

I nodded. "Go ahead."

Summoning Dave for backup wouldn’t hurt. I raised a hand and activated Summon: Holy Spirit. A golden light pulsed, and Dave materialized beside me, standing tall in his knightly armor.

"Dave, go with her," I instructed.

Gu Jie cupped her fists and bowed in my direction. "Understood."

Dave performed a knight’s salute, thumping his chest. "By your will, My Lord."

Gu Jie retrieved the permit from Ren Xun. "How long is this good for?" she asked.

Ren Xun shrugged. "The permit’s reusable within the day, so no problem there. You can come back and pick us up at your leisure."

"Good," I said. "While you’re at it, keep an ear out for any cultivators using black masks."

Hei Mao perked up. "I'll go too!"

I gave him a look. "No."

He deflated a little but didn’t argue.

Before she left, I added, "If there's an emergency, feel free to rely on Dave."

Gu Jie nodded. "Of course."

With that, she and Dave finally left for the city, disappearing past the gates.

070 Ren Xun’s Thoughts

Ren Xun knew Gu Jie was right. They had gotten carried away. He had gotten carried away.

He had only given the bracelet with the little jade magatama to look good in front of the Master. A small token, nothing too extravagant—just enough to leave a good impression. But then Gu Jie had to go and one-up him, pulling out a magical scroll like it was nothing. And Lu Gao? That guy went completely over the top, gifting a storage ring. A storage ring.

It was overkill. Completely unnecessary.

Ren Xun had expected Hei Mao to react with awe at Lu Gao’s gift or maybe marvel at Gu Jie’s scroll. Instead, the boy—this strange boy with powerful cultivation who was just as odd as Da Wei—clutched the bracelet Ren Xun had given him and said, “I like the bracelet the most.”

Ren Xun blinked. What?

Of all the gifts, the bracelet was the most useless. A simple trinket. Nothing special. It didn’t even have any practical function! The scroll granted invisibility. The storage ring could hold an entire armory’s worth of items. But the bracelet? Just decoration.

Hei Mao looked up at him with starry eyes, his expression full of gratitude. Ren Xun shifted uncomfortably under the attention.

Then, as if suddenly realizing he might be sidelining the others, Hei Mao quickly added, “Of course, I loved the gifts from you too, Gu Jie, Lu Gao… Thank you!”

Gu Jie chuckled, amused. Lu Gao just smirked.

Ren Xun sighed internally. He had been trying to impress Master Da Wei, but somehow, he had ended up impressing Hei Mao instead.

“You are welcome, little Mao. We appreciate you liked our gifts!”

Ren Xun knew he shouldn’t be here.

The reason for his presence wasn’t camaraderie, nor was it some newfound sense of belonging. He was here to spy. To observe. To report back. To make sure that Master Da Wei wouldn’t accidentally annihilate a Sect loyal to the Empire.

There was no delusion in his mind—he wasn’t here to make friends. If he performed to his father’s satisfaction, he might finally secure his engagement to Lin Lim. ‘The life I envisioned for myself…’ A comfortable one. A life where he wouldn’t have to worry about the expectations of being a cultivator or royalty.

Because Ren Xun wasn’t one. Not really.

At heart, he knew what he was.

A wastrel, an untalented cultivator, a man born into a world of martial prowess without the ability to carve a place in it. He had long given up on that path. Instead, he honed a different skill—the art of words. He had learned how to talk his way out of things, how to feign sincerity, how to deflect prying eyes, especially when he was playing hooky.

And right now, he was ingratiating himself shamelessly.

He offered Hei Mao a warm, knowing smile and gestured toward the bracelet. “The magatama represents good fortune,” he explained smoothly. “It’s a ward against evil, symbolically speaking. Keep it always on your side and even ghosts will flee you!”

“Really?” Hei Mao’s eyes flickered with interest, fingers brushing over the small jade charm. His cultivation was impressive, that much was clear, but at the end of the day, he was still a boy. Curious. Easily swayed by meaning.

“It might not be as grand as a storage ring or a magic scroll, but sometimes, the simplest things hold the greatest value,” said Ren Xun.

Ren Xun watched as Gu Jie carefully brought out the bowlfish—Ren Jingyi, their so-called "companion." The tiny goldfish stared up at Hei Mao with wide, unblinking eyes, her mouth opening and closing like a dullard trying to form words.

"This is Ren Jingyi," Gu Jie introduced with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

Hei Mao blinked, then suddenly burst into laughter.

Ren Xun arched a brow. "What's so funny?"

Hei Mao wiped a tear from his eye, still chuckling. "She just made a joke!" He pointed at Ren Jingyi, looking utterly delighted. "That’s her gift to me!"

Ren Xun kept his expression smooth, though internally, he was biting back every cynical remark that came to mind.

Then, as if a realization struck him, Hei Mao’s eyes widened. "Wait—" He looked between them all in growing amazement. "I can talk to fish!"

Ren Xun sighed through his nose, pressing a finger to his temple. No shit.

There was no denying it anymore—this boy was just as weird as Master Da Wei.

Da Wei strolled over, smoothly inserting himself into the conversation as he scooped up the bowlfish. 

"Hmm," Da Wei mused, tilting the bowl slightly to get a better look at Ren Jingyi. "Probably the effect of Hei Mao’s constitution as a Holy Spirit. Maybe? I can't tell..."

Again, that term. 

Ren Xun resisted the urge to frown. Holy Spirit. He’d never heard of it before, not in the texts, not in court, not even in the obscure cultivation manuals he’d skimmed while pretending to study. A lot of terms the Master used were unfamiliar.

Lu Gao, on the other hand, was focused on something else entirely. "The goldfish gained the spark?" he asked, blinking in genuine surprise. “Huh? I am kind of surprised and not surprised at the same time."

The spark. Now that was a term Ren Xun knew—an old concept referring to the hidden wisdom present in all living beings, a sign of potential intelligence beyond mere instinct.

Gu Jie crossed her arms. "She doesn’t seem that smart."

Lu Gao turned to her, affronted. "She’s plenty smart! She can cast Bless, can’t she?"

Ren Xun barely concealed his amusement. After all, Lu Gao was treating a goldfish as his rival.

Truly, this group was beyond salvation.

Da Wei crouched next to the bowl, talking to the goldfish like a madman.

“Come on, little one. Say something. Anything,” he coaxed, tapping lightly on the glass. “You talked to Hei Mao, didn’t you? Why not me? I’m your Master—” He cut himself off, gasping dramatically. “Wait. Don’t tell me… you’re broken?!”

Ren Xun resisted the urge to sigh. Master Da Wei, the ever-dignified cultivator… was arguing with a fish.

Lu Gao walked over and leaned down to stare at the goldfish in silent judgment. Meanwhile, Da Wei had started feeding Ren Jingyi small bits of lettuce, as if bribing her would earn her favor.

Hei Mao became the reluctant interpreter and relayed, “Uh… She’s tired of lettuce.”

Da Wei shot him a betrayed look. “What?!”

“She says she’s sick of it,” Hei Mao added.

Da Wei turned back to Ren Jingyi with wide eyes, utterly scandalized. “Then why didn’t you say anything?! I’ve been giving you lettuce for days!”

Ren Xun observed the exchange with mild interest. By now, he assumed Da Wei was using Qi Speech to communicate with the fish, but if that were the case, it clearly wasn’t working.

Da Wei narrowed his eyes. “Wait. Hei Mao, why isn’t she talking to me?”

Hei Mao hesitated for a moment before sighing. “She’s, um… disappointed in herself for not being able to meet your expectations. And, uh… she’s a bit shy.”

Silence.

Da Wei pressed a hand to his chest, looking as though he’d been personally wounded. “Jingyi, my dear, I never had expectations. You just have to be yourself, okay?”

The fish didn’t respond.

Da Wei groaned. “Unbelievable.”

Lu Gao looked at Hei Mao. “Ask her what she wants to eat.”

Hei Mao translated. After a brief pause, he looked up and said, “Anything but lettuce.”

Gu Jie turned to Ren Xun with an inquiring look. “Can we make a detour?”

Ren Xun arched a brow at her before shrugging. “Depends where.” Without another word, he hopped onto the Floating Dragon and moved to the control panel, fingers dancing over the instruments as he examined the radar.

At the far edge of the map, a cluster of messy, multicolored dots indicated a city. The chaotic blend of hues represented the five elements—Earth, Fire, Water, Wood, and Metal—signaling a bustling settlement with a variety of people, cultivators, and businesses.

Peering over the edge of the boat, he shouted back to the group, “There’s a city nearby! It won’t hurt our schedule if we make a detour. If we’re lucky, we might even get to stay in a nice inn.”

Da Wei, who had been wholly engrossed in feeding Ren Jingyi, barely glanced up. “Sure, why not?” he said lazily, as if granting divine permission. He then pulled out an expensive-looking herb from seemingly nowhere and held it over the fishbowl, inspecting it with great interest before dropping it in.

Ren Xun watched in muted horror as the rare herb—one that would sell for a small fortune—sank into the water like fish food. His eye twitched.

Ridiculous.

While Da Wei and Hei Mao played around with the fish, Ren Xun, Lu Gao, and Gu Jie got to work packing up the rest of the camp. They moved efficiently, accustomed to breaking camp in a timely manner, though Ren Xun couldn't help but cast the occasional glance at the truly absurd sight of Master Da Wei fussing over a goldfish.

He tightened the straps on a pack and huffed. Must be nice having high cultivation.

Scratch that.

Must be nice being the fish.

Ren Xun leaped onto the Floating Dragon, his movements practiced and precise. The deck barely creaked beneath his weight as he landed.

Behind him, Gu Jie followed suit—except she wasn’t alone. She carried Lu Gao effortlessly, one arm hooked under his back and the other under his knees.

Lu Gao, despite being a proud young master, dangled in her grasp like a sack of rice. His face was stiff with embarrassment. “This is humiliating,” he muttered under his breath. 

Gu Jie, unbothered, dropped him onto the deck with minimal effort. “You’re welcome.”

Lu Gao grumbled but dusted himself off. “…Thank you.”

Without further delay, the three of them moved in unison to prepare for departure. Ren Xun focused on unhooking the Floating Dragon from the surrounding landscape, removing the sturdy ropes and talismans anchoring it to trees and dirt. Gu Jie and Lu Gao worked alongside him, their motions quick and efficient.

Once the ship was freed, Ren Xun stepped over to the side of the deck and reached for the anchor. Gripping the thick chain, he hauled it up with a grunt, feeling the strain in his arms. It took a moment, but with a final pull, the anchor was secured.

He peered over the edge of the boat and called out, “Master Da Wei! We’re ready to set off. If we maintain speed, we should reach the next city in two to three hours.”

Da Wei secured Ren Jingyi’s bowl with one hand and grabbed Hei Mao by the collar with the other. “Alright, time to go,” he said cheerfully, before bending his knees and leaping onto the deck with ease. Hei Mao let out a startled yelp, flailing mid-air before landing with a thud.

Ren Xun placed his hands on the control panel.

The Floating Dragon was an extension of himself—its formations, its flight, all tethered to him through a spiritual connection. With a simple thought, he could activate or deactivate its many features, from basic flight controls to the more advanced defensive mechanisms.

Still, it wouldn’t hurt to be a bit showy. He tapped a few runes on the panel, adjusting the settings with an exaggerated air of focus. It made him look hardworking if nothing else.

A soft pulse ran through the deck as the ship responded, lifting slightly off the ground. Ren Xun smirked to himself. He might not be the strongest cultivator, but he had his talents.

As he checked the ship’s status, his gaze landed on the invisibility formation. It had fully recharged overnight, meaning they could stay hidden for a full week if needed. A convenient but expensive feature—his spiritual stones were dwindling fast.

He turned to Da Wei, calling out over his shoulder. “Master Da Wei, do you want me to activate the invisibility formation?”

“I’ll leave it to your discretion,” answered the Master.

Ren Xun frowned slightly, thinking it over. That sounded like a test.

Did they need to stay hidden? It wasn’t as if they were being pursued. Using the formation now would be a waste of resources. He tapped his fingers against the controls before finally deciding against it. No need to squander precious stones on paranoia.

