“Senior Sister Fu!” Bai Qingyao’s voice was sharp with panic. She lunged forward, catching Fu Shuang’s sleeve with a white-knuckled grip.

Was she mad?

The man standing before them had just annihilated a horde of demonic souls with a flick of his fingers. He was a monster draped in human skin, a powerhouse whose true depth they couldn’t even fathom. To provoke him now wasn’t just arrogance; it was a death wish.

Fu Shuang, however, remained rigid. Her round face was flushed, her jaw set in a line of pure, stubborn pride. What right does a mere evil cultivator have to threaten me? she thought, her heart pounding against her ribs. She was a daughter of the Tianyao Sect, a pillar of the righteous path. The idea of being extorted by a heretic curdled her blood.

“Junior Sister Bai, let go,” Fu Shuang said, her voice dripping with a forced, self-righteous dignity. “Our Tianyao Sect is a renowned orthodox power. How can we possibly stoop to associating with… such filth? Righteousness and evil are incompatible!”

You utter fool! Bai Qingyao screamed internally. The ‘filth’ is the only reason you’re still breathing!

The other three disciples shifted uncomfortably, their faces pale. “But Senior Sister,” one whispered through a private Qi-transmission, “if not for this Fellow Daoist, we would have been consumed by the demonic mist…”

“Silence!” Fu Shuang’s eyes snapped toward her sisters. “Have you forgotten our Master’s teachings? Evil cultivators are masters of deception. They brew trouble just to play the savior and bewitch the hearts of the unwary!”

She turned her gaze back to Shen Xian, her lip curling in a sneer. In her mind, men like him deserved nothing but to be hacked into a thousand pieces and fed to the crows.

“I agree with Senior Sister Fu,” Yang Tiantian chimed in, her voice hushed but firm. She cast a side-eye at Shen Xian, her greed outweighing her common sense. The thought of handing over two high-tier Spirit Treasures made her skin crawl. “We have shown him mercy by not drawing our blades. That should be payment enough.”

Shen Xian watched the display with a cold, detached amusement. He didn’t offer a rebuttal; he didn’t need to. At his fingertips, the thin, crimson threads of the [Blood Lotus] writhed like hungry vipers, their rhythmic pulsing casting a rhythmic, gory light across the snow.

“It seems,” Shen Xian said, his voice as smooth as silk and twice as dangerous, “that the credibility of the Tianyao Sect is worth less than the dirt beneath my boots.”

“Fellow Daoist, wait!” Bai Qingyao felt a chill sweep down her spine as the killing intent in the air thickened. She turned on Fu Shuang, her eyes burning. “Senior Sister, enough! One cannot live without integrity!”

Her voice shook with suppressed fury. “We gave our word. If you refuse to honor it, then don’t blame me for being impolite!”

Fu Shuang flinched. Though Bai Qingyao was her junior in seniority, she was the leader of this expedition and a Golden Core Perfection cultivator. To defy her further was to risk internal discipline—or worse, being left behind in this frozen hell.

“Fine,” Fu Shuang spat, the word tasting like bile. With a jerky motion, she retrieved a glowing jade bottle from her storage ring and shoved it toward Bai Qingyao. Junior Sister Bai, this comes out of your share of the spoils, she hissed through a transmission.

Bai Qingyao ignored her. She added a second treasure from her own stash—a shimmering, azure-wrapped pearl—and stepped toward Shen Xian. She bowed low, her hands trembling slightly as she offered the treasures.

“Fellow Daoist, please accept our deepest gratitude. Your intervention saved our lives.”

Shen Xian gave a curt nod, his expression unreadable. Had it not been for Bai Qingyao’s quick thinking and the fact that he had gained two potent healing Spirit Treasures with minimal effort, he would have let the crimson threads settle the debt in blood.

As he turned to depart, Bai Qingyao spoke again, her voice carries a note of desperation. “Fellow Daoist, stay your steps.”

Shen Xian paused, looking back over his shoulder. “What else?”

“Are you headed toward the Spirit Herb Garden on the third layer?” she asked, forcing a sincere smile. “We are meant to rendezvous with the rest of our Sect there. This place is treacherous, but we possess a safe route map provided by our Holy Maiden—one that bypasses the corrupted forbidden zones.”

Shen Xian went still. A “safe route” was more than just a convenience. The Mystic Turtle could sense the location of the heavy treasure, but it couldn’t predict the shifting pockets of ancient demonic Qi that could dissolve a cultivator’s soul in seconds. If the Tianyao Sect had a map, it would save him hours of dangerous navigation.

“Go on,” he prompted.

“The third layer is a graveyard for the unwary,” Bai Qingyao added quickly. “There are zones of concentrated miasma that even a Golden Core cultivator cannot withstand. If we travel together, we can ensure mutual survival.”

“Junior Sister! This is Sect property!” Fu Shuang hissed, her nails drawing blood from her palms. To share their secrets with a demon? She would ensure the Holy Maiden heard of this betrayal.

“Senior Sister Fu!” Bai Qingyao’s patience finally snapped. Her Golden Core Perfection aura exploded outward, a crushing weight that forced the other women to their knees. If this fool speaks one more word, I will cripple her myself!

The silence that followed was heavy. Yang Tiantian crawled toward Fu Shuang, tugging her sleeve. “Senior Sister, endure for now,” she whispered. “Wait until we find the others. We can deal with this wretch when we have the strength of the main group behind us.”

Fu Shuang slumped, her eyes burning with a dark, simmering hatred. Damnable man… this is all your fault.

Shen Xian saw the look, but he didn’t care. He looked at Bai Qingyao and let out a soft, mocking laugh. “Traveling together is possible. But for the use of your map… I want one more Spirit Treasure.”

“You!” Fu Shuang’s face turned a violent shade of crimson. “You insatiable beast!”

She reached for the charms hidden in her sleeve, her mind racing with thoughts of her [Profound Ice Needles]. If only she had finished the final refinement, she would have pierced his throat where he stood.

“Senior Sister, watch your tongue!” Bai Qingyao pleaded, but Fu Shuang couldn’t help herself.

“With Fellow Daoist’s ‘grand’ cultivation,” Fu Shuang sneered, emphasizing the word with thick sarcasm, “I find it shocking you still hunger for such trinkets. You have the strength of an expert, yet the soul of a common merchant. Not a bit of the demeanor of a lofty hero, I see.”

Swish—

A streak of crimson light flashed through the air. Yang Tiantian screamed as a lock of her hair drifted to the ground, severed perfectly at the root.

Shen Xian’s eyes were cold. “It seems your tongues are more trouble than your map is worth. Perhaps I should simply take the map from your corpses?”

Fu Shuang froze, her hand flying to her throat. The thread had been inches from her life.

“Fellow Daoist, please! Take this!” Bai Qingyao hurriedly produced a short sword of translucent, frosted jade. “The [Cold Jade Dragon-Slashing Sword]. It is a low-grade Spirit Treasure, but it contains three strikes of Profound Ice Sword Qi.”

Shen Xian caught the blade, flicking the flat of the metal with his nail. Clang. Three streaks of brilliant blue frost erupted, instantly turning a nearby boulder into a jagged pillar of ice.

“Acceptable,” he said, sheathing the blade in his belt. “Lead the way.”

Bai Qingyao exhaled, the tension leaving her shoulders in a rush. Behind her, Fu Shuang and Yang Tiantian followed in sullen silence, their faces twisted into masks of resentment, but neither dared to utter another word.