Great Sage

Chapter 143

Back when Mo Jiu had tried to corrupt the immortal sword with ancient demon blood, he’d captured three people.
Besides Mo Jiu himself, there were two others: a fat man named Pang Hu and a thin one called Shou Hou.

Now, Han Luo arrived at the sealed realm where Pang Hu and Shou Hou were being held.

The moment he entered, Pang Hu burst into tears.
"Big brother, I was wrong! I shouldn’t have caused trouble in Luoxian Sect—I was tricked by that bastard Mo Jiu! He threatened to kill my whole family if I didn’t help. You know me—I’m a filial son. How could I let my parents suffer such humiliation? Please, big brother, let me go! My 380-year-old great-grandmother is still alive, and my wife is pregnant with twins after ten years of trying—please, I beg you!"

Meanwhile, Shou Hou didn’t say a word. He simply dropped to his knees with a loud thud, kowtowing so hard his forehead split open and bled.

Han Luo hadn’t expected such a scene.
He’d thought they might show at least a shred of backbone, put up some resistance—but instead, they surrendered without a fight.

"Enough. Stop that."
At his command, Pang Hu immediately stopped crying and wiped his face as if nothing had happened—clearly well-rehearsed.
Shou Hou calmly took out a healing pill and applied it to his bleeding forehead with equal expertise.

Watching this, Han Luo’s brow twitched.
If these two weren’t cultivators, they could’ve made a fortune as actors.

"Boss, ask us anything! If we know it, we’ll tell you everything, no secrets!" Pang Hu swore, slapping his chest.

"Boss," Shou Hou added, "you captured Mo Jiu’s clone. His main body is all talk—he acts fierce, but he’s a coward. To avoid being killed by Sect Master Yun Yangzi, he made two clones. We don’t know where his main body is, though."

Han Luo nodded, motioning for them to continue.

Seeing this, Pang Hu rushed to speak, while Shou Hou calmly interjected key details.
Under the bronze mirror’s detection, Han Luo confirmed they weren’t lying.
Satisfied, he gathered quite a bit of useful information. If he ever encountered Mo Jiu again, he was now eighty percent confident he could kill him before Mo Jiu even realized what was happening.

"Boss, did we do okay? Give us a chance," Pang Hu pleaded with a pitiful look—though it was all an act.

"You two are Luoxian Sect disciples, yet you colluded with demons and betrayed your sect. According to our rules, that’s punishable by death," Han Luo said coldly.

Both men were long-standing disciples of Luoxian Sect. Their crime warranted execution to serve as a warning to others.
But since the demon incident couldn’t be made public, Han Luo had obtained permission from Yun Yangzi to handle them as he saw fit.

"You’re right, Boss!" Pang Hu cried. "We were bewitched by that bastard Mo Jiu—we won’t do it again! Please, have mercy!"
He broke into tears again, as though his wife had run off with another man.

Shou Hou simply resumed kowtowing, reopening his barely healed forehead wound like a fountain.

"Enough with the theatrics," Han Luo snapped.
He had no sentimental attachment to them. If not for a key plan that required their help, he’d have executed them already to avoid future trouble.

"Sect Master Yun Yangzi left you two in my care. I see you’ve shown genuine remorse, so I’ll spare your lives—but that doesn’t mean you’ll go unpunished."

Hearing this, Pang Hu was ready to cry again.
Shou Hou prepared to kowtow again, but one look from Han Luo made them both restrain themselves.

"Thank you, Boss! Thank you!" Pang Hu exclaimed, feeling reborn.
Shou Hou shed a few "manly" tears. Clearly, kowtowing had worked.

"Boss, whatever you need us to do, we’ll do it! If you want me to warm your bed, I won’t hesitate!" Pang Hu offered shamelessly.

Shou Hou looked more serious—he knew surviving this would come at a heavy price.

"My request is simple," Han Luo said. "You two will willingly serve as my test subjects."

"Test subjects?" they echoed, exchanging uneasy glances.

"For puppets," Han Luo said casually.

"What?!"
Their jaws practically hit the floor.

"I’ll be back tomorrow for your answer," Han Luo said. "Agree, and you’ll live. Refuse, and you’ll be meeting the King of Hell."

He left, while the two looked at each other in dismay.
They both understood exactly what this meant—and what they were about to face.

Back at Luoxian Mountain, Han Luo reflected on puppet refinement.

Puppets fell into two categories:
Spirit puppets—like the Twelve Generals—were crafted using the creator’s blood and functioned as alternate bodies.
Soul puppets, however, were forged using a living person’s soul.

Spirit puppets were powerful but required frequent energy replenishment to operate.
Soul puppets, by contrast, could absorb spiritual energy on their own and even cultivate techniques.

But most importantly, Han Luo needed soul puppets for a critical part of his plan.

The next day, Han Luo returned to the sealed realm.
"Have you decided?"

"We’ve thought it through—we’ll cooperate," they replied.
Really, they had no choice.
Better to live as puppets than die.

"Boss, uh... we’re still bound by a master-servant contract with Mo Jiu," Pang Hu pointed out.

"Are you?" Han Luo asked.

They quickly closed their eyes to check—and sure enough, the bond restraining their souls was gone.

Meanwhile, in another sealed chamber...
Mo Jiu was watching cartoons, ecstatic.
Finally! He was on episode two of Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf—an incredible milestone after endless replays of the first episode.

Pang Hu and Shou Hou barely had time to savor their freedom when Han Luo cheerfully produced two new master-servant contracts.
Both were for ten thousand years—the sight of them nearly made the pair faint.
Out of the frying pan, straight into the fire... worse than the fire, really.

Once they’d signed, Han Luo knocked them out with a quick dose of poison and took them to the puppet workshop.

Refining soul puppets wasn’t particularly complicated:
First, he would craft a standard puppet body.
Then, using a soul-guiding array, he would transfer the target’s soul into the puppet.

Since they had already signed contracts, the process went smoothly—neither resisted.
And thus, the crafting of soul puppets was complete.

Chapter 144

"Wow... this feels amazing!"

At Luoxian Mountain, Pang Hu swung his arms, marveling at how much stronger he felt—many times more powerful than before.

"It really is incredible," Shou Hou agreed, running his hands over his new body. Though they were no longer human, the sensation was still novel and thrilling.

"Boss, now that we’re puppets... does this mean we’re essentially immortal?" Pang Hu asked excitedly, showing no discomfort—if anything, he seemed even more enthusiastic.

"You could say that," Han Luo replied. "As long as you periodically replace your components and ensure your core energy array remains active, you’ll live on. But one condition: if I die, the contract dictates you’ll follow me in death."

"Then here’s wishing you eternal life, Boss! May you become a supreme existence!" Pang Hu grinned and offered a slick compliment. Han Luo couldn’t deny—it did feel good to hear it.

"For now, go get used to your new bodies," Han Luo instructed.

At the foot of Luoxian Mountain, Pang Hu and Shou Hou sparred against several combat puppets to acclimate themselves.

Han Luo watched from above.

He had to admit—soul puppets had a clear advantage over spirit puppets.
Spirit puppets required constant learning to develop combat skills, whereas soul puppets could immediately wield the abilities their original souls possessed—and even amplify them.

Of course, spirit puppets were more flexible; they were a blank canvas, ready for anything. Soul puppets, meanwhile, were more like adding paint to an already drawn picture. Both had pros and cons—it all depended on the user.

Both Pang Hu and Shou Hou had originally been mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators. Now, in their puppet bodies, they displayed late-stage Foundation Establishment strength. Working together, they might even take down a late-stage Foundation cultivator.

After a full day, the two had completely adapted to their new forms.

Han Luo summoned them to his second secure house. After sealing the area with all available formations, they entered the mirrored realm.

"What I’m about to tell you is the mission you’ll carry out. If you complete it, I’ll reward you with even more powerful bodies. Though you’re puppets, you’ll be able to stand toe-to-toe with others," Han Luo began, offering a carrot to motivate them.

Sure enough, the two looked thrilled.

"Here’s the plan..."

Han Luo laid out his scheme in full detail—every step, every contingency, leaving nothing out.
Since they were bound by contract, they couldn’t resist or betray him—even if they wanted to.

After hearing the entire plan, Pang Hu’s eyes widened. "Boss, you seriously want to do this?"
He couldn’t believe anyone would even consider such an insane plan.

"It’s too wild... too wild... too wild..." Shou Hou shook his head in disbelief.

Compared to this, Mo Jiu’s scheme to control the immortal sword and destroy Luoxian Sect was child’s play.

Han Luo wasn’t surprised by their reactions.
He’d been startled himself when he first conceived the plan. And the more he refined it, the more he realized just how audacious it was.

"I’ve prepared for this a long time," Han Luo said calmly. "It’s foolproof. You only need to follow the plan exactly—no improvising. One mistake, and I can’t save you. But if we succeed, I’ll take you to the heavens themselves. You might even regain human bodies."

It was the classic stick-and-carrot approach—reinforcing the importance of the mission.

The two exchanged glances and nodded.

Normally, they wouldn’t believe such talk about ascending to the heavens—after all, no one in the Eastern Domain had ascended in nearly a thousand years.

But after hearing this plan... if anyone could pull it off, it was Han Luo.

And if he succeeded, they’d benefit too.

Besides, they had no choice—their lives were now tied to Han Luo’s will.

For the next month, Han Luo personally drilled them on every aspect of the plan inside the mirrored realm.
He made sure they understood it completely—how to handle dangers, obstacles, and unexpected situations.

By the end of that month, Pang Hu and Shou Hou had gained a new level of respect for Han Luo.

Now, it made perfect sense why Mo Jiu had lost to him—and they wouldn’t be surprised if Han Luo captured Mo Jiu’s main body soon.

One month later, Pang Hu and Shou Hou quietly left Luoxian Mountain.
From that moment on, only Han Luo knew their whereabouts.

"I hope your team succeeds," Han Luo murmured.

Even now, recalling the plan still felt surreal.

Calling it crazy didn’t do it justice—bold and imaginative were more accurate.

If it worked, it would give him the foundation to pursue true immortality.
And that, in turn, would bring him one step closer to achieving an even grander goal.

But for now, he had other matters to attend to.

From his bronze ring, he retrieved the five pieces of Xian Iron that Hei Feng had coughed up.

The five pieces ranged in size from a thumb to a pinky finger—and they were all oddly shaped and rough.

According to Hei Feng, he had pecked them off some unknown artifact—only a corner of it had been visible, embedded in the chaos.
Thinking it valuable, he’d taken the pieces.

Much to his frustration, his ability to absorb spirit iron had failed against these—hence he called them Xian Iron, since it was the first metal he couldn’t digest.

But after over a hundred careful examinations, Han Luo found they lacked any spiritual essence—worse than weeds on the roadside.

What they did have, however, was incredible hardness—even tougher than the ten-thousand-year Underworld Tree.

Han Luo tried refining them with his colorless qi.
After several hours, he’d only managed to melt a tiny bit—not very effective.

Still, he wasn’t in a rush.

Patience was one thing he had in abundance.

He transformed his qi into spirit fire and began a slow refinement in the sealed chamber.

Once the process was underway, he left the chamber.

Time to conduct a phase review of everything he had done so far.

Chapter 142

"You want me to tell you? Fine... but first—go die! Hahaha!"
Mo Jiu had returned to his arrogant self.

He was a demon—how could he possibly bow to a mere human cultivator? What a joke. Even if his main body had abandoned him, so what? He was Mo Jiu, son of the Demon Emperor—how could someone like Han Luo ever desecrate his dignity?

Yet Han Luo wasn’t surprised.
He’d already anticipated every possible scenario, and Mo Jiu trying to act tough was just one of them.

Which was why he had prepared a backup plan.

A faint numbing gas began to fill the sealed realm.
With his demonic energy sealed and only his physical body remaining, Mo Jiu was soon affected.

"You... what are you doing?" Mo Jiu asked, slightly panicked as his body became unresponsive.

"Relax. I’m just gathering some... data. It won’t take long," Han Luo said calmly, sending a squad of puppets into the chamber.

"You... what are you planning?"
Mo Jiu didn’t know what was coming, but something told him it would be very, very bad.
Especially when he found himself strapped face-down to a table while a line of puppets queued up behind him. A growing sense of doom filled his heart.

"I know your kind, Mo Jiu. Demons are powerful—in strength and will—but you do have weaknesses. And your greatest weakness is your obsession with honor. You value honor more than life itself. In your society, the weak are trampled by the strong—honor determines status. So here’s what I’m going to do: I’ll humiliate you. I’ll record the entire process and then broadcast it on a giant screen in the Golden Battlefield for the entire demon race to see. They’ll watch as the proud ninth son of the Demon Emperor is captured, humiliated, and broken. Your name will be forever tarnished, and your father—the great Demon Emperor who seeks to unite your race—will become a laughingstock."

Han Luo spoke evenly, but his plan was anything but calm.
Mo Jiu was already starting to crack.

"You wouldn’t dare! Bastard! You wouldn’t dare!" Mo Jiu shouted.
He refused to believe Han Luo would go through with it. After all, he was the Demon Emperor’s son. Who would dare treat him this way?

"In this world, there’s nothing I, Han Luo, won’t do. And now... let’s begin."

Han Luo’s smile was practically demonic.
Mo Jiu’s expression, on the other hand, was pure fear—he now looked more like a human than a demon.

"Madman! You humans are all mad! All of you!" Mo Jiu howled, thrashing against his restraints.
But he could already feel the cold hands of the puppets touching his body. His composure shattered.

If Han Luo really went through with this... his father would disown him. The entire demon race would scorn him. That was something he absolutely could not allow.

"I’ll tell you what you want to know! Just stop this madness!"
Mo Jiu finally caved.

Just as Han Luo had predicted—honor was the demons’ Achilles’ heel.
Lose their honor, and they lose everything. As the ninth prince, Mo Jiu would rather die than see his father’s reputation—and his own—destroyed.

"See? Cooperation would’ve made this much smoother. Now everyone’s upset."
Truthfully, Han Luo wasn’t 100% sure this plan would work; demons were notoriously unpredictable. But his research had been spot on.

"Speak. Where did you enter the Eastern Domain from?"

Mo Jiu stared at him, trying to read his intentions.
But he soon gave up.
Han Luo’s expression was utterly calm, like an emotionless puppet.

"I’m just a clone," Mo Jiu said. "I don’t know everything. All I can tell you is a rough location... it was an island. A dark island."

"A dark island..." Han Luo repeated, clearly skeptical.

"Mo Jiu, I think you still need some convincing."
He gestured to the puppets, preparing to carry out the "unspeakable act."

"I’m telling the truth!" Mo Jiu protested. "I’m a clone—not the main body. This is all I know! Torture me all you want—I can’t give you what I don’t have!"

"You don’t know?" Han Luo’s tone turned sharp.
"Mo Jiu, do you take me for a fool? You know the Spirit Sea beyond the Eastern Domain is vast—tens of thousands of times larger than the Eastern Domain itself. Now you’re telling me to search an entire sea for a random ‘dark island’? Are you begging for a beating?"

He raised his hand.
The puppets drew out a series of very intimidating tools.

"Wait! Wait!" Mo Jiu cried.
"Give me a moment. Let me think!"

He strained to recall any useful details.
But after a long silence, he shook his head. "I really don’t know!"

Han Luo studied him.
From Mo Jiu’s reaction, he could tell the demon really was clueless.
Just like a puppet wouldn’t know its creator’s secrets, a clone might not know its master’s plans.

"Fine. One more question. How long did it take you to fly from this dark island to the Eastern Domain?"

By calculating the travel time and estimated speed, Han Luo could roughly narrow down the island’s location.
It wouldn’t be perfect, but far better than blindly searching the entire Spirit Sea.

"About seventy days," Mo Jiu answered.

"Are you sure? If I go looking and you lied, you’ll regret it."
Han Luo’s threat was very real.

"I’m sure," Mo Jiu said earnestly.
This time, he was not lying.

"Good. I’ll believe you—for now. But if you’re wrong, I’ll come back personally."

Mo Jiu swallowed hard.
He couldn’t help but think: Is this guy really a human cultivator? Why does he feel more like a demon than I do?

"For now, that’ll do," Han Luo said. "Now... show me what you can do."

He had planned this all along.
Since Mo Jiu’s main body was still out there, Han Luo wanted to thoroughly study this clone’s techniques in case they met again.

Completely cowed, Mo Jiu obeyed.
Gone was the swagger of the Demon Emperor’s ninth son.

With Han Luo providing a portion of spiritual energy, Mo Jiu demonstrated several powerful techniques against Han Luo’s combat puppets.
Han Luo observed carefully.

"They’re certainly strong," Han Luo noted. "Now tell me—what are their weaknesses?"

Rather than figure it out himself, it was faster to ask directly.

Mo Jiu looked reluctant.
But glancing at the eager, tool-wielding puppets nearby, he gave in—listing each technique’s weaknesses one by one.

And under Han Luo’s... enthusiastic encouragement, he even explained several general weaknesses of the demon race itself.

Seeing Mo Jiu’s desperate survival instincts, Han Luo nodded with satisfaction.

"Don’t worry. Be good, and when I kill your main body, I’ll elevate you to the new Mo Jiu," he teased.

That comment made Mo Jiu visibly uncomfortable.
This guy’s clearly plotting something, he thought.

Their "friendly" exchanges would definitely continue. Han Luo wouldn’t stop until he had wrung out every last bit of useful information.

But for now, he had other priorities.

First, he sent a message to his senior uncle, Yun Yangzi, reporting everything about the demon infiltration.

Then, instead of leaving the sealed realm, he went to check two other nearby chambers.

Inside one were two captives—one fat, one thin.
Seeing them, Han Luo smiled.

Chapter 141

In the days that followed, Han Luo shifted constantly between tension and busy work.

He completed the upgrades for all Twelve Divine Generals.

As expected, each of them now possessed the ability to transform.

But since they were about to venture out into the world, he had to ensure they were equipped with proper trump cards. After all, these Twelve Divine Generals were like his children—when sending them out, one couldn’t possibly let them go empty-handed.

So, he specially prepared a "three-pack" of trump cards for each puppet.

Each pack contained thirty-six powerful techniques and tools—for escape, traps, pursuit, counterattacks, and much more. Everything one might need was included.

Additionally, Han Luo had the Twelve Divine Generals practice several combination formation arrays—two-person, four-person, six-person, and twelve-person formations. Among them, the twelve-person formation could easily dominate other Foundation Establishment cultivators.

He was like a mother fussing over her twelve children, preparing this and that, far more meticulous than if he were setting out himself.

Though they were puppets, Han Luo never treated them as cold machines. That was just who he was—he didn’t want to change, nor did he need to.

Once everything was ready, and after a thousand reminders, the Twelve Divine Generals finally departed from Luoxian Sect and entered the world of young cultivators.

With the Twelve Divine Generals gone, Han Luo remained occupied—this time preparing spare parts for them.

He deliberately didn’t let the Divine Generals carry the spare parts themselves. Since they weren’t true cultivators, there was a risk that powerful figures might capture and dismantle them.

Thus, each puppet carried five hidden self-destruct devices, along with three spare "trump card packs." Even if captured, they could still self-destruct.

Meanwhile, the spare parts would be kept in a storage ring. Given their durability and the ring’s protection, they would likely survive even if the puppet itself was destroyed. However, if an enemy obtained these parts and used them to reconstruct the puppets, they might eventually trace the trail back to him—a risk Han Luo couldn’t accept.

So, after carefully preparing three complete sets of spare parts for each puppet, he sealed them away for future use.

With the Twelve Divine Generals, Jiu Tong, and Hei Feng all away, the once lively Luoxian Sect grew quiet again.

Han Luo, happy for the peace and quiet, devoted himself once more to his study of puppet techniques.

He’d realized that puppets were ideal tools for intelligence gathering. Unlike cultivators, puppets had no distinctive aura. No matter how skilled a cultivator was at concealing their presence, traces would remain. But a puppet—say, a tiny ant puppet—would simply appear as an ordinary insect. Its core energy was minuscule, smaller than a strand of hair. Even a perceptive cultivator would only sense an insignificant wisp of spiritual energy, indistinguishable from ambient natural qi.

Thus, Han Luo enthusiastically began crafting micro-puppets—ants, spiders, centipedes, mosquitoes, and more.

These tiny creations would become his eyes and ears, monitoring everything within a hundred-thousand-li radius of Luoxian Mountain. Any approaching powerhouses would be detected instantly, giving him time to respond appropriately.

This sort of "paranoia" gave him an immense sense of security—like when he was a child, hiding in a secret corner for comfort.

Before he knew it, Han Luo had made countless micro-puppets, consuming nearly all of his available materials.

"Ah..." he sighed.

When you throw yourself wholeheartedly into something, time flies.

Looking at the calendar, his thoughts turned to Mo Jiu, that unfortunate child.

It was about time.

——

Inside the Sealed Realm, where Mo Jiu was imprisoned.

"Xi Yangyang, Mei Yangyang, Lan Yangyang, Fei Yangyang, Man Yangyang, Ruan Mianmian... Hong Tailang, Hui Tailang... Don’t look at me, I’m just a sheep… green grass grows sweeter because of me... the sky turns bluer, white clouds softer..."

Mo Jiu lay sprawled on the ground.

His eyes were vacant, as if senile, muttering the theme song of Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf.

When Han Luo saw this scene, he wondered if he had been too cruel.

After all, he’d locked this person in a room for one to two years, playing the same childish cartoon episode on repeat every moment of every day.

Han Luo himself would’ve cracked after half a day.

Yet here Mo Jiu was—still alive.

He couldn’t help but marvel at the tenacity of demonic lifeforms.

Snap.

With a finger snap, Han Luo shut off all the cartoons within the sealed realm.

The sudden silence clearly unsettled Mo Jiu.

Moving sluggishly like a zombie, he sat up and turned to look at Han Luo.

