“Zhao Feng!”

Wang Ba spun around, relief washing over him. A familiar, stern figure was striding through the air, descending like a god.

His face was the same, but the aura radiating from him felt undeniably different.

If the Zhao Feng of the past was a naked blade—sharp, aggressive, and piercing—the man before him now felt different. There was a sense of transcendence about him, a heavy, muted power that felt far more dangerous.

Wang Ba couldn’t quite pinpoint the change, but having the strongest Outer Sect Senior Brother—a cultivator at the 10th Layer of Qi Refining—stand before him brought an immense sense of security.

“Senior Brother!”

Wang Ba hurried to meet him. Lin Yu, looking as if she had just spotted a lifeline in a storm, scrambled over as well.

However, neither Zhao Feng nor Wang Ba spared her a glance. The cold shoulder made Lin Yu’s expression twist into an ugly mix of embarrassment and resentment.

“I was delayed,” Zhao Feng said, his tense expression relaxing slightly as he looked at Wang Ba. “It is good that you are unharmed.”

He casually raised a hand and slashed his sword. A beam of sword Qi tore through the air, obliterating a streak of treasure light attacking from the distance.

Wang Ba didn’t have time for pleasantries. He scanned the chaotic battlefield, his brow furrowed. “Senior Brother, with the situation like this, what should we do?”

Zhao Feng shook his head slightly. “Right now, our influence is negligible. Survival is the priority. The outcome… depends entirely on the Elders.”

“The Elders?” Wang Ba paused, confused. “But aside from Elder Qin, didn’t the Sect Leader take all the other Head Chamber Elders with him?”

Ordinary Elders were only at the Foundation Establishment stage. In a clash of Golden Core titans, they were little more than cannon fodder.

“No,” Lin Yu suddenly interjected, desperate to prove her worth. “There is one Head Chamber Elder who stayed behind. He was injured previously, so he didn’t follow the Sect Leader.”

Zhao Feng’s gaze snapped to her, cold as ice.

“Jing Ling told you?”

Lin Yu flinched under his glare.

“That loose-lipped fool,” Zhao Feng scowled. “How dare he recklessly leak Sect secrets?”

Lin Yu shrank back, her face draining of color. She had hoped to curry favor with the Senior Brother, but instead, she had only managed to provoke his anger.

Seeing Wang Ba’s confused look, Zhao Feng suddenly sensed a shift in the spiritual pressure. He abruptly turned his gaze toward the Sect’s core area.

There, a massive hammer made of solid iron—the size of a small hill—rose silently into the air. With terrifying momentum, it smashed down toward the struggling Heavenly Gate Sect Elder, Jing Kongcheng!

“He Lin, you despicable wretch!” Jing Kongcheng roared.

Qin Heng, hovering in the sky, slashed his sword to cut off Jing Kongcheng’s retreat. He sneered, “What? Your Heavenly Gate Sect launches a sneak attack while our Sect Leader is away, yet you call us despicable?”

Down in Ding-Nine Manor, Wang Ba’s face went pale the moment he heard the name ‘He Lin’.

“Not good! Senior Brother, warn Elder Qin! Elder He Lin is likely one of them!”

Zhao Feng looked at Wang Ba with a flicker of surprise, but he didn’t move. His expression remained eerily calm.

“Don’t worry. Just watch.”

High in the sky, the giant hammer was mid-swing. But just as it seemed about to crush Jing Kongcheng, it defied physics.

It twisted in the air, accelerating with explosive speed, and smashed directly toward Qin Heng’s exposed back!

BOOM!

Thunder tore the sky, yet the explosion was soundless—a paradox of pure force.

The sudden betrayal caused a wave of horrified screams to erupt from the disciples watching below.

“No! He missed!”

“Impossible! A Golden Core True Master doesn’t make mistakes like that! Elder He… his target is Elder Qin!”

“He Lin is a traitor! He’s with the Heavenly Gate Sect!”

“Elder Qin is finished!”

Cultivators were rarely fools. In an instant, the truth was laid bare.

Jing Kongcheng’s rage dissolved into manic laughter. Sweeping away his previous decline, he commanded his bone soldiers to launch a suicidal counterattack, locking Qin Heng in place.

“Hahaha! Qin Heng, your life ends he—”

But then, the unthinkable happened.

Facing He Lin’s lethal backstab and Jing Kongcheng’s frontal assault, Qin Heng’s expression remained as calm as a still lake.

There was no shock in his eyes as he looked at the descending hammer. Only a faint trace of disappointment.

“Junior Brother He,” Qin Heng sighed, his voice amplified by magic. “So you finally jumped out.”

He slashed his sword, knocking back the bone soldiers. Then, with a single hand, he formed a seal.

Just as the hammer was about to liquefy him, a small, ancient bell rose from his chest to hover above his head.

Ding-Ling!

A crisp chime rang out, clear and sweet.

An invisible ripple expanded outward.

The massive iron hammer froze in mid-air as if hitting an invisible wall. The space around it twisted, draining its momentum until it hung there, impotent.

Simultaneously, Jing Kongcheng’s bone soldiers shattered into dust, annihilated by the sonic ripple.

In the void, a figure stumbled out of concealment, his face pale.

It was He Lin, the Head Chamber Elder of the Clean Mountain Department and one of the Eastern Sage Sect’s seven Golden Cores.

He stared at the bell above Qin Heng’s head, horror written all over his face.

