Lanterns illuminated the streets as night fell. The flow of people was like woven silk, shops stood side by side. More peddlers set up stalls by the roadside, loudly soliciting customers.

Lin Fei Yuan’s gaze swept over everything.

Those beggars holding bowls, women carrying children, children eating sweet cakes—all seemed like deliberately disguised, ill-intentioned spies.

Those scissors for cutting cloth, small knives for slicing beef, flying knives for juggling, large hammers for forging iron—all seemed like weapons poised to fly out at any moment.

And inside those horse carriages with hanging curtains, ox carts pulling large barrels, baskets covered with white cloth—it seemed as if assassins with powerful cultivation, specialized in killing Yuan Ying cultivators, were hiding within.

“It’s nothing, just my professional habit of acting up,” Lin Fei Yuan shook his head vigorously.

Huawei City was dazzling, making his mind chaotic as well.

Song Qian Ji pointed out: “If you want to go, then go.”

Lin Fei Yuan looked in the direction he pointed, seeing a sign that read “New Lotus Brocade” at the entrance of a silk shop. “Don’t insult my amateur interests.”

I’m a chief assassin who has never failed in all my years of practice. Can’t you show me a little basic respect?

“Fine, fine.” Song Qian Ji wanted to give him some pocket money to buy fabric. “Everyone else has gone to enjoy themselves.”

He felt his storage pouch—no money.

“It’s precisely because they’ve gone that I won’t go,” Lin Fei Yuan still wandered behind Song Qian Ji.

Meng He Ze and Ji Chen had normal thinking, while he had an assassin’s mindset.

The more peaceful things seemed, the more vigilant he became; the more fearful, the more greedy.

“Did you… bring money?” Song Qian Ji asked.

“What for?”

Seeing his expression, Song Qian Ji knew he had money. He turned to call out to a soup dumpling vendor: “Boss, two baskets.”

“What do you need two baskets for? I’m not eating!” Lin Fei Yuan protested.

People like him always carried their entire fortune with them. In case they suddenly died one day without having spent all their money.

That would be a great loss.

The sunset glow gradually dispersed, and paper lanterns were lit along the roadside.

The stall was small, so the two men sat hunched on low stools.

Lin Fei Yuan took out a handkerchief, meticulously wiping the chopsticks: “Eating meals at set times—are you still a cultivator? These are all bad habits indulged by the Song Academy. Here, take these.”

“Just feeling happy today,” Song Qian Ji accepted the chopsticks.

Zi Ye Wen Shu had agreed to his unreasonable request to keep each other informed of breakthroughs.

In the future, he could control his breakthroughs to occur after the others.

He had also found a way to suppress his cultivation.

When the flowers bloomed on Huawei Mountain, the vitality of heaven and earth infused his spiritual platform, and he once again saw his “wheat field.”

The wheat was growing well, and the field was more vast than before. Among them, several wheat ears showed signs of transforming from virtual to real.

In the future, he would use the abundant spiritual energy in his body to solidify his “domain.”

This bottomless gold-devouring beast could continuously absorb spiritual energy. Song Qian Ji no longer disdained his “wheat field” that he once felt was too embarrassing to show.

With these two measures, even if Xian Jian Chen came, he could somehow muddle through.

Now he could return to Thousand Channels without delaying spring planting.

The soup dumplings arrived, and fragrant steam rose to their faces.

Lin Fei Yuan picked up the largest one.

By the time Song Qian Ji started eating, half the basket was already empty.

On joyous occasions, others would drink and sing, indulge in wine, and get drunk, but he could only eat a few soup dumplings.

Throughout the small food street, vendors mostly sold hot food, warming people’s stomachs in the deep winter month.

Waves of white mist passed through the pale yellow light of lanterns, blurring the faces of diners.

The hot mist flew toward the night sky, like ethereal immortal clouds, like lingering blue smoke.

…

The Hall of No Worries was hidden among the immortal clouds.

Curtains hung down, blue smoke curled upward.

Chen Hong Zhu had taken the medicinal pills, and her complexion had returned to a rosy glow. She lay quietly on the bed, her breathing even, appearing very docile.

“You were better when you were little. Even when throwing tantrums or acting spoiled, it was just minor mischief,” Xu Yun sighed. “Sleep well now.”

