From the hour of the Rat to the hour of the Ox tonight?
Recalling the message Shen Hefeng had sent during lunch, Wen Shuangbai sat in the Artifact Forging Hall, her fingers twitching slightly as her gaze flickered toward the tools the junior hall master was using. Suppressing the restless thoughts in her heart, she focused entirely on crafting earplugs capable of blocking out demonic sounds.
The entire afternoon passed in a blur as cultivators from the town came and went to collect the earplugs. Wen Shuangbai was so busy she barely had time to take a sip of water.
As the light outside gradually dimmed, the junior hall master set down his tools and walked over, patting her shoulder. "Alright, alright, enough work for today. Go rest—you've been at it all day!"
Wen Shuangbai smiled apologetically. "You go ahead. I’d like to stay a bit longer. If it weren’t for my friend, everyone wouldn’t be suffering from those nightly disturbances. I feel terrible about it, so I just want to make more earplugs to ensure everyone can sleep well tonight."
"You’ve got a good heart," the junior hall master sighed.
The sky darkened, draping the entire town in a hazy twilight.
After handing earplugs to the last cultivator, Wen Shuangbai still didn’t leave. She swallowed a Spirit Restoration Pill and hummed a little tune while repairing artifacts that had been neglected these past few days due to her earplug production. Occasionally, she needed to use the shared tools in the hall.
She walked over, borrowed the tools beside the junior hall master’s workstation, and carelessly left them nearby when she was done.
The night deepened, the half-moon hanging in the sky as stars twinkled above.
Finishing her tasks, Wen Shuangbai stretched, then busied herself tidying up—wiping surfaces, sweeping the floors, closing windows, extinguishing lamps—before finally locking the doors of the Artifact Forging Hall behind her, pleased with her day’s work.
Another day of honest labor, well worth the fourteen hundred spirit stones!
A cool evening breeze brushed past her. The lights in the medical hall across the way had long since gone out.
The surroundings were silent. Wen Shuangbai stroked her increasingly full storage ring, contentment washing over her as she walked through the night.
Suddenly, she halted, her eyes narrowing warily at a figure in the distance.
Tonight’s moon was bright, its light filtering through the trees, casting a shimmering glow like moonstone upon a white robe half-hidden in the foliage.
A man lowered his head slightly and stepped out from the dense thicket.
Recognizing him, Wen Shuangbai frowned. "What are you skulking around for?"
Xie Ziyin glanced at her. "Waiting for a thief."
"???" Was he calling her a thief? She wasn’t stealing—she was merely safeguarding the Artifact Forging Hall’s belongings temporarily.
And she wasn’t even charging storage fees!
The Qi family ought to name her Employee of the Year.
Besides, he was no better—hadn’t he "borrowed" things from the medical hall too?
Wen Shuangbai scoffed. "Well, keep waiting then."
With that, she strode off, refusing to spare him another glance.
Heartless.
Xie Ziyin clicked his tongue and followed at a distance.
The two walked in single file toward their shared courtyard.
Back at the courtyard, Lu Jiayao was tense upon learning that their operation was scheduled for tonight.
Only four days had passed—he had zero confidence in his ability to control the spectral entities in the Demon Armory!
He wanted to convince his teammates to delay for a few more months, to give him more time. But under Shen Hefeng’s withering glare—his hair now reduced to three pathetic strands—and the man’s aura of barely restrained fury, Lu Jiayao didn’t dare utter a word.
Instead, he crammed desperately before departure, blowing his flute with renewed fervor, much to the dismay of nearby cultivators who promptly stuffed in their free earplugs.
"Finally, some peace," they sighed in relief.
---
At the first mark of the hour of the Boar, all six members of the team returned to their rooms.
By the second mark, their lights were out, and they had changed into the specially crafted Shadowgarb outfits Wen Shuangbai had "borrowed" from the Qi family’s Artifact Forging Hall.
The outfits even came with thoughtful additions: Wen Shuangbai’s talisman gift pack and Xie Ziyin’s medicinal kit, which included a poison pill guaranteed to provide a swift, painless exit from the Sacred Tower.
By the third mark, clad in their Shadowgarb, the six had stealthily reached the outskirts of the Demon Armory.
Crouched like turtles in the nearby underbrush, they waited.
Lu Jiayao had been wound tight ever since noon when he learned of tonight’s operation.
Nervousness bred mistakes, and in critical moments, even a small mistake could be fatal.
As the team’s medic, Xie Ziyin was responsible for monitoring both physical and mental states.
That afternoon, he had concocted a new pill designed to suppress emotions—rendering the user detached and unflappable, perfect for easing Lu Jiayao’s nerves.
But it was untested.
Before departure, Xie Ziyin handed it over, warning of potential side effects and leaving the choice to Lu Jiayao.
Now, lying in the grass, Lu Jiayao’s palms were slick with sweat, his anxiety spiraling out of control.
He tried to think rationally—Wen Shuangbai and the others always weighed pros and cons before acting.
If he didn’t take the pill, he estimated a ninety percent chance of failure, leading to his death and the team’s downfall. Death in the Sacred Tower came with consequences.
If he took it, the worst-case scenario was some unknown side effects.
The decision became clear.
He swallowed the pill.
In stark contrast, Li Zhuohua wasn’t nervous at all. She was thrilled.
The excitement burned in her veins, her eyes gleaming with unrestrained fervor. She could hardly wait to charge into the Demon Armory and wreak havoc.
Her enthusiasm was so palpable that Wen Shuangbai had to order her to keep her gaze fixed on the ground.
Shen Hefeng lay at the front, the others awaiting his signal for the opportune moment.
Time crawled by.
At the first mark of the hour of the Rat, Wen Shuangbai felt her Mystic Heaven Mirror vibrate.
