“Young Master Qiu, I need your help with something. Do you have time now?”
There was some rustling on the other end. When Qiu Chengqi spoke again, his tone was hurried: “What’s wrong? Did something happen? Is the Beast King with you?”
He rattled off several questions in quick succession, and Sang Dai hurried to clarify: “It’s not serious. I just wanted to ask you something. Did you set up any mechanisms in the City Lord’s residence in Linglong Town?”
“Linglong Town?”
“Yes.”
Qiu Chengqi fell silent for a moment before suddenly replying, “Yes, several decades ago. City Lord Wu invited me to help set up a mechanism in a secret chamber.”
“How can the mechanism be disabled?”
Qiu Chengqi thought for a moment and said, “It should be a linked array with eighty-one checkpoints. You’ll need to locate the positions of Qian and Kun and disable the outer mechanisms first. Then, find the position of Kan to dismantle the core. That should temporarily shut it down.”
He showed no hesitation about betraying his client. Whatever Sang Dai asked, he answered, selling out the mechanism he had designed for Wu Hanshu without reservation.
Sang Dai nodded. “Thank you, Young Master Qiu. I have other matters to attend to, so I won’t disturb you further.”
Qiu Chengqi sounded bewildered. “Ah? Oh, alright. Sister, take care.”
After disconnecting the jade token, Qiu Chengqi was still a bit dazed, staring at the token in his palm with a serious expression.
Meanwhile, on the other side, Sang Dai put away the jade token and prepared to leave.
“Sect Master Shen, I have other matters to attend to, so I’ll take my leave. You should return to your quarters and avoid drawing attention to any anomalies.”
After saying this, she turned to leave, but Shen Ciyu, in a moment of urgency, instinctively grabbed her arm.
“Sang Dai!”
Sang Dai turned back and easily twisted her arm free from his grip.
Shen Ciyu’s face turned pale.
Sang Dai said in a calm tone, “Sect Master Shen, some things need to be left behind. Now that you are the sect master, you have responsibilities to bear. Let go of the past, and don’t let obsession ruin your path of cultivation. I’m doing well now, and I will continue to do well in the future. I hope the same for you.”
Without hesitation, she walked away, never looking back.
Her slender figure soon disappeared from sight. Shen Ciyu had seen her back many times before, but each time it was more resolute than the last.
She had completely let go of the past now. She cared nothing for the Immortal Realm and even less for him.
Sang Dai would never forgive betrayal. The moment he chose to obey the Immortal Alliance’s orders to hunt her down, their paths diverged irrevocably, whether he regretted it or not.
Shen Ciyu clutched his injured shoulder. His lips were bloodless, and drops of blood fell to the ground, splattering as they landed. His expression was dazed.
—
Liu Lixue sat cross-legged on a high perch.
The night had grown cold. Peacock rubbed his hands together, sniffed, and took out a Hellfire Orb his master had given him to warm himself.
His eyesight was excellent, and he could see the entire City Lord’s residence clearly. Any unusual activity would be immediately apparent.
Tonight, the City Lord’s residence was unusually quiet. By his calculations, everyone should now be where they were supposed to be. If nothing was discovered, they should regroup shortly.
An itch on his ankle made Liu Lixue pull his leg back.
But whatever it was kept climbing, and now his lower leg itched as well.
Irritated, Liu Lixue thought it was a pesky insect and slapped his leg.
What his palm touched, however, was not an insect as he had assumed.
For a moment, the air felt still. The night wind lifted Peacock’s dark hair, and his expression turned cold as his eyes flashed with icy malice.
With a flick of his folding fan, a curved blade emerged between its ribs. The sharp edge slashed at the vine on his leg, severing it instantly.
A red shadow retreated swiftly, and Liu Lixue teleported to the rooftop opposite.
Pulling back his outer robe, he inspected his long, well-defined legs wrapped in thin pants. Near his ankle, a few bloody puncture wounds marred his skin.
Peacock’s expression was impassive. He lowered the hem of his robe and lifted his gaze.
The spot where he had been standing moments ago now held another person.
Clad in black formal attire, simpler than his master’s luxurious wardrobe, this man’s garments bore no decorative patterns. His face was obscured by a mask, and his pale lips underneath suggested someone recovering from a serious illness.
He wore a faint smile. Thick vines climbed over the high wall, winding across the rooftop like snakes.
Liu Lixue narrowed his eyes. Even with his extensive experience with demon beasts, he couldn’t identify what this creature was.
“Your reflexes are quite sharp,” the man remarked leisurely, his tone casual and nonchalant.
The voice gave no clues to his identity, but it was grating—sinister and self-assured. Liu Lixue had no patience for such pretentiousness.
