The true malice of the third layer revealed itself only after they cleared the Blood Mist Canyon. Even with the Saintess’s map as a guide, Bai Qingyao and her disciples were nearly claimed by the waste several times. They navigated shifting crystalline bridges that buckled over abyssal drops and dodged sudden, violent vortices of [Demonic Qi] that threatened to shred their spiritual seas.

Through it all, Shen Xian remained their silent anchor. Each time a crisis peaked, he moved with a cold, predatory efficiency to resolve it. Bai Qingyao watched him from the corner of her eye, a hollow pit of dread and gratitude in her stomach. Had she allowed Fu Shuang to cast this “evil cultivator” aside, they would be nothing more than frozen corpses by now.

After days of grueling travel, the horizon finally yielded. Rising from the blood-soaked plains was the silhouette of an ancient [Spirit Herb Garden].

Time had not been kind to the sanctuary. Seven massive bronze pillars, each broken and scarred by rust, leaned precariously against the crimson sky. The heavy chains that once bound them trailed into the dirt like the severed nerves of a titan. Shattered remnants of an ancient sword formation lay strewn across the wasteland; white jade array disks, once pristine, were now choked by pulsing, purplish-black demonic veins.

At the entrance stood a bisected stone monument. The top half still glowed with a faint, defiant spiritual light, displaying the gilded characters: [SPIRIT HERB RESTRICTED AREA]. The bottom half, however, was a jagged mess of corroded rock where the words [TRESPASSERS WILL BE EXECUTED] had been eaten away by time and malice.

The most jarring feature was the perimeter—a massive trench over ten zhang wide, carved into the earth by a single, ancient sword strike. Chilling sword intent still whistled within the rift, locked in a perpetual, silent war with the churning demonic mists.

Yet, despite the decay, a thick, intoxicating aroma hung in the air. It was the scent of life—pure, concentrated, and thousands of years old. A [Spirit Herb] of such antiquity would be a treasure capable of making even a Body Integration True Venerate risk their life.

“It’s Senior Sister Jiang!” one of the disciples cried out, her voice cracking with relief.

In the distance, a pale golden barrier sat like an inverted glass chalice upon the red earth. Inside, a dozen women in the flowing silks of the Tianyao Sect stood tall. With their fluttering sleeves and the faint spiritual mist clinging to their forms, they looked like celestial maidens who had descended from the ninth heaven into this hellish landscape.

At their center stood a woman in a wide-sleeved, snow-white gown. A phoenix-head jade hairpin sparkled in her hair, casting prismatic light across her sharp, indifferent features.

Other sects had established similar encampments—Mongolian-style yurts of shimmering light—marking the arrival of the Shenmu Sect, the Fenglei Sect, and the great Everlasting Life Families. Over a hundred cultivators, none weaker than the late Golden Core stage, waited in a tense, predatory silence.

Yang Tiantian didn’t wait. She and the other two survivors sprinted toward the golden barrier, leaving Bai Qingyao alone at Shen Xian’s side.

“Fellow Daoist,” Bai Qingyao said softly, her eyes downcast. “I owe you my life, and the lives of my sisters. Thank you.”

“We had an agreement,” Shen Xian replied, his voice flat. His gaze was already drifting toward the garden, guided by the frantic pulsing of the [Black Tortoise] in his mind. The treasure was here. But the field was crowded.

He noticed the absence of the true elites—his elder brother, Shen Xing, and the other top-tier prodigies were nowhere to be seen. They had likely already breached the interior.

“Then… take care of yourself,” Bai Qingyao whispered. She had considered inviting him to join their ranks, but the memory of Fu Shuang’s death stayed her tongue. A “demonic” practitioner among the righteous elite would be a lightning rod for trouble.

Shen Xian gave a curt nod and stepped toward the garden entrance.

“Halt!”

A cold, imperious command cut through the air.

Jiang Yingyue, the white-clad senior sister, stepped from the golden barrier. Her willow-leaf brows were knit in fury as she led a phalanx of disciples to block Shen Xian’s path. The crushing pressure of a Golden Core Perfection realm erupted from her, heavy as a mountain.

“Vile heretic!” Jiang Yingyue’s voice rang out, sharp as a blade. “You have the audacity to show your face after murdering a disciple of the Tianyao Sect?”

Shen Xian stopped, his expression unchanging.

“Senior Sister, wait!” Bai Qingyao rushed forward, her hands raised in a plea. “There are circumstances you don’t understand. Fu Shuang… she brought it upon herself.”

“Silence!” Jiang Yingyue barked. With a flick of her sleeve, a barrier of golden [Qi] slammed into the ground, physically separating Bai Qingyao from the confrontation. “You would defend this filth? Have you forgotten the rules of our order?”

As the daughter of the Sect Leader, Jiang Yingyue’s authority was absolute in the absence of the Holy Maiden.

Yang Tiantian seized the moment, squeezing out fat, crocodile tears. “Senior Sister Jiang, you must uphold justice! This demon didn’t just kill Senior Sister Fu—he tortured her and stole our Spirit Treasures!”

She conveniently omitted the fact that Shen Xian had spent the last several days keeping them alive. In the eyes of the “righteous,” a demonic cultivator was always the aggressor.

“Today, the Tianyao Sect shall act on behalf of the Heavens,” Jiang Yingyue declared, her killing intent surging.

“Lies!” Bai Qingyao screamed from behind the barrier. “He saved us! Without him, we would have been food for the Blood Mist! Fu Shuang was a traitor who tried to trap us all!” She turned a fierce, burning gaze on Yang Tiantian. “Tell her the truth! Tell her how the insects only attacked the one who carried the bait!”

Yang Tiantian flinched under the glare, stammering, “But… but he’s an evil cultivator! Righteousness and evil cannot coexist!”

The surrounding sects began to murmur. A disciple from the Shenmu Sect let out a mocking laugh. “Look at this. The ‘pure’ Tianyao Sect is having a lovers’ spat over a heretic.”

“Tsk, tsk,” a Fenglei Sect warrior added. “Colluding with the enemy? How scandalous.”

“Junior Sister,” Jiang Yingyue hissed, her face flushed with shame. “Do you wish to humiliate us before the entire cultivation world? Fall back!”

“I will not watch you distort the truth to murder my benefactor!” Bai Qingyao’s voice was resolute.

Jiang Yingyue realized that a public execution might turn into a public embarrassment if she didn’t handle this quickly. She turned back to Shen Xian, her eyes narrowing. “My sect is not ungrateful. If what she says is true, I will offer you a mercy. Hand over the three Spirit Treasures you took, kneel, and shatter your own cultivation base. Do this, and I shall allow you to leave with your life.”

Bai Qingyao went pale. To shatter one’s cultivation here, amidst the corrosive [Demonic Qi], was a death sentence.

“Senior Sister, you can’t—”

“Enough!” Jiang Yingyue’s phoenix hairpin glowed with a blinding, holy light. She stepped toward Shen Xian, her voice booming so that every cultivator present could hear. “Cripple yourself now, heretic. This is the greatest mercy the Tianyao Sect will ever show you!”