Instead, he focused on maneuvering the Floating Dragon, smoothly lifting them into the sky. The landscape below shrank as they ascended, the wind picking up around them.

Unbeknownst to him, he was probably just overthinking…

069 New Party Member?

Hei Mao hesitated for only a moment before stepping forward and wrapping his small arms around his family.

It was warm.

Warmer than he remembered.

The light surrounding them grew brighter and brighter until it consumed everything. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Hei Mao felt whole.

But then—his arms met empty air.

The warmth faded.

And when the light receded, his family was gone.

Hei Mao blinked. He stared at the now-empty space where they had been, then looked down at his own hands. He was still here. He had not moved on with them.

Confused, he turned to Da Wei, the strange man who had helped him. “Why…?”

Da Wei studied him for a moment before shrugging. “Guess you still have unfinished business.”

Hei Mao lowered his gaze.

Unfinished business.

Right.

The people in black masks were still out there.

Hei Mao clenched his fists.

He had spent so long clinging to the past, afraid to let go, afraid to be alone. But his family had moved on. And now… maybe it was time he did too.

He turned back to Da Wei.

“Thank you,” Hei Mao said.

Da Wei grinned. “No problem. So, where are you going to go now?”

Hei Mao paused, then met Da Wei’s gaze with newfound resolve.

“I’m going to find the people who killed my family.”

Da Wei tilted his head. “I don’t know about revenge, but do you want to come with me?”

Hei Mao’s lips parted slightly in surprise. “I… I can’t…” His voice trembled. He lowered his gaze. “I’m a dirty ghost…”

Da Wei groaned dramatically and ran a hand through his hair. “How do I put this… Uuuh…” He snapped his fingers. “I think there could be another reason you weren’t able to move on.”

Hei Mao frowned. “What do you mean?”

Da Wei nodded to himself, then pointed at Hei Mao. “I think it’s because of your cultivation.”

“…What?”

“Well,” Da Wei started, rubbing his chin. “Ghosts sometimes, after death, have so much resentment or spiritual power that they kind of cultivate? Yeah, that’s about it. Looking at you right now, I’d say you’re about at the Spirit Mystery Realm.”

Hei Mao stared blankly.

Da Wei continued, completely unfazed by Hei Mao’s silence. “Which is the Fourth Realm, by the way. A pretty decent level, honestly. I don’t know how long you’ve been haunting this place, but it could’ve been years. Hundreds? Maybe thousands?” He shrugged. “Who knows if you’d even recognize the people responsible for this tragedy?”

Hei Mao stiffened, staring at his hands. They were no longer ghostly and translucent but solid—almost real. He flexed his fingers, feeling a strange warmth coursing through them, a sensation he hadn’t felt in…

How long had it been?

His breath hitched—no, he wasn’t even breathing. He didn’t need to. He was still a ghost. And yet…

“What… What did you do to me?” Hei Mao whispered.

Da Wei rubbed the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. “Ah, yeah… So, you kind of transformed into a Holy Spirit… because of my skill.” He gestured vaguely at Hei Mao as if that explained everything.

Hei Mao’s gaze snapped up to him. “Holy Spirit?”

Da Wei shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Divine Possession and Turn Undead interacted in some way, and boom—you got an upgrade. Congratulations.”

Hei Mao clenched his fists. He didn’t feel much different. But the oppressive miasma that had surrounded him before was gone. His mind was clearer. “So… what now? What do I do now?”

Da Wei continued, his tone shifting to something softer. “I don’t mean to impose, but you’re kind of asking the wrong person here.” He met Hei Mao’s gaze. “What do you want to do?”

Hei Mao hesitated. “…I said I wanted to find the people who killed my family.”

Da Wei nodded. “Alright. And what are you going to do once you find them?”

Silence.

Hei Mao hadn’t thought that far ahead.

Da Wei tapped his chin. “And what are you going to do in between?”

Hei Mao frowned.

Da Wei smirked. “Let’s say finding the people who killed your family is your long-term goal. What’s your short-term goal?”

Hei Mao had no answer.

Da Wei knelt before the remains of Hei Mao’s family, his expression uncharacteristically serious. He placed a hand over the charred bones and offered a quiet prayer—

Hei Mao flinched as Da Wei killed them.

No—he purified them. The faint traces of lingering yin energy in the bones dissipated. There was a sense of finality now.

Da Wei turned back to Hei Mao. “I believe if you come with me, I can help you with your short-term goals.” He grinned. “Do you want to cultivate? Learn a few techniques? I mean, I’d love to have a Holy Ghost in my party, but it’s not like I’m forcing you.”

Hei Mao stared at him.

Da Wei stretched his arms. “And in effect, I can also help you with your long-term goals. So…” He crossed his arms and gave Hei Mao a lopsided smile. “Think about it.”

Hei Mao stared at the strange man before him and shook his head. “You are a weird guy.”

Da Wei scoffed. “Hey, that’s no way to treat your benefactor.” He dusted his hands off, finishing up the grave marker he had placed over the remains of Hei Mao’s family. “You know what? Maybe I can help you move on. Where are your bones? Where did you die?”

Hei Mao blinked. “Huh?”

Da Wei grinned. “I mean, we can consecrate the whole area if you want. Give you a proper sendoff. Or—” his smile turned almost mischievous—“I can just exorcise you where you stand.”

Hei Mao’s eyes widened. “I don’t want to be exorcised just yet!”

Da Wei chuckled. “Relax, I’m just messing with you.”

Hei Mao exhaled—well, at least mimicked the action. He wasn’t sure if ghosts actually breathed. “I want to find them. The black-masked people. I want to ask them why they did that to my family.” His voice was firm, his fists clenched. “If you can help me with that, then I’m willing to go with you.”

Da Wei gave him a considering look. “Alright. That’s fair.”

Hei Mao nodded, then hesitated. “…For my bones…” He suddenly felt nervous.

Da Wei tilted his head. “Yeah?”

Hei Mao swallowed. “Uuuh… I think I lost them?”

Silence.

Da Wei just stared at him.

Hei Mao shifted uncomfortably. “I mean… It’s been a long time! I don’t exactly remember where they are.”

Da Wei still stared.

Hei Mao felt even more nervous. “I am only human too, you know? Even if I’m all wispy and stuff!”

Da Wei snorted. “Hey, I’m not judging.”

Hei Mao stood beside Da Wei in silence, the two of them looking at the makeshift grave marker. What was once a charred ruin of a house had become a resting place—a final farewell.

Da Wei exhaled and clasped his hands together. “May destiny take you to the cycle of reincarnation, may the roads before you be kind, and may you find each other once more in a better life.”

Hei Mao squinted at him. “That was a weird prayer.”

Da Wei glanced at him, then suddenly reached out and ruffled his hair.

Hei Mao flinched back. “Hey! What the—?! How did you—?!” He swatted Da Wei’s hand away, staring at him in shock. Ghosts weren’t supposed to be touched!

Da Wei smirked. “Holy Spirit, remember? You’re solid enough now. Maybe? I don't really know...”

Hei Mao scowled and fixed his hair. “That doesn’t mean you can just—ugh, whatever.”

Da Wei chuckled. “I made up that prayer on the fly, but it was sincere.” He nodded toward the grave. “You should say one too.”

Hei Mao hesitated. He had never been good at prayers. What was there to even say? But under Da Wei’s expectant gaze, he sighed and lowered his head.

“…Mom. Dad. Sis.” His voice wavered slightly. “I hope… wherever you are, you’re happy. I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you. But I’ll be okay. I promise.”

The wind stirred gently, and for a brief moment, Hei Mao thought he felt something warm brush against his cheek. Something soft wrapped around his neck. He flinched, his hands immediately going up to his throat.

A long red scarf—warm, thick, and embroidered with the image of a black cat—draped over his shoulders, covering the wound on his neck. His fingers brushed over the fabric, tracing the delicate stitches.

He turned to Da Wei, who stood there with his usual nonchalant expression. “What—what is this?” Hei Mao asked with a slight panic in his voice.

“A gift,” Da Wei said simply.

Hei Mao’s grip tightened on the scarf. “…Why?”

Da Wei shrugged. “Because I felt like it.” He tilted his head. “Do you like it?”

Hei Mao opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked down at the scarf again, the red fabric stark against his ghostly pale skin. Slowly, hesitantly, he nodded. “…Yeah. I do.”

Eight hours later...

Hei Mao sat on a rock, staring at the morning sun, still feeling somewhat flustered. The red scarf around his neck was an unfamiliar weight, both physically and emotionally. He tugged at it absentmindedly.

Surrounding him were three unfamiliar figures, each exuding a distinct presence.

The first was a woman in black, with red snakes stitched along her robes. She carried herself with an edge—sharp eyes, careful movements, and the air of someone who didn’t trust easily. She introduced herself curtly: “Gu Jie.”

The second was a man with long, messy hair. He wore a gray robe that gave him a somewhat disheveled but carefree look. Unlike Gu Jie, he seemed a little too comfortable, sizing Hei Mao up with open curiosity. “Lu Gao,” he said with an aloof expression. "That's my name, Senior. Nice to meet you."

The last was a refined young man in dark, fitted robes. His posture was straight and composed. His gaze was keen, and he studied Hei Mao as if trying to unravel a puzzle. “Ren Xun,” he said smoothly, giving a slight nod.  "So do you still shit?"

Hei Mao stiffened as all three stared at him with some kind of expectation. There was a strange atmosphere around them, a sense of… reverence?

Then, Lu Gao clapped his hands together, grinning. “We’re honored to meet a powerful elder like yourself.”

Powerful what? Hei Mao blinked.

Ren Xun looked intrigued. “To think Master Da Wei had such a formidable subordinate hidden away…”

Subordinate? Hei Mao’s eye twitched.

Gu Jie, though more reserved, still studied him with wary interest. “I hadn’t heard of you before. But considering our Master’s eccentricities, I suppose that isn’t surprising.”

Hei Mao turned his head sharply, eyes locking onto Da Wei.

Da Wei, standing off to the side, met his gaze with a completely unrepentant grin. Slowly, as if adding insult to injury, he raised a thumbs-up in a sneaky manner.

Hei Mao’s mouth fell open slightly.

What was this nonsense?!

Hei Mao thought about it… and then decided to ride the wave, straightening his back and lifting his chin ever so slightly. If they wanted to believe he was some mysterious, powerful figure, then who was he to deny them?

“I am Hei Mao,” he said in what he hoped was a regal tone. “An… er… friend of Da Wei.”

For a brief moment, he felt pleased with himself. Yes, that sounded good. 

Then, immediately, he regretted it.

Lu Gao’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “Senior Hei Mao, what was your relationship to the Holy Spirit Dai Fu?”

“The… what?” Hei Mao asked, blinking.

Ren Xun stepped in smoothly, his tone full of admiration. “The Holy Spirit Dai Fu, of course. Master Da Wei must have mentioned him to you. A being of great spiritual power and wisdom. Surely, as a fellow spirit of high cultivation, you must have known him.”

Hei Mao had never heard that name before in his existence. He carefully nodded, pretending to be deep in thought. “Ah, yes… Dai Fu…”

“Then, is it true?” Gu Jie asked, narrowing her eyes. “That the Holy Spirit Dai Fu once faced the Demon Seal Sect’s elder in single combat and won?”

“Uhh… sure?” Hei Mao replied hesitantly.

Before he could even process that conversation, Lu Gao leaned in with another question. “What about your relationship with the Black Clan?”

“The what?” Hei Mao asked, feeling lost again.

“The Black Clan,” Ren Xun repeated. “The cultivators who protect the Empire! They lurk in the shadows and hunt in the shadows. They were believed to have vanished centuries ago. Your aura… it feels reminiscent of their teachings.”

Hei Mao was starting to sweat—if ghosts could even do that. “Oh, uh… well, you see… the Black Clan and I…” What was he even saying?

Gu Jie’s eyes sharpened. “So the rumors are true?”

“Y-yeah?” Hei Mao offered weakly.

His own words were digging him deeper and deeper, and there was no escape.

“And your cultivation?” Ren Xun asked, changing the topic. “At your level, surely you have reached the Sixth Realm?”

