As the Zuo Three Thousand Minor Assembly drew nearer, preparations at Kunwu became increasingly busy.

The entire Central Domain was gradually reaching a boiling point.

Not only were Central Domain cultivators rushing toward Kunwu, but many cultivators from the Southern and Northern Domains were also quietly entering, preparing to join the excitement.

At this time, by the Western Sea.

On the plaza where the Nine Heavens Tablet stood, a single glance revealed surging crowds with people constantly entering and exiting the teleportation arrays.

A teleportation array near the Nine Heavens Tablet suddenly lit up.

In the previously empty formation, a figure in gold-embroidered black robes appeared.

Qu Zhengfeng looked at the familiar scene before him, his expression unchanged.

He had finally timed it right, managing to return just before the Zuo Three Thousand Minor Assembly.

If he remembered correctly, his unreliable master had even made a bet with Longmen, wagering all his possessions…

This excitement was worth witnessing.

Next, he should go to Kunwu to “truthfully” inform True Person Hengxu about Xie Buchen’s situation.

His gaze swept across the distant Western Sea, the vaguely visible Deng Tiandao, and the Wendao Tablet constantly eroded by seawater…

As well as the nearby Nine Heavens Tablet.

On the Ninth Heaven Tablet, the first name was “Shangren Yinyue” – a name from many years ago. Once a cultivator’s name was hung on the Nine Heavens Tablet, it would only disappear if surpassed or defeated by a cultivator of the same realm. If a cultivator died after being listed, or advanced to a higher realm after being listed, their name would remain on the Nine Heavens Tablet permanently.

Therefore, even though there were names on the Ninth Heaven Tablet, no one knew whether they were currently alive or dead.

Because Qu Zhengfeng also didn’t know if anyone in the entire Nineteen Continents had reached the Ninth Heaven Realm.

His gaze moved downward, and when he saw his own name on the Fourth Heaven Tablet, only one thought arose: after all these years, no one from Kunwu had been able to surpass him.

He smiled inexplicably.

It was a pity he had stayed there too long – it was time to let new people occupy the space above his name.

As for himself…

His gaze returned to the Seventh Heaven Tablet, where Qu Zhengfeng saw the first person on the Fifth Heaven Tablet: Fudao Shanren.

“…”

He had almost forgotten that his master’s cultivation had fallen to the Soul Separation stage, which belonged on the Fifth Heaven.

But to actually be the first person at Soul Separation…

If Qu Zhengfeng remembered correctly, Fudao Shanren was barely at late Soul Separation stage now.

Shaking his head slightly, his eyes dimmed as he looked away.

The Second Heaven Tablet.

At that moment, his pupils contracted slightly. The smile at his lips didn’t diminish, only his eyebrows raised slightly as he whispered: “This worthless life is truly tough…”

Xie Buchen.

Three characters, firmly branded at the top of the tablet.

No one had covered it.

This meant that at this very moment, Xie Buchen was still the first person on the Second Heaven Tablet, and he wasn’t dead yet. Because if he had died, Zhou Chengjiang’s name would have automatically appeared.

“Accidentally fulfilled little junior sister’s wish…”

Qu Zhengfeng swept his sleeve and turned toward another teleportation array, somehow laughing as he did so.

It was probably just a coincidence.

One palm strike couldn’t kill him – next time perhaps it would take two.

And at that time…

He could act without any reservations.

As for whether what he had done would arouse suspicion…

Qu Zhengfeng wasn’t worried.

Qingfeng Nunnery’s hidden realm had experienced another round of upheaval, making it impossible for anyone below Nascent Soul to investigate. By the time Kunwu’s people discovered the truth of his underhanded actions, he would have accomplished most of what he needed to do. Whether they investigated him then would make no difference.

The teleportation array’s light flared and then dimmed.

Qu Zhengfeng’s figure had already disappeared from the plaza.

Not long after his figure vanished, another figure in a blue Daoist robe appeared in a nearby teleportation array.

Kunwu’s Zhao Zhuo.

The moment he appeared, he frowned slightly, seemingly sensing something as he glanced at the teleportation array not far to his left. Had some acquaintance just passed through here?

Why did he suddenly feel a sense of foreboding?

Zhao Zhuo frowned, raising his head to look at the Nine Heavens Tablet.

On the Second Heaven Tablet, Junior Brother Xie’s name was still there – he should still be alive. Then his gaze moved to the Fourth Heaven Tablet, Nascent Soul stage, Qu Zhengfeng.

He was getting tired of seeing this person’s name.

Zhao Zhuo felt that even if he broke through to Nascent Soul first and reached Soul Separation, he might not necessarily be able to surpass Qu Zhengfeng on this Nine Heavens Tablet. Combat strength and cultivation realm were always two different concepts.

Abnormally strong.

Speaking of which…

He suddenly remembered the purpose of his journey and couldn’t help but feel conflicted.

He hoped the situation wouldn’t be the worst, and that Junior Brother Xie could hold on until he arrived.

Leaving the original formation, Zhao Zhuo stepped into the array on his left, and soon his figure also disappeared.

On the Thirteen Immortal Road Islands, there were already very few cultivators.

Now almost everyone was converging toward Kunwu in the Central Domain, with hardly anyone remaining on the sea.

This grand gathering, once past the sea, left no trace.

On the Mortal Isolated Island, in Qingfeng Nunnery’s hidden realm, on the vast desert, scattered rocks had piled into a small mountain.

On the pale white rocks, dried bloodstains could still be vaguely seen.

At the bottom of this chaotic rock mountain, a corner of dark blue sleeve was pressed down, its embroidered patterns carrying a scholarly air, now half-soaked with blood.

A hand pale as death, several originally slender and strong fingers, extended partway from the blood-stained sleeve, with transparent nails trimmed very neatly.

The wind blew, scattering countless yellow sands onto the rocks like the sound of falling rain.

It seemed like rain heard long, long ago.

Under the window, in the bamboo grove, a scholar holding a scroll.

Lamplight swaying.

A simple silver hairpin reached over, lifting the wick buried in the lamp oil, and suddenly the room’s darkness was dispelled, illuminating that shy and timid face.

The sound of rain…

Rain striking his window.

A finger buried under the chaotic rocks suddenly moved slightly.

A stronger gale blew, more wind and sand flew, instantly burying all traces of blood.

Without a trace.