He lit soul-calming, dream-returning incense and silently closed the door.

“Let Hong Zhu rest,” he instructed the maids. “No one is allowed to disturb her.”

“Master,” Yuan Qing Shi spoke in a low voice. “Disciple is leaving now.”

His expression was composed, his fists tightly clenched, but his eyes revealed tension and unease.

“The arrow is already on the string; it must be released. Go then.” Xu Yun patted his senior disciple’s shoulder, smiling. “Your master believes you can do well.”

A white crane spread its wings and took flight, carrying Yuan Qing Shi into the night clouds.

A crane’s cry fell, extremely mournful.

After seeing his disciple off, Xu Yun walked toward the back mountain.

No child attendants served him, and no stewards or elders followed.

He entered a hidden chamber alone.

Inside, thick blue smoke filled the air, permeated with the rotting smell of old wood.

No tables, no chairs, no lamp stands, no gauze curtains—at first glance, it was empty.

After nightfall, the various halls of Huawei Sect glittered brilliantly, bright as day, rarely was a room as dim as this one.

Five voices sounded within: “Sect Leader True Person.”

The five peak masters of Huawei Sect had been waiting in the darkness for a long time.

Xu Yun nodded, opening a small window to let in a shaft of moonlight, illuminating the walls—covered with spirit tablets, ghostly light flickering, chilling one’s soul.

From all directions, spirit tablets of varying sizes with different calligraphy densely packed the walls, layer upon layer reaching upward.

Too high to see the top.

This place was the sect’s ancestral hall!

When powerful elders of the sect perished, their spirit tablets were enshrined here, enjoying the smoke and fire offerings of the mortal world that never ceased, immersed in the power of faith from Huawei Sect’s territories.

For ten years, a hundred years, a thousand years, day and night, they silently protected the sect.

This sacred ancestral hall was not opened without significant matters.

In other words, whenever it was opened, there must be a major event.

If Chen Hong Zhu’s betrothal ceremony had proceeded smoothly today, she and her fiancé would have come to pay respects at this ancestral hall too.

Now, the joyous occasion had turned into a disgrace, but the sect leader and peak masters still came.

They lit incense, bowed three times respectfully, and reverently placed it in the incense burner.

Although the plan had been made earlier, when it truly came to the moment of action, someone still hesitated: “Are we taking this step?”

“This is the best opportunity; they would never expect it,” Zhao Tai Ji said coldly. “Kill Song Qian Ji, take back Thousand Channels County. The mines of Thousand Channels—my Zhao family won’t take a single share. All will be offered to the sect!”

“Peak Master Zhao’s righteousness!” At these words, the resolve of the other four peak masters was greatly strengthened.

They all understood that the mines were a minor matter; the sect’s status was the greater concern.

Within the Western Territories, Huawei Sect had once been the dominant power. Many small sects, minor countries, and small clans had no choice but to rely on this great tree, offering treasures and tributes to Huawei Sect, bending their knees to curry favor.

They didn’t truly submit to Huawei Sect and even harbored hidden resentment, but with no other branches to lean on, they bowed their heads for survival.

Thousand Channels was like a sprouting seedling, just showing its tiny tip, with various powers watching intently. Only some rogue cultivators of common birth, utterly destitute, dared to take root there.

At today’s banquet, Song Qian Ji had played one song, single-handedly battling against Celestial Sound Gate’s orchestra, displaying remarkable brilliance.

If Song Qian Ji were allowed to return smoothly to Thousand Channels and back to Song Academy, who knew how many small forces would bring their families to seek refuge there?

After all, the spiritual energy in Thousand Channels County was gradually recovering, and Song Qian Ji didn’t collect taxes.

The upper echelons of Huawei Sect all understood this principle.

Xu Yun said in a deep voice: “Let us begin.”

Everyone cut their palms simultaneously, slapping them onto the offering table, muttering incantations, their voices rising from low to high.

Fresh blood splattered, flowing into tiny streams on the floor tiles.

Cold wind rushed in through the window, dispersing the heavy smoke, with bone-chilling coldness.

Hundreds of spirit tablets trembled slightly, making rustling sounds.