While fingering the jade token in his hand, Liu Lixue replied, “Are you the one pulling the strings behind the scenes, trying to kill Miss Sang?”
The masked man arched a brow and smiled. “Haven’t you already figured that out?”
“Are the disappearances of rogue cultivators in the city your doing?”
“Ah… that, well, there’s no need for me to tell you.” He suddenly curved his eyes into a smile, chuckling softly. “But, just now, were you about to send a message?”
Liu Lixue’s pupils contracted sharply. Only then did he realize that a sound-isolating barrier had been placed around them, preventing anyone outside from hearing a word.
The vines suddenly expanded. What had been just a few vines turned into dozens, surging toward Liu Lixue from all directions, leaving him no room to catch his breath.
Liu Lixue flipped his hand and summoned his folding fan. The eighteen ribs of the fan transformed into sharp blades, infused with spiritual energy, slashing at the incoming vines.
The young man in black sat on the roof’s edge, resting his chin on one hand, watching the red shadow amid the sea of vines with a wide grin. Blades of light severed the vines again and again, but each time, more vines sprouted to replace them.
He shifted his gaze toward the distant, quiet City Lord’s residence. Under his mask, his eyes curved with delight, his smile growing broader.
—
The secret chamber Shen Ciyu mentioned was in the western forest. Sang Dai traversed the City Lord’s residence, teleporting quickly to her destination.
The western side of the residence was a dense forest. At the entrance stood a team of guards, but when Sang Dai arrived, she found them lying sprawled on the ground, unconscious.
She leapt down from the roof, crouched, and checked the pulse of one of the guards.
Still alive, just knocked out.
The attack had been gentle, without excessive force. This must have been Tan Huai’s doing.
If it had been Su Xuan, these guards would likely have several broken bones.
Sang Dai stood and headed into the forest in pursuit.
The forest was deep and secluded, seemingly rarely visited, and filled with lush bamboo. Along the way, she passed a pavilion with a square stone table surrounded by six stools.
She didn’t stop to investigate, only glancing briefly at it as worry gnawed at her—concern that Tan Huai might struggle with the mechanisms. She pressed on.
As expected, before she even reached the depths of the forest, a gust of blade-like wind came slashing toward her.
Sang Dai used her spiritual energy to form a protective shield, drew her sword, and deflected the attack, shielding the monk lying on the ground. She spared a moment to erect another shield around him.
Tan Huai sucked in a sharp breath, his brows furrowed tightly. “Ouch… That hurts like hell. I don’t remember the City Lord’s residence having this stone chamber or these traps when I was younger. When did Wu Hanshu set up this mess?”
Sang Dai ignored him. The mechanisms created by Qiu Chengqi were no trivial matter. Unlike typical formations and traps made by the cultivator world, his mechanisms integrated arrays, making even these defensive ones a challenge for Nascent Soul cultivators.
Dodging another gust of wind, Sang Dai identified the range of the mechanism and struck the designated positions with her Zhiyu Sword, as Qiu Chengqi had instructed.
The first wave of wind stopped, but the stone door remained shut.
She then located the Kan position and destroyed it with a precise thrust.
At this point, their night raid on the City Lord’s residence was unlikely to remain hidden. Since exposure was inevitable, it was imperative to uncover the truth.
With the mechanism broken, the stone door rumbled as it rotated in a semi-circle arc and began to open slowly.
Tan Huai, clutching his shoulder, which bore a bloodied scratch, stepped forward. “Wow, Miss Sang, you’re amazing.”
Pointing at the opening stone door, he added indignantly, “You wouldn’t believe it! I just touched it, and it almost shaved my head off. Absolutely outrageous, utterly lacking in dignity!”
Sang Dai glanced at him, noticing the gleaming top of the monk’s head, now marked with several scratches from the residual gusts of wind.
“Tan Huai… I finally understand why Master Fuwu always reprimands you.”
It was because Tan Huai was the most impulsive and unsteady monk in the entire Zen sect.
Tan Huai rubbed his nose and gave an awkward smile. “Ashamed, truly ashamed.”
Sang Dai didn’t say more and took the lead, stepping inside.
The moment she entered, she felt an eerie chill, a coldness that clung to her like a bone-deep parasite.
“Tan Huai, take this to warm yourself.”
Sang Dai retrieved a Hellfire Orb given by Su Xuan, intending to hand one to Tan Huai.
However, Tan Huai froze and didn’t reach out to take the orb. He quietly tilted his head to look across the room, his expression dazed, and the warm aura around him suddenly turned heavy and subdued.
“…Tan Huai?”
Sang Dai’s gaze darkened, and she followed his line of sight.
The stone chamber was small. Aside from the doorway, the other three walls were smooth, as though carved directly from a single piece of stone.