She didn’t check it.
In the Sacred Tower, a disturbance in the Mystic Heaven Mirror could only mean trouble elsewhere.
Sure enough, by the second mark, the quiet Qi Manor suddenly stirred.
The doors of the Demon Armory swung open from within, and a group of figures vanished into the night.
Confused voices echoed from inside.
"What’s happening? Why did the elders leave so abruptly?"
"No idea. Probably an urgent summons from the family head. Something must’ve happened outside."
The team glanced at Shen Hefeng.
Was this the moment?
But Shen Hefeng remained still.
After days of relentless divinations, his hair had thinned to near baldness, his mind frayed, his temper volatile—even a gust of wind could set him off.
Yet, in this state of near-delirium, he had grasped something inexplicable—an intangible, perfect timing.
Not yet. Not now.
After the time it took to drink a cup of tea, one elder returned to the Demon Armory.
Three minutes later, familiar faces arrived in haste—the street vendors from the night market, the shopkeepers, even the proprietress of the demonic pleasure house.
"Has something happened at the City Lord’s Manor?"
"Right, the family head and the others have already rushed to the City Lord's Mansion. Qi Manor is currently unguarded. You all go and keep watch there. I’ll head to the City Lord's Mansion as well. The City Lord's Mansion must not be compromised!"
"Understood. Go quickly..."
The group hastily gave their orders before leaving Qi Manor Town one after another.
Shen Hefeng still hadn’t given the signal.
Midnight… 1:15 a.m… 1:30 a.m…
Someone suddenly returned to patrol Qi Manor Town once more. Finding nothing amiss, they left reassured.
1:45 a.m.
Shen Hefeng raised his hand, forming the number 'six' with his fingers.
All six of them sprang into action.
Xie Ziyin moved like a shadow, soundlessly reaching the Demon Soldiers' Hall. Through a narrow window gap left intentionally by Lu Jiayao earlier that day, he tossed in a small, mouse-dung-sized pill.
The pill rolled silently onto the floor, releasing a colorless, scentless smoke that spread through the hall.
The old-timers of the Demon Soldiers' Hall had already left, leaving only a few dozen guards behind.
The inner hall imprisoned tens of thousands of spectral demons. The guards never imagined anyone would dare break in—such an act would be suicidal.
In the dead of night, the guards stood listlessly, waiting for dawn and their replacements.
Suddenly, one after another, their comrades collapsed to the ground.
Someone gasped, "Wha—"
Before the exclamation could leave his lips, Li Zhuohua’s blade had already severed his head.
The hidden figures swiftly dealt with the remaining guards who hadn’t been drugged unconscious.
Yin Xuan took the easiest job, wielding a slender sword to methodically finish off the unconscious guards, ensuring no survivors.
Lu Jiayao had briefed them all on each guard’s position. The six split up, moving with ruthless efficiency. In mere moments, not a single soul in the Demon Soldiers' Hall remained alive.
Between the inner and outer halls of the Demon Soldiers' Hall stood a barrier gate.
Only the hall’s sound cultivators could pass through.
Led by Lu Jiayao, the six strode boldly into the inner hall’s territory.
No one outside the Demon Soldiers' Hall’s sound cultivators was permitted entry.
Even though Wen Shuangbai had heard Lu Jiayao’s descriptions beforehand, seeing it with her own eyes still left her stunned.
The inner hall was a labyrinth of enchanted barriers.
Each barrier imprisoned clusters of spectral demons.
Their numbers grew denser the further in one went.
To proceed, Wen Shuangbai and the others had to pass through these barriers, walking straight through hordes of demons.
The moment the six appeared, the aimlessly drifting demons caught their scent and turned in unison.
With a deafening rush, the demons surged toward the inner hall’s entrance, slamming against the barriers, their eyes fixed hungrily on the intruders.
Lu Jiayao raised his flute and began playing the Demon-Subduing Melody.
The restless demons quieted, their eerie gazes locking onto him.
The other five pressed against the wall, instinctively forming a protective circle around Lu Jiayao at the center.
Wen Shuangbai stood closest to the barrier’s key mechanism. After exchanging a glance with Lu Jiayao, she opened the first enchanted gate.
The moment the barrier lifted, the demons crept forward soundlessly, encircling the five and staring intently at the group.
The demons were so close that Wen Shuangbai could clearly see the greed in their eyes and feel their chilling aura.
In an instant, it was as if they had been plunged into an icy abyss.
Lu Jiayao knew they were terrified, but the drug’s effects blocked their fear.
After countless rehearsals, every note of the melody was etched into his bones. Now, he played mechanically, devoid of emotion.
With his emotions numbed, his muscle memory took over, ensuring flawless execution.
Wen Shuangbai opened gate after gate.
The demons surrounding them grew thicker and thicker.
A sea of spectral figures pressed in from all sides, so dense it felt like being trapped in a packed train station during the New Year rush.
The sensation was unbearable, a desperate urge to flee clawing at them.
But with teammates at their backs and by their sides, the five who hadn’t taken the drug steadied themselves. Patiently, slowly, yet resolutely, they pressed forward into the unknown.
If they were to die here, at least they wouldn’t be alone.
Step by step, gate by gate.
Beyond the twenty-fourth barrier, the enchanted fences vanished, replaced by a massive steel door engraved with the Eight Trigrams.
The six adjusted their positions, shifting Wen Shuangbai behind Lu Jiayao before forming a semicircle to shield the two at its center.
Wen Shuangbai exhaled softly, rubbed her palms together, and pulled out her trump card—a "cultivator-grade" chainsaw she’d "borrowed" from the Artifact Hall earlier that night!
Sharp enough to slice through metal, absurdly effective—the very one she’d had her eye on since the day she arrived.