His body language and expression revealed that he was on the verge of a complete mental collapse. Just a little more pressure and he would likely snap.

"I’m just a sheep... you’re Hui Tailang... I’m just a sheep..." Mo Jiu murmured, staggering toward Han Luo.

"Drop the act," Han Luo folded his arms, calmly watching the near-broken Mo Jiu.

"Gah gah gah..." Mo Jiu’s shoulders trembled, his previously blank face regaining the cruel gleam typical of demonkind.

"Kid, you think such childish tricks can break my powerful soul? Dream on. It’s laughable..." he sneered.

As the son of a Demon Emperor, how could he be undone by such nonsense?

Han Luo simply shook his head.
"I’m telling you—stop pretending. You’re a demon. Can’t even live with some dignity? Should I just send you on your way?"

At this, Mo Jiu’s facade cracked.

His expression grew downcast—like an abandoned child.

"Your true body has abandoned you," Han Luo continued.
"Even if I release you now, your main body will eliminate you."

He was stating the truth.

This Mo Jiu was merely an incarnation of his true self.

While technically part of the main body, the two were now effectively separate.

Demonic incarnations usually split from the main self, and this connection had clearly been severed. Even if he escaped, his main body would hunt him down. Mo Jiu himself would never tolerate even the slightest potential threat.

"You want me to tell you something?" Mo Jiu finally relented.

He knew this irritating human wasn’t wrong.

He had indeed been abandoned—the link between him and his main body had been cut.

Even if he got out, he was as good as dead.

"And what is it you want to know?"

"Where did you enter the Eastern Domain from?"

This wasn’t just something Yun Yangzi and the Imperial Capital wanted to know—Han Luo himself needed an answer.

If the demon race was preparing a large-scale invasion, someone like him wouldn’t be able to stop it. He hated feeling helpless.

Knowing in advance was critical.

Mo Jiu stared at him—eyes gradually regaining clarity.

Chapter 140

Upgrading the puppets was inevitable.

The current Twelve Divine Generals only possessed strength at the early Foundation Establishment stage. This was sufficient for dealing with cultivators from Changshou Sect and Green Willow Sect—but when facing stronger opponents, they would quickly be exposed and beaten down.

Yet Han Luo needed them to do much more: test new divine abilities, gather intelligence, run errands, and perform various other tasks. Given their importance, he was determined to refine them further.

At present, the materials he had on hand weren’t exactly rare, but more than adequate—especially the ten-thousand-year Nether Tree branches. Using these as the skeletal core, combined with other materials, would improve the puppets by an entire tier.

Han Luo retrieved a deep-black branch from his copper ring. With his current strength, he couldn’t damage the main body of the Nether Tree, let alone extract any core essence. He had only managed to collect a few branches—but even these were tougher and more spiritual than most magic treasures.

Nether Tree is also known as Ming Tree.

He calmed his mind, transformed his qi into a carving blade—normal tools couldn’t carve the Nether Tree’s wood—and began shaping the components with great care.

Having already crafted the first Twelve Divine Generals, he proceeded smoothly this time, though the tougher material meant it took longer.

Three days later, after meticulous effort, the core components for a new puppet were complete.

This was another Mao Tu puppet. Compared to the previous version, this one was more refined. Its signature long legs were better proportioned and more aesthetically pleasing, while its upper body had also been enhanced. The overall result was quite eye-catching.

Moreover, Han Luo had added a pair of highly distinctive rabbit ears. On the surface, they were simply cute, but in truth, they were powerful offensive weapons—capable of firing beams, emitting sonic waves, spraying flames and water, and more than a dozen other functions.

Such a cute appearance would easily lower opponents’ guard—precisely the effect Han Luo intended.

In addition, he incorporated several new design elements that he planned to test later.

Overall, this upgraded Mao Tu now had combat strength equivalent to a mid-Foundation Establishment cultivator.

He used a sound transmission stone to recall the original Mao Tu from the field, then transferred its soul array into the new body.

"How does it feel?" Han Luo asked as Mao Tu adjusted to its new form.

"Reporting, Master—I feel much stronger."

"Of course," Han Luo pushed his glasses up.
"This new body uses Nether Tree branches as the skeleton, reinforced with spirit iron and rare spiritual woods. It’s my finest creation to date. I’ve also added several new elements—you’ll discover them once the upgrades are complete."

He was very satisfied with Mao Tu’s new form—it was exactly his type.

"Ready for testing?"

"Of course."

Han Luo tossed Mao Tu into his Ten Directions World for full-range testing. A new body required time to adjust.

Inside the Ten Directions World, Mao Tu moved gracefully, battling dozens of qi-formed enemies at the Foundation Establishment stage.

These enemies represented various elemental types, ensuring that every strength and weakness could be thoroughly evaluated.

For close combat, Mao Tu relied on its signature leg techniques. Its powerful long legs delivered both elegance and devastating force.

For ranged attacks, it used moon-themed spells—while not absolute top-tier, these attacks were well above average.

After two hours of testing, Han Luo nodded in approval.

The new Mao Tu had reached about 25% of his own strength, a full 5% improvement over the previous version.

Satisfied, he didn’t immediately recall it. Instead, after recharging its qi, he ordered further testing.

"Alright—show me your new abilities."

He adjusted his glasses for maximum resolution, determined not to miss any details.

Soon, a powerful opponent appeared.

Instead of its usual techniques, Mao Tu shifted with mechanical sounds.

In an instant, it transformed from a long-legged beauty into a massive, imposing Mao Tu beast.

Gone was the cuteness; this form was distinctly terrifying.

The beast opened its mouth wide. Within, a brilliant white light gathered—then burst forth.

"Divine General Flash: Moonlight!"

The piercing beam instantly annihilated all mid-Foundation Establishment enemies. Its destructive power was astonishing.

Of course, such force came at a price.

After reverting to its normal form, Mao Tu showed no outward strain, but Han Luo could sense that its qi reserves had been more than halved.

Observing the entire process, Han Luo nodded again.

The inspiration for this transformation came from countless anime heroes—shouting louder, transforming more grandly, fighting harder after each setback.

Mao Tu followed the same logic: when normal attacks failed, it would transform. In this state, it could wield 30% of Han Luo’s strength—but only for two strikes. If victory wasn’t achieved within those two attacks, its qi would be depleted.

And without qi, a puppet was nothing more than deadwood.

Unfortunately, Han Luo sighed—though effective, the cores of the Twelve Divine Generals remained top-grade spirit stones. With better materials, their strength could climb another level.

But such materials weren’t available on Luoxian Mountain. He would have to venture to special regions to find them.

His plan was to finish upgrading all Twelve Divine Generals, then send them out to participate in the Eastern Domain’s youth competitions.

First, this would give them valuable combat experience. Only through battle could they evolve—and perhaps even attain legendary "alternative life" forms.

Second, it would allow them to seek out suitable core materials on their own. If they succeeded, excellent. If not, the process itself would be worthwhile training.

Third, Han Luo needed intelligence—the more detailed and comprehensive the better.

The Eastern Domain was a chaotic place. Whether one liked it or not, sooner or later one would get involved.

Luoxian Sect was special—but it was often precisely such "special" sects that attracted disaster.

Better to be prepared than to regret it later.

In particular, he wanted to monitor the current generation’s rising talents. They were his peers—and sooner or later, their paths might cross. Knowing their abilities in advance would ensure he wasn’t caught off guard.

He wasn’t fond of fighting—but no one liked losing. And when the time came, it wasn’t as if he could just call a timeout and say, "Hang on—I need to go investigate your abilities first."

Planning ahead was always wise. The sooner he started, the better prepared he’d be.

Chapter 139

Hei Feng looked thoroughly disgruntled.
"I can't even celebrate a little? Do you have to be this uptight?"

Han Luo glanced at him.
"Rule number one: once we’re outside, don’t tell anyone you know me."

Hei Feng was speechless.
"Come on, Han Luo! That’s not fair! I gave you my immortal iron, my feathers, you even saw me stark naked—and now you treat me like this? What about friendship? What about brotherhood? What about—wait, wait, no need to pull out a knife, I was just joking, hehehe..."

Han Luo was convinced—Hei Feng’s real injury must be in his brain.
"Alright, seriously now. We’ve signed the contract—aren’t you going to let me try some of your qi?"

Now completely bald, Hei Feng held his wing to his beak and grinned ingratiatingly. Han Luo was sorely tempted to toss him into a pot and cook him.

Still, Hei Feng was now his servant for the next ten thousand years—sooner or later he’d find some use for him. Besides, the bird’s body was as tough as a magic treasure—perfect for use as cannon fodder.

Han Luo took out a colorless immortal pill, transformed its qi to match that of the Nether Tree, and tossed it over.
"This contains the same qi as the Nether Tree. It'll hold your injuries at bay for a month. After that, come find me for more. If I’m not around, ask Jiu Tong."

"Wha—!" Hei Feng pouted.
"Han Luo, this isn’t right! You mean all my treasures were only worth one colorless immortal pill?"

He was devastated. His whole plan in giving Han Luo those iron chunks was to curry favor and score some valuable qi to heal his foundation. But now? He’d lost both his iron and his feathers, and gotten practically nothing in return.

"You’ll get your qi—and healing qi too—but I’ll be watching your behavior. You’re my servant now—don’t disappoint me."

Han Luo left. Hei Feng, seeing how decisive he was, knew better than to argue.

So instead, he turned his sights on Jiu Tong.
"Hey, mutt! Listen to me—stick with me, not Han Luo. You won’t get anywhere following him."

Grinning like an old rogue, Hei Feng slung a wing over Jiu Tong’s shoulder.

"Can you bathe first?" Jiu Tong asked, scooting away.

"You just don’t get it—this is style, this is charm! How else do you attract the ladies?" Hei Feng preened, sniffing his bare biceps.

"It stinks," Jiu Tong said, moving even further away.

"This is a manly scent. You wouldn’t understand."

Jiu Tong ignored him and lay back in the grass to bask in the sun. He’d grown up under Han Luo’s care, and their personalities were quite similar.

"Come on, mutt! I’ll take you somewhere incredible—guaranteed to blow your mind. If we’re lucky, we’ll even score some real treasure." Hei Feng’s eyes gleamed with excitement.

He had long known the location of a certain hidden treasure. Previously, he’d been tied to the Nether Tree and unable to leave. But now, with the colorless pill, he had freedom of movement—so why not take matters into his own claws instead of relying on Han Luo?

Besides, something about Han Luo gave him an ominous feeling. It never hurt to prepare an escape plan.

"My master told me to guard Luo Xian Mountain. I can’t leave without reason," Jiu Tong replied lazily.

"Pfft! That’s not called leaving without reason—we’ll have a purpose! You bring back some immortal iron, and Han Luo will be amazed. Besides, you know how many traps and wards are on this mountain—what’s the harm in stepping out for a bit?"

"No."

"You’re so stubborn." Hei Feng sighed, trying again.

Firstly, going alone was dangerous—but Jiu Tong, having undergone nine rounds of tempering, was ridiculously strong.

Secondly, with earth-attribute qi, Jiu Tong was a master of escape.

Thirdly, even if Han Luo got mad, Jiu Tong could shoulder the blame. After all, Han Luo was far more attached to his dog than to a bald rooster.

"Come on, mutt! Why stay here cultivating peacefully when there’s treasure out there? You sure your head’s okay?"

"You’re the one who sounds brain-damaged."

Frustrated, Hei Feng played his trump card.
"I’ve got a complete ancient manual from the Ten Great Demon Kings—啸月天狼’s [Howling Moon Wolf] art. Come with me, and it’s all yours."

"Not interested," Jiu Tong replied flatly.

"You—!" Hei Feng almost coughed blood.

Surely his silver tongue could persuade one earth dog?

Meanwhile, Han Luo delivered some excess spirit wood to Senior Sister Xiao Lou on behalf of the sect.

When he returned, he was surprised to find both Jiu Tong and Hei Feng gone.

On the stone table was a crooked note in Hei Feng’s handwriting:
"Me and Brother Jiu Tong are off to score big. Just wait for the good news — Hei Feng, the Great."

Han Luo stared at the note. It felt like his own kid had been kidnapped.

That damn bird—trouble already!

Still, he’d told Jiu Tong in advance: if Hei Feng caused any nonsense, he was free to follow, but the moment things went south, he was to retreat immediately.

With Jiu Tong’s earth qi, escaping shouldn’t be an issue.

For now, he trusted them to be safe.

Besides, Han Luo had more pressing matters.

For one, Luo Xian Sect had weathered the immediate crisis. The spirit wood and iron mines were back to normal—especially the iron mine, which Changshou Sect had obediently handed over after the Imperial Envoy’s decree.

It was only a low-grade iron mine, but for Luo Xian Sect, it was still a major boost.

And importantly, the sect had no intention of retaliating unnecessarily. Han Luo was pleased by this—another reason he’d chosen Luo Xian Sect. They didn’t provoke trouble, but neither did they fear it. The perfect cover for someone like him.

Changshou Sect, however, was in shambles—having lost four forests and one mine. They were now turning their anger on their former allies, Green Willow Sect.

Caught off guard, Green Willow suffered heavy losses—losing a mine and three forests.

Now, former allies were locked in brutal conflict—and Han Luo reaped the rewards.

He deployed his Twelve Divine Generals to stir the pot even further—sometimes disguised as Changshou disciples to hurl insults, other times as Green Willow disciples to launch sneak attacks.

The resulting chaos only deepened their hatred.

With the generals handling the fieldwork, Han Luo could finally focus on his next project.

In his puppet lab on Luo Xian Mountain, the development of spirit wood puppets was nearly complete. Now it was time to begin their next stage of upgrades.

Chapter 138

"Before I even get a chance to strut around, some big-shot will probably pop out of nowhere, kill me, and snatch away my immortal iron puppet. You're not helping me—you're digging my grave!"

It was obvious: Hei Feng was just spewing nonsense. Not a single word could be trusted.

“Come on now, kid, don’t be so pessimistic. Try to be a little more optimistic, will you?” Hei Feng launched into his usual sales pitch. “What if a big-shot takes a liking to you and accepts you as their disciple? Wouldn’t that be amazing? Why waste your time in this backwater when you could be in the Imperial Capital—or better yet, a Super Immortal Dynasty? That’s where real glory lies!”

Han Luo remained unmoved. “Cut the crap. However much so-called ‘immortal iron’ you’ve got, hand it all over.”

Though the first few samples Hei Feng provided weren’t actually immortal iron, Han Luo had discovered—after testing them—that they were still extremely tough spirit iron. The only reason they’d gone unnoticed was their complete lack of spiritual essence.

“I swear, that was all of it,” Hei Feng insisted, blinking innocently.

Han Luo didn’t believe a word of it. He raised his hand, and thunder rumbled overhead.

“Hey—what are you doing now?” Hei Feng’s feathers fluffed up defensively. The sound of thunder alone was enough to send him into panic.

“How many pieces do you really have?” Han Luo asked, his tone cold.

“One? Two? Three?”

Cornered by lightning and intimidation, Hei Feng finally surrendered—spitting out three more chunks of the so-called immortal iron. As expected, he’d tampered with them too, spitting on each and coating them with long-lost, highly toxic poisons.

With a total of five pieces surrendered, Hei Feng looked like he was about to cry. His smoke-colored eye rings even turned red.

“Kid, let’s sign a contract,” he suddenly suggested, as if hit by a bolt of divine inspiration.

Han Luo blinked. That was not the turn he expected.

Hei Feng continued, “This is called knowing when to fold. I believe in following the strong to survive. You’ve got potential. Let’s make it official.”

He didn’t know exactly who Han Luo was, but his strange colorless qi—capable of converting into any type—was rare beyond belief. Hei Feng figured there was a chance Han Luo could even help him rebuild his shattered foundation and return to the path of cultivation.

Otherwise, even if the Heavenly Emperor himself showed up, Hei Feng wouldn’t sign a contract with anyone.

Han Luo hesitated, so Hei Feng pressed on.

“Relax, kid. Once we’re bound, I’ll teach you divine techniques. You’ll be second only to the heavens in all the Eastern Domain.”

Han Luo raised an eyebrow. “You? The master?”

“Who else?” Hei Feng looked absolutely serious. “Don’t think you can keep me bound forever.”

As if to prove it, Hei Feng released a surge of spiritual energy and shattered the Heaven-Binding Chains.

“See? Easy.”

“Oh really?” Han Luo smiled faintly.

The next instant, the mirror world darkened and storms surged. Within this world, Han Luo was practically the Dao itself. Add to that the power of the Ten Directions Realm, and he didn’t even fear a Golden Core cultivator.

Ten minutes later...

“Okay, okay! You could’ve just said you wanted to be the master. Why beat a chicken, huh? Don’t you know poultry abuse is illegal?”

Hei Feng was black and blue, squawking in pain and outrage. Deep down, he was furious. Had he been at full strength, this brat would’ve been on his knees begging for mercy.

Han Luo crossed his arms. “Tell me the truth. You want to sign the contract because my qi can help heal your injuries, right?”

He saw through Hei Feng immediately. This so-called powerful spirit beast had once devoured the essence of a ten-thousand-year-old Nether Tree and yet was only at the Foundation Establishment mid-stage. Clearly, his injuries hadn’t healed.

“You-you-you… what are you talking about?” Hei Feng stammered, feigning innocence. “How could you suspect the sincerity of such an earnest rooster?”

It was written all over his face—you got me.

Han Luo nodded slowly. This contract might actually be worth it. Hei Feng might be unreliable, but he definitely wouldn’t dare defy the Dao Oath. If he were truly that capable, Han Luo would’ve been dead by now instead of wasting words.

“So what’s in it for me if I sign?” Han Luo asked.

“I won’t tell anyone your secrets.”

“If I kill you, there’ll be no one left to tell.”

“Whoa there, kid. Don’t overestimate yourself. You think you can refine me?” Hei Feng scoffed.

“Let’s find out.”

Han Luo formed a hand seal and summoned a scarlet flame—a wisp of the legendary Red Talon Divine Flame—and hurled it at Hei Feng.

To his surprise, the flame didn’t even singe a feather.

“Ha! Think you can burn me? Even the ancestor of a Grand Luo Golden Immortal couldn’t melt a single feather of mine. My plumage is tougher than high-grade immortal iron!”

If arrogance were a crime, Hei Feng would be serving a life sentence.

“Immortal-grade feathers, you say?” Han Luo narrowed his eyes, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Wait, hold on, I didn’t mean that! You definitely misheard me! Hey—what are you doing?! Stop! I’m a rooster, not a hen!”

Han Luo moved swiftly, stripping all of Hei Feng’s feathers and leaving behind a shiny, bare chicken.

“Y-You’ve insulted my dignity! Violated my personal rights! This is an outrage!” Hei Feng squawked, shielding himself with his wings like a scandalized maiden.

Unfazed, Han Luo pulled out a pre-prepared master-servant contract.

“Ten thousand years. Take it or leave it. If you say no, I’ll lock you up, cut off your access to the Nether Tree, and you’ll slowly rot to death. Then I’ll dissect your corpse—eat the edible parts, refine the rest into pills, and toss what’s left into a latrine. Either way, you’ll be of use.”

Han Luo wasn’t bluffing. He was dead serious when it came to threats.

“Ten thousand years?!” Hei Feng exclaimed. “You think you’ll live that long? Even Grand Luo Immortals don’t live that long!”

“Three seconds,” Han Luo replied coolly, conjuring a tiny sealed realm. “After that, this hut becomes your eternal prison.”

“Three—”

“I’ll sign!” Hei Feng shouted, practically tripping over himself to get to the contract.

Truth be told, he’d already resigned himself to death. Without the Nether Tree, he’d waste away sooner or later. This brat might be his only chance at survival—or even rebuilding his cultivation.

Once the contract was signed, Han Luo’s understanding of Hei Feng deepened. He immediately sensed the terrifying power of Hei Feng’s soul. If this chicken had launched a spiritual attack earlier, even with the bronze mirror’s protection, Han Luo would’ve been gravely—possibly permanently—injured.

Of course, he’d come prepared.

Han Luo’s true body had never stepped into the mirror world. What Hei Feng saw and interacted with was merely a clone, powered by a substitute charm. Even the contract was forged to bind with a clone—it didn’t need his real presence to take effect.

After everything was settled, the two returned to the outside world.

The moment they emerged...

“HAHAHAHA! Cultivation world! Your Hei Feng Daddy is back!” Hei Feng flapped proudly—until he choked on his own laugh.

Han Luo simply rolled his eyes—and promptly smacked him back into silence.

Chapter 137

Han Luo’s colorless spiritual energy could mimic any attribute—including yin energy—so moving the Underworld Trees into the Mirror World was no problem.

After a careful selection process, he transplanted every suitable tree into the Mirror World. Those that couldn’t be moved would be partly used for puppet crafting, with the remaining materials sent to Senior Sister Lou on behalf of the sect.

Watching how Qingfeng Envoy had handled Changshou Ghost had further reinforced one truth for Han Luo: only a truly strong sect could offer the stability needed for peaceful cultivation.

Unless one possessed the power to dominate an entire era—which no one had ever achieved. The moment someone neared that level, they would be secretly eliminated by the great immortal dynasties. These dynasties tolerated no individual who could threaten their rule.

That was why Han Luo had no desire to step foot into a super immortal dynasty. The external threats alone were terrifying enough; within, the internal rivalries were worse. One wrong move, and your own allies might destroy you.

Luoxian Sect was far safer and warmer by comparison. It not only had the twin innate treasures—the Luoxian Twin Swords—for protection, but also a unified brotherhood of fellow disciples. Most importantly: he could lie low here.

In his seven or eight years with Luoxian Sect, he’d only made a few acquaintances. The majority of disciples didn’t even know he existed. That suited him perfectly—he much preferred being an anonymous prodigy here than a famed one in a dynasty.

