The Lingyou Path was covered in yellow sand.
Under the relentless scorching sun of the polar day region, Yu Zhiling had only taken a few steps before feeling the heat. Beads of sweat trickled down the side of her face. No matter how much she loved basking in sunlight, even she couldn’t endure such extreme exposure.
Mo Zhu glanced up at the sky, then retrieved an umbrella from his qiankun bag and handed it to her. "Master, why not use this?"
Yu Zhiling shook her head. "It’s fine. Put it away. An umbrella would block my vision, and this place isn’t safe."
Since she refused, Mo Zhu had no choice but to stow the umbrella away. Instead, he moved closer to her, positioning himself so his body could shield her from some of the harsh light.
Wu Zhaoyan led the disciples at the front of the group, while Yu Zhiling took the rear, ensuring the disciples of the Yun and Wu families remained safely in the middle. The Lingyou Path was treacherous and unpredictable, so having two powerful cultivators guarding the group from both ends minimized the risks.
Yu Zhiling turned to look behind them. They had been walking for a long time, and the path they had taken was now marked only by scattered footprints.
At the front of the group, Wu Zhaoyan suddenly halted and took the divination plate from a Yun family disciple. "Are you certain Yun Zhi is in this direction?"
The disciple replied, "Yes. The family head bears the Yun family’s spiritual mark, and our fate compass can track his location. He is indeed on the Lingyou Path."
The plate pointed southeast, and its direction had remained unchanged throughout their journey, indicating Yun Zhi had not moved from that spot. Yet this stillness was unsettling—he shouldn’t have been so inactive.
Wu Zhaoyan returned the plate, his brows furrowing as he gazed at the endless desert ahead. A sense of unease settled in his chest.
His hesitation made the disciples pause as well, waiting silently for his next command.
"Do you sense danger ahead?"
A familiar voice spoke beside him.
Wu Zhaoyan didn’t need to turn to know who it was.
He grunted in affirmation. "Yes. Yun Zhi has remained in this exact location. According to the Yun family’s divination plate, we’ve been getting closer to him, but he hasn’t moved at all since we entered the Lingyou Path. Don’t you find that strange?"
Yu Zhiling agreed. "Very strange. He shouldn’t be this still."
"That means he’s either unconscious or trapped by something dangerous."
The former wouldn’t be too concerning—Yun Zhi’s life lamp was steady, so his life wasn’t in immediate peril.
But the latter was far more troubling. Whatever could restrain a Mahayana-stage cultivator was not something to be taken lightly.
Yu Zhiling suggested, "How about I scout ahead while you stay here with the disciples?"
Wu Zhaoyan frowned. "No. We brought these disciples precisely so they could assist. It makes no sense for us to stand aside while you charge forward alone."
Yu Zhiling shrugged. "It’s fine. I’m the Zhuo Yu Immortal Venerable. Protecting the disciples is my duty."
She spoke as if she truly were Zhuo Yu, perhaps because she now inhabited his body. It felt like the right thing to do.
But Wu Zhaoyan’s expression darkened. After a moment, he said in a low voice, "Yu Xiao Wu, you may be Zhuo Yu Immortal Venerable, but you’ve already done enough in the past. Rest for once."
He turned away, signaling for the disciples to follow. The Yun and Wu family disciples trailed behind him in a dense crowd.
Yu Zhiling muttered, "Hah. Was that concern or sarcasm?"
Rest?
What did he mean by that? Did he think she was meddling too much?
Mo Zhu stepped forward and took her wrist. "It was concern. He wants you to take it easy, not push yourself so hard. You should look after yourself too."
Even though he and Wu Zhaoyan were rivals, he couldn’t deny that Wu Zhaoyan’s words echoed his own thoughts.
Wu Zhaoyan was already far ahead. Yu Zhiling grumbled, "Since when did he learn to speak like a decent person?"
Mo Zhu suppressed a laugh as he tugged her along. He couldn’t help but wonder—how had Wu Zhaoyan and Yu Zhiling, after knowing each other for so many years, ended up in such a strained relationship? If he had grown up with Yu Zhiling, he would have used every trick in the book to win her over. Proximity was an advantage, after all.
