“Ah-ha!”

He Wudi yawned, rubbing his eyes as he shuffled toward the mountain gate.

In all the years since joining the Wangu Sect, the first thing he did upon waking was not visit the outhouse, but rather open the great red-lacquered doors. Dull as it was, it had long since become habit.

Creak!

The doors swung open. He drew a deep breath of fresh morning air.

Bang!

Thud!

He Wudi went flying spectacularly out through the gate, skipping and tumbling across the martial arts field like a stone skimming water before finally rolling to a stop.

By then, disciples were drifting down from the various peaks one after another for their usual morning exercises. Catching sight of their senior brother suddenly blasting through the air toward them, they all spun around in stunned disbelief.

Tap.

Through the wide-open gate, a middle-aged man strode in with an air of supreme arrogance. His hands were clasped behind his back, the few remaining strands of black hair on his forehead drifting lazily in the breeze. He said with cool indifference, “The Wangu Sect? Nothing special.”

“Alert the Sect Master! Someone’s here to cause trouble!”

Splash.

Inside his chambers, Jun Changxiao had finished washing up. He sat before his mirror, pressing on his modified face mask and patting his cheeks with gentle satisfaction. “Radiant and dewy — quite the dashing young man.”

Li Qingyang’s voice came rushing urgently in his ear: “Sect Master! Someone has barged into the sect uninvited and knocked out Junior Brother He and Junior Brother Gou!”

“What?!”

Jun Changxiao shot to his feet, yanking the face mask off in one motion, revealing a face now twisted with fury.

Who in the world has the gall to come cause trouble at my Wangu Sect?!

Whoosh!

He kicked the door open and launched himself into the air.

Thud!

The moment Jun Changxiao touched down at the main peak, he saw Ding Xingwang crumple in a sorry heap before the grand hall. Ding Xingwang pressed a hand to his chest and tried to rise — then a wave of searing agony crashed through him, and he rolled his eyes back and went limp.

“Tsk.”

The middle-aged man stood squarely in the center of the martial arts field, shaking his head. “Not a single one worth fighting.”

Never mind the sect’s protective formation — he couldn’t be bothered to explain.

“Damn him!”

Jiang Xie, Elder Ge, and the other senior members surged forward in outrage, but Jun Changxiao stopped them with a raised hand. “Stand down.”

The middle-aged martial artist lifted his gaze to the young man hovering above the grand hall and said calmly, “So you’re the Wangu Sect Master — the disciple of Venerable Tonggu?”

“That’s right.”

Jun Changxiao descended gracefully, hands clasped behind his back. “And who are you?”

Several of his sect’s elders and disciples had been knocked senseless. Doggo’s heart was seething with rage, yet the aura rolling off this man was formidable — his strength was likely no less than Liu Sinan’s.

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” the middle-aged man said with a breezy sweep of his few strands of black hair. “What matters is that I didn’t come to the Wangu Sect to cause trouble. I came to find a friend.”

Damn.

He’d injured sect members and still had the nerve to claim he wasn’t here to cause trouble? Could a person really be this shameless?

“A friend?” Jun Changxiao reined in his fury. “Who?”

“Me.”

Liu Sinan came flying in from Dragon Ridge Peak and landed on the martial arts field. His gaze sharpened steadily as he spoke. “Gongsun Hou, you’ve gone too far.”

The middle-aged man flashed a grin. “So the rumors are true after all — you really did join the Wangu Sect.”

“Elder Liu,” Jun Changxiao transmitted privately, “who is this person?”

“A colleague.”

“A Demon Slayer?”

“That’s right.”

“Ah, I see.” Jun Changxiao understood at once. “No wonder he’s this strong.”

Doggo knew nothing of the other two Demon Slayers, but judging from Liu Sinan’s level alone, he could guess they probably weren’t far apart in power.

“He commands the Spirit of Sand and Grit, and his cultivation is no lower than mine.” Liu Sinan’s expression turned grave.

“Spirit of Sand and Grit?”

Jun Changxiao’s face shifted slightly. So that explains the drifting dust and sand around the martial arts field. I thought Gou Fugui just hadn’t finished sweeping.

“And furthermore…” Liu Sinan continued, “he shares the same bloodline as the Sect Master.”

Jun Changxiao blinked in surprise, blurting out before he could stop himself, “This man is from the Stone Idol Clan?”

“That’s right.”

“…”

Jun Changxiao’s expression became a spectacle of shifting emotions.