Here, he controlled who knew of him. If he wanted someone to notice him, they would. If not, they’d never know. In a dynasty, even the strongest prodigy wouldn’t have that luxury.

Han Luo was quite content with his current life—advancing his cultivation step by step, with no need to rush. Move too fast, and one could pull a muscle, as the saying went.

With this mindset, he gained new clarity about his cultivation path.

After finishing the tree transplanting, Han Luo turned his gaze to Hei Feng, who was looking particularly miserable.

"Burnt chicken," he said coolly. "You’ve seen my secrets. I can’t let you live."

He flexed his fingers, tightening the Sky-Confining Chain, aiming to tear Hei Feng apart.

"Damn brat! Playing dirty, are we?"

Not one to suffer quietly, Hei Feng immediately became even more shameless.

"Still mouthing off?"

Han Luo continued pulling. Hei Feng’s limbs and neck stretched dangerously long, on the verge of snapping.

"Wait! We can talk! We can talk!"

True to his cowardly nature, Hei Feng quickly surrendered.

"There’s nothing to talk about."

Han Luo coldly kept pulling.

"Fine! I know where the entrance to the Immortal Tomb is! I can take you there ahead of time. There are proto-immortal puppets inside that would be a huge boost for your puppet refinement!"

The Immortal Tomb—one of the Seven Deadly Grounds of the Eastern Region. It opened once every ten years, a classic treasure-hunting plot.

"And why should I trust you?"

Of course Han Luo knew of the Immortal Tomb.

Legend said true immortals were buried there, with secrets to ascend to immortality. Yet no one had ever returned with such a secret—many, instead, had perished inside.

Worse, the tomb couldn’t be entered at will; it only opened on its own.

Still, this Hei Feng clearly wasn’t ordinary—perhaps he did have a way. For now, Han Luo was just testing him.

Seeing Han Luo’s skepticism, Hei Feng spat out a piece of spirit iron.

"Look, kid! This is immortal iron I… retrieved… from the Immortal Tomb! Even a true immortal would fight over it!"

Han Luo was unimpressed. The chunk of dull black metal didn’t look special at all.

Extending his colorless spiritual energy, he examined it carefully—nothing unusual.

Next, he placed it into ten detection arrays for a deeper scan.

Watching this, Hei Feng was dumbfounded.

"Come on, kid. I get that you don’t trust me, but isn’t this a bit excessive?"

"Excessive?"

Han Luo glanced at him.

"Turbid Immortal Poison. Triggers upon contact, corrupting spiritual energy and severely crippling the cultivator—or killing them outright. Seems you’re the excessive one here."

As he spoke, a black, evil smoke was extracted from the metal—like a malicious spirit, it tried to break free but was burned to ash by the array’s flames.

Hei Feng immediately acted innocent.

"Oh dear! My mistake! I grabbed the wrong piece—that wasn’t the immortal iron I meant. This one is!"

He spat out another black chunk.

"Go ahead, test this one—no tricks this time!"

"No need," said Han Luo.

He summoned a puppet and had it touch the metal. Instantly, black light burrowed into it, and the puppet visibly withered before disintegrating into dust.

"Bone-Devouring Poison," Han Luo remarked. "Consumes flesh and marrow upon contact—instant death without proper defense."

The more he watched this chicken, the more unreliable it seemed.

"Alright. Let’s see how many more ‘immortal iron’ chunks you’ve got," Han Luo crossed his arms, amused.

Hei Feng looked embarrassed. Normally, cultivators would eagerly grab such a treasure. Even if they checked it, their spiritual sense alone wouldn’t catch the hidden poisons—his unique aura could mask them perfectly.

But this brat was too cautious. Ten full detection arrays—and likely more tricks in reserve.

"I’m out, okay?" Hei Feng surrendered. "I only had those two pieces. But listen! I remember the route inside. There’s plenty more in there. If we work together, we can bring it all out! Imagine it—your puppets made from immortal iron! You’d be unstoppable in the Eastern Region! You could walk sideways if you wanted!"

"Walk sideways?"

Han Luo narrowed his eyes, full of “Yeah right” disbelief.

I WILL POST TWO MORE CHAPTERS TODAY WITHIN LIKE A FEW HOURS TILL THEN YOU CAN READ THIS

Chapter 136: BONUS CHAPTER

First, Magistrate Qingfeng truly presented an opportunity for Jiu Li’er. To enter the Imperial Capital for further study was a qualitative leap for cultivators who relied on secondary paths—like array masters, alchemists, or puppet refiners.
If not for the fact that the waters in the Imperial Capital were treacherous and unpredictable—where one rogue wave could drown you—Han Luo himself would’ve long since rushed there for training.

Second, his own progress in the Dao of arrays had reached a bottleneck.
Though not an urgent one, it was a wall he had to prepare to break through.
Once Jiu Li’er entered the Imperial Capital and studied advanced array techniques, they could later exchange insights—after all, one must temper themselves continually to improve.
By sharpening himself, he would benefit not only Li’er, but also himself.
A win-win—why not do it?

"Senior brother, I understand your intentions. I will work twice as hard," Jiu Li’er replied confidently.

"That’s good. Soon, you’ll be helping reconstruct the forest and mining arrays. No one else in Luoxian Sect can handle that. And if anyone asks whether you were the one behind moving Changshou Sect’s four forest veins—just nod and let them assume so," Han Luo instructed.

"But senior brother, that was your achievement. I didn’t do anything—taking credit feels wrong."
Jiu Li’er was hesitant. This was a major accomplishment that would surely be recorded in sect history. She didn’t dare claim it falsely.

"You understand me." Han Luo flicked his fishing rod. "I’m a man of leisure—not fond of fame or trouble. But for you, having such a victory under your name will serve you well in the Imperial Capital. With real achievements, others will respect you and you won’t be bullied. Think of it as a gift from me."

Of course, he didn’t mention that claiming the credit himself would only draw deadly attention.
While Jiu Li’er wasn’t highly valued within her clan, she was still part of the Jiu Li lineage—Changshou Ghost wouldn’t dare touch her.
But if Han Luo had stood out too much, it would’ve painted a target on his back.
Besides, he genuinely wanted to help Jiu Li’er avoid being bullied.

Jiu Li’er was clever. She understood that Han Luo had left some things unsaid—and she wasn’t entitled to all his secrets.
But she was grateful just to meet him today, and having gained so much already, she felt truly blessed.

"Thank you, senior brother. Once I return from studying arrays in the Imperial Capital, I hope to discuss what I’ve learned with you."

Seeing her so sensible, Han Luo nodded in satisfaction.
Not a wasted chapter of effort laying this groundwork.

"Oh, and one more small gift."
He took out a pendant from his bronze ring and handed it to her.

"It’s beautiful!"
Her eyes lit up as she held it.

"It holds a top-grade tier-three defensive array—Guardian Spirit Array, one of my signature works. Keep it for protection."

"Thank you, senior brother!"
Without hesitation, she put it on and admired it happily.

After chatting a while longer, Jiu Li’er left for the forests and mines to begin setting up defensive arrays.

Once she was gone, Han Luo’s figure slowly faded and disappeared into the night.
The lakeside returned to its tranquil state, as if nothing had happened.

High atop Luoxian Mountain, Han Luo opened his eyes.
The projection feature of the Mirror World had worked perfectly—Li’er never realized she’d been speaking to a projection.
Otherwise, how could someone like him have failed to catch a single fish?

Stretching, he loosened his muscles and turned to the twelve figures before him.

The Twelve Divine Generals stood straight as arrows.
Though each held only twenty percent of his strength, they were currently his most valuable allies.

"Your tasks continue. From today, split into four teams. One team will harass the two remaining spirit iron veins of Changshou Sect using guerrilla tactics. The other three will head to Green Willow Sect to gather intelligence. Since they’ve chosen a side, we’ll make sure they regret it."

He hadn’t forgotten those who had harmed Luoxian Sect—or himself.
Green Willow Sect’s strength matched Changshou Sect’s.
They’d surely be on high alert after the recent events, so for now, intelligence-gathering came first—planning would follow.

There was no such thing as an uncrackable egg.
And even if there were, I’ll smash it and scramble it for good measure.

The Twelve Generals received their orders and swiftly departed.

With external matters in motion, Han Luo could finally relax and focus inward.
He entered the Mirror World.

Inside, thanks to its self-sustaining spiritual energy, the Mirror World was gradually expanding—slowly, but surely.
Once it reached a certain threshold, his bronze mirror might evolve into a true innate spiritual treasure.

"You’re the master of that mute puppet!"
Hei Feng squawked, looking scruffy as ever, perched in Han Luo’s favorite rocking chair while munching tomatoes.

Han Luo ignored him, floating toward the Myriad-Year Underworld Tree.

He had orchestrated the entire Dry Relocation Plan largely to obtain this tree.
Though Hei Feng had drained it to a mere Thousand-Year level, the wood itself still retained its ancient properties.

Drawing a tier-two dagger, he stabbed at the tree.

Clang!
The dagger cracked—its spiritual essence gone.

The Underworld Tree wasn’t just hard; it also corrupted tools, making it an ideal material for refining top-tier puppets.

"Hey kid, why won’t you answer me? You look down on me or something?"
Hei Feng flapped irritably.

Still, Han Luo ignored him, focusing on the tree.

"Hey kid, you’ve got something I want—give me a taste!"
Suddenly, Hei Feng shot toward him.

Han Luo calmly raised a hand—clang!—and summoned the Sky-Confining Chain, binding the bird midair.

"Behave. I’ll deal with you later."

Leaving the sulking chicken squirming, Han Luo moved to the center of the four forest veins.

Transplanting spirit trees was notoriously difficult because they required highly specific environments.
The better the tree, the stricter the conditions.

This Underworld Tree had originally grown in a sunless valley—surrounded by mountains, perpetually steeped in yin energy.
Over time, the area had become a haven for such dark-aligned growth.

To relocate it now, he would need another naturally yin-rich site—ideally a mass grave of a million corpses.

For most, this would be an impossible challenge.
But for Han Luo... it was just another project.

Chapter 135

The sun shone brightly, life was in full bloom.

By Yiren Lake within Luoxian Sect, a gentle breeze rippled across the water, casting shimmering reflections that lent the scene a rare tranquility.

A young girl with flushed cheeks approached cautiously, her heart pounding like a frightened fawn. She had come without makeup, looking pure and earnest, her eyes fixed on the lone figure fishing ahead.

Taking a deep breath as if summoning all her courage, she stepped forward.

"Senior brother Han Luo."

Jiu Li'er called softly, her voice gentle as if afraid to disturb the fish.

"You’re here, Li'er."
Han Luo wore a straw sunhat, a vest and shorts, and flip-flops—a completely casual look.
He waved her over, motioning for her to sit.

"Mm."
She nodded obediently and sat by his side.

"Senior brother Han Luo, just as you predicted—Changshou Ghost really did compensate us with a spirit iron vein!"
Jiu Li'er beamed with delight.

She had been very worried when Changshou Sect launched their aggressive assault on the forest veins. As a disciple of Luoxian Sect, she had felt powerless and frustrated watching the sect lose so many resources.

Yet in that moment, senior brother Han Luo had approached her with a plan—one she had never dared to imagine.
At first, she had doubted it.
But now, looking back, it was her own naivety—Han Luo had foreseen everything and guided each step perfectly.
With just a few words of coaching, he had helped them gain an entire spirit iron vein.

Leaning back comfortably in his chair, fishing rod in hand, Han Luo appeared completely relaxed.

"Changshou Ghost is naturally suspicious, and he has done many shady things. He wouldn't dare offend Magistrate Qingfeng—even if it cost him a spirit iron vein," he explained calmly.

He had calculated every detail in advance—down to Changshou Ghost complaining to the Magistrate and how Jiu Li'er should act in response.

Between losing a spirit stone vein and his status as sect master, the choice was obvious.
As long as he remained sect master, he would find ways to regain resources.

"Senior brother, you really do have incredible foresight. I only showed a bit of fear toward Changshou Ghost, and Magistrate Qingfeng immediately became furious—he scolded him and even cut their resources for fifty years."
Jiu Li'er still found it odd—how could someone like her influence the Magistrate’s mood so easily?

Fishing quietly, Han Luo sensed her puzzlement through her aura.

"Li'er, you need to have more confidence."
He handed her half of a chilled watermelon he had sliced.

She took it shyly and asked, "Senior brother, what do you mean by that?"

She was confident in her array skills—what more was there?

"I don’t mean your array skills. I mean you as a person."
Han Luo bit into his watermelon happily.

Still puzzled, she looked at him.

"Li'er, you are a genius of the Jiu Li Clan—perhaps their strongest. You came to Luoxian Sect for the Nine Scrolls of Arrays, but beyond that, you should set your sights higher—like the Imperial Capital."

"You mean developing my path there in the future?" she asked.

"Exactly." Han Luo nodded. "Luoxian Sect is a mid-tier sect. Aside from the Nine Scrolls, there aren’t many advanced arrays for you to study. But the Imperial Capital is different—its treasury holds hundreds of great array tomes. That is your true destination."

Eating her watermelon thoughtfully, Jiu Li'er realized this made perfect sense.

She had been so focused on the Nine Scrolls that she often got stuck, making slow progress.
The reason was clear—her foundation was incomplete, and she lacked exposure to a wider range of high-level arrays. Without points of reference, learning had become increasingly difficult.

At first, her natural talent carried her through.
But as the arrays grew more complex, she was feeling the strain.

"I understand, senior brother... but..."
She hesitated.

"You’re worried you have no way in, aren’t you?"
Han Luo hit the nail on the head.

In theory, her great-grandmother could have easily paved the way—a single letter from her would earn deference from the Emperor himself.
Unfortunately... Jiu Li'er was not of the clan’s orthodox bloodline.

Had it not been for her great-grandmother’s affection and her talent, she wouldn’t even have touched the True Arts of the Jiu Li Clan—she might’ve been cast out entirely.

Lowering her head, Jiu Li'er felt a surge of sadness.

"Senior brother, please don’t laugh at me," she said softly.

"I won’t." Han Luo nodded solemnly.

"My surname is Jiu Li, but I am not of the clan’s main bloodline. My mother was a Jiu Li clanswoman, but my father was a mortal. They both died when I was born, leaving me orphaned within the clan..."

Her story was long—yet somehow short.
So compelling you couldn’t help but listen to every word—yet when it ended, you wanted more.

Had she been the protagonist of another story, Jiu Li'er would have made a perfect heroine.

As the sun set, the lake turned gold.
A soft breeze rippled across its surface.
The once-little girl had grown into a young woman.
The freckles on her face had faded, her figure maturing, her potential still unfolding.

An ambiguous atmosphere hung in the air.
A young man and woman alone in the wild—it was hard not to feel something.

Han Luo remained focused—his mind occupied with other matters.
Jiu Li'er, however, was thinking all sorts of other thoughts.

"Magistrate Qingfeng is your opportunity," Han Luo said as he packed up his fishing rod. "Seize it well. If you do, the Jiu Li Clan will one day honor your mother with a rightful place."

"Really?"
Jiu Li'er still lacked confidence in certain matters.

It was like Han Luo—having once choked on a fish bone as a child, he now approached fish cautiously, even though he was no longer in danger.
Her insecurities lingered the same way.

"I can’t promise," Han Luo said earnestly. "Some roads, you have to walk yourself to find out. But go boldly—if you take a wrong turn or grow weary, Luoxian Sect will always welcome you back. No matter how far you go, you will always be one of us. This will always be your home."

Tears welled in her eyes, sliding down her cheeks into the lake below—sending ripples across the golden surface.

Jiu Li'er didn’t know how long she cried—only that all her pent-up grievances poured out in that moment.

Watching her weep so bitterly, Han Luo thought to himself: Did I push too hard and reopen a fresh wound?

...Oh well.
To be honest, he’d had a small ulterior motive for exposing that old scar.

Chapter 134

"I wouldn't dare, Honored Magistrate—please calm your anger," the old ghost of Changshou Sect quickly bowed, even though resentment burned in his heart. But what choice did he have? This was an imperial official. If he dared to strike Qingfeng, the punishment would be a living hell.

"Your name is Jiu Li'er, correct?" Qingfeng now turned to her. "Do not be afraid. If you truly possess the skill to deploy a Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array, then you are a rare talent—and the Empire protects its talents. I swear this in the name of the reigning Emperor: no one shall dare harm you. If anyone tries, they will be opposing the Empire itself. Do you understand?"

His words carried a double meaning—meant for Jiu Li'er, but also a warning to the Changshou Sect’s patriarch.
Men like the old ghost needed constant reminders, or they were bound to cause trouble.

"I understand," Jiu Li'er nodded obediently, though she still appeared afraid of the old ghost.

"Jiu Li'er, demonstrate your array for the Magistrate," Yunyangzi said gently, enveloping her in a comforting aura of spiritual energy.

"Yes."
Jiu Li'er stepped to a flowerbed, gathered her array materials, and began constructing a Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array.
As a genius of the Jiu Li Clan, her comprehension was nearly on par with Han Luo's—especially since she specialized in array arts, while Han Luo dabbled in many fields.
Moreover, under her great-grandmother’s recent guidance, her array skills had advanced even further.
Though assembling the Spatial Shift Array was difficult, it was well within her abilities—especially with subtle guidance from her senior brother, Han Luo.

Soon, the array was fully formed.
Qingfeng observed the entire process. With his knowledge of array arts, he could confirm: this was indeed a flawless Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array.

"How is your great-grandmother’s health these days?" Qingfeng suddenly asked, switching topics.

Though he had never met Jiu Li'er personally, there was only one clan in the Eastern Domain bold enough to bear the Jiu surname: the Jiu Li Clan.
And her great-grandmother was a legendary figure—one of the designers of the Imperial Capital’s grand defensive array, deeply respected even by the Emperor.

"She is well, Honored Magistrate. Thank you for your concern," Jiu Li'er replied politely.

Imperial magistrates were observers of the Empire’s laws—anyone who defied them would be judged, and the guilty would face imprisonment in the dreaded underworld prisons.

After a few casual words, Qingfeng turned back to the old ghost.

"Well? How do you explain this?"

The old ghost was dumbstruck. According to his intelligence, Jiu Li'er shouldn’t have been capable of building a Tier 3 array—let alone a Spatial Shift Array of this level.
But the proof was right before his eyes. He could deny it no longer.

"Jiu Li'er! Were you involved in stealing my forest veins?"
He immediately shifted the blame to her, releasing a threatening aura.

But Yunyangzi matched him at once, shielding Jiu Li'er with a surge of power.

"Changshou Ghost, do you dare threaten my disciple? Have you forgotten the Empire’s laws?"

Yunyangzi’s words were clearly meant for Qingfeng to hear.
Qingfeng frowned and addressed the old ghost coldly.

"Changshou Sect Master, this is your second offense today. As punishment, your sect’s resource quota will be halved for the next fifty years."

"Honored Magistrate!" the old ghost was stunned.
Only now did he remember how much power this young-looking official wielded.
In his arrogance, he had forgotten himself.

"Please, listen—someone powerful from Luoxian Sect must have helped! You must believe me!"
The old ghost blurted out desperately. Since he was already being punished, he figured he might as well speak his mind.

"Silence."
Just one word from Qingfeng, and the Nascent Soul patriarch shut his mouth at once.
To anger the Magistrate—or the Empire—was sheer folly. Unless one possessed a power that could shake the heavens, submission was the only option.
A Nascent Soul cultivator was nothing in the face of imperial authority.

"Changshou Sect Master, you are a veteran sect leader. You should know better. The battlefield of the young should be left to the young—they are the future of the Eastern Domain."

"Yes, Honored Magistrate. I understand," the old ghost replied through gritted teeth.
He could endure. If he couldn’t, he would never have risen to become a sect leader.

"Since you understand, you must pay the price. That is the law."
Qingfeng now turned to Yunyangzi.
"Cloud Sect Master, what compensation would you deem appropriate?"

Yunyangzi stroked his white beard and looked toward Jiu Li'er.
"This man has disrespected my disciple. Jiu Li'er—what do you think?"

Of course, Yunyangzi knew Han Luo had arranged for her to be here. He trusted that Han Luo had a plan.

Jiu Li'er glanced nervously at the old ghost, still afraid.
"Do not worry," Qingfeng reassured her. "With your great-grandmother’s status, no one would dare touch you. Anyone who does will face the underworld prisons."

The underworld prisons—an imperial punishment worse than death. The condemned would suffer not just physical torment but unending soul-burning agony, trapped for hundreds or thousands of years without release.

"Brother Qingfeng," Jiu Li'er spoke timidly. "I’ve been short of spirit iron for my arrays recently... so I would like the Changshou Sect Master to give me a spirit iron vein."

At her words, the old ghost’s eyes bulged in disbelief.
At first, he thought she merely wanted a few rare materials. But now—she was asking for an entire vein!
His sect only had three spirit iron veins to begin with!

Qingfeng gave her a subtle glance of surprise.
This girl looks so meek, but when it comes to bargaining... quite ruthless. I wonder who she learned that from.

"Changshou Sect Master—do you have any objections?" Qingfeng asked calmly.

The old ghost desperately wanted to refuse.
But refusing meant offending Qingfeng—and the conversation had already made it clear that Qingfeng was quite interested in Jiu Li’er’s future.
If a prodigy from his jurisdiction rose to prominence, Qingfeng’s own status would soar. Especially given how young he still was—he needed every advantage.

Vengeance could wait.
But offending the Magistrate? That was a mistake he couldn’t afford.

Grinding his teeth, he forced out a response.
"Very well. I agree."

He had no choice. And he knew now—he had been thoroughly outplayed.
The mastermind was almost certainly Yunyangzi. Who else in Luoxian Sect would dare orchestrate such a scheme against him?

"Good. I will consider this matter settled. If anyone dares raise it again... do not blame me for being harsh."
With that, Qingfeng closed the matter.
The old ghost left in a fury.