With a smile, he said, "Master, you have many people who care about you. Immortal Venerable Zhaoyan is one of your closest friends."
Yu Zhiling pouted, about to retort—"But he—"
The moment she opened her mouth, a fierce gust of wind swept through, whipping up the sand around them. She ended up with a mouthful of grit.
"Ugh—cough—Mo Zhu, water, now!"
"Master, close your eyes first!"
The sand was thick, obscuring their vision. Mo Zhu could barely make out her face. He released her wrist and rummaged through his qiankun bag, retrieving a flask of tea.
"Master, rinse your mouth."
But no one took it from him.
Mo Zhu blinked, reaching out—only to grasp a handful of sand.
"Mas… Master?"
The wind died down as suddenly as it had risen. The sand slipped through his fingers like time itself.
Mo Zhu stood frozen, his blood running cold.
"Where’s Yu Xiao Wu?"
Wu Zhaoyan rushed over, urgency in his voice.
Mo Zhu’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes tinged red, pupils dilating into slits. Fine scales crept up the side of his neck.
Wu Zhaoyan saw it clearly. "You’re… a Tengshe."
Those scales were the mark of a Tengshe—noble and untamed.
In the blink of an eye, the space before him was empty.
Mo Zhu had vanished.
"Immortal Venerable!"
A Yun family disciple ran over, clutching the divination plate. Its needle spun wildly.
"The family head’s location—it’s gone!"
Just like Yu Zhiling, Yun Zhi had disappeared without warning. A sudden sandstorm had blinded them, and in the brief moment Mo Zhu had let go to fetch water, Yu Zhiling had been taken.
Now, Yun Zhi had vanished as well.
Yu Zhiling sat on the ground, expressionless.
Heavens above—was this a case of fortune favoring the bold?
Barely containing her excitement, she shuffled closer to the white-robed man lying motionless before her and brushed aside the silver hair covering his face.
"Tsk. It really is you. Do you have any idea how far I’ve walked and how much sand I’ve eaten just to find you?"
Yun Zhi couldn’t answer. In truth, he was gravely injured.
Yu Zhiling crouched beside him, spreading his crane-feather cloak on the ground before carefully shifting him onto it. His body was riddled with wounds, the most gruesome being the two gaping holes in his abdomen.
She sealed all his acupoints to stop the bleeding and retrieved the remaining three rejuvenation pills from her qiankun bag—she and Mo Zhu had each taken one earlier. Without hesitation, she pried open Yun Zhi’s mouth and fed him all three.
The medicine took effect swiftly, and the bleeding ceased.
Yu Zhiling exhaled in relief, then sat down beside him, uncaring of the dirt. Only after tending to him did she finally have the chance to assess their situation.
She had been taken abruptly—snatched away right under Mo Zhu and Wu Zhaoyan’s noses. For someone to abduct a Tribulation-stage cultivator without detection, it couldn’t have been a person.
It had to be an array.
Yu Zhiling turned her gaze to the unconscious Yun Zhi, her eyes darkening.
Their simultaneous appearance here was no coincidence. Perhaps…
The one who had taken her was Yun Zhi himself.
Yu Zhiling lifted her head, surrounded by lush trees. They stood beneath an ancient giant, the sky above a clear azure, the blazing sun filtered through dense foliage, casting dappled light upon her face through withered branches.
Not far from her, a crystal-clear stream gurgled, colorful butterflies flitted about, and the ground was carpeted with wildflowers.
The Lingyou Path—how could such a place exist?
Spring flourished here, vibrant and teeming with life. Gone were the dizzying stretches of yellow sand, the sudden storms, the scorching sun that threatened to bake one unconscious.
Still, she couldn’t help but wonder—how was Mo Zhu doing? Without her, the little one was probably frantic with worry.
Yu Zhiling touched the jade token at her waist. She couldn’t reach Mo Zhu—it was as if someone nearby had severed its connection.
She wasn’t even sure if she was still within the Lingyou Path anymore. This place felt like an entirely different world.