Hei Mao almost choked. “The… Fourth Realm,” he blurted out. At least, that’s what Da Wei had told him earlier.

The trio exchanged glances, nodding in approval as if that explained everything. “The Fourth Realm and already this powerful… as expected.”

Hei Mao forced a smile, feeling exhausted just from this conversation. Why were these guys so aggressive? They asked their questions like they were trying to interrogate him for top-secret information.

For a moment, Hei Mao imagined if he actually had the power they assumed he did. He would have struck them where they stood… or maybe… uuh… lightly flicked them? Yeah, that. That sounded better.

Hei Mao had enough.

“No!” he snapped, throwing his hands in the air. “I am the new guy, okay?! Please don’t call me senior! My name is Hei Mao! And no, I don’t know any techniques! I also don’t have any powerful backing! I’m just a stray ghost that the weird guy picked up!”

Silence.

Gu Jie covered her mouth, shoulders shaking as she suppressed a chuckle. Lu Gao looked serious, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. Ren Xun chuckled a bit too obviously before retreating into the tent.

Da Wei, on the other hand, didn’t hold back at all. “Ha ha ha ha~! You should have seen your face!”

Hei Mao pouted. “You are so mean.”

Ren Xun returned from the tent, holding a small bracelet. He sighed and handed it over. “I don’t know what’s really happening, but orders are orders. Please don’t hold it against me, Mr. Hei. Master Da Wei told us to do it.”

Hei Mao blinked, taking the bracelet. A jade magatama hung from it, polished and cool to the touch.

“Gifts from us,” Gu Jie clarified. “I’ve received so much from Master, so this is a small thing.” She hesitated before handing over a scroll. “Sorry, this is the best I can do, and it’s a bit improper. I don’t think Master would mind, so here it is… This is a Scroll of Invisibility. Something Master gave me before.”

Lu Gao pulled something from his robes and handed over a ring. “This is my old storage ring. There’s nothing in it, but the ring itself should be useful to you. I can just buy a new one if I… ever regain my cultivation.”

Ren Xun snorted. “That’s some tough flexing.”

Hei Mao stared at the gifts in his hands. “It’s… too much.”

Da Wei nodded sagely. “Yeah, it’s too much.”

Hei Mao snapped his head up. “W-what?”

Da Wei grinned. “Just to clarify, I told them to prank you a bit, but the gifting part? That was wholly their idea. Why did they do it? I dunno…”

Gu Jie coughed awkwardly. “We were carried away, Master… that’s all.”

068 Little Ghost

“I just want my sister back,” said the boy.

His voice was small, barely above a whisper, but it carried weight. A child’s wish, so simple yet impossible.

I let his words settle between us before responding. “Your sister… she didn’t—?”

“She’s still alive,” he interrupted. “But they took her.”

I frowned. “Who’s ‘they’?”

The boy’s form flickered, and his little hands clenched into trembling fists. “The people in black masks.”

Black masks. That could mean a lot of things in this world. Cults, bandits, sects, assassins. Maybe even Abyssal Clans.

I rubbed my chin. “When did this happen?”

“Long ago.” His voice was distant, and his cloudy eyes seemed to see something I couldn’t. “I remember the fire. The screaming. My sister crying. Then nothing.”

I glanced at the charred remains of the house behind him. That fire must have been the one that killed him.

My first instinct was to offer some kind of reassurance, but what could I even say? ‘I’ll bring her back?’ I didn’t know where she was. I didn’t know when this happened.

“…Do you know where they took her?”

The boy hesitated. His translucent fingers curled into his tattered robes. “Deep. Below.”

I frowned. That didn’t sound good. “Below where?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

Of course. Because why would this be easy?

I exhaled and studied him for a moment. He barely reached my knee, his ghostly form flickering slightly as if he might fade at any moment. The gaping wound on his neck was a stark contrast to his otherwise innocent, childlike face.

“Alright,” I said finally. “Let’s start with this—what’s your name?”

"Hei…" the boy started, voice soft and distant, like he was pulling his name from the depths of a fading memory. "Hei Mao."

Hei? As in the Black Clan?

I studied him more carefully. His clothes were old, tattered, and barely held together. They weren’t fine robes, nor did they carry the usual insignia of the Black Clan. Still, the possibility lingered in my mind.

Then again, he spoke a different dialect. Maybe his surname was just a coincidence.

I let the thought pass and introduced myself. "Da Wei," I said with a small nod.

It wasn’t my real name, but it was close enough. The transposed version was pretty convenient. More than that, it served as an extra layer of protection—one of the things I had picked up in my readings. Some spells and rituals needed a person’s true name to take effect. I wasn’t about to make things easier for any stray cultivator looking to curse me in my sleep.

"Hei Mao, huh?" I continued, offering a smile. "That’s a cool name."

"It isn’t really that cool… At most, it’s cute," Hei Mao muttered, crouching down.

With deliberate motions, he picked up a stick and began writing on the dirt.

I watched as the strokes took form. The first character was Hei—Black. The second was Mao—Cat. Black Cat.

Huh. Fitting.

But what really caught my attention wasn’t his name. It was the fact that he could pick up the stick at all. Most ghosts couldn’t interact with the physical world so easily. The fact that he could meant he was either particularly strong… or particularly stubborn.

"I don’t know," I said, tilting my head. "I find cats pretty cool. Though, they can be kinda psychopathic sometimes."

Hei Mao looked at me like I had just spoken absolute nonsense.

I crouched beside him and, using my finger, wrote my own name in the dirt. Da Wei. I thought about it and then gave a meaning to the name people had been mispronouncing to me. The first character, Da, meant Great. The second, Wei, meant Guard. Great Guard.

Hei Mao squinted at the writing, then at me. "Now you’re just showing off."

"Does your sister have a name?" I asked.

Hei Mao hesitated, his small ghostly form still as he stared at the dirt. "...I don’t remember," he admitted. "We’re twins, though… and she should remember my name. If you find her, tell her that I miss her."

I nodded. "Why don’t you come with me?"

Hei Mao shook his head. "I can’t. I’m bound to this place. If I go any farther, I’ll become weaker."

I took on a more serious tone. "I can protect you."

He became quiet.

"If you want," I continued, "you can come with me, and we can look for your sister together."

Hei Mao looked up at me, his translucent eyes filled with something unreadable. Then, he shook his head again.

"I can’t," he said. "I have to mourn for them."

He lifted a small, ghostly hand and pointed inside the charred building.

I followed his gesture and peered into the ruins.

Inside, among the blackened remains of what had once been a home, lay the scorched bodies of a family of three—a mother, a father, and a child.

Hei Mao shared with me how he had been in this patch of land for a long time.

Long enough that the charred ruins of the house weren’t the first home to stand here. But this family—the one whose remains now lay blackened and brittle—was the first to ever truly set roots. He watched them build their lives, their routines, their little traditions. The way the father hummed before speaking, how the mother always wiped the table twice, how the child—his name already slipping from Hei Mao’s memory—liked to chase after butterflies before dinner.

He had watched them, and over time, he had grown accustomed to their company. Even if they never saw him, he had been there, a silent observer, an unseen neighbor.

I listened quietly, letting him speak at his own pace. There was something sad in the way he clung to them, as if keeping their memory alive was the only thing holding him together.

Still, I couldn’t help but point out the obvious. "Hei Mao, if they were like you, if they were still here, wouldn’t they have appeared by now?" I gestured toward the burned wreckage. "The dead don’t just move on like that, right? If they had regrets, if they had things left undone, wouldn’t they still be lingering?"

Hei Mao’s small fingers curled into fists. He looked toward the ruins, his face unreadable. “They should be here,” he murmured. “They should be here with me.”

I crossed my arms. “But they’re not.”

He bit his lip. “I know.”

"Then why are you still mourning them?"

Hei Mao’s expression twisted, caught between anger and grief. "Because if I don’t, who will?"

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "You really think they’d want you stuck here like this?"

Silence.

Hei Mao stared at the ruins, his small frame stiff. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came out.

I studied Hei Mao carefully. The way his little ghostly fingers trembled, how his lips pressed together in something too stubborn to be just grief. There was more to this than just mourning.

“What are you so scared about?” I finally asked.

Hei Mao flinched. His gaze snapped to me, wide-eyed, like I had yanked some hidden truth out of him. He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he gripped the hem of his tattered clothes, a reflexive motion that only made him look more like the lost child he was.

I exhaled through my nose. “You’re not just mourning them. You’re hoping—wishing—that they made it to the next life after this, right?”

He nodded slowly as if hesitant.

I tilted my head toward the burnt ruins. “For all I know, they already have. I mean, I don’t see them around. Do you?”

Hei Mao’s lips parted, but no words came. His eyes flickered to the charred remains inside the house, then back to me.

I sighed. “But that’s not what you really wanted, is it?”

His little hands clenched tighter.

“You didn’t want them to move on,” I said, watching his expression closely. “You wanted them to stay.”

Hei Mao sucked in a breath, an empty, ghostly sound. His shoulders shook as if I had spoken the one truth he had been trying to avoid.

For a long moment, he was silent. Then, in the smallest voice, he admitted, “…Yes.”

If I compared Lost Legends Online’s ghosts to the ghosts of this world, they had at least one thing in common: they were illogical creatures that often contradicted themselves.

Why mourn the dead when you were dead yourself?

Why cry for those who had moved on when you yourself were stuck?

And yet, another similarity between the ghosts of both worlds was how they lied—not just to others, but to themselves.

I could feel the lies. My Divine Sense flickered every time Hei Mao spoke half-truths. The way his voice wavered, the way he hesitated, it was all too telling. Not to mention, the powerful miasma that surrounded the ruined house didn’t belong to the burnt corpses inside—it all came from him.

I sighed.

If a ghost was confronted with the truth, they would usually lash out. That was standard knowledge. Most of the time, they’d snap, go feral, or outright attack in denial. It was basically the equivalent of an existential crisis, but with more screaming and spectral claws.

But Hei Mao didn’t.

That was what set him apart.

Or maybe it was because of me.

I remembered an old joke back in LLO—how my friends used to tease me about my ability to solve problems with talk-no-jutsu, even though my speech stat wasn’t all that high. Apparently, it worked just as well in this world.

I knelt down to his level and asked one more time, “What are you so scared about?”

Hei Mao’s lips trembled.

And then—black tears poured from his hollow eyes, ectoplasm dripping like ink down his pale cheeks. A choked sob escaped his throat as he suddenly lunged forward and hugged me, tiny arms gripping tightly around my waist.

“I… I am scared of being alone…” he whispered. His voice cracked with the weight of the words he had buried for so long.

I felt his cold, spectral form press against me, but there was warmth in the way he held on, like he was desperate not to disappear.

I exhaled softly and patted his back.

“I’m here,” I told him. “You’re not alone.”

I inhaled deeply and reached within myself, calling forth the power of Divine Possession with Ephemeral Touch.

The moment I activated it, my soul trembled.

"To seize the body is to seize the self. To walk another’s path is to know their truth. For a moment, the soul is unbound, freed from the chains of its own flesh, given wings to fly into another. But beware—the self is fragile. To linger too long is to forget the shape of one’s own soul. To possess is to risk being possessed in turn."

The flavor text echoed in my mind like a warning bell.

I braced myself. This wasn’t like LLO, where I could just use Divine Possession on an ally and call it a day. This was real. And I was about to possess a ghost.

It was unbelievable, but for a second time… I managed to evolve a skill.

I reached out and grasped Hei Mao’s essence.

For a fleeting moment, the world twisted. The sensation was foreign, weightless, like my body had lost its form, my mind stretched thin across an eternity of memories. I wasn’t just watching Hei Mao’s past—I was living it.

The laughter of a mother, the calloused hands of a father. The warmth of a home built from love, now reduced to ash.

And then—pain. A burning, searing pain at his throat. A scream that never came. The feeling of slipping, falling, drowning in the abyss of death but never truly reaching the bottom.

I understood.

Hei Mao’s grief. His anger. His loneliness.

And yet, despite all that suffering, despite the way the world had abandoned him, he stayed. Because he had a family once. Because he didn’t want to let them go.