Qingfeng turned to Jiu Li'er.
"Jiu Li'er, if you ever need anything, come to me directly."
Then he, too, departed.

Jiu Li'er didn’t fully grasp what this meant, but Yunyangzi understood perfectly.

"Many thanks, Honored Magistrate," Yunyangzi bowed, then explained the significance to her.
Jiu Li'er was thrilled.

"Master... does this mean I might serve in the imperial capital one day?"

"Of course," Yunyangzi smiled. "With your talent, it is very likely. But remember—no matter what position you attain, never forget that you are a disciple of Luoxian Sect."

"I understand, Master! No matter where I go, I will always remember my roots."

She had been told as much by her great-grandmother—Luoxian Sect was special precisely because of Yunyangzi’s leadership.

"Good. You may go."
Yunyangzi dismissed her with a smile.

One day later, Jiu Li'er quietly made her way to the place where she had arranged to meet Han Luo.

Chapter 133

Plan B was activated.

The Twelve Divine Generals split into two teams, six members each, and moved to sabotage two of the Changshou Sect’s ore veins.
The veins were lightly guarded, as most of Changshou Sect’s forces were still attacking Luoxian Sect’s forest veins.
When the Divine Generals struck, the defenders barely stood a chance. Like wolves among sheep, the generals snatched what little spirit iron they could and planted explosive talismans to utterly destroy both ore veins.

Once the job was done, the Twelve retreated without hesitation.

“Fall back! We must reinforce the mines—quickly!”

The attacks on the ore veins sent shockwaves through the Changshou Sect. The teams that had been assaulting Luoxian Sect’s forest veins, led by Chang Qing and three other groups, were forced to abandon their offensive and rush back to defend their own resources.

Meanwhile, six of the Twelve Divine Generals disguised themselves as ordinary disciples and approached the leaders of Luoxian Sect’s remaining forest and ore defenses. In the name of Jiu Li’er, they delivered twelve Tier 3 protective formation plates.

These formation plates weren’t perfect—they could only maintain a defensive barrier for a limited time—but they were more than enough to withstand the fury of the returning Changshou Sect forces.

Once activated, the Tier 3 formations successfully shielded Luoxian Sect’s four remaining forest veins and two ore veins. Though temporary, Han Luo had already prepared the next steps.
It all looked simple on the surface, but in truth, even a single misstep would have unraveled the entire plan.
Han Luo wasn’t a god; he had simply deployed a swarm of seemingly useless puppet spies to gather critical intelligence.

With information in hand, the enemy was exposed while they themselves remained in the dark.
When you can dictate the battlefield, even a child could win the fight.

Outside, the chaos had just begun.

The moment the Changshou Sect realized that their four forest veins had been uprooted, they would surely turn their rage toward Luoxian Sect.
But Han Luo’s defensive formations would hold. Unless the Changshou Sect had talents on par with Chi Xiao or Li Jun, they wouldn’t break through.

Unfortunately for them, they didn’t.

A herd of raging bulls had just slammed headlong into a steel wall—only to find the person on the other side casually sipping tea.
It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Han Luo ignored the chaos outside. Through his ancient bronze mirror, he watched with satisfaction as the four massive floating islands now hovered safely within the mirror realm.

“Changshou Sect, this is just a small piece of interest I’m collecting. The rest of your debt—I’ll reclaim in full soon enough.”

—

Meanwhile, the old ghost of Changshou Sect had already rushed to the imperial capital to file a complaint.

The capital—heart of Eastern Domain’s power.

Don’t think cultivators are beyond the reach of politics. In fact, cultivators pursued power even more fervently than mortals did, because power meant resources, and resources meant cultivation.
There was a saying in the cultivation world:
"With enough resources, even a pig can become an immortal."

“Honored Magistrate, Luoxian Sect violated the imperial decree! They sent a Qi Sea realm cultivator to deploy a Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array and steal all four of my sect’s forest veins! I ask for justice!”

The old ghost of Changshou Sect, a Nascent Soul expert and the sect’s patriarch with tens of thousands of disciples under his command, now bowed humbly before a mere Golden Core magistrate.
Such was the weight of imperial authority.

Magistrate Qingfeng looked upon him with an impassive face.
He didn’t like the old ghost—one of the most troublesome figures under his jurisdiction—but duty was duty.

“Do you have proof?” Qingfeng asked coolly.

“I do. Please, Magistrate, allow me to show you.”

The old ghost led Qingfeng to the site of the missing forest vein.
A massive crater stretched across several miles, its depths still fresh with the scent of overturned earth.

Qingfeng took it all in, his lips twitching involuntarily.

Luoxian Sect had always struck him as an orderly, peaceful sect—not prone to stirring up trouble.
He had heard rumors of some remarkable young talents emerging there recently… but now it seemed there were even more formidable figures operating behind the scenes.

This was too bold.

A forest vein wasn’t something that could simply be transplanted. Uprooting one was a one-way act—once moved, the vein would inevitably wither and die.
Such a ruthless maneuver was pure desperation, and it angered him.
Eastern Domain’s resources were already scarce; this kind of wasteful act was reckless.

What was Yunyangzi thinking, allowing his disciples to commit such a crime?

From the lingering aura, Qingfeng confirmed it was indeed a Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array.
While rare, it wasn’t unheard of for Foundation Establishment cultivators to master Tier 3 arrays—Luoxian Sect had produced several prodigies already. But had they produced one powerful enough to pull off this feat?

“Come. We’re going to Luoxian Sect.”

Qingfeng mounted his flying sword, bringing the old ghost with him straight to Luoxian Mountain.

There, Yunyangzi personally greeted them.

He had no choice; had he delayed, Qingfeng might well have attacked first and asked questions later.

“Greetings, Honored Magistrate,” Yunyangzi offered a respectful bow.

“Spare me the pleasantries. You know why I’m here. Answer me plainly—does Luoxian Sect have a Foundation Establishment disciple capable of deploying a Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array?”

“Of course we do,” Yunyangzi replied calmly.

“Impossible!” the old ghost blurted out. “A Spatial Shift Array is nearly a Tier 4 formation! It requires materials of multiple attributes fused perfectly. That alone demands the strength of a Qi Sea realm cultivator! Even if you had someone talented enough to attempt it, how could they have deployed it unnoticed under my surveillance—and stolen four entire forest veins?!”

His voice cracked with grief and anger.

Four forest veins represented the very foundation of the Changshou Sect’s wealth. Without them, the sect would be severely weakened.
He needed justice—at the very least, he needed Luoxian Sect to compensate him.

While the old ghost fumed, Yunyangzi remained composed.

“I can show you the person who did it.”

He crushed a talisman, sending out a summons.

Before long, Jiu Li’er arrived, bowing respectfully.
“Master, you called for me.”

“This is Magistrate Qingfeng,” Yunyangzi introduced her.

“Greetings, Honored Magistrate,” Jiu Li’er said sweetly.

“You claim to have deployed the array?” Qingfeng asked.

“Impossible!” the old ghost barked. “A Spatial Shift Array requires the seamless fusion of rare materials—something only a Qi Sea realm cultivator can manage! How could a mere Foundation Establishment disciple like you possibly—”

He was on the verge of tears.

At that moment, Jiu Li’er instinctively shrank back toward Yunyangzi, looking small and frightened.

“Longshou old ghost, you’re scaring her,” Yunyangzi said coldly.

The old ghost grunted but glared at Jiu Li’er menacingly.

Jiu Li’er lowered her head and trembled even more, as if on the verge of tears.

“Do you think I will allow this?” Qingfeng’s voice cut in, laced with displeasure.
He fixed the old ghost with a sharp gaze.

Chapter 132

Amid the vast mountain range, one peak stood out sharply—steep and jutting like a blade. Wei Yang stood upon this distinct summit.

This location, chosen with precise calculations, marked the optimal convergence point of the Changshou Sect’s four forest veins. From here, he could use a sound transmission stone to connect with all four forest areas simultaneously—without alerting anyone.

At that moment, with one hand holding the transmission stone and the other clasped behind his back, Wei Yang listened to incoming reports.

“One is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime. One is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime,” came Si She’s report.

“Two is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime. Two is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime,” followed Shen Hou’s voice.

“Three is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime. Three is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime.”

“Four is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime. Four is ready. Plan A can proceed anytime,” came the synchronized voices of Xu Gou and Hai Zhu.

With that, all four forest regions had been successfully rigged with Tier 3 formations—Spatial Shift Arrays—primed and ready to activate at a moment’s notice.

Wei Yang nodded and raised the transmission stone again. “Command center here. What’s the status of the teleportation points? Report.”

Elsewhere, deep in a secluded valley, lay a vast open clearing. An ancient bronze mirror hovered above the land, its aura solemn and powerful, casting a barrier over the entire site.

Chen Long picked up his sound transmission stone. “Teleportation Point One is ready. We can initiate transfer at any time.”

Shortly after, more confirmations came in.

“Teleportation Point Two is ready. We can initiate transfer at any time,” reported Zi Shu.

“Teleportation Point Three is ready. We can initiate transfer at any time,” added Chou Niu.

Wei Yang nodded in satisfaction. “All units, prepare to launch Phase Two of Plan A: ‘No Descendants.’ Execution begins in three seconds. I repeat—execution begins in three seconds.”

All four forest sites and the three teleportation points were now fully prepared, awaiting the order.

Wei Yang held the sound transmission stone close to his lips. “Three… two… one… launch.”

The moment he spoke the final word, Si She, Shen Hou, Xu Gou, and Hai Zhu activated their Spatial Shift Arrays simultaneously.

“RUMBLE—”

A violent tremor rocked all four forest veins of the Changshou Sect. The ground shook like a massive earthquake, echoing with deafening booms.

Stunned disciples guarding the forests could only gape in disbelief as the very earth beneath their feet uprooted. Within moments, their entire forest began rising into the air—transforming into colossal floating islands.

“This is bad! A Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array! Someone is trying to move the entire forest!” Qiao’er woke from her coma just in time to see the horror unfold. Without hesitation, she pulled out a formation plate hidden in her robes and hurled it into the sky.

As the lead designer of the Changshou Sect’s forest defenses, she had prepared for such a contingency. She had deliberately left a hidden safeguard within the grand defensive formation. That flying plate was her last resort—if it activated, it could interrupt the Spatial Shift Array and save the forest.

But before it could even activate—

Whoosh!

A blur of black shot through the air, intercepting the plate mid-flight.

Thud, thud—

A tall figure in a tiger-faced mask landed before Qiao’er, looming like a mountain.

“Little girl, do you really think we’d let you ruin our master’s plan?”

With a loud crack, Yin Hu crushed the plate in his powerful hand.

“You… you’re from Luoxian Sect! You must be from Luoxian Sect!” Qiao’er recoiled in fear, her eyes wide with terror.

Yin Hu didn’t waste words. He struck her down again, knocking her unconscious.

Meanwhile, at the other three sites, masked figures appeared just as abruptly, eliminating anyone who attempted to resist.

Five seconds later, the arrays fully activated.

Four blinding pillars of white light shot into the sky, engulfing each floating forest vein and vanishing them from the Changshou Sect’s territory.

In the secluded valley, above Teleportation Point One where Chen Long waited, the sky quaked as four massive dark shadows appeared—each a forest, now levitating like floating islands, blotting out the sun.

“Receive,” Chen Long commanded.

The four islands instantly shrank and were absorbed into the mirror realm.

Without delay, Chen Long stepped into the ancient teleportation array and vanished.

The entire process took less than three seconds.

But the moment he disappeared, a terrifying divine sense swept across the region, freezing everything it touched.

“BASTARD!”

The old ghost of Changshou Sect descended with fury that could shake the heavens. But he was too late.

The valley had been layered with explosive talismans. As soon as he arrived, they detonated in a deafening roar, obliterating everything.

“You think you can run?!”

Roaring in rage, the old ghost formed a hand seal and unleashed a great divine ability. He forcibly locked onto the teleportation fluctuations and leapt into the trace.

He arrived in another forest and discovered five ancient teleportation arrays, all of which had just been used.

BOOM—

Explosive talismans detonated again, engulfing the area in an ocean of fire.

“I refuse to believe you can escape my grasp!”

Seething with killing intent, the old ghost pushed himself to his limit. He managed to lock onto five teleportation destinations and identified potential exit points. Without hesitation, he gave chase.

Just a few breaths later—

He arrived at a location with ten ancient teleportation arrays… and nearly vomited blood.

“F*CK!”

The old ghost cursed aloud.

Whoever was behind this had gone to insane lengths—his mind was on the verge of collapse.

Chasing five teleportation paths had already pushed him to his limit. With ten targets now in play, it was impossible to track them all.

Though he didn’t want to admit it… he had lost them.

“Who?! WHO’S THE BASTARD WHO DID THIS?!”

The old ghost howled, enraged beyond reason.

Someone had dared to act right under his nose, stealing all four of the Changshou Sect’s forest veins. Among them was a precious thousand-year Nether Tree—his treasured prize!

Why?

Why hadn’t the alarm arrays gone off?

If they had, he wouldn’t have hesitated—even if it meant breaking the Empire’s regulations—he would’ve intervened and stopped this outrage.

In a flash, he rushed back to the forest that held the Nether Tree.

What greeted him was a massive, gaping crater. A crowd of stunned disciples stood around it, still trying to process what had happened.

Their once-secure forest… was gone.

“A Tier 3 Spatial Shift Array… Luoxian Sect! You dared to let a Qi Sea realm cultivator interfere in a battle among Foundation Establishment juniors? I want to see how the Empire enforces its laws now!”

The old ghost trembled with fury, his body shaking uncontrollably. He turned and flew off—headed straight for the Imperial Capital to file a formal complaint.

Meanwhile, on Luoxian Mountain—

Han Luo, watching through the ancient bronze mirror, saw the old ghost’s departure.

He immediately picked up his transmission stone.

“Twelve Divine Generals, hear my command: Initiate Plan B. I repeat—initiate Plan B!”

Chapter 131

Hei Feng had once suffered a grievous injury, so severe it nearly cost him his life. If he hadn’t stumbled upon this ten-thousand-year-old Nether Tree at his lowest point, he’d already be dead.

Yet even with the tree’s help, he couldn’t fully recover. His foundation had been damaged, his cultivation path severed. He had been reduced to a common spiritual beast—forever unable to return to his former peak.

And now, this puppet before him suddenly mentioned his injury.

Could it be... those bastards have come for me? Hei Feng’s thoughts were chaotic, but Si She saw right through him. Watching the battle-ready rooster seething before him, he simply shrugged. “I guessed.”

For a moment, the air froze.

Ten seconds passed.

“Pffft!” Hei Feng spat out a mouthful of blood. “You little brat! Are you messing with me? Are you seriously screwing with me right now?!”

Hei Feng was fuming. He considered himself a seasoned veteran, even if his strength had declined. How could a mere puppet toy with him like this?

Enraged, he stepped forward, clearly ready to teach Si She a lesson.

“Charcoal-for-brains,” Si She waved him off casually, “you drained a ten-thousand-year-old Nether Tree into a thousand-year-old one, yet you’re still stuck at the mid-Foundation Establishment stage. Anyone with half a brain could guess you’re seriously injured. If not, you'd have already carved out a domain of your own. Why waste your time arguing with me?”

Si She was starting to wonder if Hei Feng’s brain was part of the injury—his behavior was a bit too ridiculous.

“Huh... that kinda makes sense,” Hei Feng muttered, nodding before realizing something was off. “Wait a minute! You’re tricking me again! You damn brat, this time Lord Hei Feng won’t let you off!”

He flapped his scraggly wings and charged forward, ready to brawl.

Han Luo, controlling Si She, calmly pulled out a spirit talisman. “One use of this and I self-destruct. That explosion will alert the Changshou Sect. With your current strength, do you think you can survive if the old ghost shows up? You’ll be stew.”

“Tch.” Hei Feng didn’t back down. “You clearly don’t know who you’re talking to. I’ve already sealed this place off. That Changshou brat won’t sense a thing. And if your puppet self-destructs, I’ll track down your real body through your bloodline. So go ahead, blow yourself up—I’ll just find you later. And when I do, you’ll regret it.”

He stood proud, confident in his threat. But Si She was unfazed.

“There’s only one Nether Tree like this in the entire cultivation world. Are you really going to walk away from it just to prove a point?”

Han Luo had him pegged.

“Aaargh!” Hei Feng roared, pacing in frustration, his ragged feathers bristling as he hissed in fury. “You’re killing me here! This is killing me!”

He stomped back and forth, his black feathers nearly flying off with rage.

“My offer still stands,” Si She said calmly. “Follow my orders, and you can keep absorbing the tree’s spiritual energy.”

Hei Feng paused and turned to stare at Si She, trying to see beyond the puppet and glimpse the master behind it.

Finally, after a long silence, he relented. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

“Simple. Stay put and don’t mess with me.”

With that, Si She pulled out a formation plate and began setting up an array.

“That’s it?” Hei Feng raised his wings, exasperated. “I lost half my feathers for this?”

Si She ignored him and continued laying out the formation, following Han Luo’s precise instructions.

Seeing that he was being ignored, Hei Feng grew bored—until he caught sight of the array being set up. His eyes lit up.

“A Tier 3 formation? A Spatial Shift Array?”

Excited, he flapped over and landed right on top of Si She’s head, marveling at the setup. Si She didn’t react, too focused on his work.

“Not bad, kid,” Hei Feng chirped. “You’ve got skills—being able to lay a Tier 3 formation at the Foundation Establishment stage is impressive. And not just any formation, either. The Spatial Shift Array is one of the toughest to construct.”

He paused dramatically, then continued, “But I’ve seen someone even more talented. That guy could lay Tier 3 arrays during the Qi Refining stage! Absolute genius. Sadly, he was eaten alive before he could make a name for himself. Such a shame. Tasted good, though.”

Hei Feng sighed, shaking his head at the memory. The taste of genius really was something else.

Si She didn’t respond. He had more important things to focus on—he needed to finish setting up three forest veins, and this was just the first. Time was tight. He couldn’t let anything derail Han Luo’s plan.

“You’re ignoring me?” Hei Feng pressed. “What, you think you’re too good for Lord Hei Feng?”

He started getting bolder.

“Hey, what’s your name anyway?” Hei Feng asked, then peeked at the array. “Whoa, you’re setting it up wrong. The array plate should go here, and then here... that way it aligns with the heavens properly.”

Clearly unsatisfied with just talking, Hei Feng extended his wing, preparing to “assist.”

“Charcoal-for-brains, touch my array plate and you’ll regret it,” Si She said coldly, eyes gleaming with venom like a viper ready to strike.

“Relax, relax! I was just trying to help. You should be thanking me! I don’t usually give pointers to juniors. You—hey, don’t look at me like that. I know I’m handsome, but staring like that makes me self-conscious…”

And he kept talking. Nonstop. Like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in years.

Which, in truth, he hadn’t.

“You’ve got talent, kid,” Hei Feng continued. “You understand formations and puppetry. Why not become my disciple? I’ll teach you secret arts. In the Eastern Region, you’ll be invincible!”

He rambled on endlessly. Si She eventually muted his own hearing to block out the noise.

But that wasn’t enough.

Hei Feng switched to using divine sense to keep chatting with him.

Despite the chatter, the Spatial Shift Array was finally completed.

With the first setup done, Si She brought Hei Feng to the second forest zone.

Hei Feng didn’t wait for instructions this time.

“Let’s gooo!” he shouted, charging forward.

With a flurry of kicks from his clawed feet, he knocked out all three Foundation Establishment guards on duty with ease.

“Not bad, huh? That’s what I call style. Don’t you feel like becoming my disciple now? If you sign up today, I’ll throw in a deluxe secret technique starter pack! Very powerful!”

Si She didn’t react. He was already setting up the second array.

“Kid, did the Changshou Sect steal your wife or something? Or maybe they slaughtered your parents? You’re really going all out here!”

Hei Feng watched in disbelief. Si She was planning to teleport the entire forest vein. That kind of ruthless efficiency was wild.

Burning someone’s house down, then pissing on the ashes to make sure it doesn’t reignite? That was exactly Hei Feng’s old style.

Si She ignored him and finished the second array.

Then, the two descended to the final forest zone.

Like before, Hei Feng swiftly dispatched the guards.

Once the third formation was laid out, Si She double-checked each one thoroughly. After confirming everything was perfect, he activated a sound-transmission stone.

“Target One is in position. Ready for activation.”

Chapter 130

The scene was... awkward. In fact, it couldn’t be more awkward.

Si She stared at the absurdly dramatic entrance of the jet-black rooster, sweat forming on his brow.

“Ahem...” the big black-feathered rooster cleared its throat and nimbly got back on its feet. It didn’t seem to notice—or care about—the tension in the air.

With a flap of its nearly featherless wings, it soared up to a branch of the Nether Tree and puffed out its chest proudly. Though it looked rather mangy, its demeanor was full of swagger.

“You brat, you're not that little girl Qiao’er. Who are you?” the rooster demanded, one wing planted on its side while the other pointed accusingly at Si She, its posture practically screaming: I saw through your act the moment you showed up. Trying to mess with Lord Chicken? You're not even qualified.

Si She remained calm, clearly unfazed by the ridiculous display. “Who I am doesn’t matter,” he said flatly. “What does matter is this—why is there a Foundation Establishment stage rooster roosting on the Nether Tree in the Changshou Sect? Don’t bother feeding me some nonsense about getting lost. I don’t have time for this kind of crap.”

“Shut it!” the black rooster snapped, roaring with fury. “I have a name! I’m Lord Hei Feng! A direct descendant of the Phoenix bloodline! My third grand-uncle’s fourth cousin’s eighteenth brother once shared a teacup with a true phoenix! My blood carries the fire of nobility, and you dare speak to me like this? I’ll swallow you whole!”