With a long sigh, Yu Zhiling reclined on the grassy meadow. The fragrance of wildflowers enveloped her, and as the breeze stirred, it was like being submerged in a sea of blossoms. She closed her eyes, letting herself rest.
But Yu Zhiling had clearly forgotten one thing—whenever she tried to rest, she often ended up falling asleep.
[Merit points detected. Host’s merit points: 3650. Third stage activated.]
"Is he badly hurt?"
The room reeked of medicinal herbs. Zhuo Yu sat in the shadows, the half-open window casting dim light upon her pallid face. The collar of her robe was stained crimson—though none of the blood was hers.
Yun Zhi sat by the bed, withdrawing his hand. "Severely. His meridians are nearly severed, his soul half-shattered. They must have intended to extract his spirit to forge a magical artifact. The bloodline of a divine beast—every part of him is a treasure."
Zhuo Yu pressed her lips together, coughing weakly. Her sickly gaze fell upon the child on the bed.
He was so young—just seven years old, his childish features not yet faded. Two years of fleeing had whittled him down to skin and bones, his once-pretty face now gaunt, almost frightening.
Scars crisscrossed every visible inch—his face, his neck, his hands.
Zhuo Yu asked, "Can the Yun family’s Soul-Returning Array save him?"
Yun Zhi looked at her, his voice grave. "You know how difficult it is to activate that array. His soul is shattered—I’d have to piece it together bit by bit. The array cannot be closed during the process, and the spiritual energy required is immense."
Zhuo Yu nodded. "I can do it."
Yun Zhi refused outright. "Zhuo Yu, it’s not worth it. Your life is far more precious. Too many people need you."
"Yun Zhi, I owe him." Her voice was calm. "I owe his parents a debt. I have to repay it. He’s just a child—the last of the Tengshe bloodline."
Once she made a decision, not even Fuchun could sway her. Since childhood, Yu Xiao Wu had been stubborn—once she set her mind to something, consequences be damned, she would see it through.
Yun Zhi sighed deeply, bending to lift Little Mo Zhu from the bed.
"Come. Follow me to the back mountain."
Zhuo Yu followed.
They entered the depths of the Yun family’s ancestral grounds, where an array had stood for millennia. In all that time, it had only been activated a handful of occasions. Now, after so many years, it was opened once more.
For three full days, half the cultivation of a Central Continent immortal and the Yun family’s most powerful array were spent to preserve the life of a single child.
As the array faded, Little Mo Zhu, suspended in the air, collapsed into Yun Zhi’s arms.
At the same time, Zhuo Yu vomited a torrent of blood and fell unconscious for another three days.
When Little Mo Zhu awoke, the first thing he saw was Zhuo Yu seated beside his bed. She had kept vigil over him, though her face was unnaturally pale. Hearing him stir, she opened her eyes.
Little Mo Zhu called out timidly, "...Sister."
Zhuo Yu smiled, though her eyes reddened. "You’re awake. Does it hurt? Are you uncomfortable?"
"It doesn’t hurt. I’m fine." With great effort, he lifted his hand, hooking his tiny finger around hers. His small fingers brushed over the scar on her hand. "Sister, you’re hurt. I’m sorry."
Zhuo Yu glanced at the wound—a mark left by a stone he had thrown at her. Years of running had made him wary, unable to trust anyone. When they first met, his instinct had been to hurl a rock at her.
She hadn’t been angry. Now, she simply held his hand and shook her head. "It’s nothing. It’ll heal soon."
She pinched his cheek. At his age, a child’s face should still be soft and plump, but his was all sharp angles, skin stretched taut over bone.
Swallowing the ache in her chest, she asked gently, "Are you sure it doesn’t hurt?"
"Really, it doesn’t." Little Mo Zhu shook his head, forcing a smile despite his pallor. "Not at all."
How could it not hurt? His chest had been slit open, his soul crushed. They had tried to strip his tendons, carve out his heart, scrape his scales, refine his spirit.
Bandages still wrapped his small chest, his tiny body covered in wounds.