I returned to my body with a shuddering breath. The air around us felt lighter. The oppressive miasma had thinned, and Hei Mao… he was different now. His presence had softened. The lingering resentment that made his ghostly form twisted and jagged had faded.

Hei Mao looked at me with wide, watery eyes.

“…Can you help me send them away?”

His voice was small and fragile.

He turned toward the charred ruins of the house and pointed. “They deserve better.”

I met his gaze and nodded.

I raised my hand and called forth holy power. The warmth of divinity surged through my veins as I cast—

Turn Undead.

Golden light flooded the burnt remains. The energy seeped into the broken foundation, purging the lingering hatred, unraveling the threads of regret that bound this place to sorrow.

Slowly, the air shimmered.

And then—they appeared.

A mirage of a family, standing together, bathed in soft, ethereal light.

The father and mother smiled gently, their forms whole and untouched by death. Between them stood a girl, identical to Hei Mao, except feminine—his sister.

The girl beamed. “I missed you too, brother!”

Hei Mao’s breath hitched. His small hands clenched at his sides.

The truth had been in front of him all along. This wasn’t just some family he had watched over.

It was his family.

Because of his resentment, because of his innate talent, he had cultivated and persisted even after death. His will had been too strong, his refusal to move on too powerful. He had forgotten who he was.

Hei Mao sobbed.

But unlike before, his tears were no longer black and inky.

They were clear. Pure.

“I… I am sorry…” His voice cracked. “And I love you all… Mom… Dad… Sis… I… Thank you…”

His family smiled. And as the light grew brighter, they opened their arms, welcoming him home.

067 Song of Sorrow

Two warps later, and we had yet to face any accidents. Almost sounded too good to be true.

I had my suspicions, but the answer was simple—Gu Jie.

She had been keeping an eye out, using her sensitivity to misfortune to help Ren Xun maneuver past potential accidents. A misaligned warp, a minor fluctuation in spatial stability, even an unexpected beast migration—she caught them before they could become problems. The result? Smooth sailing.

Now, night had fallen once more. The others had already finished setting up camp, and I stood outside, finishing my training.

I didn't really need sleep.

Lore aside about demi-gods and their endless stamina, I had plenty of rest while mid-travel. Over the past weeks, I had figured out an optimal schedule—five hours of sleep every week and a half. Any more, and I just felt sluggish. Any less, and my Divine Sense started glitching out for some reason. Of course, if a normal person tried my sleeping schedule, they’d probably drop dead from exhaustion.

I had just finished using Divine Possession on Ren Jingyi for tonight as part of my training regimen. Sometimes, I would alternate with Lu Gao, but tonight was fish night. "Ren Jingyi, you should grow fast, so that we don't have to heft your bowl anymore... Let's bring you to the others..." As quietly as I could, I tucked her inside the tent, making sure she was safe.

I took a moment to glance inside.

The tent was spacious—easily large enough to fit four people with room to spare. A few formation-engraved lanterns hung from the ceiling, giving off a faint, comforting glow. The air inside was warmer than outside, thanks to the insulation talismans Ren Xun had placed around the fabric walls.

Lu Gao lay sprawled out on his sleeping mat, one arm resting over his face, his chest rising and falling steadily. Despite his arrogant nature, the guy looked surprisingly defenseless in his sleep. His brows twitched occasionally—maybe he was dreaming about getting revenge or something.

Ren Xun, on the other hand, was curled up neatly on his mat, his hands folded over his stomach, breathing slow and controlled. Even in sleep, he maintained a kind of meticulousness.

Then there was Gu Jie.

She slept differently from the others, half-curled on her side, her body barely shifting. Every now and then, her expression would flicker—like she was reacting to something unseen. Maybe it was the aftereffects of sensing misfortune, or maybe she just wasn’t a deep sleeper.

I let out a breath and stepped away from the tent.

Tonight, like every night, I would stand watch.

As part of Lu Gao’s and Ren Jingyi’s training, I had been using Divine Possession alternately between them, testing who was more suited to becoming a Paladin.

It was an ongoing experiment.

Ren Jingyi, for one, had potential. Her instincts were sharp, her movements fluid, and her reactions quick. The downside? She was still, well… a fish. As a goldfish-turned-holy-beast, she lacked direct experience with humanoid combat. But she was learning. Fast.

Lu Gao, on the other hand, had combat experience in spades. He was aggressive, confident, and his raw talent was undeniable. The problem? He didn’t have the temperament. He was too headstrong, too reckless. A Paladin had to wield both strength and faith in equal measure, and Lu Gao only had the former.

Of course, by strength… I meant strength of heart… Still, that could easily break if you lacked faith in yourself, your comrades, and just about everyone.

I was still undecided.

Personally, they were an even match. I'm tempted to bring the fish in a different direction though... I recalled a certain quest... meh... I could deliberate just a bit more on that part. I was still unsure if I wanted to raise the fish as a Paladin, Priestess, or something more. By more, I meant something equivalent to a Dragon from LLO. Ugh... I felt disgusted about the idea of experimenting on Ren Jingyi. 

The fish was too darn innocent for something like uncertain experimentation... I didn't know what I'd do if she suddenly croaked. Maybe, I'd suddenly become a vegan. 

With my experiments on hold, I cast Bless on myself and wandered around the camp. The skill was all-rounded like that—buffing my stats and even my luck. And it was luck I wanted to test tonight.

Lo and behold, as I walked, I spotted a few herbs growing near the base of a tree.

I crouched down and inspected them.

Some I recognized from Cloud Mist Sect’s alchemy books, others from the texts I had taken from Golden Sun Pavilion. Small, unassuming plants—yet useful in concocting medicine and low-grade elixirs.

“…Interesting.”

I plucked a few, tucking them into my Item Box. I wasn’t an alchemist, but information was information. Knowledge had saved my life more than once.

As I straightened up, the Holy Spirit within me stirred.

“Will you be training tonight as usual?”

I thought about it for a moment before shaking my head.

“Nah. Let’s take a break.”

I could practically sense Dave’s surprise, but he didn’t question me. Instead of training, I wanted to hone something just as important—lore knowledge.

If I suddenly ran into something Lost Legends Online-related and didn’t recognize it, I’d kick myself in the head.

I sat down by a tree, pulled out a book, and started reading.

My Linguist subclass was an absolute blessing.

With it, I could understand, absorb, and process information at an accelerated rate. The more I read, the more I realized just how much of an advantage it was giving me.

In LLO, subclasses were non-combat related. They were designed to enhance immersion, focusing on trade professions instead. But they also provided bonuses to hidden stats like speech and luck, making certain aspects of the game easier.

And damn, was I glad I picked Linguist.

If I had been stuck dealing with a language barrier on top of everything else, I’d be in deep trouble.

I flipped through the pages of the almanac, scanning the historical points from Lost Legends Online.

There were times when the game lore and this world’s history overlapped in strange ways. That was why I made it a habit to alternate between reading LLO lore and local history books. Switching between them helped me adjust my perspective, especially when I read things that made me… uncomfortable.

Like the fact that some ancient sects in this world had eerily similar names to factions from LLO. Or that some mythical figures shared story beats with legendary NPCs.

Coincidence? Maybe.

But if Lost Legends Online was some kind of distorted reflection of this world, then knowing its historical events might just help me predict the future.

“Nah, that’s too much a stretch, isn’t it?”

Just as I was tucking the history book into my Item Box, I froze.

Somewhere in the distance…

I heard singing.

It was soft, melancholic, and sung in a non-imperial dialect.

The language wasn’t completely unfamiliar. I had been studying different dialects. It was one of my pastimes. If I found myself in a region where Imperial Common wasn’t dominant, I wanted to at least understand the locals.

I closed my books, placed them into my Item Box, and silently followed the sound.

I walked.

And walked.

And walked.

The song pulled me forward, like a thread winding around my thoughts, drawing me deeper into the night.

There was something magical about it. Not in the literal, spellcasting sense—at least, I didn’t sense any Qi fluctuations—but it had that indescribable quality that latched onto something deep in the soul.

The lyrics drifted through the air, soft and steady.

"In the vale where the night wind lingers,
Footsteps fade like whispered sighs.
Ashes fall from embered fingers,
Scattered under silent skies."

"Shadows dance where no light follows,
Breath is lost in hollow tune.
Graves are deep, yet hearts lie shallow,
Singing to a weeping moon."

I understood the meaning of the lyrics clearly.

It was a lament. A song for those who had gone, those who had vanished like footprints washed away by the tide.

Before I knew it, my Divine Sense brushed against its outer limits. The camp was now at the very edge of my awareness.

I exhaled and summoned Dave.

A golden glow shimmered as Summon: Holy Spirit activated. In an instant, he appeared before me—a perfect mirror of myself.

His eyes immediately locked onto mine, his posture rigid.

"My Lord," he greeted solemnly.

"Stay at camp," I instructed. "Be alert."

At my words, wispy air gathered around his head, twisting into a ghostly helm that flickered with holy radiance.

Dave didn’t hesitate. He bowed slightly and, without another word, turned back toward the camp, disappearing into the darkness.

I let out a slow breath.

Then, I continued forward.

The night stretched deep and cold, the sky blanketed in a heavy darkness. As I walked, the song guided my steps—haunting, yet strangely mesmerizing. It carried the weight of something old, something tragic, and as the words sank into my bones, I felt a chill that had nothing to do with the night air.

"The flames rise high, they touch the sky,
Red like blood where children cry.
The walls collapse, the streets burn bright,
Ashes dance in endless night."

"The screams fade slow, the hands grow cold,
Mother's touch, now dust and old.
The world turns black, the stars fall dim,
A hollow song, a dying hymn."

I stopped mid-step.

A child.

That was a child's voice.

Something about that fact made it worse.

Singing such dreary lyrics with that small, clear voice… Yeah, if this were a normal D&D party, people would already be preparing their Turn Undead spells and getting ready to run the hell away.

Me? I just stood there, listening.

Some would argue I was too cavalier in my approach, but the truth was—I hadn't seen ghosts in this world yet. Sure, I'd fought undead before. Skeletons, zombies, corpses puppeteered by whatever foul necromancy ran through Evernight. But ghosts?

Those were different.

Curiosity aside, my Legacy demanded me to act. Paladin instinct, divine obligation—call it what you will, but I couldn’t just walk away.

Maybe this was a soul that needed to move on.

Maybe I needed to do an exorcism.

I inched closer, silent, careful not to disrupt the song. The closer I got, the more the burnt smell of old charcoal filled my nose. The ground beneath my boots was scorched black.

Then, I saw it.

A charred house stood alone in the clearing, its skeletal frame barely standing, cinders long cooled but scars never healed.

And in front of it, a lone boy sat on the broken steps, legs swinging, head tilted up toward the starless sky—singing his heart out.

The boy stopped singing as soon as he saw me.

He stood up and stared at me, eerily still.

The ghost barely reached my knee. His translucent form flickered in and out, as if he wasn’t fully there. His clothes were tattered, burnt at the edges, and his skin was a pale, bluish gray—too smooth, too doll-like to belong to the living. But what stood out the most was the gaping wound on his neck, a grotesque, jagged opening that ran deep enough to sever his throat entirely. And yet, he had been singing, clear as day.

There were only two ways this would go.

One, he’d attack me, and I’d cast Turn Undead to send him running to the next life.

Two, he’d talk to me, and I’d be roped into a side quest.

I took a slow step forward, keeping my tone casual.

“Hey there,” I said, tilting my head, “where did you learn to sing like that? You have an amazing voice.”

The boy blinked at me, his empty eyes reflecting the dim glow of the moon.

I waited.

Okay. Looked like I wouldn’t be casting Turn Undead on him—yet.

Of course, Turn Undead would’ve been the easy way out, but… this was just a boy. A child.

And I wasn’t heartless enough to smite a kid before hearing him out.

I hummed for a second, then started singing to the tune of Mmmbop.

"Mmmbop, ba duba dop… ba du bop…"

Still no reaction.

Tough crowd.

The ghostly boy just stared at me, expression blank. For a second, I thought maybe he wasn’t capable of reacting. Then he tilted his head and said, “You’re weird.”

I grinned. “I get that a lot.”