He pointed his wing like a sword, puffing himself up with rage, trying to overwhelm Si She with sheer bluster.

“Ohhh, is that so...” Si She folded his arms and nodded like he was hearing something profound, yet his eyes remained full of disinterest. According to his master’s intel, this Hei Feng was nothing more than a common rooster that had accidentally eaten a mysterious spiritual object and gained intelligence. Like Jiu Tong, he was just another spiritual beast who had evolved—not some noble phoenix descendant.

“Don’t you ‘ohhh’ me!” Hei Feng snapped. “Don’t think you can look down on me just because you’re a puppet. I’ve walked across the Divine Continent, swum through the Spirit Sea, traveled through Southern Barbarian Lands and even soared into the heavens! I roam freely across the Nine Heavens and Ten Earths! Insult me again, and I’ll make sure you understand why flowers bloom red!”

He arched his neck so far back it looked like it might snap from the attitude.

“You snuck in here, didn’t you?” Si She asked coldly.

That struck a nerve.

Hei Feng instantly tensed up like a cat whose tail had been stepped on, his eyes darting around nervously.

Three seconds later, when he confirmed no one else was around, he puffed out his chest again.

“Snuck in? Please! This is called resource optimization. Those Changshou brats have no idea how to utilize the Nether Tree’s spiritual energy. They just let it go to waste every day. I’m doing everyone a favor by absorbing a tiny bit. Waste not, want not! Lord Hei Feng doesn’t sit idly while resources rot!”

He crossed his wings, speaking with such conviction you'd almost believe he had the moral high ground.

“A tiny bit?” Si She’s tone grew sharper.

“Yes! Just a bit—bit by bit!” Hei Feng stood tall, feigning dignity.

“Bit by bit?” Si She’s gaze turned cold. “You turned a ten-thousand-year-old Nether Tree into a thousand-year-old one by ‘just taking a bit’? What, do you have a whole world in your gut to hold that much spiritual energy?”

The intel Han Luo had gathered was clear: during the previous intrusion by the Changshou Sect into Luoxian territory, he had started investigating their secrets. At first, he hadn’t believed it himself—who could drain a ten-thousand-year tree like that?

But the truth didn’t lie. And the culprit was this very rooster, proudly calling himself Lord Hei Feng.

“You... you... nonsense!” Hei Feng stuttered. “If it really was ten thousand years old, how could it regress to just a thousand? If I had time-reversing powers, why would I be stuck cultivating in this godforsaken place? I’d be raiding that damn Golden Crow’s nest!”

Even as he argued, his eyes darted evasively. It was obvious he’d been caught red-clawed.

“Still denying it?” Si She narrowed his eyes.

“There’s nothing to admit!” Hei Feng huffed. “What are you going to do, huh? You’re just a puppet. You can’t touch me. If you call the old ghost from Changshou here, I’ll just end you before you make a sound.”

“Alright,” Si She said, expression unchanged. “If you won’t admit it, then let’s ask the spirit of the Nether Tree. I’m sure it has a lot to say to you.”

The mention of the tree spirit made Hei Feng jump like he'd stepped on burning coals. He started bouncing around the branches in panic.

Seriously? Si She thought. Could he be any more obvious?

“W-what spirit of the Nether Tree? I don’t know what you’re talking about! Get lost! Don’t disturb my cultivation—or I’ll eat you and turn you into droppings!”

Hei Feng flapped his bare wings menacingly, trying to scare Si She away.

“Your black crown... that's the spirit of the Nether Tree, isn’t it?” Si She said suddenly.

At those words, Hei Feng froze. A visible shiver ran down his spine.

He didn’t need to answer. His body already had.

“You know too much. I can’t let you leave.”

Hei Feng’s expression turned sinister. With a loud cry, his cultivation surged—Foundation Establishment stage, mid-tier—transforming the surrounding area into a realm of Yin energy, a pseudo-underworld. Si She was immediately enveloped by the oppressive atmosphere.

Inside this pseudo-realm, spiritual consciousness was heavily suppressed. Weaker beings would collapse instantly.

But Si She remained calm. Though a bit pressured, he was still composed.

After all, he held twenty percent of Han Luo’s strength—enough to handle this situation.

“No big deal,” he said with a shrug. “You can destroy me, but I’m just a puppet. My master will find out everything that happened here. And once he tells the Changshou Sect you drained their ten-thousand-year-old Nether Tree, they’ll probably boil you into soup.”

Si She was unbothered. As a puppet, he didn’t understand fear. Besides, everything was going according to Han Luo’s plan.

He just needed to follow the steps.

“You little bastard! How dare you threaten me!”

Hei Feng was livid. He was used to threatening others—this was the first time someone dared to threaten him, let alone a puppet.

“Look, coal-burner, I don’t have time for your theatrics. Let’s cooperate. What do you say?”

Hei Feng immediately tensed, wary.

This puppet had shown up out of nowhere, knew far too much about him, and even tried to negotiate like they were equals. It made his feathers itch.

“What kind of cooperation?”

“Simple,” Si She replied. “You follow my lead, and I’ll let you keep drawing spiritual energy from the Nether Tree to heal yourself.”

“How do you know I’m injured?” Hei Feng gasped, eyes wide, his aura locking directly onto Si She.

Chapter 129

At the edge of the White Forest, near Luoxian Sect—

“Break the formation!” someone shouted.

Even though the Luoxian Sect had turned the tide by crippling Chang Lin, it was far from over. Like cutting off the head of one hyena, another soon takes its place—more savage, more ruthless.

The Changshou Sect had brought their formation-breaking specialists, and despite the Luoxian disciples’ efforts to resist, the outermost defensive formation was beginning to falter. The opposing formation masters were clearly exceptional in skill.

“Abandon the first layer—retreat!” Wang Huan commanded without hesitation.

Moments after their withdrawal, the first forest barrier shattered. The Changshou Sect disciples poured in like bandits, ruthlessly chopping down the white trees, while the enemy formation masters immediately began dismantling the second layer of defenses.

“Damn it!” Li Long clenched his fists, growling under his breath. Watching their spiritual trees being seized filled him with rage, yet he was helpless—too weak to fight back.

He wasn't alone. The disciples stationed to defend the forest were all furious and unwilling to accept defeat. But strength spoke louder than feelings, and they could only stew in frustration.

Wang Huan quickly rallied them. “Don’t panic! Senior brother Xiao Long just messaged me—he has a plan. We’re to wait for his signal.”

“Really?”

Hope returned to the disciples’ eyes at once.

Elsewhere, near another woodland under Luoxian’s domain, Xiao Long addressed a group of disciples with a confident smile. “Everyone, don’t worry. Wang Huan’s side is holding the line. We’ll soon drive the Changshou Sect out for good.”

His words reignited morale. Despair gave way to determination.

Meanwhile, in the Changshou Sect camp, Chang Qing lounged on a vine chair, sipping tea and watching the joyful Luoxian Sect disciples within the formation. His eyes were full of disdain.

Still smiling at a time like this?

So what if some prodigy had emerged? In the end, they were still dancing to the Changshou Sect’s tune.

“How are the other forests doing?” he asked casually, taking another sip.

“Senior brother,” a subordinate replied, “all forest fronts are under assault. It won’t be long before we seize all of Luoxian Sect’s spiritual wood.”

“Excellent.” Chang Qing nodded. “Without resources, how will their disciples cultivate? Who would even want to join them anymore?”

The Changshou Sect controlled four forest zones—one superior-grade, two medium-grade, and one inferior-grade.

Han Luo had secretly deployed four of his puppets, each embedded in one of the four zones.

Importantly, he wasn’t directly controlling any of them. He simply monitored all twelve of his puppets, allowing them autonomy. To become truly reliable allies, they needed to learn independent judgment and execution. He would observe and advise when needed—but never interfere directly.

At this moment, near the superior-grade forest of the Changshou Sect, deep in the trees—

A handsome man cornered a young woman against a tree, gazing into her eyes with romantic intensity.

“Junior sister, I know this might be sudden, but I’ve liked you for a long time. I want us to become Dao companions, cultivating and exploring the Dao together.”

The woman, visibly flustered, hesitated. “Senior brother... this isn’t right, is it?”

Her body told her to flee, but the thrill of the moment rooted her in place.

“What’s wrong with it?” the man pressed. “You’re single. I’m single. If we’re together, we won’t be single anymore.”

His words were bold and direct, making her blush furiously and tremble.

“I... I already like someone else.”

“Is it the senior brother?” he asked.

She said nothing, lowering her gaze.

“Sigh... never mind then,” the man said, suddenly deflated. “But since I truly liked you, could I at least have a hug?”

She hesitated again, but seeing his sincerity, she nodded slightly.

As he embraced her, a glint of malice flashed in his eyes. He opened his mouth, revealing two sharp fangs, and bit into her neck.

She didn't resist—the venom rendered her unconscious instantly.

“Go meet your beloved in your dreams,” hissed Si She.

With a blank expression, he performed a soul-searching technique and morphed into the woman’s appearance. Then he stood up and walked toward the Changshou Sect’s superior-grade forest.

Han Luo watched from the shadows, impressed by Si She’s execution.

The way he baited his target by confessing love, maintained composure after being rejected, then turned the situation in his favor—it was textbook manipulation.

Old-fashioned? Maybe. But it worked far better than the overly cautious strategies of the other puppets.

“Ah, Sister Qiao’er! What brings you here?” The guards at the forest gate beamed as they welcomed the disguised Si She.

Qiao’er was a renowned formation master in the Changshou Sect—the very one who had laid out the defenses around all the forests. Naturally, Han Luo had fed Si She this identity to assume.

“I heard the Luoxian Sect is giving us trouble. I came to inspect the formations,” said Si She, mimicking Qiao’er’s usual calm.

It wasn’t even a lie—this was Qiao’er’s regular responsibility.

“Always so careful, Sister Qiao’er,” one guard said, grinning as he laid on the flattery.

“Alright, alright, less sweet talk.” She smiled faintly. “Keep watch. If anything happens, I’ll hold you accountable.”

She joked casually, her demeanor matching Qiao’er’s perfectly.

“Don’t worry, Sister Qiao’er. With us on guard, not even a fly will get through!”

They laughed, unaware that their beloved Qiao’er was already lying unconscious somewhere.

Touching the jade pendant at her waist, Si She activated the access token. A green glow enveloped her, allowing her to pass through the formation unhindered.

Inside lay the famed Netherwood Forest, known for its superior-grade spiritual trees of the yin attribute.

Like the White Forest of Luoxian Sect, this forest was also divided into three layers—the deeper you went, the higher the quality of the trees.

Using Qiao’er’s identity, Si She easily passed through two more guards and entered the heart of the forest.

Before him stood a colossal Nether Tree—so dark it shimmered with a purplish hue, its branches blocking out the sky. This thousand-year-old tree was one of the Changshou Sect’s core spiritual assets.

Hundreds more top-tier Nether Trees surrounded it, each at least four to five hundred years old, thriving in eerie silence.

“All of this... such incredible treasure,” Si She muttered, but he didn’t act hastily.

Following his master’s intelligence, he bypassed the outer trees and approached the massive Nether Tree at the center.

Gazing up at it, he called out loudly, “You! The coal miner! Come out—I have business with you!”

There was no response.

“If you don’t come out,” he threatened, turning to leave, “I’ll call that old ghost of Changshou Sect. I’m sure he has plenty to say to you.”

Suddenly, the giant tree trembled.

Then—thud!

A pitch-black rooster, so dark it was almost otherworldly, flapped its sparse wings and crash-landed at Si She’s feet with a loud slap.

BONUS chapters today and another one will be coming soon!!! ENJOY

Chapter 128

“Come on, junior brother, I’m waiting for you,” said Chang Lin with a mocking smile.

Humiliating a Luoxian Sect disciple in front of everyone—he couldn’t have been more pleased.

Wang Xi took a deep breath and began crawling forward. The entire Luoxian Sect remained silent. There were no angry outbursts or shouts—only a heavy, suffocating silence.

In contrast, the Changshou Sect was raucous with jeers and howls, their disciples cheering loudly. Chang Lin stood like an actor on stage, cycling through dramatic expressions, savoring the opportunity to ridicule their enemies.

Suddenly, Wang Xi sprang to his feet. A cold gleam flashed in his hand as he thrust a dagger straight at Chang Lin’s head.

The move was so abrupt, so unexpected, that neither side had time to react. No one had imagined Wang Xi would attempt to assassinate Chang Lin.

But within a fraction of a second—smack!—Chang Lin caught Wang Xi’s wrist mid-strike.

“You really think I’m that stupid?” His smile vanished, replaced by a chilling glare.

Wang Xi's lips curled into a sly grin. The meek, foolish mask he had worn slipped away, revealing the cunning glint of a fox. “Aren’t you?”

Before Chang Lin could respond, pain twisted his face. He looked down—his abdomen had been pierced by a second dagger, buried deep into his dantian.

“My... my dantian!”

The agony overwhelmed him. His grip on Wang Xi loosened, and he collapsed to the ground, writhing in desperation.

“My dantian! Someone help me! Save me!” he cried like a drowning man, looking around for aid. But none of the Changshou Sect disciples moved. They only watched in cold silence.

“There’s no saving it,” said Wang Xi as he stood up, calmly dusting himself off. “I coated that dagger with poison. Your dantian’s been corrupted—completely destroyed. You’re no longer a cultivator.”

Rolling his wrist, he looked down at his former tormentor, brimming with confidence.

“You... you... catch him! Seize him!” Chang Lin ordered, but no one obeyed. With his cultivation crippled, he was nothing more than a mortal. Who would listen to him now?

A man stepped forward from the crowd. “Second senior brother.”

“Chang Qing! Grab him—quickly!” Chang Lin pleaded, recognizing his fourth junior brother.

But Chang Qing only smirked. “Even now, you think you're in charge? Wake up, second brother. I'm the one calling the shots now.”

His smile widened in satisfaction. Who would've thought fortune would come so suddenly?

Chang Lin stood frozen, devastated. Just moments ago, he had been flying high—now, he had crashed into the abyss. Only a few loyal subordinates carried him off to the side. After a perfunctory “Take care, Brother Lin,” they returned to the Changshou Sect formation.

Chang Qing stretched lazily. “Wang Xi, is it?”

He cracked his neck, producing a crisp pop. “I admire your guts, kid. But you injured my second senior brother—my dear, beloved second brother. You saw how close we were. So tell me—how should I take revenge?”

Compared to Chang Lin, Chang Qing seemed even more twisted, more dangerous.

“Xi, I’m coming!” Li Long shouted, about to charge in.

He had never doubted his brother. Wang Xi had proven him right.

But Wang Xi turned back and met his gaze. “Don’t come, Brother Long. Better one of us dies than both. If you can, visit the immortal realm for me. We’ll be brothers again in the next life.”

With a flick of his hand, Wang Xi summoned a Luoxian Sword. Facing the circle of Changshou Sect disciples surrounding him, he stood tall and unyielding.

“You little bastards, listen well! My name is Wang Xi, of Luoxian Sect. If the Yama King asks who sent you to the underworld, tell him—it was Grandpa Xi who did it!”

The outcome of the battle was a foregone conclusion.

But that didn’t matter.

To be able to shout those words—what more could a man ask for?

Atop Luoxian Peak, Han Luo sighed as he watched the scene unfold through his bronze treasure mirror.

He couldn’t help but admire the boy. Only flowers that bloom in the mud carry such beauty.

On the battlefield, Wang Xi charged like a madman, clashing with the Changshou Sect disciples.

Seeing this, the Luoxian Sect crowd could no longer hold back. They howled and rushed out of the forest barrier to aid Wang Xi.

So what if they died? Luoxian Sect disciples had never feared death.

“Xi, I’m here!” Li Long roared, charging in front.

“You bastard, didn’t I tell you not to come?” Wang Xi’s eyes glistened with tears. His body was covered in wounds, every step painful.

But in that moment, watching his fellow disciples rush to his side—it was all worth it.

Especially that petite figure throwing herself into the fray to rescue him—he felt fulfilled. He had no regrets.

Chang Qing, seeing this, darted forward and kicked Wang Xi down. Then he raised his blade high.

“To kill you in front of the people you love... now that’s satisfying.”

With a twisted grin, he swung the sword toward Wang Xi’s neck.

“No—!” Luoxian Sect disciples screamed in horror.

But it was too late.

BOOM!

A thunderous explosion erupted. Chang Qing’s location was blown to pieces. Those nearby were sent flying.

Cough... cough... “Who dares ruin my moment?” Chang Qing staggered to his feet, furious.

At the heart of the blast stood a familiar figure.

A giant pangolin, carrying Wang Xi—barely alive—on its back, darted through the chaos.

“That beast again! Catch it!” Chang Qing bellowed.

A silhouette shot out of the forest. This one had reached the mid-Foundation Establishment stage—far stronger than the rest. In seconds, he closed the gap and reached for the pangolin.

But just then, the creature came to a sudden halt.

It raised its hindquarters—and with a loud pffft!, unleashed a cloud of foul, nauseating gas.

The stench was overwhelming, covering the entire battlefield—including the Luoxian Sect.

“Fall back! Retreat!” Li Long shouted as he saw the pangolin carry Wang Xi past him.

Holding their noses and bearing the stench, Luoxian Sect disciples quickly retreated into the forest barrier.

As for the Changshou Sect? They weren’t so lucky. Their eyes teared up, mouths frothed, and many collapsed to the ground, twitching uncontrollably.

“Wind, now!” someone cried.

A violent gust swept across the battlefield, dispersing the gas. But the stench clung to their bodies like a curse.

Meanwhile, the Luoxian disciples, after channeling their sect’s cultivation method, were pleasantly surprised—the foul odor was easily cleansed from their bodies.

Atop Luoxian Peak, Han Luo doubled over in laughter.

It was the first time he’d used the poison gas bombs he’d invented—and the results were spectacular.

True, they weren’t lethal.

But cultivators had noses sharper than dogs. That stench would haunt the Changshou Sect for at least half a year.

Of course, those trained in the Luoxian Sect's arts could easily dispel it.

A little trick, nothing more.

In truth, he had only come to observe the scale of the battle and gather intelligence. Now that his goal was met, he activated a few puppets and, under the cover of the stench, quietly slipped away to begin Plan A.

Chapter 127

“You bastard, Chang Lin! You used dirty tricks!”

A Luoxian Sect disciple shouted in fury, rushing forward in an attempt to rescue Wang Huan.

“Don’t come out!” Wang Huan’s voice stopped the enraged disciples in their tracks.

“This is exactly what they want—to lure you out and defeat you one by one.”

Clutching her wounded shoulder, she frowned with regret. She had known Chang Lin would resort to foul play. That’s why she had resolved to risk her life to take him down. Killing him would have bolstered their morale and struck fear into the enemy.

She had been decisive, hoping that her display would make even their enemies reconsider—after all, cultivators valued their lives above all. But unfortunately, the hidden expert on their side was simply too powerful. She had missed the best opportunity and now watched Chang Lin walking toward her, knowing full well that what awaited might be worse than death.

Even so, she would never let him have his way.

Just as she was about to unleash a final desperate counterattack, the earth beneath her suddenly churned.

In the blink of an eye, a giant pangolin burst from the ground, scooped her up on its back, and dashed straight into the protective formation of the forest.

The change happened too fast. Neither the Luoxian disciples nor Chang Lin—or even the expert who had attacked from the shadows—reacted in time. In the blink of an eye, Wang Huan had been whisked away.

“Beast! How dare you ruin my moment!” Chang Lin roared, his plan foiled just as he was about to capture her. Enraged, he launched a barrage of attacks against the protective formation.

Inside the array, Wang Huan, pale and bloodied, held her wound and offered the pangolin a grateful nod. “Thank you.”

The pangolin responded with a brief nod, then burrowed back into the earth and vanished.

“Senior sister Huanhuan!” Healing disciples rushed over, immediately tending to her injuries.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry,” Wang Huan reassured them. Though her face was ashen, her spirit remained unbroken, easing the others’ fears.

Outside the formation, Chang Lin continued to rage, repeatedly slamming the barrier. His performance earlier had been impeccable—even his own Changshou Sect disciples had been fooled. And yet, a mere beast had ruined it all.

Cracking his neck, he sneered. It didn’t matter. Not one of the Luoxian disciples here would escape his grasp.

He turned to face them, eyes sweeping over the angry faces of those who wanted nothing more than to tear him apart.

“Nice expressions,” he mocked. “But let me tell you something. In the cultivation world, only the ruthless survive.”

He spread his arms wide. “If any of you want to join Changshou Sect, step forward now. I promise your safety. From today, you won’t be bullied—you’ll be the ones doing the bullying. Resources are getting scarcer. If you don’t fight, you won’t even get soup. But if you follow me, you’ll get meat. As much as you want.”

The Luoxian disciples glared at him with pure hatred.

“Don’t dream so big, Chang Lin,” someone snapped. “We Luoxian disciples will never join your filthy sect.”

“Exactly. Even if we die, we will never betray our sect.”

“We were born as Luoxian disciples, and we’ll die as Luoxian disciples. The name Luoxian Sect is branded into our souls. If there’s an afterlife and memory survives, we’ll still be Luoxian disciples.”

“Well said!” others cheered, their unity palpable.

The disciples of Luoxian Sect had always stood together like tightly bound ropes. They didn’t fear godlike enemies—because they had brothers and sisters who’d give their lives for them.

But Chang Lin only smiled coldly.

“Very moving. I almost got goosebumps,” he said, rubbing his arms mockingly. “But... do you few really speak for everyone here?”

Silence followed.

The Luoxian disciples glanced at one another. A strange tension began to brew among them. After all, no one could truly know another’s heart.

Suddenly, a stir rippled through the crowd.

A seemingly timid and quiet young disciple—one who had always kept a low profile—slipped out of the protective array.

“Senior brother Chang Lin... I—I wish to join Changshou Sect.”