When they had sparred on Spirit Hidden Island, Liu Sinan had mentioned it in passing — he hadn’t expected to meet one so soon, let alone discover the man was also a Demon Slayer!

Wait, something isn’t right.

If they share the same bloodline, why did he feel absolutely no sense of kinship?

The system replied flatly, “Does the host truly believe himself to be a descendant of the Stone Idol Clan?”

“Uh…”

Only then did Jun Changxiao remember — though he did carry Stone Idol Clan blood, he’d obtained it in a thoroughly muddled fashion and couldn’t be considered legitimate by any stretch. At best, he was an impostor.

Sigh.

Latching onto a noble lineage — why was it always so difficult?

Jun Changxiao had long indulged fantasies of being the son of a Heavenly Emperor, or perhaps the lost heir to a throne that the Stone Idol Clan had been desperately searching for among the common folk. Now that he’d encountered someone of the same bloodline and felt absolutely nothing, it was as though cold, hard reality had delivered a resounding slap across his face.

It stung.

And the dream was well and truly shattered.

For no particular reason, Doggo felt a pang of quiet sadness.

“Kid,” Gongsun Hou said coolly, “you convinced Liu Sinan to join your sect. That takes some ability.”

“It’s nothing much,” Jun Changxiao replied with a cupped-fist salute. “Since you’re a friend of Elder Liu’s, you’re a friend of the Wangu Sect. Please, come into the hall and let us talk.”

“My apologies,” Gongsun Hou said. “I came to cause trouble. Not to visit friends.”

Jun Changxiao was immediately dumbfounded.

Didn’t you just say — clear as day — that you weren’t here to cause trouble, that you came to find a friend? How did that reverse itself in an instant?!

“Sect Master,” Liu Sinan transmitted, “this man has a peculiar temperament. He constantly contradicts himself.”

“…” The corner of Jun Changxiao’s mouth twitched. “Are all Demon Slayers this… distinctive?”

One was hopelessly direction-blind. Another couldn’t keep his own words straight. Heaven only knew what quirk the third one had.

“Liu Sinan,” Gongsun Hou said evenly, “we never determined a winner the last time we crossed hands. Settle it here today.”

“My apologies,” Liu Sinan replied. “I’m not interested.”

Bang!

Gongsun Hou planted one foot forward, cracking the ground beneath it. “Then how about you, Sect Master Jun — care for a bout?”

“…”

Jun Changxiao nearly exploded with curses.

He asks Liu Sinan for a fight, gets turned down, and immediately spins around to target me. His aim shifts a little too fast, doesn’t it?

Whoosh! Whoosh!

At that moment, a peculiar aura erupted from all around Gongsun Hou. Half his face rapidly petrified into stone.

“What the—!”

Jun Changxiao’s eyes went wide.

He understood what it meant — the man had activated his Stone Idol bloodline — but half his face remaining flesh and blood while the other half turned to stone, how was that even possible?

“Sect Master,” Liu Sinan transmitted, “once this man feels the urge to fight, his bloodline awakens. If you don’t give him a satisfying battle, he will simply keep pestering you.”

“In that case,” Jun Changxiao said, “better to oblige than to refuse.”

Whoosh!

He drifted down onto the martial arts field, raised one hand lightly, and felt the blood inside him begin to roil. Stone Idol power surged through him in waves, and his entire face — along with every patch of exposed skin — rapidly turned to stone.

Gongsun Hou was taken aback. “Clansman?”

No — that can’t be right.

I know every member of the clan. Why have I never seen him before?

“Could it be…” Gongsun Hou lunged forward in a single stride, seized Jun Changxiao’s wrist, and shoved his sleeve up. The moment he spotted the Stone Idol mark etched there, he stumbled back several steps, overcome with wild elation. “Young— Young—”

“Ghost Eight Generals!” Doggo bellowed. “Beat him!”

Whoosh! Whoosh!

In an instant, eight ghost generals came streaking in from all directions, planting themselves before Gongsun Hou like a row of door gods — and then proceeded to lay into him the same way they had once tormented the Ten-Thousand-Year Demon King, one kick after another, taking turns.

“…”

The corner of Liu Sinan’s mouth twitched.

The Sect Master had activated his bloodline — Liu Sinan had assumed they were about to witness a proper, head-on battle. Instead, he’d unleashed the Ghost Eight Generals. This move was just a little too devious.