Zhuo Yu lowered her lashes. A tear fell. She clasped his hand between hers, pressing her forehead to his knuckles.
Her voice trembled. "I’m sorry... I was too late. I’m always too late. Who can I even save...?"
Little Mo Zhu didn’t understand why she was crying or why she apologized.
Panicked, he struggled to sit up. "Sister, don’t cry. Don’t say sorry. I’m fine, really—it doesn’t hurt at all!"
Desperate to prove it, he grinned and flexed his arm. "See? I’m not—"
Zhuo Yu pulled him into her embrace, her tears hidden against his shoulder.
"I’m sorry... I was too late again..."
Little Mo Zhu didn’t grasp the meaning of "again," but he knew she was crying. Awkwardly, he patted her back. "Sister, don’t cry. You weren’t late at all."
Outside the door, Yun Zhi stood in silence, listening to the muffled sobs through the closed panels.
He knew exactly what she was crying about.
He waited in the courtyard until dusk painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson. Then, the door opened, and someone stepped out.
He didn’t turn. Zhuo Yu came to stand beside him.
Yun Zhi asked, "Have you decided? Will you take him to the Yingshan Sect?"
Zhuo Yu nodded. "Yes. The Yingshan Sect is safe."
Yun Zhi said, "Yingshan won’t shelter a demon."
Zhuo Yu replied, "That’s why I’ll take him as my disciple. Even if I die, as long as he is Zhuo Yu’s disciple, Yingshan will protect him."
Yun Zhi sighed. After a long pause, he turned to her. "Xiao Wu, don’t go. Let it go—I’m begging you, alright?"
He gripped her shoulders, pleading. "Think of yourself. Think of Yingshan. So many people need you—Sect Leader Yan, Wu Zhaoyan, me. The Central Continent needs you."
"Just this once, be selfish. Live for yourself. Don’t go."
Zhuo Yu smiled, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Yun Zhi, if you’d begged me like this when we were kids, maybe I wouldn’t have terrorized you with that rat. You turned white as a sheet, but you still refused to ask me to stop."
She thought she had told a joke, but Yun Zhi remained expressionless, his demeanor still grave.
Zhuo Yu sighed, "Alright, not funny at all. You’re still the same little stickler."
Yun Zhi pleaded again, "Don’t go, alright?"
This time, it was Zhuo Yu who fell silent. She simply stared at him quietly, neither crying nor smiling, as if her soul had already left her body.
"Yu Zhiling, say something."
For the first time, the ever-patient Yun Zhi urged her.
Zhuo Yu’s lips parted, curling into a faint smile. "I have to go. Whether for my master or for the Central Continent, I must."
"The Demon Lord must die—not just for revenge, but for all of you."
"This is something only I can do."
She grasped Yun Zhi’s wrist, lowering the hand he had placed on her shoulder.
"Yun Zhi, even if I don’t go, I won’t live much longer."
Zhuo Yu turned to leave, but before she could take a step, Yun Zhi caught her from behind.
"I’m already searching for the Skyward Lotus. Wu Zhaoyan and I are looking day and night. If we find it, you can live. The power inside you can be suppressed."
"Xiao Wu, trust us just once, alright? Just this once?"
Zhuo Yu merely lowered her gaze to the hand gripping her wrist.
Yun Zhi’s health was frail, and when he exerted force, the veins on the back of his hand bulged visibly.
Suddenly, Zhuo Yu chuckled. "Yun Zhi, you should eat more. You’d look better with some weight on you."
With a light flick, she freed herself from his grasp and pushed open the door to her room.
She stepped inside, only to plunge into an abyss.
Yu Zhiling opened her eyes, leisurely folding her hands behind her head as she basked in the sunlight.
"Awake?" came a gentle male voice.
Yu Zhiling tilted her head to look. Yun Zhi sat cross-legged against a tree, his back resting on its trunk. Though his complexion still looked as if he didn’t have many years left, his aura was far steadier now, no longer as weak and fleeting as before.
The crane-feather cloak he always carried was draped over her. Yu Zhiling lifted it and handed it back. "Aren’t you cold?"