Stepping closer, I lowered myself onto a rock, making myself comfortable. I wasn’t sure if ghosts felt things like intimidation, but keeping my distance might make me seem standoffish. And I wasn’t about to startle the already-dead kid.

The bonuses in speech from Linguist made a real difference in forcing dialogue scenarios back in LLO. Players who had the class could wring out extra dialogue lines from NPCs, sometimes even entire side quests. My talking with him was probably the result of my subclass in action.

I watched him for a moment, then asked gently, “Do you know?”

The boy blinked. Then, slowly, his small hand lifted to touch his throat. He nodded, eyes downcast.

He had a sad look.

This world believed rather strongly in the idea of reincarnation. If people died, they moved on, simple as that. But he hadn’t.

I rested my elbows on my knees. “So, what’s holding you back?”

066 Into Deepmoor

The Floating Dragon warped, and in an instant, we arrived in Deepmoor Continent.

The change in scenery was immediate.

Dark, jagged mountains loomed over the land like broken fangs, their peaks lost in thick, swirling clouds. The ground beneath us was a mixture of ashen dirt, black stone, and dense marshland, where twisted trees and creeping fog made everything feel eerie and half-dead.

The air was damp. Heavy. It smelled of earth, decay, and something metallic—like rusted iron.

I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly.

So this was Deepmoor.

One of the eight continents of the Grand Ascension Empire, Deepmoor was infamous for two things:

• Its cursed lands. Legends spoke of ancient battlefields, forgotten tombs, and places where even cultivators hesitated to tread.

• The Abyssal Clans. Unlike the Seven Grand Clans, these clans specialized in esoteric, forbidden techniques. Necromancy, soul manipulation, and abyssal arts—practices that other continents outlawed were freely studied here.

Not exactly the kind of place you'd take a vacation.

The moment we stabilized from the warp, Ren Xun let out a low whistle.

"Man," he said, glancing out over the murky landscape, "this place has a real ‘don’t touch anything unless you want to die’ kind of vibe."

I couldn’t help but agree.

From the deck, Gu Jie yawned. "I hate warping. Makes my head feel weird."

Deepmoor Continent was ruled by one of the Seven Imperial Houses, and ironically, it was the Black Clan with the surname Hei.

Even more ironic? Their closest neighbor was the White Clan of Evernight.

You’d think that if any cultivators were going to set up shop in Evernight, it would be the ones obsessed with necromancy, soul manipulation, and abyssal arts. After all, Evernight was teeming with undead. It seemed like the perfect place for them.

But no. That wasn’t the case.

Apparently, undead from Evernight had a particular taste—they liked cultivators who smelled of death. And according to the books I had read, that was meant literally.

I rubbed my temples. I was feeling very complicated about this.

Here, in Deepmoor, practices that were outlawed in other continents were freely studied. The Paladin in me itched to do something about it.

But I sighed, shaking my head.

If I tried to solve every problem in the world, I’d be the one who would end up destroyed.

I just had to hope the Empire knew what it was doing. It wasn’t like necromancy was innately bad… of course, that might be an unpopular opinion.

Behind me, Gu Jie’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“Is everything fine, Master?”

I glanced at her and gave a small nod. “Yeah, just thinking about some things.”

Nearby, Lu Gao stretched his arms. “How long until we reach the imperial capital?”

Ren Xun answered without looking up.

“We’re right on schedule. We took about three weeks to cross Evernight, alternating between warps and short-distance travel. If we do the same here, it’ll take us about five weeks. Then, we’ll take a shortcut that should bring us to the imperial capital in just two days.”

I considered that for a moment. “Could we get there faster?”

“We could,” Ren Xun admitted, “if we pass through Stormcall Continent. But… well, you know. Sudden storms.”

Yeah. That was the problem.

Stormcall Continent was notorious for its unpredictable weather. And while I had a lot of skills at my disposal, I didn’t have a spell to protect the Floating Dragon from storms. Sure, this vessel could survive a Fifth Realm’s attack, but who knew how strong storms could get?

So I had chosen to take the path through Deepmoor instead.

Ren Xun glanced at me and asked me for my opinion. “Senior, should we push through or let the warp cooldown?”

I considered it for a moment. Warping again would put a strain on the Floating Dragon’s formations. And while I wasn’t eager to stick around in Deepmoor, rushing in blindly wasn’t smart either.

“How bad is crime here in Deepmoor anyway?” I asked.

Ren Xun shrugged. “It depends.”

I gave him a look. “Depends on what?”

“The Black Clan mainly enforces law in this continent, even overruling the local law enforcement of cities—barring the lords, of course.” He gestured vaguely. “If it’s just banditry, they crack down on them harshly. Because some Abyssal Clans like to hire bandits or disguise their illegal procurement of lab rats as banditry.”

I stared at him. Lab rats.

That was not the phrasing I wanted to hear.

Ren Xun continued, “So, most organized groups are either careful or completely crushed before they grow too big. Random highwaymen might still exist, but nothing crazy.”

“Well, that’s nice to know,” I muttered, rubbing my temples.

I didn’t want to overuse warping if it wasn’t necessary. And if the worst thing we had to deal with was some small-time criminals, then we weren’t in any real danger.

“Let the warp cooldown,” I said. “Find us a place to set up camp.”

Ren Xun found a relatively open area where we could set up camp. The spot was close to a treeline, with enough cover to keep us hidden but not so dense that it limited visibility.

With practiced ease, Ren Xun parked the Floating Dragon just above the trees and activated a formation inside the ship, cloaking it with invisibility. The ship shimmered briefly before vanishing from sight, as if it had never been there in the first place.

I reached into my Item Box and pulled out a large tent—one big enough to comfortably house all of us.

Without needing instruction, the trio immediately got to work. Lu Gao secured the stakes, Gu Jie adjusted the fabric, and Ren Xun inscribed a few quick formations to enhance stability. They worked with the familiarity of people who had done this many times before.

I, on the other hand, had no interest in setting up camp. Instead, I grabbed Ren Jingyi and walked under the tree where the Floating Dragon was parked, finding a relatively calm spot to sit.

Technically, we could have slept inside the ship. But Ren Xun had made a point about comfort. Simply put, campsites were way more comfortable than staying on the boat. Here, he could properly use the formations and talismans he brought along, ensuring a better rest.

While the others finished up, I sat cross-legged, placing Ren Jingyi beside me.

The cool night air settled around us as I began to cultivate, my senses stretching outward, keeping silent watch over the camp.

Ren Xun stepped out of the tent and looked at me with a mix of exasperation and mild confusion. "Senior, are you really going to stay out here all night?"

I glanced up at him and shrugged. "Yeah."

He crossed his arms. "I just don’t get it. Why not come inside? It’s warmer, more comfortable, and we have formations set up for better rest."

I leaned back against the tree, watching the leaves shift under the dim light of the stars. "Because when you guys are sleeping, I’m training," I replied simply.

Ren Xun exhaled sharply. "You could just summon that clone of yours to keep watch instead."

I chuckled. "Yeah, I could. If all I wanted was a reliable guard, I’d just summon Dave and call it a night. But that’s not the point."

Ren Xun shook his head, clearly thinking I was being stubborn. "Suit yourself," he muttered before retreating back inside the tent.

With the camp settling down, I returned to my cultivation.

I sat cross-legged, focusing on my breathing. Hollow Breath Technique. I had been trying to make progress with it for what felt like forever, but no matter how much effort I put in, nothing remarkable happened.

I delved deeper into my perception, directing my awareness toward my dantian. Instead of clarity or insight, I felt the same muddled mess of my spiritual roots. Rough, unformed, stubbornly refusing to align properly.

I sighed and opened my eyes.

Beside me, Ren Jingyi floated lazily, her fins drifting in the still air. I stared at her for a moment, watching her tiny movements, then let my thoughts wander.

For the next five minutes, I focused my mind and activated Divine Possession.

A familiar weightlessness overtook me as my consciousness slipped into Ren Jingyi. My senses shifted, the world around me tilting as I perceived everything from her perspective. It had become somewhat of a routine—a way to push my mastery of this Ultimate Skill as far as possible.

Meanwhile, I left Dave in charge of my main body.

Through my shared awareness, I could feel him sit cross-legged, taking up my training in the Hollow Breath Technique. Letting Dave handle cultivation while I honed Divine Possession was efficient, but also frustrating. Even under his precise control, my spiritual roots remained as muddled and stubborn as ever.

As the duration of Divine Possession ended, I was pulled back into my body with a breathless jolt.

Immediately, I shifted gears.

Summon: Holy Spirit.

A ripple of golden light spread from my fingertips, forming into Dave’s armored figure once more. Without hesitation, I began my real training—testing my Zealot’s Stride and Divine Smite in tandem.

Of course, I wouldn’t be training so noisily right next to the camp.

Before starting, I made sure to move a fair distance away, far enough that my Divine Sense could still reach the others but not close enough to disturb their rest. The last thing I needed was Ren Xun nagging me about unnecessary risks… though, I could hardly see it happening.

While I was at it, I also silently snuck the goldfish inside the tent. She’d be safer there, tucked away from any stray bursts of energy.

With that handled, I focused on my training.

I dashed forward, feeling the sharp acceleration of Zealot’s Stride. The ability enhanced not just speed but also fluidity of movement, allowing me to close distances instantly. I pivoted mid-step, swinging my sword downward as Divine Smite surged through my blade, coating it in searing radiance.

Dave met my strike with a perfectly timed parry.

The clash of divine energy against his solid defense sent shockwaves through the clearing. I exhaled sharply, adjusting my stance, and repeated the sequence. Again and again.

I had learned how important movement and continuous skill application were for cultivators—accuracy, damage, and tempo mattered. If I was too passive, I’d be overwhelmed. If I lacked DPS, I’d be taken advantage of.

That’s why I prioritized my training carefully:

• Divine Possession– My strongest tool for adaptability.

• Summon: Holy Spirit– Versatile utility and reinforcement.

• Zealot’s Stride– Mobility was king in combat.

• Divine Smite– Never underestimate the power of a clean, decisive hit.

For now, I kept pushing forward, refining my control one step at a time.

Dave and I faced each other. His golden form stood unwavering, greatsword in hand, while I readied myself with Silver Steel.

A deep breath.

Then I lunged.

My feet burned with Zealot’s Stride, mana interacting with divine energy was surging through my legs as I closed the distance in an instant. My sword clashed against Dave’s greatsword, sending golden sparks flying. He didn’t stagger—no, he countered immediately, swinging his blade in a brutal arc meant to cleave me in two.

I twisted my foot, momentum carrying me just past the swing.

Divine Smite.

A radiant glow enveloped my blade as I struck down with all my might. Boom! The impact split the ground beneath Dave’s feet, but he had already stepped back, deflecting the brunt of the attack. His sword hummed with divine energy, mirroring my own technique.

He lunged next, his Zealot’s Stride flaring as he vanished and reappeared right in front of me. My instincts screamed, and I barely managed to parry his downward slash. The sheer force sent a tremor through my arm.

I retaliated.

With my own Zealot’s Stride, I sidestepped and repositioned behind him in a flash. He turned, but my blade was already descending. Divine Smite.

Clang! He blocked it—barely.

Golden energy crackled between us, illuminating the barren ground with each strike. We moved in a relentless cycle of attack and counter, alternating between Zealot’s Stride for movement and Divine Smite for power. The way my sword met his felt like a conversation in steel, testing the limits of speed, precision, and endurance.

Again.

Again.

And again.

Dave wasn’t tiring—he never would—but I wasn’t planning on stopping either.

This was exactly the kind of training I needed.

"Zealot’s Stride—burn bright, burn fast. A relentless charge that falters for no man, no god."

"Divine Smite—righteous judgment, the weight of the heavens in one stroke."

I repeated the flavor text in my head as Dave and I clashed once more, my blade flashing in the dim light. Understanding and internalizing these concepts was key to growing stronger, but damn if it wasn’t frustrating. It wasn’t enough to just know the words—I had to feel them, embody them.

Dave raised his greatsword, meeting my descending strike. A shockwave rippled through the ground, sending dust flying, but I barely paid attention. I leaped back with Zealot’s Stride, then dashed forward again, my sword flaring with Divine Smite as I swung in a tight arc.