On the polished walls hung three large ink paintings. The canvases were expansive, and the artistry was exquisite.
The figures were lifelike, their expressions vividly detailed—even their eyes seemed full of emotion.
The paintings on the walls to the left and right depicted a bamboo grove. Sang Dai recognized it as the forest she had passed through earlier. On the left painting, there was a pavilion, identical to the one she had seen before.
In the pavilion sat six people around a square table. Two men sat facing each other, while the other four—two men and two women—were paired off, their postures intimate, resembling couples.
Even though the facial features weren’t painted in detail, Sang Dai could recognize one of the solitary men by his attire and bearing alone: Ying Heng.
Ying Heng always wore white robes. Among the six figures, he was the only one dressed in white.
Her breathing grew uneven, and her lowered hands trembled slightly.
But someone reached out and held her hand.
Sang Dai’s long lashes fluttered, and the person interlocked their fingers with hers.
“Dai Dai, I’m here.”
Sang Dai looked up, startled.
Su Xuan must have teleported all the way here as well. His silver hair was slightly tousled by the wind.
“You… how did you get here?”
Su Xuan brushed aside the stray locks at her temple. “The two rooms I searched showed no anomalies. I sensed your spiritual energy fluctuation and came here.”
Sang Dai nodded hurriedly. “Good… good…”
Su Xuan immediately noticed her emotional state. Cupping her face with his hands, he asked, “Do you remember what I told you before we came?”
“I remember… stay calm.”
Su Xuan’s fingertips lightly touched the corner of her eye. “Dai Dai, we’re getting closer to the truth.”
Sang Dai closed her eyes, took a long, deep breath, and when she opened them again, all traces of panic had vanished.
She nodded. “I’m sorry.”
The sword cultivator turned to face the stone wall opposite her.
On the wall was a depiction of six people standing side by side.
The stone that made up the wall was polished to perfection, leaving no blemishes, and the paintings hung upon it were equally flawless.
Among the six figures, two pairs of Daoist companions stood in the center. On the far left stood Wu Hanshu, and on the far right…
A man in white robes, with delicate and gentle features, his eyes holding a spring-like warmth.
Immortal Lord Ying Heng of the Sword Sect.
Su Xuan spoke, “One is Wu Hanshu, one is Immortal Lord Ying Heng. Two pairs of Daoist companions. And one pair…”
The little fox turned back, glancing at the monk behind them.
Su Xuan asked, “Tan Huai, what do you think?”
Tan Huai had not spoken a word since entering. Quietly, he gazed up at the figures painted on the wall.
Though Tan Huai was typically calm and composed, never failing in critical moments, he often carried an irrepressible air of youthfulness about him.
Yet, at this moment, he was quieter than ever before in his life.
Sang Dai turned to look at him, meeting his gaze.
The monk slowly averted his eyes, his expression unreadable as he looked back at Sang Dai and Su Xuan.
But his reddening eyes betrayed him, and his handsome face was filled with sorrow.
“…Those are my parents.”
The two figures in golden formal attire—those were his parents.
Tan Huai’s lips quivered. He tried to speak but found himself unable to form words. He kept trying, over and over, until finally, in a hoarse and stuttering voice, he managed:
“My parents were from the eastern region of Fan, not Buddhist monks. After their deaths, my master took me away. Because I awakened an Earth-Grade spiritual root, I was named the young master of the Zen sect. In life, my parents had three closest friends: one was Immortal Lord Ying Heng, another was Wu Hanshu, and the last…”
Tan Huai’s gaze landed on the male cultivator standing next to Ying Heng.
“…was Bai Yu, the former abbot of Cangwu Daoist Temple.”
Sang Dai abruptly turned back to the mural.
She stared intently at the male cultivator beside Ying Heng and the female cultivator he held.
The man wore purple robes, his brows bold and heroic, one arm draped over the woman’s shoulder. His expression radiated vitality and self-assuredness.
The woman wore a jade-green dress, a jade pendant hanging at her waist. Her features were gentle and elegant, her dark eyes seeming to gaze directly at Sang Dai from within the painting, filled with infinite tenderness.
Sang Dai’s face was the perfect blend of the two. Her brows and contours were strikingly similar to the woman’s, yet traces of the man’s resoluteness were also evident.
If the man was Bai Yu, then the woman’s identity was self-evident.
That was Weisheng Xuan—her mother.
Su Xuan told her, “Dai Dai, these are your parents.”
The hand at her side was firmly clasped by Su Xuan.
Ying Heng, Wu Hanshu, Bai Yu, Weisheng Xuan, and Tan Huai’s parents—these six had known each other long ago.
The century-long pact was theirs.