Yun Zhi shook his head. "It’s fine. You gave me too many Revitalizing Pills—my body’s warm now."
He took the cloak, folded it neatly, and set it aside. His white robes were no longer stained with blood, though the tears remained. He must have used a cleansing spell to remove the bloodstains—Yun Zhi always appeared immaculate.
Yu Zhiling sat up. "Yun Zhi, do you know why I’m here? And where is this place?"
Yun Zhi nodded, then after a moment of contemplation, shook his head.
Yu Zhiling: "…So you know the answer to the first question but not the second?"
Yun Zhi inclined his head. "Yes."
Yu Zhiling: "You’re oddly precise."
Yun Zhi seemed like someone who had never been mischievous in his life—a little stickler who had grown into a big stickler. Yet his gentle demeanor made him easy to get along with.
Yu Zhiling crossed her legs and pointed to her ears. "I’m listening. Go on."
Yun Zhi met her gaze and wasted no time explaining softly, "I encountered the Demon Lord. He was the one who brought me here. We fought."
Yu Zhiling wasn’t surprised. The only one who could abduct a Great Ascension Realm cultivator here was likely the Demon Lord.
"Then your injuries…"
"Yes, they’re from our battle. But then he suddenly vanished. I was in a hurry to retrieve the Skyward Lotus and collapsed from my wounds."
So his position on the tracking talisman hadn’t moved at all. Yu Zhiling understood now.
Yun Zhi lowered his lashes, his voice quiet. "Xiao Wu, a long time ago—when I was seventeen—you gave me a gift."
Yu Zhiling tilted her head. "Hmm?"
Yun Zhi extended his hand, revealing a thumb ring. He had always worn it, and Yu Zhiling had assumed it was a symbol of the Yun family’s leadership.
But Yun Zhi said, "This was your gift to me. It contains many lethal techniques and formations. When I was young, my health was poor, and my cultivation was weak. I was often bullied, so you gave me this."
Yu Zhiling whispered, "Did it have something to do with me being brought here?"
Yun Zhi nodded. "Yes. There’s a teleportation formation inside—‘Ten Thousand Miles.’ If my life is in danger, as long as you’re within ten thousand miles of me, this formation will bring you to me. It can only be used once."
"You once told me not to use it lightly. I never did, and I never faced mortal danger before."
Until now.
Yu Zhiling remembered—he had indeed been on the verge of death.
When she landed, she hadn’t heard his breathing. She had touched his neck, barely detecting a pulse, and her heart had nearly stopped in fear. Only after confirming he was still alive did she relax.
Yun Zhi lowered his head, withdrawing his hand. His voice was heavy, tinged with grievance. "You’ve forgotten all of it."
Yu Zhiling: "…"
Yu Zhiling felt like kneeling. "I—I’ll try to remember. I’m sorry."
Yun Zhi’s temperament was far too forgiving. The slightest hint of sadness from him made everyone feel guilty—herself included.
"There’s no need to apologize, Xiao Wu. It’s fine if you don’t remember." Yun Zhi rubbed the jade thumb ring with his other hand, murmuring, "I don’t know where this is, but we’re likely still within the Spirit Vein Path."
So he had been brought here inexplicably too.
Judging by the sequence of events, Yun Zhi had been taken here first, and Yu Zhiling had been transported to his side because of the formation in the ring.
When she fell, Yun Zhi was already here.
Yu Zhiling leaned against a rock behind her, sighing at the sky. "We came here looking for you. As long as you’re alright, that’s what matters. Once you recover, I’ll take you back."
But Yun Zhi shook his head. "No, we can’t leave."
"Why not?"
"The Skyward Lotus is here."
Yu Zhiling’s expression shifted as she recalled the memories she had just seen—Zhuo Yu saving Little Mo Zhu and staying at the Yun family for a few days before leaving, with Yun Zhi pleading for her to stay.
Yun Zhi had mentioned the Skyward Lotus, and Fuchun’s journal had referenced it too.
"What exactly is that thing?"
Yun Zhi’s expression was calm. "The thing that will save your life."