The spacious ancestral hall seemed to become extremely crowded in an instant. Gradually, people began to feel that the air was insufficient, and breathing difficult:

“Sect Leader True Person has it… succeeded?”

Xu Yun shouted: “Manifest!”

The faint moonlight shone obliquely into the chamber, elongating their shadows.

There were clearly six people standing in the ancestral hall, yet on the wall, there was suddenly an additional shadow!

That skeletal black shadow rapidly covered itself with skin, forming facial features.

One peak master trembled violently: “Mas-Master…”

Xu Yun shouted angrily: “The name must not be spoken!”

That peak master immediately became alert and ceased speaking.

Seven shadows, eight shadows, nine shadows… one by one, ethereal figures rose in the blue smoke.

Until the room was packed tight, the sharp screaming sounds grew from weak to strong, almost bursting their eardrums.

Xu Yun looked up to see hundreds of humanoid black shadows wildly dancing in midair. They howled, laughed bizarrely, and collided, causing the four walls to shake violently.

If not for the formation’s protection, the immense spiritual pressure would have blown apart the ancestral hall long ago.

This was Zhao Tai Ji’s first time participating in the ritual. Witnessing such an eerie spectacle, he instinctively felt fear, his legs trembling, yet his eyes brightened with excitement he couldn’t suppress.

This time, even if Song Qian Ji had three heads and six arms, even with heaven-reaching abilities, death would be inevitable!

How profound a sect’s foundation was depended on what feng shui spirit veins it occupied, how many forces it sheltered, how many secret manuals it possessed, how many spirit mines it exploited, how many magical treasures it held, as well as how many Transformation, Great Vehicle, Small Vehicle, and Yuan Ying realm powerful cultivators were stationed within—and how many exceptionally gifted disciples these powerful cultivators had trained, talented enough to rank among the younger generation.

But these were all “open cards,” visible and tangible.

Amid the surging tides of change, who could maintain prosperity indefinitely?

If medium or small sects fell on hard times, they could only place their hopes in the “next generation.”

Large sects had an additional path, just like the Huawei Sect. If this generation couldn’t produce a Transformation realm sage, there was still the previous generation.

If the previous generation also didn’t have one, surely the generation before that did.

Passing down through generations, continuing without end.

When the later generations encountered troubles they couldn’t easily solve, they had their ancestors as a safety net.

The “fail-safes” left by ancestors were a sect’s hidden confidence, foundation, and trump cards.

These included protective sect formations, secret mountain-pressing treasures that couldn’t be easily used, escape routes for instant transfer…

And the ancestors themselves.

Of course, they were no longer truly “people.”

Their physical bodies had dispersed, with just a bit of remnant soul forcibly remaining in the mortal world. Half their consciousness was lost, all grudges of their lifetimes forgotten.

Existing solely to protect the sect.

…

Since Huawei Sect’s establishment, people had gathered, coming and going in streams, gradually forming Huawei City.

This city, backed by the immortal sect, had incense offerings in every household. The power of faith was deeply rooted, one of the sect’s unshakable foundations.

Song Qian Ji was now within this city.

Having eaten soup dumplings, celebrated today’s gains, spent Lin Fei Yuan’s money to pay the bill, he continued strolling through the streets.

The further they walked, the sparser the pedestrians became, and the moonlight gradually dimmed. The deeper the night, the stronger the wind.

The wind blew through the large sleeves of Song Qian Ji’s ceremonial robe. With fewer people on the street, Lin Fei Yuan also relaxed, deciding to buy a needle case to reward himself.

“What would the two young masters like to see?”

The vendor’s cart was full of goods—not just needle cases but also woolen threads, embroidered handkerchiefs, sachets, and other small trinkets.

Lin Fei Yuan bent down to examine the needles closely.

Suddenly, he heard Song Qian Ji ask: “Where are we?”

He didn’t bother to respond, just snorted coldly: “I told you you were drunk. If this isn’t Huawei City, could it be Thousand Channels County?”

“This is neither Thousand Channels County nor Huawei City,” Song Qian Ji said.

Lin Fei Yuan looked up.

He suddenly realized something, and his hair stood on end.

“Where are Little Meng and the others?” Song Qian Ji’s voice remained calm.