Boom!

The impact sent Dave skidding back. Another Divine Smite struck home—his body trembled, golden light crackling through his form—

Then he shattered into dust.

"Enemy Defeated."

I exhaled, shaking my head.

It was an uneven fight. Even with the 15% debuff from my Lofty Jade Proposition, I was still completely wrecking Dave with just my raw stats alone. No fancy techniques, no overwhelming strategy—just pure brute force.

I flexed my fingers around my sword hilt, considering. If I wanted proper training, I needed a real challenge.

With a thought, I dismissed my Wandering Adjudicator Armor, tucking it into my Item Box and letting my cosmetic item remain. The stats provided by my armor vanished, and my movements felt a tad sluggish.

Dave’s body reformed in golden light, his Ultimate Skill triggering as he resurrected. His hollow gaze locked onto me. No hesitation. No emotion.

I grinned.

"Again."

I darted forward with Zealot’s Stride, blade flashing with Divine Smite as I rained down strike after strike, moving easier and hitting harder.

And Dave took it all.

065 Kill Steal?

The sky had darkened with heavy, swirling clouds, crackling with divine energy. A massive golden sword descended from the heavens, its radiance splitting through the darkness like a verdict from the divine itself.

Heavenly Punishment.

The skill took form with a sheer force that sent shockwaves across the desert. It was a skill built upon karma, one that delivered absolute devastation in proportion to the sins of its target. And yet—

The undead warrior beneath its judgment did not falter.

He stood clad in ancient, corroded armor—a cuirass dulled with age, yet still boasting its once-proud engravings. A long, jagged halberd was clutched in his bony hands, its blade chipped but no less deadly. His hollow eyes flared with ghostly green fire, staring down fate itself.

The moment Heavenly Punishment struck him, the impact sent ripples of divine and unholy energy clashing. The golden sword turned into a pillar of light upon impact, its sheer force carving deep trenches into the desert. The sand beneath darkened, corrupted by the collision of opposing forces.

The lower-level undead surrounding us were annihilated instantly, their spiritual embers snuffed out as their bodies crumbled into dust. Yet the warrior endured.

"Surprises one after another..."

Beneath my helm, I watched as he braced himself, his halberd raised. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t flee.

He parried.

A massive shockwave erupted as his halberd met my divine judgment, the sheer force of resistance making my grip on my sword tighten. He staggered, feet dragging against the scorched sands, but he did not fall.

A part of me acknowledged the skill it took to deflect even a fragment of Heavenly Punishment. Another part of me found it mildly irritating.

"Stubborn bastard," I muttered. "You'll make a nice punching bag!"

I’d never seen anything like this.

Parry an Ultimate Skill? Yeah, great for him. And more work for me.

In the future, I would only face just as ridiculous opponents. Again, I was reminded by Jiang Zhen’s ridiculous technique of burying underground and surviving the same skill I threw against undead. If the undead in front of me had the wit it used to have, this would have evolved into a more challenging fight.

“Okay, let’s go for round two.”

The aftermath of Heavenly Punishment settled like a divine decree. The sky remained dark, shrouded in remnants of light and shadow clashing in the heavens. The desert beneath me had been scarred—blackened and cracked where holy and unholy energies had met in catastrophic opposition. The wave of energy from the collision alone had been enough to clear the immense swathe of undead around me, speaking of how destructive the collision of opposing energies was.

Hopefully, the collision hadn’t harmed anyone from my party. Dave should have reached the Floating Dragon by now, ensuring their safety. They should be fine.

As the last remnants of divine light faded, I turned my gaze back to the undead warrior standing before me.

He was still intact.

I couldn't discount the possibility this undead had some innate abilities that allowed him to tank an Ultimate Skill where he should be plenty vulnerable to. Or maybe it was an effect of equipment? It could go either way...

Still, that didn't mean the undead had been unscathed.

Worse for wear, yes, but very much still there. His ancient cuirass had deep cracks, his skeletal frame bore signs of strain, and the green fire in his eyes flickered erratically—but he had survived Heavenly Punishment.

Stronger than the Heavenly Demon? Yeah.
More difficult to deal with? Not really.

The key difference was simple. The Heavenly Demon had thought. He had schemes, unpredictability, and, most importantly, intelligence. This undead? Not so much.

Not to mention, I was handicapped when fighting the Heavenly Demon.

"RAAAAAGH—!"

With an incoherent roar, the undead lunged at me, halberd swinging in a wide arc. I met it head-on, raising Silver Steel to parry the attack. Sparks erupted from the clash, the weight behind the blow forcing me to adjust my stance.

I wasn’t wearing my Lofty Jade Proposition cosmetic item this time.

Instead, I was clad in full gear—helm to greaves, every piece optimized for battle. The weight felt familiar, comfortable, like stepping into an old routine. The inherited memories from David_69 were a great boon that allowed me to perform at a level I'd never be able to imagine.

The undead pulled back, shifting into another stance. It wasn’t refined—it lacked the precision of a true warrior—but it had instinct. It had power.

That was fine. I had my stats.

I met his next attack with a sidestep, deflecting the halberd just enough to disrupt his momentum. Another strike, another parry—my movements grew sharper, faster, more efficient. This was exactly what I needed.

This was the best training I could ask for.

Sparring with Dave whenever I could was getting stale, anyway.

The undead moved like a force of nature—relentless, unyielding, and utterly devoid of hesitation. It was all stats now.

No tricks. No complicated techniques. Just a direct contest of raw numbers.

The moment I deflected his halberd, he came at me again, adjusting his stance with unnatural precision. The weight behind his swings was immense—every strike carrying a force that could shatter boulders and cleave through weaker cultivators like paper.

But I wasn’t weak.

I held my ground, bracing my stance and meeting his attack head-on.

CLANG!

The impact sent a shockwave through the scorched desert. Sand burst into the air around us, disturbed by the sheer force of the collision. My arm trembled under the weight of the halberd, but I stood firm, Silver Steel locked against his weapon.

He pushed forward. I pushed back.

No fancy footwork. No intricate strategies. Just power against power.

I relied solely on Divine Sense to track his every move. No need for unnecessary reactions. Just slight shifts, tiny adjustments—just enough to neutralize the attack while keeping my own balance.

When he swung from above, I sidestepped.
When he aimed for my legs, I lifted a foot just enough for the blade to scrape harmlessly against my greaves.
When he tried to throw me off with a sudden feint, I had already seen through it.

It was pure stat competition.

He had endurance, but so did I. He had monstrous strength, but mine wasn’t lacking. His speed was formidable, but my reactions were sharper.

The undead suddenly shifted. The green fire in his sockets flared as he executed a technique.

The halberd twisted mid-swing, shifting momentum in an instant—an overhead strike that transformed into a sweeping slash in the blink of an eye.

I moved before it finished.

Not with another parry. Not with a counterattack.

I simply stepped to the side.

The halberd carved through the air where I had been a split second ago. His own momentum betrayed him, leaving him open for just a moment.

I could have struck back.

I didn’t.

I wanted to see how far this could go. How much I could push this battle without relying on skills, buffs, or any external advantages.

The undead roared in frustration, correcting his stance, and came at me again.

Fine. Let’s keep going.

Slowly, but surely… I was making steady progress.

The battle had become effortless.

A flick of the wrist.

A slight shift in stance.

The halberd came down like an executioner’s blade, but I barely needed to move. A simple flick sent it gliding harmlessly across my Silver Steel. The undead staggered, his momentum wasted.

It had taken me some time, but I was growing fluent in parrying—not just blocking, but redirecting. Turning an enemy’s force against them.

This was it.

This was the peak of efficiency.

The undead snarled, green flames flickering in his sockets as he adjusted his grip and swung again. I didn’t even flinch. I guided his attack away with nothing but precision, the halberd scraping harmlessly against my blade.

Stronger enemies always had a breaking point. If I kept this up, he’d wear himself out before I did—though considering he was undead, that might take a while.

Then, out of nowhere—

Silver arrows of moonlight rained down from above, homing in on my opponent.

I tensed.

In the next moment, the undead burst into blue flames. He howled, thrashing violently as the fire consumed him from the inside out.

I looked up.

Gliding down from the darkened sky was a silver-haired, youthful-looking man. His robes shimmered with the faint glow of the moon. He moved like a spirit, untouched by gravity, with an elegance that screamed power.

Trailing behind him was an older, more reserved man, his posture deferential, yet his presence no less imposing.

I immediately scanned them with Divine Sense.

The young-looking man? Stronger than the undead I had just fought.
The elder beside him? As strong as the Heavenly Demon inside Gu Jie.

I exhaled, tucking my sword and helmet into my Item Box.

If this was going to be a conversation rather than a fight, I might as well play the part.

I clasped my hands, straightened my back, and executed a perfect martial artist’s bow.

"Greetings, fellow Daoist," I said smoothly, voice even and respectful. "How may I help you?"

Hah~!

I think being a cultivator wasn’t so hard after all.

Honestly? I am kind of pissed...

The silver-haired man in front of me exchanged a glance with the elder at his side.

I could tell they were speaking. Not with words, but through Qi Speech—a supernatural form of communication moving at speeds beyond normal comprehension.

A split second later, the older man stepped forward.

"I am Bai Bai of the White Clan," he declared aggressively, his tone carrying the weight of authority. "And before you stands the Grand Patriarch of the White Clan, Bai Rong."

Bai?

Ah.

Of course.

Why did cultivators always have to be so damn aggressive with introductions? Couldn’t we all just nod and exchange names like normal people?

I offered a polite bow and responded, "It is an honor. I am Da Wei." They had no particular reaction. It seemed my deeds in Yellow Dragon City were yet to reach the rest of the Empire.

I could feel Bai Rong’s gaze boring into me, his expression was that of half-arrogance and half-expectation.

I knew this type. The kind who measured people not by words, but by presence.

Well, I had presence in spades.

With a flick of my wrist, I reached into my Item Box and slapped on my cosmetic item—Lofty Jade Proposition.

A casual show of power? Maybe.
A demonstration of style? Absolutely.

My previously armored figure was now clad in the flowing, elegant robes of an immortal scholar, their pristine jade fabric shimmering ever so slightly.

For just a fraction of a second, I caught the barest twitch on Bai Bai’s face.

Bai Rong, to his credit, controlled his expression rather well.

In the past few weeks, I had Ren Xun drill me on everything he knew about the Grand Ascension Empire—its factions, its politics, and especially its great powers.

So did the White Clan and the surname Bai ring a bell?

Yes. Absolutely.

The Yellow Dragon City Festival had hosted the Seven Grand Clans. The White Clan was among them.

To the rest of the Empire, the Seven Grand Clans were known by a different name—The Seven Imperial Houses.

According to Ren Xun, each of these clans held immense power, ruling over one of the Empire’s seven continents.

And the White Clan?

They ruled the Evernight Continent.

That meant Bai Rong was a man of considerable influence.

The grand patriarch’s gaze bore into me with thinly veiled suspicion.

“What’s your affiliation? And where are you going?”

Oh, none of your damn business.

Of course, I couldn’t just say that. I might be a little harsh on Gu Jie sometimes—like that one time I shooed her while I was playing in an arcade stall—but this wasn’t exactly an attitude that the self-important cultivators of the world would take kindly to.

I considered my options.

I could say Isolation Path Sect, but from what I remembered, the White Clan and Isolation Path Sect weren’t exactly vibing well back in Riverfall considering the rumors.

I could say Ren Jin’s name, but that might be misconstrued as support for an imperial prince.

Yeah, no thanks.

In the end, I decided to keep things casual.

I clasped my hands together and smiled. "I am but a humble adventurer, traveling wherever the wind takes me. As for my destination? The imperial capital, of course. A place of culture, history, and opportunity—what traveler wouldn’t want to see it?"

I spoke with an easy confidence, keeping my tone light-hearted yet firm.

It was the perfect answer.

Technically true, entirely noncommittal, and most importantly—none of his business.

Among the eight continents of the Grand Ascension Empire, Riverfall was the newest addition.

Each continent had a clan that was considered its central powerhouse…

Except for Riverfall.