Yu Zhiling frowned. "What’s wrong with me?"
Yun Zhi answered, "There’s an inexplicable power inside you. It’s helped your cultivation soar, but at the same time, it’s harming you."
Yu Zhiling’s throat tightened. She raised a hand abruptly. "Wait—it’s harming me?"
Yun Zhi nodded. "Yes. When you were a hundred and fifty, you went to the Spirit Vein Path. I don’t know why you went—"
Yu Zhiling interrupted again, "Hold on—I’ve been to the Spirit Vein Path?"
Yun Zhi hesitated before nodding. "Yes."
Yu Zhiling felt her head spinning. "Why would I go there?"
Yun Zhi: "…I don’t know."
That was what he had been about to say—he didn’t know why she had gone.
"Then how do you know I went?"
"After returning from the Spirit Vein Path, you went straight to the Yun family. You collapsed at the gates, unconscious. The last thing you said before passing out was to ask me to hide it from the Yingshan Sect. After you woke up, I kept you hidden in the Yun family and had our physicians examine you."
Yu Zhiling blinked her eyes, silently asking him about the diagnosis.
Yun Zhi’s voice was low and steady: "The power within you is uncontrollable, excessively chaotic, and colliding with your meridians. I suspect this force has propelled your cultivation to unprecedented heights, Little Five. But as the saying goes, 'Full to the brim, it spills over.'"
He lifted his gaze, calm yet unable to conceal his worry: "Your cultivation speed is nothing short of a miracle. Fuchun Immortal must have been deeply concerned. This power made you stronger, but your mental state was unstable, and your cultivation regressed. You couldn’t withstand it—such overwhelming power would have eventually killed the version of you from back then."
Yu Zhiling already knew about the regression in her mental state and cultivation. Zhuo Yu had been trapped in the past, unable to move forward, while also exhausting her spiritual energy to forge the Boundless Realm.
"Can the Skyward Lotus save my life?"
"Yes. Back then, I wanted to inform the Yingshan Sect—such a grave matter should not be kept from them. But you told me there was no cure, that only the long-extinct Skyward Lotus could suppress the power within you."
Even after all these years, Yun Zhi couldn’t forget how he had felt in that moment—his vision blurred, his blood running cold, his entire body seized by dread.
And then, the woman before him had said: "Yun Zhi, life and death mean little to me. Don’t tell my senior brothers. At any rate, I won’t die so soon. This power is useful—it can help me kill him."
Yun Zhi murmured softly, "You told me the Skyward Lotus had vanished from the Central Continent. All these years, I’ve searched, but never found it."
Yu Zhiling forced a faint smile.
She knew Zhuo Yu had lied.
Zhuo Yu had read Fuchun Immortal’s records. She knew the Skyward Lotus existed in the Lingyou Path. Initially, she might have gone there to uncover the truth about her origins, but something must have happened inside—something that destabilized the power she had been born with. After leaving the Lingyou Path, she couldn’t return to the Yingshan Sect in that state. Ning Hengwu would have noticed. So she had gone to Yun Zhi instead.
Wu Zhaoyan was out of the question—he would have reported it to the Yingshan Sect.
Only Yun Zhi was suitable.
When she woke up and saw Yun Zhi relentlessly questioning her, insisting on searching for the Skyward Lotus, she had no choice but to deceive him.
—The Central Continent has no Skyward Lotus left. My power cannot be suppressed.
Yet she knew full well it existed in the Lingyou Path.
Yu Zhiling pressed a hand to her chest. "I don’t feel that power colliding with my meridians."
Since arriving in this world, aside from the wounds inflicted by Frostblade, she had experienced no discomfort whatsoever.
Yun Zhi replied quietly, "I don’t know why. Ever since you emerged from seclusion, your condition has stabilized. That inexplicable power seems to have gone dormant again."
Yu Zhiling drew her knees up, resting her chin on them, her gaze distant as it settled on a small flower on the ground.
She murmured, almost to herself, "You wanted to find the Skyward Lotus... for me."