“Weren’t they just over there…” Lin Fei Yuan narrowed his eyes.

The path they had come from was hidden in thick night fog, no longer visible.

The bustling market was like a dream, dispersed in an instant.

The vendor seemed not to understand what they were saying and still asked: “Will the young master buy something?”

Dark clouds drifted over, obscuring the moonlight. Crimson lanterns hung at the end of the street, like two ghost fires swaying in the wind.

The night wind poured into the long street, making the entire street seem to flow, like a surging river.

“Ah, they’ve gone all out this time,” Song Qian Ji murmured. “Moving an entire city to kill me. When I want to lie down, they force me to stand up.”

From the night mist at the end of the street, a figure emerged.

Like the rising tide of the sea, densely packed figures walked out.

“Did you bring your sword?” Song Qian Ji asked Lin Fei Yuan.

Lin Fei Yuan’s expression remained unchanged: “You broke it at Thousand Channels Ward.”

…

Meng He Ze, Ji Chen, and the others had returned to their starting point for the sixth time.

Ji Chen held the formation disk, calculating rapidly. However, no matter how hard he tried, the disk only occasionally trembled, showing chaotic and disordered lines.

After walking through one street, they found themselves on the same bustling street.

Going in circles, as if walking on a loop.

It would be a lie to say they weren’t anxious, but their formation remained orderly.

The twenty-four disciples who had come out this time were all experts from the hunting team and elite guards.

By the seventh time, Ji Chen directly put away the formation disk stopped, and shook his head.

Meng He Ze exclaimed in shock: “You’re giving up?”

Ji Chen’s face was somewhat pale: “Brother Meng, first there must be a formation to break a formation.”

“What do you mean?” Meng He Ze frowned.

“This isn’t a formation. It doesn’t distinguish between life gates and death gates, so there’s no way to break it,” Ji Chen said.

One disciple swallowed hard and managed to ask: “If it’s not a formation, then what the hell is it?”

“It’s a real space,” Ji Chen sighed. “We’re no longer in Huawei City. Simply put, someone has taken a projection of Huawei City from a certain period and placed it in this space, making us believe we’re still in Huawei City.

Entering another’s space is like a turtle entering a jar—we’re restricted by its laws…”

A commotion arose among the group.

Meng He Ze spoke loudly for others to hear: “If this space were truly formidable, it could have killed us directly. It’s not omnipotent!”

“Of course,” Ji Chen regained his composure and also spoke loudly. “Although my formation disk has malfunctioned and the talismans given to us by Brother Song can’t be used, our cultivation remains. I deduce that this space’s law restriction is simple—we cannot use magical tools, only rely on ourselves.”

The long street remained unchanged, crowds surged, prosperity and peace prevailed, and laughter rang out.

Somewhere, killing intent was hidden.

Meng He Ze said: “Then prepare to fight.”

The long sword was like ordinary iron, unable to absorb spiritual energy, but he still gripped it tightly.

Hearing him say this, the disciples felt relieved:

“We came up from the outer disciples. Back then, we didn’t have any decent magical tools at our disposal, and we weren’t accustomed to using those things. This law won’t restrict us much.”

“Whatever ghostly place this is, let’s break through it and see.”

Ji Chen asked Meng He Ze: “Are you afraid?”

Meng He Ze: “Afraid of what? I’m full of righteous energy; how could evil spirits approach me?”

Ji Chen: “I don’t have that. Can I borrow some from you?”

“You’re still joking at a time like this?”

“This is exactly when we need jokes!”

Ji Chen actually couldn’t laugh.

He had a habit of appearing optimistic, and the more desperate the situation, the more optimistic he seemed.

He kept talking, enlivening the team’s atmosphere. As if this were just a minor situation, nothing to fear.

He clearly understood that the reason these laws didn’t target them was because they were meant for Song Qian Ji.

Song Qian Ji had Spring Mountain Painting and Seven Perfections Zither with him, equivalent to having two extra lives.

Even if he encountered someone two realms higher who was determined to kill him, disregarding the face of their predecessor, he could still sacrifice his magical tools to preserve his life.

But at this moment, he had nothing.

In Ji Chen’s eyes, it was undoubtedly the worst scenario.