The Seven Grand Clans were, in essence, offshoot branch clans of the major imperial clans—created as a way to compete by proxy over who would rule Riverfall.

In another perspective…

Ren Jin could also be a proxy of the Emperor, sent to compete for the same prize.

It made me wonder—just how much power did the Emperor truly have?

A man capable of keeping the Seven Imperial Houses in check? Managing the constant power struggle between the clans, sects, and nobles of the empire?

I could barely imagine it.

These thoughts ran through my mind as Bai Rong and I stared at each other.

For a long, tense moment, neither of us spoke.

Then, finally, Bai Rong said, “The imperial capital is truly a destination worth visiting.”

A neutral statement. A neutral ending.

Just like that, the two of them floated away and disappeared into the sky.

I was a little salty, though.

Dude just stole my kill.

I sighed and shook my head. Whatever.

Back to the Floating Dragon, then.

064 Evernight’s Undead

A blood-red sky loomed over an endless wasteland of fire and ruin. Jagged obsidian spires jutted from the ground like the ribs of a rotting beast. In the distance, rivers of molten lava carved their way through the desolation, their heat suffocating and all-consuming.

Lu Gao stood at the precipice of a broken bridge, staring down into the abyss below. Chains clattered in the distance. A grotesque symphony of wails and laughter echoed through the air, the kind that burrowed into the soul and festered like an unhealed wound.

Then, from the darkness, it emerged.

A horned demon, wreathed in black flames, stepped forward. Its eyes burned with a sickly golden light, filled with neither hatred nor malice—only hunger. Its grin stretched unnaturally wide, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

It wasn’t the same demon

"Why do you struggle, child of ambition?" the demon purred, its voice layered with countless whispers.

Lu Gao tried to move, but his body felt heavy, as though unseen hands were pulling him down. The ground beneath him cracked, skeletal hands clawing their way to the surface. They grasped at his ankles, his wrists, his throat—pulling, dragging, drowning him in a tide of suffering.

The demon took a step closer.

"You have been marked. The deeper you tread the path of the blessed, the clearer you see us, the closer you bring yourself to our grasp. You are not a savior, Lu Gao. You are a gate."

The abyss yawned beneath him.

Then, he fell.

Lu Gao woke up with a sharp gasp, his breath ragged and uneven. His body was drenched in sweat, his heart pounding against his ribs. The lingering echoes of screams still rang in his ears.

A warm hand touched his shoulder.

"You're awake," Ren Xun said. His voice was calm, but there was a slight crease of worry in his brow.

Lu Gao took a deep breath, steadying himself before sitting up. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped the sweat from his face.

"I'm fine," he muttered.

Ren Xun didn't look convinced. "You've been having these dreams more often, haven't you?"

Lu Gao hesitated. It had been a few weeks since he first learned the spell Bless, and ever since, his dreams had become more vivid, more terrifying. At first, they were nothing but fleeting images—shadows in the corner of his vision, whispers that faded upon waking. But now… now they felt real.

The heat, the pain, the suffocating despair. He could remember them all too clearly.

"I'm fine," he repeated, more firmly this time. Then, without another word, he raised his hand and cast Bless on himself.

A warm light surrounded him, like the touch of the sun breaking through dark clouds. The trembling in his hands stopped, and his breathing evened. The remnants of his nightmare faded, though he knew they would return.

Ren Xun watched him for a long moment before sighing. "If you say so."

Lu Gao forced a smirk. "I do."

But even as the divine light wrapped around him, he couldn't shake the feeling that something—someone—was watching him from beyond.

Lu Gao rubbed his temples as the remnants of his dream faded. The lingering sensation of claws grasping at his throat sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

He sat up and stretched his arms, the stiffness in his muscles easing slightly. His gaze wandered around, taking in their surroundings. "Where are we?" he asked, his voice rough from sleep.

Ren Xun, who had been leaning lazily against the ship’s railing, glanced over. "Still in Evernight," he answered. "One more warp, and we should be in the next continent over."

Lu Gao blinked, then turned his attention to their boat—the Floating Dragon. It was currently perched on the side of a jagged cliff, suspended as if it had always belonged there. He frowned.

"Is this safe?" he asked hesitantly.

Ren Xun scoffed, arms crossed. "Of course it’s safe." He sounded almost offended by the question. "Master Da Wei made sure of it. You worry too much."

Lu Gao sighed, deciding not to press further. If the ship hadn’t fallen yet, then maybe it really was fine.

He yawned, running a hand through his hair. "Where’s Master and Senior Jie?"

Ren Xun didn’t even look up as he answered. "Training, of course."

Lu Gao exhaled sharply through his nose. Training, huh? Again?

He would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t envious of Gu Jie for being granted the official rank of disciple. It had happened so suddenly, but in hindsight, he should’ve seen it coming. There was something about her that made Master Da Wei treat her differently—something that set her apart.

Lu Gao clenched his fists. He knew he had to prove himself. He couldn’t let himself be defined by the taint in his soul, the stain of being demon-possessed. One day, he would cleanse himself of it.

A flicker of movement caught his eye.

He turned and found himself staring into the round, unblinking eyes of the goldfish.

Ren Jingyi stared at him. He stared back.

She didn’t say anything, nor did she need to. The message was clear.

Lu Gao sighed.

It was bad enough that he had to compete with Gu Jie, but now he also had this smug little fish to worry about. Master Da Wei can't only have one star pupil, huh?

He sighed again, heavier this time.

"You know, it’s kind of incredible," Ren Xun mused.

Lu Gao cracked an eye open. "What is?"

Ren Xun leaned against the railing of the Floating Dragon, smirking. "The fact that you can cast a spell despite having no qi in your system. Not to mention…" He gestured vaguely, "…the whole broken dantian thing."

Lu Gao exhaled, brushing the comment off. "It’s not a big deal. You’ll probably get it faster than me and the fish."

Ren Xun blinked in confusion. "The fish?"

Lu Gao nodded toward Ren Jingyi, who was floating nearby, her round eyes unblinking as she lazily swayed her tail.

Ren Xun gave him a skeptical look. "What does a fish have to do with this?"

Lu Gao shrugged. "The spell comes easily to those of pure and righteous heart."

For a moment, there was silence.

Then Ren Xun let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Pure and righteous? Yeah, that’s not me. I have… impulses that would say otherwise." He smirked. "You of all people should know."

Lu Gao wasn’t convinced.

Sure, Ren Xun liked to joke about being some shameless and lecherous cultivator when Master Da Wei wasn’t looking, but Lu Gao didn’t buy it. He remembered the way Ren Xun’s eyes softened when he spoke of the woman he fell in love with at first sight. Not some seductive courtesan or noble beauty, but a beggar. A woman no one else would have looked at twice.

Lu Gao wasn’t the type to pry, but it was obvious Ren Xun’s heart wasn’t as impure as he liked to pretend.

Ren Xun, perhaps sensing where Lu Gao’s thoughts were drifting, let out a theatrical sigh and wandered off to his corner of the boat. He pulled out a strip of dried jerky and started chewing on it absentmindedly.

Meanwhile, Lu Gao settled back down, focusing on his next challenge.

Blessed Weapon.

A spell that would imbue a weapon with divine energy, making it more effective against evil beings. He needed this. If he wanted to stand a chance, if he wanted to prove himself, he had to master this spell.

He closed his eyes and began meditating on the incantation, steadying his breath, his thoughts.

…And then he felt it.

A stare.

He opened his eyes, only to find Ren Jingyi still floating there. Watching him. With a dumb, unreadable expression.

Lu Gao twitched.

"What?" he asked, exasperated.

The goldfish blinked slowly.

Lu Gao groaned and turned away, doing his best to ignore her.

It wasn’t easy.

Just because he and the fish could use the Bless spell, it didn’t mean they had become Paladins.

Master Da Wei had been clear about that.

"The path I walk is not one of righteousness, nor of blind devotion," he had said, his voice carrying the weight of something far older than himself. "It is a path of understanding, of will. I can guide you into inheriting my Legacy, but it is up to you to choose if you will walk it."

Lu Gao had no idea what a Legacy really was. Or Mana, for that matter.

But he did remember the first time he had cast Bless—that subtle brush with an unknowable force, something vast and deep. It had felt familiar somehow, eerily close to the presence of the demon that had once possessed him. Yet, at the same time, it was fundamentally different.

Where the demon had been suffocating, oppressive, this force had been… boundless. Neither welcoming nor rejecting him. Simply there.

Lu Gao was deep in thought when suddenly—

Fwsh!

Gu Jie appeared out of nowhere, materializing onto the deck of the Floating Dragon in a blink of an eye.

"Ugh," she groaned, stumbling slightly. "That damn scroll is nauseating…"

She looked rough—clothes singed, a smear of what looked like black soot on her cheek, and her hair was a tangled mess.

Lu Gao frowned. "What happened?"

Gu Jie waved him off. "Undead. Lots of them."

Ren Xun raised an eyebrow. "Master left you to deal with them alone?"

She snorted. "No, idiot. He should be back soon—he’s mopping them up now." She sighed and rolled her shoulders. "He figured it’d be faster if I just left first, so he tossed me a Scroll of Great Teleportation and told me to get lost."

Without another word, she strolled past Ren Xun and Lu Gao, stopping by the goldfish.

She pulled out a few leaves of lettuce, tore them up, and dropped them into the water. "Here, Jingyi. Be useful for once and purify the water or something."

Ren Jingyi swam forward and nibbled on the lettuce, her expression as unreadable as ever.

Ren Xun scratched the back of his head. "Should we move the Floating Dragon? If there are that many undead around, maybe we should get some distance."

Gu Jie shook her head. "Nah, we should be fine. Master will find us either way."

Lu Gao exhaled and glanced at the sky. The sun was setting, casting the sky in streaks of red and gold. It would be night soon.

Ren Xun, being Ren Xun, was the first to break the silence.

"So, what’s training with the Master like?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were asking about the weather.

Lu Gao tensed.

He had his own experiences with "training" back in the Lu Clan. Harsh, grueling, and suffocating. Training wasn’t a method of learning—it was a method of proving whether you were worthy of being taught in the first place. If you couldn’t keep up, you were left behind. That was simply the way things were.

Gu Jie, however, didn’t seem particularly bothered by the question. She tilted her head, considering.

"My Legacy is different from Master’s," she said finally. "He can’t teach me skills I can use."

Ren Xun blinked. "Then what does he teach you?"

Gu Jie crossed her arms, rocking back on her heels. "He teaches me what skills to prioritize. How to actualize my vision of myself in the future."

Lu Gao frowned. "What does that even mean?"

She shrugged. "Something about creating a ‘full build.’"

Ren Xun narrowed his eyes. "And that means…?"

Gu Jie rolled her eyes. "Don’t ask me—I barely get half the things Master says when he’s in one of his moods."

She then leaned against the railing, staring at the water. "He gives me assignments. He calls them Quests. They should allow me to learn skills in the Repentant Path of the Warlock Legacy."

Ren Xun’s mouth twitched. "Quests? Like an adventurer?"

Gu Jie smirked. "Apparently."

Lu Gao absorbed that information slowly. Master Da Wei’s cultivation method was… bizarre. Not only did it use skills that didn’t seem tied to qi, but it also seemed structured in a way that none of the traditional cultivation methods he’d heard of worked.

And now there was a Repentant Path of a Warlock Legacy?

Lu Gao wasn’t sure what kind of path he wanted to walk yet, but one thing was certain—Master Da Wei’s way of doing things was something unlike anything the world of cultivation had ever seen.

The Floating Dragon rocked violently as something landed atop its deck with a resounding thud. Lu Gao’s hand shot out, gripping the railing to steady himself. His heart pounded as he turned his head.

From above, a figure stood, arms crossed, the moonlight casting an eerie glow over his features.

"Master?" Lu Gao called hesitantly.

The man looked at him, then sighed dramatically. "No, it’s Dave, his Holy Spirit."

Lu Gao blinked. "...Dei-what?"

Gu Jie, crouched beside him, snorted. "Just treat him like Master’s clone." She tilted her head, squinting. "What is it, Master Dai-vu? Dai-Fu?"