Yun Zhi exhaled deeply, as if releasing a long-held tension, and leaned back against the tree. "I wanted to do something for you. The power inside you has always been a latent danger. Now that I know the Skyward Lotus is here, I must retrieve it for you."
"Little Five, in the past, you were willing to die for the Central Continent and Fuchun Immortal. This time, let’s search for the Skyward Lotus together. Please—live. For us."
"For me. For Zhaoyan. For the Yingshan Sect. For Mo Zhu. For all your countless friends across the Central Continent—live."
Yu Zhiling didn’t respond. Her lashes lowered slightly, her eyes falling on the serpent bracelet coiled around her wrist.
The translucent light was dizzying, the lifelike tengsu serpent winding around it. This bracelet had brought her to this world—was it truly to correct the story?
Yet none of the events unfolding now had been mentioned in the original text. The hidden plotlines were the true culprits behind the impending tragedy, but the system refused to say a word.
Everything she was doing felt like an attempt to save herself—and them.
Yellow sand blotted out the sky as the winds of the Lingyou Path howled once more.
A young man darted through the desert, his figure swift and agile, only to halt abruptly as his gaze fixed on a distant mountain.
A mountain appearing out of nowhere in the Lingyou Path was strange enough.
Mo Zhu’s expression was icy as he unsheathed his sword and slashed at the cliff face. The blade’s light surged forward, crashing against the stone and sending debris flying.
He struck a second time, but only managed to chip away more rock.
His lips pressed into a thin line, the fury within him swelling, teetering on the brink of eruption.
Just as he raised his sword for a third strike, Wu Zhaoyan, who had caught up to him, seized his wrist.
"Mo Zhu! Do you even know what this mountain is? It’s a divine relic of the Lingyou Path—destroying it will bring divine retribution!"
Mo Zhu glared at him and shook off his grip. "Move. My master is inside."
Wu Zhaoyan scowled, blocking the path of Mo Zhu’s relentless sword glare.
"Mo Zhu, how could she possibly be in there? It’s a mountain of solid stone!"
Mo Zhu enunciated each word: "She. Is. Inside."
The disciple jade token couldn’t locate her aura.
But the Huiqing Serpent Bracelet could.
As the Tengsu Prince, he had once fused a drop of his heart’s blood into that bracelet—so that no matter where she was, he could find her.
He could sense the trace of his serpent blood nearby.
Mo Zhu was immovable, hellbent on cleaving the mountain apart. Wu Zhaoyan, unaware of the Huiqing Serpent Bracelet’s existence, could only assume his desperation over his master’s disappearance had driven him mad.
"Mo Zhu, listen to me—she couldn’t—Mo Zhu, move!"
Before he could finish, Wu Zhaoyan grabbed Mo Zhu’s shoulder and yanked him back a hundred paces.
Mo Zhu reacted instantly, his sword sweeping out in a slash that sent sand and wind roaring forward.
"As expected of Yu Zhiling’s disciple—reaching the peak of the Nascent Soul realm at seventeen."
As the dust settled, a tall figure emerged at the end of the path.
Mo Zhu’s voice was frigid. "What right do you have to speak my master’s name?"
The stranger lifted a hand, pointing at Mo Zhu. "You and Yun Zhi say the same things. Yu Zhiling is surrounded by loyal hearts."
Mo Zhu’s restraint shattered. The moment this man appeared, his killing intent surged to its zenith. He had imagined skinning this man alive a thousand times.
Wu Zhaoyan gripped him tightly, channeling spiritual energy to hold him back. "Mo Zhu, this is no ordinary foe. We need to retreat!"
But neither of them could leave.
The desert winds rose, forming towering walls of sand on either side, sealing off their escape.
"Leaving so soon? Don’t you want to see my face?"
The man lowered his hood, revealing features hidden for centuries.
His voice was gentle, yet laced with a chilling malice.
"Mo Zhu, look closely."
The moment that face came into view, Mo Zhu’s hands clenched into fists, his sword trembling with its master’s bloodlust.
The young man gritted his teeth, the taste of blood flooding his mouth as fury consumed him.
"It’s you."