His nervous stammer and timid posture made him seem like the kind of person who’d be easily manipulated.

“Wang Xi! What are you doing? Come back!” someone cried. “Do you know how many of us they’ve hurt? You’re turning your back on your own family!”

“You don’t deserve to call yourself a disciple of Luoxian Sect!”

“Little brother Xi…” Wang Huan’s expression finally cracked.

She had always treated Wang Xi like a younger brother because of their shared surname. She’d looked after him, protected him. She never imagined that the first to betray them would be the very one she cherished as family.

“Sister… deep down, you know they’re the real cultivators.”

Wang Xi’s voice was eerily calm, his tone detached and terrifying.

“You’re full of crap! Come back!” shouted Li Long, one of Wang Xi’s closest friends. Rage burned in his eyes as he tried to pull him back.

“We agreed, didn’t we? To cultivate together, to explore the world, to roam the immortal realm side by side. What are you doing, Xi? Tell me!”

Li Long’s anguished cries shattered against the coldness of Wang Xi’s demeanor.

“Brother Long, can’t you see? Luoxian Sect is just a fantasy. It looks like home, but we both know the truth—this world is cruel. In Luoxian Sect, we’ll never grow. But in Changshou Sect… maybe, just maybe, we can reach the immortal realm.”

With that, he turned his back on his friend and stepped up to Chang Lin.

“Hahaha, excellent! Smart man. A wise man knows when to change paths. There’s no shame in switching roads when one leads to a dead end.”

Chang Lin laughed heartily.

“Second senior brother, your teaching is right. From now on, I’ll serve Changshou Sect without hesitation, even if it means death.”

Wang Xi bowed deeply, fawning shamelessly. Chang Lin clearly enjoyed it.

“Don’t talk about death so casually,” he chuckled, patting Wang Xi’s shoulder. “But there is a tradition in our sect.”

His smile turned wicked.

“Second senior brother, please instruct me.”

“It’s simple,” Chang Lin grinned. “Just crawl through my legs.”

The crowd from Changshou Sect erupted in laughter.

“Do it! We all did the same!”

“That’s right! A real man knows when to bend. Crawl!”

“Crawl! Crawl! Crawl!”

They chanted in unison, their mocking voices surrounding Wang Xi.

“Xi…” Li Long took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.

“Why suffer this shame? Even if we die in battle, we can still drink together in the underworld.”

He had never given up on his brother. It was a promise between men—when one stumbles, the other lends a hand.

Wang Xi’s shoulders trembled slightly. He had heard. But he didn’t turn back.

With a thud, he dropped to his knees before Chang Lin.

Chapter 126

“Chang Lin,” Wang Huan called out, her beautiful face filled with unwavering determination.

“Huanhuan, my little treasure, have you finally come around? Ready to leave with me?” Chang Lin’s tone was teasing and smug, like a street thug rather than a cultivator.

“I’ll go with you—if you can defeat me,” Wang Huan replied calmly.

The moment those words left her mouth, the Luoxian Sect disciples erupted in protest.

“Senior sister Huanhuan, you mustn’t! Chang Lin is a wicked man, almost no different from a demonic cultivator. If you go with him, he’ll defile you. You can’t!”

“Please think this through! As long as we live, there's still hope. Don’t do something foolish!”

“Exactly, senior sister. If it comes to it, we’ll fight to the death. What’s a scar the size of a bowl? We’ve never been afraid of dying!”

“That’s right—we fight!”

The crowd was filled with fury, their killing intent boiling over.

Chang Lin, however, burst into unrestrained laughter, basking in the rage of Luoxian Sect’s disciples. “What a bunch of useless pigs,” he sneered. “If it weren’t for your so-called Twin Swords of Luoxian guarding your sect, you’d have been wiped out long ago. That mountain of yours should’ve been ours.”

“Exactly,” one of the Changshou Sect disciples chimed in. “Everyone in the cultivation world has a nickname for Luoxian Sect—‘Turtle Sect.’”

“Wonder why they call them that?” Chang Lin continued mockingly.

“Because the moment they get hurt, they retreat into their shell and don’t dare come out—just like now!”

Laughter rang out from the Changshou disciples, arrogant and insulting, as if the Luoxian Sect were beneath them. Vulgar taunts and crude mockery filled the air.

So what if Luoxian had three monstrous prodigies? In the cultivation world, there were hundreds of thousands of dead prodigies. A single strong cultivator could always be killed with enough scheming, but a powerful sect? Even a dog from one of those had to be treated with respect.

Luoxian disciples had been insulted like this many times before. Their clenched jaws and furious glares showed how badly they wanted to retaliate, even at the cost of their lives.

“Boring,” Chang Lin muttered, picking at his ear with his pinky. Then he looked at Wang Huan again.

“You’ve agreed, haven’t you? Then come with me. Let’s consummate our bond tonight—I'll show you what I’ve got.”

His filthy words triggered a wave of howls and jeers from the Changshou Sect, but Wang Huan remained eerily calm—like a candle burning silently in the wind.

Her expression was devoid of anger or emotion. The silence surrounding her forced the Changshou disciples to shut up, as if her quiet presence alone exerted unbearable pressure.

“I’ll go with you,” she said quietly, “but I dislike men weaker than me. Fight me one-on-one. If you win, I’ll go with you. But if I win, you and your people must stay away from the forest for the next seven days.”

Chang Lin licked his lips, eyes gleaming.

“Huanhuan, you don’t actually think I can’t beat you, do you?”

“Then why hesitate? If you can win, just accept already,” someone from Luoxian Sect shouted.

They had witnessed senior sister Wang Huan defeat Chang Lin once. If they fought again, she stood a good chance.

On the Changshou side, however, someone muttered, “Second senior brother, what’s the point of dueling her? Just wait until the White Forest formation breaks. Then we’ll snatch her, clean her up, and toss her into your bed.”

“Yeah, yeah... No need to risk a duel. What if you lose?”

“Exactly. You couldn’t beat her before. How would it be different now?”

“Shut up!” Chang Lin snapped, eyes flashing with rage as he turned toward his own disciples. “You think I can’t beat her, is that it?”

He looked close to losing control.

“Just accept already if you can win,” someone else muttered under their breath again—prompting another burst of fury.

Scanning the crowd but unable to find the source, Chang Lin turned back toward Wang Huan. In her eyes, he saw naked disdain. That single look from a woman wounded his pride more deeply than any wound could.

“Fine! I’ll fight you. And today, I will make you mine.”

Waving his hand, he ordered the Changshou disciples to clear the area.

Seeing this, Wang Huan stepped beyond the protective formation.

No more words were needed. The two clashed immediately.

Their magical artifacts soared into the air, colliding with force that shook the surroundings. Wang Huan’s red ribbon was both supple and forceful—capable of offense and defense. She wielded it with precision, clearly having mastered the Red Maiden’s techniques.

Within moments, she had the upper hand again, leaving Chang Lin overwhelmed.

“Get lost!” he roared in frustration.

With a wave, he summoned two more black swords that transformed into twin black pythons and attacked Wang Huan from both sides.

She met them head-on, her red ribbon ablaze, engaging the pythons in a fierce battle. The clash was fierce, the crowd on edge, barely daring to breathe. One slip from either could mean death.

After dozens of exchanges, Wang Huan seized an opening and bound both black pythons with her ribbon, which now radiated searing spiritual flames, attempting to incinerate them.

“Explode!” Chang Lin shouted suddenly, triggering a hidden spell.

The two pythons exploded into clouds of black mist, engulfing Wang Huan completely.

“Now you’re in my domain. Let’s see how you escape,” he sneered, summoning three more black swords, which vanished into the mist.

Inside the black fog, his swords’ power increased manifold. The sound of blades clashing echoed within—the black swords attacking Wang Huan’s red ribbon.

The Luoxian disciples grew anxious. None had expected Chang Lin to be hiding so much strength. It made sense now why he was the second senior brother of Changshou Sect—he was as cunning as he was strong.

After a long silence, the noise within the fog began to fade.

Suddenly, a deafening boom shattered the air as Wang Huan tore through the black mist and charged directly at Chang Lin.

His face turned pale. She had broken through his strongest technique.

Watching her charge at him with deadly intent, he froze, completely forgetting to dodge.

“Die!” she shouted.

She might have been small, but her strikes were ruthless. The red ribbon transformed into a massive forty-meter-long sword that came crashing down from the sky.

At the last second, Chang Lin suddenly grinned.

“You’ve fallen for it!”

“Not good!” Wang Huan reacted instantly. Her ribbon reformed around her, creating a defensive cocoon.

Almost simultaneously, three black streaks of light shot out from the forest, slamming hard into her ribbon shield.

The force was overwhelming. Wang Huan couldn’t hold her ground and was blasted backward, crashing to the earth.

“I’m coming for you, my little treasure,” Chang Lin sneered, rushing in with his black spiritual sword.

Wang Huan tried to defend herself, but the impact from the earlier attack left her unable to react in time.

Squelch—

The black sword pierced her shoulder, slicing clean through before being yanked back out.

Blood spurted like a fountain.

Wang Huan had been severely wounded.

Chapter 125

Luoxian Sect had four major forest regions under its protection. Among them, the White Forest was the most valuable.

It was renowned for producing White Spirit Wood, a top-grade material known for its hardness, lightness, and excellent spiritual conductivity—making it the go-to material for Luoxian Sect's artifact refinement.

At that moment, just outside the White Forest, Wang Huan stood at the front of the Luoxian Sect defense line. Clad in red silk and with a petite yet commanding presence, she held her head high with confidence and radiated a heroic aura that bore traces of Chi Xiao's influence.

The White Forest was her responsibility.

Opposite her stood a group of Changshou Sect disciples dressed in black robes, their expressions dark and aggressive.

“I hate silence,” said Chang Lin, the second senior brother of the Changshou Sect. He was an early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator, ranked second among the sect’s younger generation.

“Cut the crap. Let’s fight,” Wang Huan shot back. She was a true student of Chi Xiao—if she could fight, she’d never waste time on words.

With a command, the Luoxian disciples unleashed their spiritual treasures, transforming them into streaks of light that shot toward the enemy.

“Heh, it’s been a while since I’ve encountered such a feisty girl. I like her,” Chang Lin smirked as he waved his hand, and the Changshou Sect responded immediately with a barrage of magical attacks.

Spiritual energy clashed violently, tearing apart the surrounding woods. Magical techniques filled the skies, artifacts clashed with deafening roars—such was the brutal nature of battles between cultivators.

This wasn’t their first skirmish. Both sides already had a good grasp of each other’s capabilities, which only made the fight more intense.

“Junior sister Wang Huan,” Chang Lin grinned lewdly, “you’re exactly my type. If you agree to dual cultivate with me, I might even spare you a few days. Once your senior sister Chi Xiao returns, I’ll take you both in together.”

Disgusting as his words were, Wang Huan showed no fear. Though small in stature, she was explosively temperamental. Like a furious Nezha, she lashed her red silk ribbon in a sweeping arc.

“Perfect!” Chang Lin laughed, taking her attack as a game.

With a chant, he activated his black flying sword and hurled it toward her. The sword clashed violently with the red silk, creating a shockwave that rippled through the air.

“Again!” Chang Lin roared with excitement. His black sword transformed into a massive black python, baring its fangs as it lunged at Wang Huan.

She remained unfazed. With a spin of her ribbon, it encircled her, forming a defensive shield. The black python struck with a boom, but failed to pierce through.

Then came her sharp counter: “Red Ribbon – Binding Dragon!”

The red silk coiled around the black python in an instant.

“Red Ribbon – Blazing Flames!”

Without hesitation, the ribbon ignited in crimson fire. The black python hissed and writhed, unable to bear the scorching flames. Though it struggled furiously, it couldn’t escape the grip of the burning silk.

With one final shriek, the python burst apart, reverting to its true form—a black spiritual sword.

It tried to return to Chang Lin, but before it could, Wang Huan whipped the red ribbon like a dragon’s tail and struck the sword’s body with a resounding crack.

The Grade Two flying sword shattered, its spiritual essence extinguished.

“You little brat! You dare destroy my treasure?!” Chang Lin roared with fury, hurling a volley of talismans toward her.

But Wang Huan stood her ground in mid-air, wrapped in her red ribbon, deflecting every attack.

“Skyfire Meteor Shower!”

She clasped her hands together and thrust them downward. The ribbon blazed brilliantly, splitting into countless flaming meteors that rained from above.

“Boom! Boom! Boom!”

The explosions sent shockwaves through the battlefield. Chang Lin, overwhelmed, coughed up blood as he suffered serious injuries.

Fights between Foundation Establishment cultivators were often decided in mere moments—whoever had the stronger technique or artifact usually won.

“You? Daring to speak of my senior sister?” Wang Huan sneered without restraint.

“Wang Huan, you really don’t know what’s good for you,” Chang Lin hissed, his expression darkening. “You’re mine today.”

With arrogance, he shouted, “Senior brother, assist me!”

Suddenly, whoosh!—a black flying sword shot out from the jungle, targeting Wang Huan.

She had anticipated reinforcements. Dodging swiftly, she manipulated her red ribbon to evade.

But the sword had locked onto her spiritual signature and relentlessly pursued her.

“Get lost!” she shouted, lashing the red ribbon at it. The strike deflected the blade momentarily, but it vibrated, neutralizing the force, and closed in again.

“Red Ribbon – Heaven’s Spike!”

With a whip of her arm, the ribbon morphed into a crimson spike and collided head-on with the black sword. The two weapons clashed, but a powerful shockwave shattered her Heaven’s Spike. The black sword grazed past her ear, making her break out in cold sweat.

Reacting instantly, she barked, “Retreat!”

She flew back into the White Forest’s protective formation.

The Luoxian disciples understood immediately. With a final burst of power, they forced their opponents back and withdrew in an orderly manner into the formation.

“Senior sister Wang Huan, are you hurt?” someone rushed to her side.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Why retreat, junior sister? Come back out and fight!” Chang Lin called mockingly from outside, having already swallowed a healing pill and now swaggering back to the front line.

“You shameless bastard,” a Luoxian disciple shouted, “you couldn't beat her, so you brought in senior disciples to interfere? Your Changshou Sect has no honor!”

“Pah!” Chang Lin scoffed, showing no shame.

“You think this is child’s play? Who said senior disciples can’t help? Besides, I lost on purpose. I wanted your dear Wang Huan to lower her guard. I have to say, she’s quick on her feet. Makes me like her even more.”

His lecherous gaze made the Luoxian disciples’ blood boil.

“Chang Lin, you’re just relying on numbers. If senior brother Li Jun and senior sister Chi Xiao were here, you wouldn't dare act so bold.”

If the two were present—even against mid-stage Foundation cultivators—there would be no fear. But unfortunately, they were away in the Eastern Region and couldn't return in time.

“You’re right,” Chang Lin shrugged with a grin. “We are relying on numbers. What can you do about it?”

His shamelessness was unbearable, but they had no choice.

The Changshou Sect had sent senior disciples to help, while Luoxian Sect had strict rules forbidding the older generation from intervening—even when resources were being plundered or blocked.

Their duty was to protect the White Forest.

If they couldn’t manage even that, they deserved to fail.

“What? You think staying silent means I can’t do anything?”

Chang Lin smirked deviously.

“Men, break the formation.”

Three formation masters stepped out from the rear, escorted by two mid-stage Foundation disciples. They walked up to the White Forest’s barrier and began dismantling it.

The defensive formation was of the second rank. Normally, a Foundation-level formation master could break such an array with time. It was only a matter of how long it would take.

Two of the other three forest regions had already fallen and were seized by Changshou Sect. The remaining one was under siege and wouldn’t hold much longer.

Only the White Forest remained—and though its second-rank formation was tougher and had three layers, it was still just a matter of time before it fell.

At that moment, no one could stop them.

Only Wang Huan stood alone—defiant.

Chapter 124

“All the spirit wood is gone!”

Han Luo stared at Senior Sister Lou, thinking she must be joking.

“It’s true,” she replied, “All our spirit wood reserves have been depleted. But…”

She led him to a secluded chamber and pulled out a pouch from her robes, handing it to him.

“I knew you were working on puppet refinement lately, so I saved this batch just for you. Take it. But this—this is the last of Luoxian Sect’s spirit wood.”

Lin Lou’s expression wasn’t cheerful. Normally, she wouldn’t have missed such a great opportunity to tease Han Luo and at least demand a few sweet words in return. But not today.

“Is it really that serious?” Han Luo asked, surprised by how dire things had become.

Clearly, the battle over resources was fiercer than he had imagined.

“Very,” Lin Lou nodded grimly. “I’ve heard that Chi Xiao, Li Jun, and Wu Dao have all fought in several high-profile battles, defeating disciples from major sects. Their fame has soared, and now they’re ranked among the top hundred. They're strong, and that has made Changshou Sect nervous. They’ve started targeting our resources aggressively.”

She took a breath and continued, “And it’s not just them. Green Willow Sect has also been secretly helping them. On its own, Changshou Sect couldn't possibly have pressured us this hard. But together, they've managed to create shortages and disrupt our supply lines. The only bit of good news is that most of the disciples have already finished refining their treasures. We just need to hold on through this rough patch.”

Lin Lou clearly wasn’t in high spirits. Besides seeing Han Luo, the thing she loved most was watching bright, eager faces come to her to exchange for cultivation materials. Because each time, she knew a stronger disciple was being born—something that greatly benefited Luoxian Sect.

But now, although people still came, there just weren’t enough resources left to distribute. As for Chi Xiao and the others, just like she had told Han Luo before, they were all in a crucial stage of growth. They needed real combat experience, and the sect didn’t want them wasting time guarding a forest.

“Junior brother Han Luo, go back and keep cultivating. If you can, when the time comes, give those bastards a good beating for me.”

If it weren’t for her important duties, Lin Lou would’ve charged into battle herself.

Han Luo nodded. “If the opportunity comes, I’ll be sure to help you vent your anger.”

With that, he returned to Luoxian Mountain with the spirit wood.

“Changshou Sect... I was planning to deal with you later, but it looks like you’re asking for trouble.”

He hadn’t forgotten what happened with the old ghost from Changshou Sect. If not for the substitution talisman and the timely arrival of Uncle-Master Yunyangzi, he might’ve died back then. A dangerous person like that—how could he not take them seriously?

Still, he wasn’t the kind to act recklessly. He needed time to prepare, to uncover their background, and formulate a complete counter-strategy. When he struck, it had to be a fatal blow—crippling Changshou Sect so thoroughly they’d never rise again.

For now, he had to focus on his ongoing puppet refinement. That alone demanded massive amounts of spirit wood. And besides, he was still a disciple of Luoxian Sect. He normally didn’t interfere in personal duels between fellow disciples, but strangling the sect’s resource supply was too much. If Luoxian Sect fell, where else could he hide and cultivate safely?

Perhaps this situation was a blessing in disguise. He still had a batch of humanoid puppets that hadn’t been tested in real combat. This would be the perfect opportunity to see what flaws they still had.

With a wave of his hand, twelve humanoid puppets appeared before him.

“Now, who should I send?”

That night, under the dark sky and chilling wind, four men gathered around a campfire. The leader was at mid-Foundation Establishment, while the others were at the early stage. They sat chatting as flames flickered between them.

“Who would've thought Luoxian Sect would produce three monstrous geniuses? It’s infuriating.”

“Please, they should be the ones angry.”

“That’s right. Our attacks have already cut off their supply of spirit wood. And our senior brother is now organizing a strike on their spirit stone and spirit iron mines. If it works, we’ll cripple an entire generation of their disciples.”

“Exactly. What use are three prodigies if the rest of their generation gets gutted of all resources? Their next crop of disciples will face huge setbacks. Without fresh talent, let’s see how Luoxian Sect plans to rise.”

“Let’s strip every last resource they have. If they dare to call those three monsters back to guard their fields, we’ll see whether they can bear the loss in battle experience.”

“No matter what they choose, we’ve already drained them. The longer those three stay away, the more we widen the gap.”

“You said it. Luoxian Sect is like a turtle. Even with innate spiritual treasures, they’re no match for our mighty Changshou Sect.”

As they continued scheming…

“You’re from Changshou Sect, aren’t you?”

A voice called out from the forest. A man in grey, wearing a ram-shaped mask, stepped out from the shadows.

“Who are you?” one of the men demanded, rising to his feet.

“That’s not important,” the masked man said calmly.

He raised his hand. “Buzz!”

Three third-rank array disks activated, trapping the four men in place.

“What do you want? We’re disciples of Changshou Sect!”

“Exactly the people I’ve been looking for.”

“Attack!”

At the masked man’s command, eleven figures burst forth from within the array and began a savage beatdown, no questions asked. The four enemies were strong, but the attackers had numbers on their side. Each of the eleven wore triple-layered third-rank defensive formations, rendering all counterattacks useless.

The campfire crackled as fists flew—clang, smash, boom!

By the end of the chaos, three of the four had been subdued.

“You think you can hold me?” the mid-stage cultivator shouted, trying to break free.

Only to realize—he couldn’t move.

“No use struggling,” said one of the attackers with a cunning grin. “I spiked your wine earlier.”

It was the rat-masked puppet speaking.

“Begin.”

Following the order from the ram-masked leader, the snake-masked puppet stepped forward. Its long, crimson tongue flicked out as it placed a hand on the man’s forehead.

“Soul search.”

The puppet rifled through the disciple’s memories and extracted every piece of useful intel. Then, in a fluid motion, it shed a layer of snakeskin—taking on the disciple’s exact appearance. Thanks to the soul search, it also inherited his mannerisms and memories. To all appearances, it was now that Changshou Sect disciple.

Three more puppets—Monkey, Dog, and Pig—followed suit, each soul-searching and mimicking one of the others.

The real bodies were quickly collected by the ram-masked leader and stored away.

“Go,” he said.

The array dissolved, and the four transformed puppets left.

