At noon, two streaks of light shot across the sky side by side.
A short, careworn old man stood atop a gourd-shaped magical artifact and glanced at the woman beside him. “Where do we go next?”
The woman frowned slightly. She was none other than Liu Haoxue, who had crossed paths several times with Chu Mingwei in the Demon Clan ruins. The old man was Yun Sou Weng, whom Liu Haoxue had once saved there.
Ever since she had saved his life, Yun Sou Weng felt he owed her an immense debt. After they accidentally escaped the ruins, he stayed by her side, deferring to her in both actions and speech. They had just left a nearby market town, so he naturally asked about her plans.
The question seemed to trouble Liu Haoxue. After some thought, she said, “We’ll check a few more markets. If we still find no news about the Demon Clan, we’ll return to the Rogue Cultivators’ City.”
Yun Sou Weng glanced at her expression and sighed before nodding. After a moment, he tried to persuade her, “We’ve visited quite a few markets already—no trace of the ancient Demon Clan, whether in official records or street rumors. Either Chu Mingwei was mistaken, or too much time has passed and all records have vanished. Fellow Daoist Liu needn’t worry too much. Even if the ancient Demon Clan reappears, that would be a concern for the immortal sects, not for rogue cultivators like us.”
His words were sincere, and Liu Haoxue acknowledged them with a nod. Yet a faint unease lingered in her heart. Ever since the Wu City ruins, she had felt that the matter of the Demon Clan would one day cause a great upheaval in the cultivation world. As rootless rogue cultivators, survival depended on uncovering hidden truths and knowing what to avoid.
Yun Sou Weng knew nothing of her worries. Since she had not voiced them, he simply took her agreement at face value. Energized, he split off from her and headed toward another market.
Watching his figure disappear into the horizon, Liu Haoxue was just about to activate her artifact when her expression changed. She suddenly turned and formed a hand seal behind her. A flash of fire erupted, and within the blazing flames, a figure in a black robe gradually appeared.
Her face changed drastically. Without hesitation, she poured spiritual power into her artifact and tried to flee toward Yun Sou Weng.
The black-robed figure glanced at her coldly and casually pointed forward. A wall of green flames surged skyward, blocking her path. Liu Haoxue barely stopped in time. Staring at the eerie green fire, her face filled with terror, she dared not move recklessly again.
This was Nine Nether Ghostfire, drawn from the depths of Corpse-Calamity Mountain. Any contact meant annihilation of body and soul. Only those who cultivated the unique techniques of the Ghost Spirit Sect could wield it safely. With its appearance, Liu Haoxue no longer merely suspected—she knew for certain her opponent was from the Ghost Spirit Sect.
Her expression flickered with uncertainty as she forced herself to remain calm, desperately searching her memory for any offense she might have given the sect—but she found none.
“Did you escape from the ancient cave that appeared in Wu City?” the black-robed figure suddenly asked, his voice cold and lifeless.
Startled, Liu Haoxue nodded.
The man raised a pale hand. A dark rope shot out, snaking toward her. Though afraid, Liu Haoxue refused to wait for death. She bit her tongue and spat out a mouthful of blood essence, forming rapid seals. The blood exploded into a mist, shielding her completely.
The black-robed man seemed wary of the blood mist and stepped aside. Raising his hand again, he sent a burst of green light crashing into it. A harsh sizzling sound erupted as the two forces collided. The mist quickly dissipated under the green light. Without expression, the man flicked his wrist. The black rope shot forward again.
“Split Shadows!” Liu Haoxue’s sharp voice rang out. Six figures burst from the mist, fleeing in six directions—each identical to her.
This was her life-saving technique. It consumed enormous blood essence and severely damaged her cultivation, often costing her several realms. She only used it as a last resort. But facing the Ghost Spirit Sect—whose victims were either refined into tools or drained by dark arts—she chose survival at any cost.
The black-robed man snorted. Sweeping his spiritual sense across them, he paused—these were not illusions but real bodies. For a moment, he could not tell which was genuine. As the figures fled farther away, green light flashed in his eyes. He flicked six blood-red beads after them.
“Roar!”
A thunderous roar split the air. Yun Sou Weng had returned, sensing the disturbance. Seeing the beads, he knew they were dangerous. Kicking his gourd, he opened its lid and chanted. A mass of black energy poured out, expanding into a massive, mottled tiger that lunged at the black-robed man.
The man snorted and released another red bead. It struck the tiger and instantly bloomed into a crimson flower—Manjusaka, the Flower of the Other Shore, which fed on spiritual essence.
As it enveloped the tiger, the man prepared to retrieve it—but paused in surprise. The tiger dissolved and reformed elsewhere.
He quickly realized it was a spirit entity. Interest flickered in his eyes. Opening his mouth, he released a black sword that slashed behind the tiger.
“Pfft!” Yun Sou Weng spat blood as the connection between him and the tiger was severed. The tiger faltered, then was bound by the black rope and reduced to black energy, absorbed into the man’s sleeve.
Yun Sou Weng, seeing this, fled immediately.
The black-robed man snorted and released another bead. It struck Yun Sou Weng, blooming into a brilliant Manjusaka. As it fed, Yun Sou Weng’s body shriveled, his face turning ashen. The flower grew ever more vivid, almost mesmerizing.
In moments, Yun Sou Weng became a dried corpse. The flower closed and reverted to a bead, returning to the man’s side. The corpse fell from the sky.
From the tiger’s appearance to Yun Sou Weng’s death, only an instant had passed.
The black-robed man turned his gaze to Liu Haoxue’s fleeing figures. Three had already been devoured; three escaped beyond the flowers’ reach.
Without hesitation, he descended to Yun Sou Weng’s corpse. If he was right, this man had also survived the Wu City ruins.
Thinking of the sect’s lost treasure, he placed a finger on the corpse’s head and performed soul-searching. Memories flooded his mind—hardship, cultivation, years of struggle, and the Wu City events.
When he withdrew, disappointment flickered across his face. No trace of the missing disciple or treasure. But one term caught his attention—
Ancient Demon Clan.
His thoughts stirred. Could the Wu City site have been a Demon Clan ruin rather than an immortal cave?
With that realization, he chose one of Liu Haoxue’s escape paths and pursued.
“Cloud Heaven Sect… Chu Mingwei… interesting.”