"It’s Dave..." Master’s clone corrected, looking exasperated. He lifted his arms, summoning a pair of massive tower shields as if they weighed nothing. "No time for questions. Move the Floating Dragon and hide it behind the cliff."

Ren Xun was already in motion before the words had fully left his mouth, scrambling for the controls. "Lu Gao, Gu Jie, remove the hooks, the anchor, and everything!"

Lu Gao scrambled to the side of the ship, gripping the anchor’s thick chain and beginning to unwind it as fast as he could. Metal rattled against wood as the heavy weight dropped below. On the other side, Gu Jie leaped into the air, her movements precise as she unlatched the hooks securing their position.

Lu Gao stole a glance at the Master’s clone, still trying to wrap his head around the fact that this was a thing that could exist. "What’s happening?"

Master’s clone raised his shields and began hurling spells everywhere. "Brace yourselves! There’s been a powerful undead—"

Before he could finish, the sky darkened.

Lu Gao felt his breath hitch.

From the heavens, a golden light began to descend. No—not light. A sword.

A massive divine blade, glowing with radiant energy, fell from above, cutting through the clouds like divine judgment made manifest. It was like the heavens themselves had deemed something in this world unworthy of existing.

Lu Gao was momentarily paralyzed by the sheer divinity of it. He had never seen anything like this before.

Ren Xun gritted his teeth, pulling hard on the ship’s controls. The Floating Dragon lurched, tilting as it veered behind the mountainous cliff.

A split second later, dark miasma surged up to meet the golden sword. The two forces clashed—holy radiance against cursed darkness. The sky itself seemed to shake as a pillar of light erupted from the collision, so bright it turned night into day.

A wail—long, high-pitched, and ghostly—echoed across the landscape.

Lu Gao swallowed hard.

Whatever had just been struck down was something terrifying.

063 Disciple & Daughter

The scenery shifted once more, bringing us to a bustling dock. Wooden piers stretched out over murky waters, and the air carried the scent of salt and fish, mixed with the sweat of laborers hauling cargo. Unlike the past visions, this one felt… grittier, more grounded. There was no grandeur of the Heavenly Demon’s reign or the chaos of war. Just the dull, suffocating weight of survival.

Gu Jie stood beside me, her face unreadable as she continued her story.

“I didn’t know where I was going,” she said, staring out at the water. “I just knew I had to leave. Riverfall sounded nice, I thought.”

She recounted how she had barely scraped by, clinging to life with nothing but desperation and instinct. Each day bled into the next, a miserable cycle of hunger, exhaustion, and the constant threat of death.

“I became a petty thief,” she admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Stealing chickens, scraps of food… anything that could keep me alive. At some point, people started calling me a plague rat. Fitting, I suppose.”

I remained silent, letting her speak.

Gu Jie turned, facing me with an expression that was both bitter and amused. “There was even a time I tried to sell myself.”

I barely managed to keep my expression neutral, but she caught the flicker in my eyes.

She scoffed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Master. It’s not like it worked.” She spread her arms wide, gesturing at her own frail form in the vision. The younger Gu Jie was little more than skin and bones, her once-bright eyes dulled by suffering. “I wasn’t exactly… desirable. Too thin, too sickly, too close to death. They threw me out, nearly killed me for the offense.”

I clenched my fists.

If it weren’t for her sliver of cultivation and talents, she would have died long ago. Even then, it wasn’t a gift—it was a curse. Every moment she lived was another moment her life force drained away, another moment where her own misfortune gnawed at her from the inside out.

She laughed again, but it was empty. “Looking back, I don’t know whether to be ashamed or impressed that I lasted that long.”

I didn’t let it show on my face, but I felt immensely sorry for her.

No one should have to live like that.

Gu Jie’s voice carried no emotion as she continued her story.

“I got desperate,” she admitted. “So desperate that I started advertising myself.”

I glanced at her. “Advertising?”

She smirked bitterly. “My Sixth Sense Misfortune. I figured someone out there would find it useful. A clan, a sect, maybe even a rich merchant. Or…” Her gaze drifted away. “Well, I wouldn’t have minded if they just bought me outright.”

I inhaled slowly, processing her words.

That must have been how Kang Shi knew about her bloodline ability.

The vision around us shifted again, morphing into a chaotic chase. A younger, more desperate Gu Jie darted through a dense cityscape, her breath ragged, her limbs trembling from exhaustion. Behind her, a group of cultivators pursued with murderous intent, their shouts carrying over the rooftops.

“She’s a rare specimen,” one of them sneered.

Another scoffed. “She’s barely holding herself together. Useless in combat. But her bloodline…”

I watched the scene with narrowed eyes. These weren’t demonic cultivators. Their robes bore the insignias of righteous sects.

“She has no sect, no family.”

“She’ll make a fine pill.”

I exhaled sharply. Even knowing the nature of cultivators, hearing it out loud still left a bitter taste in my mouth.

Gu Jie merely shrugged. “Turns out my plan didn’t go so well.”

I turned to her. “You were hoping to be bought, not hunted.”

She nodded. “I thought I could be useful. Maybe as a breeding pig for some clan that wanted special talents. Maybe as a lab rat for an alchemist. I didn’t have any trace of demonic qi in me, so I figured I was still… viable.”

I clenched my jaw.

She chuckled. “I underestimated cultivators.”

I turned to the present Gu Jie and asked, “What was even the benefit of turning you into a pill?”

She raised a brow, then let out a short laugh. “Plenty. My misfortune could be harnessed for certain cultivation techniques.” She tilted her head. “Ever heard of the Calamity Reversal Method? Supposedly, absorbing misfortune in controlled doses can strengthen one's Dao Heart. Of course, that only works if you don’t die first.”

I frowned.

She continued. “And if not a pill, I could be refined into a talisman to curse an entire clan. There are ancient arts that use misfortune as a weapon, condemning bloodlines for generations.”

I kept my expression neutral, but inwardly, I grimaced.

“If not a talisman,” she went on, “then a cursed weapon. The properties of my misfortune could be bound to a blade, a spear, or something even worse. Imagine a sword that spreads catastrophe with every swing.”

I stayed silent, digesting the implications.

“And then there’s dual cultivation.” Her lips curled into a humorless smile. “Under specific conditions, my misfortune could be transferred to another person and—get this—transformed into fortune. Of course, that would come at the cost of my life.”

“…You learned all of this while on the run?”

She nodded. “Hunted people pick up things quickly. I gained quite the reputation as a cultivator without ever fighting anyone. I just kept surviving.”

I didn’t miss the irony. She had become infamous just by existing.

“But infamy only lasts so long,” she added. “Eventually, my cultivation deteriorated to the point that I barely registered as a cultivator at all.”

The scene before us shifted once more. The dark alleys and dense forests faded away, replaced by a humble, rural landscape.

Gu Jie, frail and barely distinguishable from a mortal, knelt in the dirt, tending to a patch of potatoes.

I wasn’t a stranger to a tough life.

Even in the 21st century, for all its so-called progress, cracks ran deep beneath the surface. Society dressed them up, covered them with distractions, but those flaws hid horrors of their own.

I’d seen homeless people huddled in the cold, their gazes hollow yet resigned. I’d been in arguments debating the morality of things that never should have needed debating. I’d been robbed before—felt that cold, helpless frustration in my gut. I’d seen death too, even if only secondhand. If not in the newspapers, then from the whispers of neighbors.

But that was the difference, wasn’t it?

Death in my world was distant, something to be avoided, feared. But in this one? People had long made peace with it. To them, the next life mattered more than the suffering it took to get there—whether that ending was happy or not. This was especially true for mortals.

What about cultivators then?

The vision before us shifted.

Gu Jie sat at the edge of a cliff beneath a vast night sky. The cold wind toyed with her ragged sleeves, yet she remained still. Her eyes, once filled with bitterness and survival instincts, now held something quieter.

Resignation.

She watched the night sky with dull eyes. A single shooting star burned its way across the heavens, falling slowly, inevitably. Slowly, her eyes sparkled a bit.

For a long time, neither of us spoke. The night stretched on, silent and heavy.

Then, softly, Gu Jie murmured, “I used to believe that if I ran far enough, I’d find a place for myself.” She let out a quiet laugh, more breath than sound. “Turns out, I only found higher cliffs to sit on.”

“I get what you mean,” I said, my voice calm under the vast night sky. “But cliffs aren’t so bad.”

Gu Jie turned to me, arching a brow. A tiny, suppressed chuckle escaped her lips.

“I was planning to go to Yellow Dragon City,” she admitted, eyes flicking back to the sky. “I was going to beg the Isolation Path Sect to take me in.”

I hummed, waiting for her to continue.

“On the way,” she said, “I saw a shooting star.” A pause. Then, softer, “It was beautiful.”

She tilted her head slightly, lost in memory. “For a moment, it almost looked like… a falling winged man.” She let out a slow breath, as if weighing her words. “I believe the word is ‘Angel.’”

That caught my attention. Angel? Did that word even exist naturally in this world?

“I made a wish right then and there,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I wished for someone to save me.”

The vision played out in front of us, shifting to the memory of her infiltrating Yellow Dragon City. Of her slipping through alleys and shadows, her presence reduced to a mere flicker. And then—she met me.

And I healed her.

There was a poetic lilt to it, a rhythm to the way events had unfolded.

Warlocks had a skill called Wish Upon a Star. It was sometimes shared with other classes too, but the idea remained the same—a desperate hope given to the heavens, a plea cast into the void.

I chuckled, shaking my head. “Maybe that shooting star was me.”

Gu Jie turned, eyes wide with surprise.

“Maybe,” I continued, smirking, “the reason I fell into this world was, in part, because of you.” I shrugged. “Maybe fate is real, and we were meant to meet.”

It was absurd. Ridiculous. And yet…

I laughed.

Gu Jie blinked at me before breaking into laughter herself.

Why were we even laughing?

For me, it was the sheer irony of it all.

And Gu Jie?

I think she was just happy.

I stopped laughing first, but Gu Jie kept going. Her shoulders shook as she covered her mouth, failing to suppress the lingering chuckles that spilled past her lips.

“Pffft… what the?” she wheezed between giggles. “Ha ha ha… Master, that’s the first profound thing I’ve ever heard you say that truly moved me.”

I blinked. “Huh?” I scoffed, pretending to be offended. “I think I’m pretty good at it. Maybe you just aren’t listening enough.”

Gu Jie wiped at her eyes, still smiling. “Thank you, Master.”

For a moment, she didn’t say anything else. She just stood there, looking at me with an expression I couldn’t quite place. It was warm. Grateful. Maybe even… at peace.

I exhaled, shaking my head. “You sure know how to kill a moment.”

Gu Jie took a step back, inhaling deeply as if steadying herself. Then, before I could even ask what she was doing, she dropped to her knees.

I froze.

She lowered her head until it touched the ground, her palms resting flat beside her. A full kowtow.

“Master,” she said, her voice resolute. “I have no family. No home. No sect. I have lived through suffering, abandoned by both righteousness and wickedness alike. You saved me. You gave me purpose. And even knowing the weight of my misfortune, you accepted me without hesitation.”

I swallowed, still processing what was happening.

She raised her head, looking up at me with a rare, sincere expression. “From this moment onward, I vow to serve you not only as a disciple but as a daughter. My life is yours to guide, my path yours to illuminate.”

I stared at her, words caught in my throat.

She… she really meant it.

My thoughts ran in circles. I had expected loyalty, sure. Maybe even a bit of admiration. But this?

I had no idea how to be a father. Hell, I was barely keeping myself together half the time.

But the way she looked at me—so certain, so unwavering—I knew I couldn’t reject her.

I exhaled, stepping forward. “Get up, Gu Jie.”

She hesitated, but I reached down and helped her to her feet.

“If that’s what you’ve decided,” I said, “then I’ll accept it. From now on, you’re my disciple… and I’ll treat you like my daughter.”

Her lips parted slightly, as if the words took a second to sink in. Then, for the first time since I met her, Gu Jie’s eyes glistened with something that wasn’t bitterness or pain.

She bowed her head again—not in reverence, but in gratitude. “Thank you, Master.”

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. “Just don’t expect me to be good at this.”

She laughed softly. “That’s alright. I think you’ll be just fine."