“Let’s move,” the ram-masked figure instructed the remaining eight.

They melted into the darkness.

High atop Luoxian Mountain, Han Luo sat calmly, orchestrating it all from behind the scenes.

His puppet arts weren’t yet perfect. A cultivator in the Sea of Qi stage could probably spot some flaws. But that didn’t matter.

By imperial law, cultivators in the Sea of Qi stage and above were forbidden from interfering in sect resource conflicts.

Which made this the perfect cover.

No one would suspect a Foundation Establishment disciple of crafting and deploying so many advanced puppets.

Inside his bronze mirror, four puppets—Snake, Monkey, Dog, and Pig—blended seamlessly into the Changshou Sect's ranks, marching with the enemy toward one of Luoxian Sect’s forest veins…

Chapter 123

"Moon God Slash — Crescent!"

Mao Tu’s leg shot out in a swift arc, gathering ice-element spiritual energy. A shimmering crescent slash formed in an instant and whizzed through the air, cutting across three battle puppets. They were immediately frozen into solid blocks of ice.

“Again,” Han Luo murmured to himself.

He had just reviewed his close-combat skills through Mao Tu. Now it was time to shift to long-range techniques. Although he planned to dedicate time in the future to study powerful divine abilities, there was no harm in practicing some minor spells now—things like forming a fireball, wind blade, or ice spike. These simple spells were so elementary that a single glance was enough for him to grasp them.

This was the perfect opportunity to both train Mao Tu and deepen his own practice—killing two birds with one stone.

The long-range combat training continued for four full hours. Han Luo also incorporated movement techniques, teaching Mao Tu how to disengage from enemies, how to escape when outmatched, and how to respond in high-pressure situations. In truth, he revealed almost all of his combat knowledge—almost, because knowing Han Luo, he probably kept a few tricks up his sleeve.

When training finally ended, he heard a faint buzzing—doo doo doo, doo doo doo—like a toy robot low on power. Mao Tu, after all, wasn’t a cultivator. Her spiritual energy came entirely from Han Luo’s true body.

Fortunately, he was well-prepared. Taking out a colorless immortal pill, he swallowed it. At once, his dantian array began to spin again, drawing in icy spiritual energy until it was fully replenished.

That should be enough.

Han Luo exited Mao Tu’s body. “Mao Tu, activate battle mode.”

As his command fell, a chorus of mechanical clicks and whirs echoed around her. Her form shifted, accompanied by the sound of transforming gears. A brilliant white suit of armor appeared on her body, replacing her usual maid-like appearance with the aura of a snow-covered battle goddess.

This too was intentional on Han Luo’s part. Mao Tu’s core was refined using ice-element spirit stones, so her combat design was built around the ice attribute.

Suddenly, a battle-type puppet tiger appeared at the base of the mountain, emanating the aura of a fifth-stage Qi Refining cultivator. Without hesitation, Mao Tu burst into motion, her long legs kicking off the ground as she transformed into a streak of white light charging toward the beast.

Roaring under Han Luo’s command, the tiger lunged at Mao Tu. In the blink of an eye, the two clashed.

Boom!

The resulting shockwave tore through the surrounding landscape, uprooting grass and shaking the earth.

The tiger roared again, raising a paw to strike, but Mao Tu—unafraid and empowered by her newly learned combat techniques—stepped back swiftly, evading the strike. She retaliated with a vicious kick straight to the tiger’s skull.

Bang!

The beast was sent tumbling dozens of meters before it came to a shaky stop. Just as it tried to rise, Mao Tu’s elegant silhouette dropped from the sky. Her foot landed squarely on its lower back.

Crack!

A crisp snap echoed as the tiger’s spine shattered. With its mobility destroyed, the tiger collapsed. Mao Tu leapt away immediately and began chanting softly. Her body radiated a chilling, otherworldly aura.

"Moon God Slash — Crescent."

She lifted her long leg once more, gracefully sweeping it across the air. The motion carved a luminous arc that glowed with icy blue light and passed through the tiger’s body in a flash.

In an instant, the beast was frozen solid.

Without pause, Mao Tu pulled out an explosive talisman, ready to finish it off.

“Stop!”

Han Luo’s voice rang out, halting her just in time. Obediently, she withdrew the talisman.

Not bad, Han Luo thought. She’s picked up the basics well, but still needs more refinement and practice to truly master them.

He raised his hand and summoned another battle puppet—this one stronger, at the sixth stage of Qi Refining.

Mao Tu received the command and immediately sprang forward to fight again, honing her combat technique.

In the days that followed, she continued battling a growing number of puppets. Han Luo observed from the sidelines, carefully recording her shortcomings and noting areas for improvement. Crafting a puppet was no easy task—it demanded immense time, energy, and focus. That’s why so few people pursued it seriously.

Part of the difficulty was due to the complexity involved; only the most talented could grasp it. The other part was time—why spend so long refining a puppet when that time could be spent cultivating one’s own strength?

But Han Luo was different. What others viewed as a waste of effort, he saw as a critical part of his long-term strategy. Puppets weren’t just tools to him—they were weapons of the future and essential to some of his grandest plans.

Mao Tu’s learning ability was astonishing. Within just a few days, she went from fighting a single puppet to simultaneously fending off over a dozen with ease. Her combat style now bore the clear imprint of Han Luo’s teachings.

“Stop,” he commanded.

Mao Tu returned. Her armor was battered, her clothes torn into ribbons, and her once-clean face was now smudged with grime. She looked like a refugee rather than the graceful warrior from before.

Clearly, she had reached her limit. After all, her body was made from spirit wood—less durable than spirit iron. Spirit wood puppets were fine for ranged combat, but struggled in close quarters.

“Lie down on the bed,” Han Luo ordered.

She obeyed without hesitation.

He stood over her, cracked his knuckles, and rotated his shoulders.

Time to begin.

Placing his hand on her dantian, he opened it to reveal an intricate array at the core. In the center lay an ice-element spirit stone—her energy source. Like a cultivator’s dantian, it was where all her spiritual power came from.

Han Luo recalled the weaknesses he’d noted earlier and began refining her design. Using a spirit pen, he adjusted the array to make it more efficient and powerful.

Once the dantian modification was complete, he turned to optimizing her combat systems.

In theory, a perfect puppet’s spiritual patterns should be drawn in a single, uninterrupted stroke—ensuring flawless spiritual flow. But Han Luo wasn’t there yet. He hadn’t studied puppetry for long, nor had he discovered the ideal configuration for Mao Tu.

Even if he could draw a perfect array, a single mistake—like accidentally using a fire element for an ice-based puppet—could render the whole system useless or even explode.

That’s why he had to keep testing, revising, and gradually working toward the ideal design for Mao Tu. His goal was to not only complete a seamless spiritual array but also tailor it specifically to her attributes.

When that day came, he would possess a puppet unlike any other—perfect, powerful, and uniquely his.

As he worked, time flew by. Day after day, he continued refining Mao Tu with laser focus.

Before he knew it, three years of his ten-year plan had already passed.

His understanding of puppetry had improved by leaps and bounds. And Mao Tu was no longer his only creation.

But the sheer pace of his crafting consumed resources at an alarming rate. One day, when he went to the exchange hall to restock on spirit wood, a single comment from Senior Sister Lou left him utterly stunned…

Chapter 122

Luoxian Mountain had practically turned into a zoo. Puppet creatures of all sizes wandered through the forest as if attending a grand fair. From a distance, one could spot lions, tigers, crocodiles, ants, mosquitoes, and spiders—all crafted with astonishing detail.

Han Luo’s talent was undeniable. While his early studies in puppetry had required meticulous, step-by-step progress, once he laid a solid foundation, everything that followed came naturally.

“Master, the spirit tea you requested is ready.”

The speaker was a woman in a pale-white dress, tall and graceful, with curves in all the right places. She had a round face, large expressive eyes, and long black hair cascading down her back. But what drew the most attention were her legs—slightly thicker than average, yet perfectly proportioned, exuding a striking beauty.

Han Luo had named her Mao Tu—a humanoid puppet and the first of its kind he had crafted, named after the fourth animal in the Chinese zodiac: the Rabbit.

“Pour me a cup,” he instructed softly.

Mao Tu knelt gracefully, raised her slender hands, and poured tea with delicate care. Throughout the process, Han Luo scrutinized every detail of her movements. Despite being a puppet, she moved like a living human. His mastery of puppetry had clearly taken a significant leap.

“Please enjoy your tea, Master,” she said, offering the cup.

Han Luo took it and sipped. Nodding in approval, he thought, She’s learned well. There’s still room for improvement, but with time, she’ll be able to brew a perfect pot.

“Come over and massage my shoulders.”

He had only taught Mao Tu a few basic habits for now.

“Yes, Master,” she replied sweetly, walking behind him.

Normally, with his cautious nature, Han Luo would never allow anyone—even a puppet—to approach him from behind. But this wasn’t his true body; he was using a substitution talisman to operate a proxy form. His real self remained safe elsewhere.

Mao Tu knelt behind him and placed her soft, jade-like hands on his shoulders. Her fingers began to move with practiced ease, pressing into the right acupoints with perfect force. Satisfied, Han Luo nodded. Everything he taught her last night had been fully absorbed.

“Time to teach something new today.”

Closing his eyes, he linked his consciousness with Mao Tu.

What a strange experience! Controlling a female body like this was oddly thrilling—far more stimulating than simply watching someone cross-dress.

He moved around in Mao Tu’s body, testing its flexibility. Then, he began to dance.

Yes, dance.

The puppet’s soul core—the spirit array that functioned like a human brain—had both memory and exceptional learning capability. To help Mao Tu achieve natural, fluid movement, Han Luo had choreographed an entire routine. Frequent repetition of the routine would gradually synchronize her body’s motions until they mirrored a real human’s.

To etch the routine into the soul array, Han Luo had to demonstrate it himself.

With elegance and focus, he danced. Every step, every movement was executed with precision. Since Mao Tu’s future training would be based on this very choreography, any mistake now would lead her down the wrong path.

He repeated the routine over and over until he was completely satisfied.

An hour later, he withdrew his consciousness from the puppet and asked, “Mao Tu, do you remember the dance I just taught you?”

“Yes, Master. Mao Tu remembers.”

“Good. Show me.”

Mao Tu stepped forward. With the breeze stirring around her, she began to move. What followed were high-difficulty poses and graceful transitions, many of which would be impossible for ordinary people—perhaps only elite yogis could pull them off.

Han Luo watched closely, adjusting his glasses like a professional engineer. Her movements were flawless—delicate and enchanting, with a blend of elegance and strength.

“Stop,” he called out. “Come here. Let me see your leg.”

Mao Tu obediently approached and extended her beautiful, well-proportioned leg.

Spiritual energy surged in Han Luo’s palm as he touched her leg, then suddenly applied pressure.

Click!

With a crisp sound, her thigh opened up to reveal a complex network of spirit inscriptions and formation lines.

Adjusting his glasses again, Han Luo took out an eraser made of spirit materials and carefully removed part of the old array. Then, using a spirit-ink brush, he redrew the lines with precision. Once done, he closed her leg and nodded.

“Now do the dance again.”

“Yes, Master.”

Mao Tu resumed the routine, her movements now even more fluid than before—like a seasoned professional dancer.

“Excellent,” Han Luo praised. He pulled out his notebook and jotted down the modification. Next time, he could implement it from the beginning.

As the session ended, he said, “Mao Tu, remember this—every morning when the sun rises, you are to perform that dance facing the sunrise.”

“Yes, Master. Mao Tu will remember.”

“Good. Let’s move on to the next stage of training.”

Han Luo once again entered Mao Tu’s body. If the first lesson was dance, the next would be combat.

The soul array's memory function meant everything he demonstrated through the puppet would be recorded and gradually refined into Mao Tu’s personal fighting style.

Combat came in two forms: close-quarters and ranged. He started with close combat.

Summoning a group of beast-type puppets—tigers, wolves, lions—all built for fighting, he dashed into their midst.

Though Han Luo had rarely displayed his close combat skills, it didn’t mean he lacked them. Quite the opposite—his foundation in melee combat was rock solid. Before entering Luoxian Sect, he had once been forced to apprentice under a powerful body cultivator just to survive.

Even now, he would occasionally revisit those old techniques.

So, while helping Mao Tu develop her own fighting style, he also took the opportunity to hone his own.

Within moments, her long legs lashed out. Bang! Bang! Bang! Dull thuds echoed as the surrounding puppets were sent flying.

Yet, being mere combat puppets, they knew no fear and kept charging forward. Still, those too damaged to function effectively would obediently withdraw—Han Luo wasn’t stingy, just practical. The materials for battle puppets were too precious to waste. Killing one only meant extra trouble in crafting a replacement.

So instead, he let the damaged ones retreat for repairs and reuse.

Mao Tu spun through the battlefield, her signature leg strikes knocking back one opponent after another. Her pale legs blurred into a flurry of motion, sending combat puppets tumbling.

Even though she could only channel a tenth of Han Luo’s actual strength, it was still enough to tangle with most early-stage Foundation Establishment cultivators. Whether she could win, however, depended on how well she adapted in real combat.

The battle lasted for three full hours. During that time, Han Luo taught her every leg technique he knew.

And when the lesson was complete, Mao Tu leaped backward, gracefully retreating from the combat zone.

Chapter 121

The second-tier squirrel puppet had reached a 20% sensory share—an impressive feat. Han Luo could now sense about one-fifth of the puppet's touch, smell, and taste. What thrilled him even more was that the young woman from earlier, clearly a Foundation Establishment cultivator, hadn’t realized the squirrel was a puppet.

Of course, it was also possible that she simply hadn’t considered the possibility. All the more reason for him to continue testing and determine how far he could push the squirrel puppet's realism.

With that in mind, Han Luo guided the puppet toward the contribution exchange hall. Senior Sister Lou handled a large number of disciples daily—she’d make the perfect test subject. Though she was a hall overseer, Lin Xiaolou still preferred to assist disciples in person.

“Squeak squeak squeak…”

A sharp chirping sound echoed near her feet. She looked down to see a tiny squirrel, paws clasped together, eyes wide with nervous energy—an emotion Han Luo deliberately transmitted to make the puppet seem more authentic.

“What an adorable little guy!” she said, crouching to scoop the squirrel up and place it gently in her palms. Stroking its soft fur, she teased, “Little one, are you a disciple of Luoxian Sect too?”

“Squeak squeak!”

The squirrel circled once in her hands, clearly affirming her joke. Lin Xiaolou giggled with delight.

“Well then, if you’re a fellow disciple, come with your big sister.”

“Squeak!”

The squirrel leapt onto her fragrant shoulder and settled down, and Lin Xiaolou didn’t try to chase it away. She let it rest there as she resumed her work.

“So far, so good… looks like she hasn’t noticed,” Han Luo thought. Even with only 20% sensory feedback, the temperature and spiritual presence she emitted didn’t suggest any suspicion. A solid beginning—now he just needed to stay calm and not get ahead of himself.

For the rest of the day, Han Luo fully focused on controlling the squirrel. He tried to subtly interact with everyone Lin Xiaolou came in contact with, gauging whether any of them noticed the puppet’s true nature. Most were at the Foundation Establishment stage, with a few at Qi Sea realm. Among them all, only Elder Tie gave him a slight sense of unease—he might have noticed something but chose not to say anything.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Han Luo ended his day of observation, steering the puppet to slip away from Lin Xiaolou.

Suddenly, a hand snatched the squirrel mid-escape.

With a smile on her face, Lin Xiaolou caught the puppet. “What, you’ve been climbing on me all day and now you’re trying to run off?”

Han Luo’s heart skipped a beat. Had she discovered the truth?

It shouldn’t be possible. Even if he only had 20% sensory link, his judgment told him she hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

“Come home with me,” she said warmly. “I’ll take good care of you.”

She pulled out a cage-type magical artifact, placed the squirrel inside, and returned home.

Han Luo was speechless. Is she just going to keep the puppet for herself?

Back at her residence, Lin Xiaolou changed into fresh clothes and picked up the squirrel.

“Little guy, I bet you don’t have many companions in the mountains. Just like me, wandering this vast Luoxian Sect without a real friend. How about we become friends?”

One second later, she nodded to herself and said, “Great! Since you’ve agreed, we’re friends now.”

Han Luo: ...

She let the squirrel out of the cage. It stood still, stunned. Run or stay? That was the dilemma.

Even if her cultivation wasn’t top-tier, she was still at Foundation Establishment, while the puppet wasn’t even at Qi Refining. Escape was impossible. But if it stayed, she’d eventually realize it wasn’t real.

“Ahhh…”

Lin Xiaolou stretched, revealing a sliver of snow-white skin at her waist.

“It’s been so long since I had a good sleep. Tonight, you’ll keep me company.”

Smiling mysteriously, she scooped up the squirrel and walked happily into her long-unused bedroom.

At that moment, Han Luo immediately severed the connection with the squirrel.

I knew it. She had already figured it out. There was no other reason for her to break her otherwise rigid daily routine.

In all his surveillance, Lin Xiaolou’s life had always followed a strict pattern. A sudden shift like this could only mean one thing—she knew.

Once the spiritual link was severed, the puppet would become autonomous. If the connection wasn’t reestablished soon, the bloodline bond would fade, and the puppet would eventually lose its spiritual essence due to the depletion of blood energy. Fortunately, Han Luo wouldn’t suffer any lasting damage.

The experiment had failed, but instead of being frustrated, he focused on learning from the failure. After all, it was his first attempt at puppet crafting—expecting perfection was unreasonable.

He reviewed what went wrong, identified areas to improve, and moved on.

The next day, Han Luo tried reconnecting with the squirrel. The link was still intact, though the feedback was… strange. Despite only getting 20% of the sensory input, something about the puppet’s condition felt off.

He decided not to push further. Regardless of whether Lin Xiaolou had truly discovered the puppet, it was now compromised. It had to be discarded.

He retrieved a new piece of spirit wood and began crafting a different kind of puppet.

A month later…

A fluffy white rabbit hopped through the forest, munching on wild grass. With its harmless, innocent demeanor, it attracted plenty of passing women eager to pet it.

Dragonflies buzzed overhead, weaving through crowds. Bright butterflies landed delicately on girls’ hair, adding beauty to the scene.

Birds fluttered across the sky, landing on branches, their eyes scanning everything below with uncanny focus.

To the casual observer, it all seemed like ordinary scenery.

But in truth, none of it was real—each was a puppet, crafted in various shapes and sizes.

Back in the puppet workshop of Luoxian Mountain, Han Luo sat cross-legged with his eyes closed. He could feel several faint threads of connection to his creations—some strong, some weak.

He could switch between these connections at will, experiencing the world through each puppet's perspective.

When he focused on the rabbit, he saw through its eyes. When he switched to the bird, the puppet’s view became his own.

One bird soared to the edge of Luoxian Sect, and Han Luo used it to test the puppet’s range. Even after leaving the sect, he still felt a faint bloodline link, though the vision grew blurry.

The bird flew farther, the connection stretching thinner. Yet as long as he concentrated, he could still sense it. This was the power of blood essence.

Still, he wasn’t satisfied.

Despite cultivating the ancient jade visualization technique every day—despite his extraordinary mental strength and dual-soul constitution—he found it taxing to control even a single bird puppet. Once it left the sect, the sensory input practically vanished.

“This won’t do,” Han Luo muttered.

He needed puppets far stronger than this. Clearly, he still had a long way to go on the path of puppet mastery.

But there was no rush.

Step by step, with patience and focus, he would work his way forward.

Starting from the basics—squirrels, rabbits, birds—and eventually, he would move on to large-scale constructs crafted from spirit wood.

And so…

A year passed.

Chapter 120

At Luoxian Mountain, inside the puppet workshop, Han Luo took out a colorful blueprint from his bronze ring.

It was a detailed design for a squirrel puppet, complete with precise measurements, crafting instructions, and clearly labeled components. The origin of the blueprint was unknown, but similar diagrams were abundant in the sect’s library—most of them harmless animal models like squirrels, rabbits, and various birds. This particular one was intended for beginners.

He unrolled the design and pressed down its corners with four spirit stones.

Generally, puppet crafting followed two main paths.

The first type was known as spirit puppets. These were the most common, making up over ninety-five percent of all puppets in the market. The core feature of a spirit puppet was the infusion of the creator’s own blood essence during the crafting process, allowing full control over the puppet’s actions. The puppet would also inherit a portion of the creator’s strength—how much depended on the maker’s skill. Achieving even fifty percent strength was considered the peak of the field. In essence, spirit puppets acted like a specialized external avatar of the cultivator.

The second type was the soul puppet. Unlike spirit puppets, which used one’s own blood, soul puppets required forcibly extracting someone else’s soul and embedding it into a puppet. These constructs were inherently more powerful, since they had independent consciousness—essentially becoming new lifeforms, rather than mere extensions of their creators.

However, crafting soul puppets was a serious taboo. Not only did it violate imperial law, but it was also considered an unforgivable evil in the cultivation world. Anyone caught practicing it would be hunted by all righteous sects.

Naturally, Han Luo had no interest in soul puppets. His focus was solely on crafting spirit puppets.

He fetched a piece of spirit wood, a carving knife, a spirit pen, and activated the array that gathered spiritual energy. Carefully, he began shaping the spirit wood into components according to the blueprint.

In puppet crafting, the stronger the puppet, the more complex its structure. The squirrel puppet in his hands had only six parts: four limbs, a torso, and a head. Though Han Luo had never studied sculpture, as a Foundation Establishment cultivator, his hands were steady.

Before long, he had completed carving all six components. Instead of assembling them immediately, he placed the pieces into a pre-prepared cleansing array—called the Impurity Removal Array—to purge residual turbid energy.

Because spirit wood often changed hands before use, it could carry lingering impurities. If not removed, these would affect the effectiveness of the spirit patterns and diminish the puppet’s overall quality.

