Realizing that Lingfeng Temple was merely a satellite stronghold run by a subordinate Hall Master, Qin Lu and Gu Can decided to remain amidst the ruins. They would lay a trap, waiting for the true master to return so they could wipe out the entire cell of Blood Cultivators in one stroke.

During the wait, Gu Can found time to make a quick trip to the imperial capital. He successfully removed the Talisman controlling the Great Lie Emperor.

As Qin Lu had suspected, it was indeed a [Substitute Talisman].

However, the Emperor’s soul had been suppressed for too long. Upon the Talisman’s removal, he collapsed into a deep, unawakening coma. This left the throne vacant, forcing Crown Prince Yu Heng to return to the palace, assume control, and attempt to stabilize the crumbling dynasty.

Meanwhile, Qin Lu, Gu Can, and Bai Lang remained at the desolate temple, waiting for their prey.

Time trickled by slowly. Two days passed in the blink of an eye.

Inside the shattered main hall of Lingfeng Temple.

Gu Can lay sprawled across the severed stone head of a giant Buddha statue, his hands clasped behind his head. He stared at the ceiling, his face a portrait of utter boredom.

“Why haven’t those bloodsuckers shown up yet? I’m dying of boredom here!”

Qin Lu ignored the whining. He was crouching on the floor, his attention consumed by the grotesque patterns etched into the stone.

After a thorough investigation, he had confirmed that the blood-filled grooves formed a functioning formation array. He had discovered several array flags and tools buried nearby; when he removed them, the blood flowing through the channels instantly ceased, drying up into dark scabs, and the eerie Spiritual Qi dissipating into nothingness.

Yet, understanding how it worked was different from understanding what it did.

Qin Lu’s knowledge of formations was rudimentary at best—gleaned from a few introductory texts without any systematic study. He could recognize the components, but the grand design remained a mystery.

Just as Qin Lu was deep in contemplation, heavy footsteps echoed from outside the hall.

Gu Can perked up immediately, peering down from his perch on the Buddha’s head.

It was Bai Lang, returning from a scouting run. He rushed in, his expression grave.

“Senior Qin! Terrible news. Tens of thousands of soldiers have encircled the imperial capital. It looks like a full-scale war is about to break out!”

“Hm?”

Qin Lu looked up, slightly surprised. “Didn’t young Yu Heng seize power? Why hasn’t he ordered a ceasefire?”

Qin Lu knew the context. The Emperor, controlled by the [Substitute Talisman], had inexplicably executed several princes. This madness had enraged the vassal kings of the Great Lie Dynasty. Under the banner of “Slaying the Mad King,” the heirs of the noble houses had raised armies and marched on the capital.

Qin Lu had assumed that once Yu Heng took the throne and revealed the truth, the crisis would resolve. He hadn’t expected the armies to press the attack.

Bai Lang sighed helplessly. “After Yu Heng ascended, he immediately broadcasted the truth—that the late Emperor was controlled and the killings weren’t his will. But unfortunately, that explanation didn’t convince the rebel armies to turn back.”

“I see…”

Qin Lu nodded slowly, piecing it together. “It’s not that they don’t believe him. It’s that they don’t care. They’ve already marched their armies this far. The ‘Mad King’ was just an excuse. Now that they’re at the gates, their ambition has taken over. They want the throne.”

“So, Senior Qin, what do we do?”

“Hah! Simple!”

Gu Can leaped down from the statue, his eyes lighting up with violence. “I’ll go down there and slaughter a few thousand of them. Once the bodies pile up, they’ll learn to retreat in the face of difficulties!”

“Hold it!”

Qin Lu stopped him sharply. “Absolutely not. Do not massacre mortals in a dynastic war. That kind of karma is dangerous.”

“Karma?” Gu Can paused.

“Dynastic transitions involve ‘Dragon Energy’—the destiny of the nation,” Qin Lu explained solemnly. “I’ve read about this. The rise and fall of mortal kingdoms is governed by fate. If a cultivator intervenes with mass slaughter, the backlash from the Dragon Energy can taint your foundation.”

“If you interfere for a righteous cause, it might strengthen your Dao Heart,” Qin Lu continued. “But if you slaughter armies and accumulate evil karma—resentment, death energy, the curses of the dying—it will haunt your cultivation. It can breed inner demons, stall your progress, or even trigger Qi Deviation.”

“Is it that serious?” Gu Can looked skeptical. “They’re just mortals.”

“Have you forgotten Emperor Wulie of the Great Zhou Dynasty?” Qin Lu reminded him. “When a demonic cultivator plotted against him and killed him, the Emperor’s dying resentment was so potent it physically manifested. It was stronger than the killer himself and drove him off. That is the power of Dragon Energy.”

Gu Can waved his hand dismissively, though he looked less eager. “Fine, fine. So what? We just sit here and watch?”

Qin Lu turned back to the blood array on the floor, his eyes narrowing as a theory formed.

“This array… it’s fed by blood. It’s placed here, right now, for a reason. I suspect the Blood Cultivators intend to harvest the death and resentment from this war to power this formation.”

He stood up, his voice decisive. “We cannot let the war happen. Whatever they want to harvest, we must deny them.”

“Xiao Can, go to the front lines. Your goal is to stop the fighting. You may use force to intimidate them, destroy their siege engines, or kill the instigators if necessary—but do not engage in mass slaughter. Force them to stand down.”

“Got it. Just scare them off. Easy!” Gu Can grinned, his spear already appearing in his hand.

With a whoosh, Gu Can and Bai Lang exited the temple, launching themselves into the sky toward the capital.

Qin Lu remained alone in the ruins.

He sat cross-legged in the center of the silent hall, closing his eyes.

“These Blood Cultivators… they really will stop at nothing.”

Having lived in this world for some time, Qin Lu had unknowingly adopted its universal values. He felt no mercy for Demon Beasts, ghosts, or Blood Cultivators.

Blood Cultivators were no different from beasts. They were engines of destruction that parasitized the world, stealing life to fuel their own power. In contrast, orthodox cultivators absorbed the free-flowing Qi of heaven and earth. The two paths were fundamentally incompatible.

It was an unwritten rule: no matter how bitter the feuds between orthodox sects, if Blood Cultivators appeared, everyone would set aside their grievances to exterminate the pests.

It reminded Qin Lu of his previous life on Earth. Nations might bicker and war constantly, but if an alien fleet appeared in the sky, humanity would unite instantly to face the extinction-level threat. A common enemy had a way of erasing petty differences.

Qin Lu sat motionless, his mind drifting, but his senses were razor-sharp.

Though his eyes were closed, the [Heavenly Eye Technique] was fully active, casting an invisible net over the entire mountain range. Every shift in the wind, every fluctuation of Spiritual Qi within miles was fed directly into his consciousness.

He waited.

Suddenly, Qin Lu’s eyes snapped open.

He jerked his head to the right, his gaze piercing through the temple walls.

Multiple high-speed signatures had just entered his detection range. They were approaching fast, carrying a chaotic, bloody aura.

It was the exact same energy signature as the Blood Cultivators they had slaughtered earlier.

“Finally.”

Qin Lu stood up, his expression turning serious as he prepared for battle.