“The Spirit-Locking Bell… The Sect Leader gave you the Spirit-Locking Bell!”

“So what if he did?” Qin Heng’s voice was cold iron. “He Lin, you have disappointed me. You have disappointed the Sect Leader. Where did the Eastern Sage Sect ever wrong you?”

He turned his gaze to the enemy Elder. “And you, Jing Kongcheng. Is this the extent of the Heavenly Gate Sect’s tricks?”

Qin Heng didn’t wait for an answer.

He attacked.

One against two. Yet, instead of being suppressed, Qin Heng unleashed a torrent of power that left both traitors gasping for breath. His momentum was overwhelming, a tidal wave of sword intent that dominated the sky.

Below, the morale of the disciples soared. Though outnumbered, they fought back with renewed ferocity, repelling the enemy wave.

Wang Ba stared at the sky, then looked at Zhao Feng in shock.

“The Sect… knew all along?”

Zhao Feng casually flicked his wrist. A streak of sword light decapitated a stealthy Heavenly Gate cultivator hiding nearby.

“The Heavenly Gate Sect is secretive,” Zhao Feng said, nodding slightly. “But our Sect has stood for thousands of years. Did you really think we could be blinded so easily?”

“However,” he added, “I only learned of these plans recently.”

Wang Ba nodded slowly.

He had underestimated the upper management. To hold high positions in a cultivation sect, one had to be cunning. Qin Heng and the others weren’t fools; they had seen the scheme unfolding and simply waited.

Drawing the bow without releasing the arrow.

A heavy stone lifted from Wang Ba’s heart. If the Sect was prepared, the Ascension Society would be purged. He didn’t need to flee into the wilderness. He could stay in the Myriad Beast Department…

Wait.

A cold thought struck him.

“Elder Qian…” Wang Ba stammered. “Could he also be…”

Zhao Feng shook his head. “Elder Qian is loyal. But some of his subordinates are not.”

Wang Ba immediately thought of Deacon Li. And Old Hou.

Deacon Li, like Old Hou, had likely been twisted into one of those half-dead things by the Heavenly Gate Sect.

“Careful!”

Wang Ba suddenly screamed. A distorted, translucent shadow had materialized directly behind Zhao Feng.

Zhao Feng didn’t even turn around.

His expression remained bored, as if he had been waiting for a fly to land. He simply flicked a finger.

Swish!

A blinding line of sword light sliced through the air.

The shadow let out a muffled grunt. The camouflage shattered, revealing a pitch-black, humanoid demon. Before it could even shriek, it dissolved into smoke.

“A Top Grade Yin Ghost!” Lin Yu gasped, covering her mouth.

Wang Ba’s heart skipped a beat.

A Top Grade Yin Ghost? That was equivalent to the Perfection stage of the 10th Layer of Qi Refining!

Senior Brother Zhao… just how strong are you?

Killing an entity of the same rank was easier for him than killing a chicken.

Alpha-Seven, sensing Wang Ba’s awe, turned its head and clucked twice.

“That Spirit Poultry of yours…”

Zhao Feng glanced at the chicken. At first, his gaze was dismissive, but then he paused. His eyes narrowed, scanning the bird again.

Surprise flickered across his face. He had noticed something special about Alpha-Seven.

Then, he looked at Wang Ba. Really looked at him.

“Junior Brother,” Zhao Feng said, his voice tinged with astonishment. “You’ve entered Qi Refining?”

Knowing he couldn’t hide it from a master of this caliber, Wang Ba nodded.

“Good! Good!” Zhao Feng’s stern face broke into a rare smile. “I didn’t misjudge you!”

“Hidden Spirit Roots are difficult to activate,” Zhao Feng said, his tone turning serious and appreciative. “But once awakened, they possess extraordinary potential. Look at Meng Randao. He entered the Sect only thirty years ago, and now, few in the Outer Sect can match him.”

“Do not let He Lin’s performance deceive you,” he continued, pointing at the sky. “He looks weak against Master, but that is only because Master is too strong. In reality, He Lin formed his Golden Core in only a hundred and twenty years. He is the youngest of the Golden Cores, rumored to have the potential to reach the Nascent Soul stage!”

Zhao Feng frowned, confusion clouding his eyes. “Which makes it all the more baffling. Why would a genius like him betray the Sect?”

Beside them, Lin Yu stole a glance at Wang Ba, her eyes wide with shock.

He… he has a Hidden Spirit Root?

She had treated him like dirt. She had ordered him around, mocked him, and dismissed him as a lowly Laborer Disciple. Now, shame burned her cheeks like fire.

Wang Ba ignored her. He was focused on something else Zhao Feng had said.

“Senior Brother… Elder Qin is your Master?”

Zhao Feng looked up at the battling figure of Qin Heng, his eyes filled with reverence.

“Yes. Not long ago, I was fortunate enough to gain his recognition. I am now his personal disciple.”

Wang Ba opened his mouth to offer congratulations, but a sudden pressure slammed into his chest.

He spun around, looking toward the horizon.

Zhao Feng did the same, his face instantly darkening.

Far in the distance, a colossal statue—tall enough to pierce the clouds—was hurtling toward them at terrifying speed.

Before the statue even arrived, a voice rolled over the battlefield like thunder. It was aloof, domineering, and utterly cold.

“Qin Heng. I give you three breaths.”

“Submit to my Sect, or perish.”