The cleansing was fast. Once done, Han Luo removed the parts and placed them into a dust-free array, assembling them into the shape of a small squirrel.

Then, using the spirit pen, he began meticulously inscribing spiritual patterns onto the puppet’s surface, copying directly from the blueprint.

Since this was the lowest-tier puppet, surface engravings were enough to animate it. More advanced models, such as humanoid puppets, required internal inscriptions and core devices—tasks far more complex.

His hand remained stable throughout, a result of his previous experiences in setting up arrays, refining pills, and carving talismans—all skills that laid the groundwork for puppet crafting.

He completed the squirrel’s spiritual inscriptions in one smooth motion—no pauses, no errors.

Satisfied, he activated the puppet using a special array. After placing the squirrel within the formation, he pricked his finger and dropped a bead of blood essence onto the activation circle.

The formation pulsed violently, and a spark of spiritual light flickered within the squirrel puppet’s previously dull wooden eyes.

“Squeak, squeak, squeak…”

The little creature let out high-pitched cries—it had come to life.

At the same time, Han Luo sensed a faint, almost imperceptible thread connecting his consciousness to the puppet. For such a basic construct, even that level of mental linkage was impressive.

“Alright, little guy, take a few laps.”

At his mental command, the squirrel puppet began hopping enthusiastically around the cage, even trying to reach Han Luo through the bars.

Han Luo, meanwhile, equipped a pair of observation spectacles and began analyzing the puppet carefully.

After a long while, he shook his head.

Although it looked full of life and behaved like a real squirrel, it had many flaws. Its movements, while fast, were stiff. The spiritual patterns on its body were also slightly flawed, making its spiritual aura appear more like that of a dead object—something an expert could spot at a glance.

Yes, this was only a beginner-level puppet, but Han Luo understood that mastery came from perfecting the fundamentals. Whether in formations, pill refinement, or puppet crafting—everything began with the basics.

He couldn’t afford to be careless.

He had to produce a flawless squirrel puppet before moving on to more advanced techniques.

Determined, he nodded to himself and picked up his carving tools once again.

Soon, the second squirrel puppet was completed. This time, he ensured its joints were smoother and more rounded, eliminating the sharp angles from before.

With the activation array and another drop of blood essence, he animated it and issued commands.

The puppet responded with agility—running, doing push-ups, sit-ups, squats, pelvic lifts, even a spinning Thomas flair. From every angle, it was far more lifelike than the first.

But Han Luo still wasn’t satisfied. Something’s missing…

He continued observing and refining the design.

So the cycle went: tweak, test, adjust, repeat.

Seven days later...

“Squeak, squeak!”

A lifelike squirrel dashed through the forest, bouncing along tree branches with cheerful energy. It reached the marketplace and leapt onto a young girl’s stall. With wide, curious eyes, it began sniffing around.

“Hey there, little one. Come here,” the girl cooed, her heart melting at the sight.

She pulled a snack from her pouch, holding it out in her palm to tempt the squirrel.

The puppet approached cautiously, sniffed the food, and then swiftly grabbed it and stuffed it into its tiny mouth.

“Giggle~”

The girl laughed with delight, reaching out to stroke its soft fur while it nibbled away, oblivious to her touch.

“What an adorable little thing.”

Gently, she lifted it to her cheek and affectionately rubbed her face against its plush fur.

“Squeak!”

With a final chirp, the squirrel scampered down her shoulder, dashed off, and vanished from sight.

High atop an ancient tree, it perched quietly, its beady eyes observing the bustling crowd below with keen curiosity.

“So interesting… truly fascinating.”

Back in Luoxian Mountain’s puppet workshop, Han Luo whispered those very words to himself, a rare smile playing on his lips.

Chapter 119

In cultivation, magical tools, puppets, and cultivation techniques are all vital. But for Han Luo, the most important among them wasn’t treasures or spells—it was puppets.

For most cultivators, especially at the Foundation Establishment stage, puppets were of limited use. They were notoriously difficult to craft, requiring excessive effort that many felt would be better spent forging another weapon or refining a powerful artifact.

But not Han Luo.

For him, puppets were not just a tool—they were the core pillar of his cultivation plan for the next decade and beyond.

With that in mind, he made his way to the resource exchange area, where he found senior sister Lin Xiaolou.

She had grown more mature and striking over the past months. Her confidence radiated through her daring attire, which left many male disciples flustered and stirred.

“You haven’t gone out to explore the world?” Lin Xiaolou asked in surprise.

It was expected that after reaching Foundation Establishment, disciples would set off to temper themselves through worldly experience. Seeing Han Luo still around, she couldn’t help but wonder—was he reluctant to leave her?

A strange thought crossed her mind. Wait, why ‘again’? When did I start thinking he liked me… again?

“I just completed Foundation Establishment. It hasn’t been a hundred days yet—I still need time to stabilize my cultivation,” Han Luo replied.

“Ah, that makes sense,” she nodded. “The hundred days after breakthrough are a golden period. Make good use of them, and it’ll pay off in the future. Need any help? Your senior sister has plenty of experience to share.”

She flirted openly, swaying her fragrant shoulders in a way that made Han Luo's heart skip a beat. He had to chant a calming mantra under his breath just to keep himself composed.

Looks like senior sister has been working out this past half-year... her physical prowess is nearly approaching the level of the top-tier powerhouses!

“Thank you, senior sister,” he said awkwardly. “But I can manage.”

“Oh come on, why struggle on your own?” she insisted. “Let me help you. I’d never do anything to harm you.”

She was persistent—far from distant, she seemed even more forward than before. After all, she was at her peak, in both confidence and charm.

“Ahem… actually, I came here today to purchase materials for crafting puppets.”

Han Luo quickly shifted the topic.

“You’re buying materials to craft puppets?” she echoed, stunned.

In Luoxian Sect, those who studied puppetry were extremely rare—far fewer even than those who practiced array techniques. Puppet crafting required knowledge across many disciplines: array theory, spirit patterns, soul techniques, energy flow—a complex amalgam of arts that even mastering one of would be challenging for most.

To combine them all into a single artform was an undertaking so demanding that it gave most cultivators headaches just thinking about it.

Yet here he was—Han Luo, casually discussing puppet crafting.

As expected of the man I’ve set my sights on, Lin Xiaolou thought, her steps more confident, her admiration growing. After all, it was Han Luo who had lit the way for her during her lowest point. That had to be fate… and if so, then she’d go all in.

“Come with me.”

She led him into the sect’s storage vaults and enthusiastically began introducing each material to him in detail.

But as they browsed, Han Luo’s expression grew darker.

“Senior sister, why is the quality of the spiritual wood so poor and the quantity so low? Doesn’t our Luoxian Sect have any proper forest veins?”

As a mid-tier cultivation sect, Luoxian Sect should have had multiple forested spirit veins. So where were the good materials?

Even the spiritual iron seemed scarce. Had the Foundation Establishment disciples already taken everything to forge their own treasures?

“You don’t know?” Lin Xiaolou raised an eyebrow in surprise.

“Know what?” Han Luo had clearly missed something important during his closed-door cultivation.

“Several of our sect’s forest veins have been under constant trouble recently. Disciples from the Changshou Sect have been stirring up trouble around them, sparking frequent fights. That’s reduced production a lot. And to make matters worse, the forest veins themselves are entering a dormant cycle—it’ll take years before they yield high-grade spirit wood again.”

She sighed, clearly troubled.

As the person in charge of the exchange hall, Lin Xiaolou was especially concerned about such matters. Without resources, disciples had no weapons. Without weapons, how could they compete with other sects?

It was a cycle that, if not broken, could endanger the sect's strength over time.

“I see…” Han Luo nodded. “But… with geniuses like Akxiao and Li Jun around, surely even Changshou Sect’s talents can’t match them, right?”

“They’ve both returned a few times,” Lin Xiaolou said, “and every time they showed up, they gave the other side such a beating that the Changshou disciples didn’t dare step out of their sect for days. But Li Jun and Akxiao are elite geniuses—listed on the Dragon Rankings. They can’t afford to sit around guarding forest veins all day.”

“Whenever they leave, Changshou Sect sends over senior disciples, some even older than me! Though still at the Foundation level, they’re equipped with powerful tools and polished battle skills. It’s tough to deal with them, and honestly… it’s giving me a headache.”

She rubbed her temples in frustration.

Spirit wood was vital for crafting magical tools, and this was the very time when Luoxian Sect had a surge of Foundation disciples who desperately needed weapons. Yet they were being toyed with by that cursed Changshou Sect.

“Still,” she added, her tone perking up, “you don’t need to worry. Even if others lack resources, anything you want—just say the word. I’ll take care of it.”

She bumped his arm with a gold ingot, blinking at him with an ambiguous glint in her eye.

“Thank you for taking care of me, senior sister,” Han Luo said with a strained smile.

“Just words? No action?” she teased.

“Um… how about I cook you a nice meal next time as a thank-you gift?”

“Pfft! You think I’m still some little girl tempted by food? Though…” She licked her lips playfully. “If it’s something you made, I might reconsider.”

Han Luo quickly steered the conversation back.

“Let’s focus on the spirit wood, senior sister.”

As enjoyable as the flirting was, he knew better than to get too close—Lin Xiaolou was not someone he dared to take a bite of.

“Alright, alright. I’ll listen to you.”

Transforming into her softest, girlish self, she clung close to his side.

The search for spirit wood was anything but smooth. With such limited stock, Han Luo didn’t have many options to choose from. In fact, the longer he browsed, the more he worried that senior sister might actually cling onto him and never let go.

Truly... a woman in her prime was terrifying.

After finishing at the exchange hall, Han Luo returned to Luoxian Mountain.

Among all the materials he requested, only the spirit wood was available. The spirit iron would be needed later, but for now, he would start with the wood—step by step, carefully crafting his first puppet.

Chapter 118

Inside Safe Room One, Han Luo sat cross-legged atop a meditation cushion.

Whooo... whooo...
He took deep, steady breaths, circulating the Luoxian Technique to reach his peak state. Then, with a wave of his hand, he activated dozens of third-tier formations—all meticulously arranged in advance specifically for today’s Foundation Establishment.

As the arrays hummed to life, a wave of security washed over him.

He snapped his fingers. Pa!
The Tenfold World unfolded, enveloping him in a surreal space—void of color, matter, even time. He didn’t choose any elemental attribute for his breakthrough. As someone with colorless—or rather, all-colored—spiritual energy, a blank void suited him best.

“Let’s begin,” he murmured.

He swallowed a supreme-grade Foundation Pill and activated the Luoxian Technique, guiding his energy to refine the medicinal power. Almost immediately, his consciousness drifted inward, plunging into the realm of his dantian.

There, he saw his five spiritual meridians, each connected to one of his four limbs and his spine.

According to his extensive research, it was best to start by clearing the meridians in the legs, especially the left leg, which he subconsciously used as his lead step. That would ensure the most natural and efficient circulation path.

He focused on his left leg’s spiritual meridian—thin as a finger. Carefully, he guided the medicinal power into it. The meridian visibly expanded. Han Luo didn’t take any chances and personally manifested as a wisp of light, steering the energy forward.

He navigated twists and turns like a drifting racer on a hairpin curve, looping back into the dantian smoothly.
As expected, clearing the five main meridians wasn’t difficult.

Following the same method, he quickly opened the other four—arms and spine included.

But it didn’t end there.

The pill’s energy was still abundant, which meant the next phase had begun—widening the meridians. This was a slow but incredibly pleasurable process. As the meridians grew broader, spiritual energy surged through his body like crashing waves.

The most dramatic changes appeared in his internal organs.

Each of his five viscera began to glow with unique energies:

• Liver – Wood Element: Emerald light, vibrant and full of life.

• Heart – Fire Element: Blazing and fierce, throbbing like a volcanic core.

• Spleen – Earth Element: Dim but solid, exuding steady and grounded energy.

• Lungs – Metal Element: Radiant gold, so bright it could blind.

• Kidneys – Water Element: Deep and strong, like a twin-engine turbine roaring in his ears.

Even his six hollow organs pulsed with brilliance, turning his internal world into a celestial palace.

Han Luo wasn't surprised. His energy wasn’t just colorless—it contained all colors.

Whereas most cultivators had a core organ depending on their elemental root (like Chixiao’s heart for fire, or Li Jun’s lungs for metal), Han Luo’s entire system—all five viscera and six organs—operated as cores.
That meant his energy circulation would be exponentially faster than others’.

As the last of the pill’s power faded, Han Luo opened his eyes.

His aura had transformed.

A faint radiance surrounded him, and though his features were unremarkable, his skin was flawless like jade, his presence soothing to behold.

“So this… is the power of Foundation Establishment,” he whispered, flexing his hands. He felt five massive rivers of energy flowing within him, ready to erupt with unimaginable strength.

He took a breath, then waved his hand.
“Dismiss.”

In an instant, the radiant aura vanished. His appearance shifted to that of an ordinary disciple—nothing extraordinary, nothing ugly, just... average.

He brought out the Bronze Mirror, confirmed that Luoxian Sect was secure, and exited Safe Room One.

Outside, the mountain was as picturesque as ever—white tigers frolicked with qilins, divine dragons soared with celestial phoenixes, and sunlight bathed the land in heavenly brilliance.

“It felt like only a minute passed… and yet, it’s been half a year out here.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Han Luo returned to the mountaintop to begin his Hundred Days of Foundation Stabilization—a critical period for reinforcing the expanded meridians and toughening the body to handle more spiritual pressure.

But before he could settle in, several messages reached him.

Just as he’d predicted—Xian’er had already gone down the mountain for training, under the protection of Master Wu Dao.

With his mysterious master accompanying her, Han Luo was confident she’d be safe.

Meanwhile, Li Jun had also departed. Before leaving, he sent his thanks and vowed to repay the help Han Luo had given him.

Jiu Lier had returned to the Jui Li Tribe, leaving a message hinting at something related to the Nine Laws of Arrays. Had Han Luo not been in seclusion, she likely would’ve invited him along.

And as for Chixiao...

She, too, had left.
But not before leaving behind a note: “Clean yourself up and wait. When I get back, we’re settling this.”
Classic Chixiao.

In fact, many of Luoxian Sect’s disciples had left in the past six months, venturing across the Eastern Domain to prove themselves.

They had officially stepped into the battlefield of youth—a world of blood and glory.

With rising competition, the Imperial Capital released a new edition of the Dragon Rankings—a list that recorded the names of all Foundation Establishment-level geniuses across the region. Those listed were protected under imperial decree.

Thanks to the looming threat of the Golden Battlefield, talent protection in the Eastern Domain was taken very seriously.

Peer-level duels were allowed. If you died, it was your own weakness.
But if someone from a higher realm targeted a prodigy?
They’d be hunted down by the Imperial Army without mercy.

Of course, there were still desperate outlaws who accepted bounties to kill promising cultivators, steal their roots, and sell their bodies for resources.

But Han Luo wasn’t worried.

All of Luoxian Sect’s core disciples had experts secretly watching over them—people like Elder Hongniang or Uncle Yunding. Maybe they couldn’t win every fight, but they could definitely escape.

Han Luo got his hands on a copy of the Dragon Rankings.

The names were mostly unfamiliar.

Li Jun, the sect’s top disciple, was ranked only 100th.
Chixiao came in at 202nd.
Ironically, Wu Dao, who had spent the last six months challenging opponent after opponent, ranked 84th.

“Even geniuses like Li Jun, Chixiao, and Wu Dao seem so average now… A true era of monsters has begun.”

Han Luo shook his head and put the list away.

Era or not—it had nothing to do with him.

He had his own path to walk.
Following the crowd was never his style.

Now that he had successfully entered the Foundation Establishment stage, it was time to begin cultivating the three skills he had long prepared for.

Chapter 117

Two days later, Han Luo resumed pill refining.
Seven days after that, he had successfully crafted three supreme-grade Foundation Establishment Pills—and used up the last of his materials.

Still, he wasn’t quite satisfied.

Three pills just weren’t enough. One would go to Xian’er, leaving him with only two—one for himself and one spare. He really preferred to have another backup. But considering that even one supreme pill already had a 98% success rate, two were enough for now. If they hadn’t been, he would’ve waited until more ingredients arrived, even if it delayed his ten-year plan.

With preparations complete, he summoned Xian’er.

She had been quite busy lately—running around the sect doing tasks with her senior sisters. She’d barely come home at all.

“Are we finally doing Foundation Establishment, senior brother?” she asked eagerly, eyes sparkling.

“You know what that means?” Han Luo raised an eyebrow.

“Of course I do!” Xian’er lifted her chin proudly like a little adult. “A bunch of my senior sisters on Piaomiao Peak are doing it, and I heard that after establishing your foundation, you’re allowed to go down the mountain!”

At that, Han Luo suddenly didn’t want to help her break through anymore.

Going down the mountain ranked third on his personal list of most dangerous things—an act so risky, he only considered it for absolute emergencies. And Xian’er? She definitely shouldn’t leave the mountain. Her talent alone was enough to attract all sorts of twisted scum.

She had seven-grade spiritual roots, had undergone eight spirit refinements, and—most worryingly—possessed a wood-type spiritual root. That made her a treasure trove in human form. Down in the wilds, there were too many despicable old monsters who’d salivate at the thought of capturing her—stripping her of her roots, turning her into a spiritual cow, or even forcibly taking over her body.

Inside Luoxian Sect, the Twin Immortal Swords kept such people in check. No one dared cause trouble on the mountain.

But the moment she stepped off it?

It wasn’t just possible she’d be targeted—it was guaranteed.

Even though a person’s aptitude declined slightly after reaching Foundation Establishment, there were always those shameless enough not to care. To them, Xian’er was a priceless catch—worth any risk.

But after a bit of thought, Han Luo calmed down.

He remembered his mysterious master Wu Dao, who always seemed more profound than he let on. That old man never even showed up in the markets like the others—he simply remained in seclusion year-round.

If his master said it was safe for Xian’er to undergo Foundation Establishment, then he had to trust that it was true. Besides, if she ever did go down the mountain, her master would likely accompany her as a guardian.

In this entire sect, the only person Han Luo truly worried about was Xian’er. After all, he’d used her for so many of his experiments—it was only natural to feel a little guilty.

Having made up his mind, he brought out the pill.

“Xian’er, it’s time to take your medicine.”

She trusted him as much as she trusted delicious food.

In fact, whenever she encountered a meal that tasted awful, she would immediately think, Only my senior brother is truly reliable.
Because everything he cooked tasted heavenly.

“Before you take the pill,” Han Luo said seriously, “let me explain what’s going to happen. You’ll need to follow my instructions exactly. Last time, when you acted on your own, it only cost you a tournament match. But this time, if you mess up, I’ll be angry—and if I get angry, you’ll never get to eat my food again.”

He looked utterly solemn.

Foundation Establishment wasn’t a game—it was a life-altering moment. There was no room for mistakes.

“Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!” Xian’er nodded furiously like a pecking chick.

“Don’t worry, senior brother! I’ll listen to everything you say! So… after we’re done, can I have something super tasty?”

She never lost sight of what truly mattered—food. As for cultivation? That was just a side bonus.

“Sure,” Han Luo chuckled. “Once it’s done, I’ll cook you something you’ve never tasted before.”

Then, with chalk in hand, he began scribbling on a small blackboard.

He carefully outlined the basic principles of Foundation Establishment and listed detailed steps tailored specifically to Xian’er’s unique spiritual roots and physique. Every precaution, every adjustment—it was all customized for her.

Meanwhile, Xian’er sat obediently on a little stool, eyes wide with anticipation. To her, this was like attending a cooking class where the reward was some never-before-seen dessert. She listened attentively, not daring to miss a word.

After the lesson, the real process began.

Foundation Establishment wasn’t all that difficult in itself—it only became harder depending on how wide you wanted your spiritual meridians to open.

The wider they were, the more difficult it was.

But if you just wanted to open the paths, it was easy.

Inside the breakthrough chamber, Xian’er swallowed the supreme-grade pill and began the process.

Han Luo activated the Tenfold World, transforming the chamber into a lush springtime landscape. Birds chirped, trees blossomed, and gentle breezes carried an abundance of wood-elemental qi—the perfect setting for Xian’er’s cultivation.

He stood beside her, notebook in hand, recording everything:

– Qi concentration
– Flow rate
– Purity
– Saturation levels
– Bottleneck timings
– Optimal flow sequences

Every detail went into the log.

Time passed unnoticed.

Seven days later, Xian’er opened her eyes.

Stars sparkled in her clear, dark pupils. She looked ethereal—more fairy than girl.

A faint green glow enveloped her like starlight on dew, making her look like a little spirit descended from the heavens—so lovely and pure, it was almost wrong to gaze at her too long.

She had done it.

She had stepped into the ranks of true cultivators. Her lifespan would increase, her strength would grow exponentially.

“Xian’er,” Han Luo reminded her, “even though you’ve succeeded, you need to spend the next hundred days stabilizing your cultivation. Don’t go anywhere—stay home and rest.”

“Mm-hmm! Mm-hmm!” she agreed instantly.

During the days that followed, Han Luo didn’t rush into his own Foundation Establishment. While helping Xian’er stabilize her realm, he also used the time to adjust his own condition.

At the same time, he reviewed recordings from the Bronze Mirror—videos of disciples establishing their foundations. Each served as a case study.

Just like with Spirit Refinement, he had spent years taking notes—dozens of notebooks filled with personal observations.

That was why he’d been able to solve problems so effortlessly during Spirit Refinement. And he intended to do the same with Foundation Establishment.

After multiple rounds of careful analysis, comparison, and planning, he was finally ready.

He sent Xian’er off to Piaomiao Peak for a well-deserved break.

Then, alone, he entered Safe Room No. 1, sealing the surroundings completely.

After making sure there would be no interruptions, he took out a supreme-grade Foundation Pill—

—and prepared to change his fate.