“Your Majesty?”

Qin Lu paused, scanning the perimeter. He hadn’t expected a reigning Emperor to be residing in such a secluded mountain villa. It certainly explained the heavy military presence.

But why would a monarch leave the safety of the Imperial Palace for this wilderness?

Surrounded by a sea of black-armored soldiers, Qin Lu remained silent. Steward Chen took a step forward, cupping his hands and projecting his voice with practiced authority.

“General! My Lord is an Immortal Master passing through this realm. We request that you immediately prepare guest quarters for these Masters to rest. Once we depart, you shall be heavily rewarded!”

Steward Chen’s declaration sent a ripple of unease through the ranks. The soldiers had all witnessed the massive Spirit Boat descend from the clouds. Now, hearing the title “Immortal Master,” panic began to fracture their discipline.

In this world, offending an immortal meant bringing calamity upon one’s entire bloodline.

However, the iron discipline of the army held. Though their hands trembled, they did not retreat. Grips tightened on spears, and bowstrings remained drawn to the limit.

“Immortals?” The middle-aged general sneered, his eyes burning with skepticism. “You think such parlor tricks can deceive me?! You heretics and cultists turned the capital into a cesspool, and now you dare follow His Majesty here!”

Steward Chen waved his hands frantically. “We have no connection to your capital! We are merely travelers passing by—”

“Silence, you heretics! Seize them!” The general cut him off, slashing his hand downward in a violent command.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Dozens of arrows screamed from their strings, raining down on Qin Lu’s party of twenty.

The cultivators frowned. They hadn’t expected a mortal general to be so volatile, initiating violence without a second thought.

But against cultivators, mundane weaponry was a joke. The group didn’t even draw their weapons. Some merely side-stepped with bored expressions; others lazily reached out and snatched the arrows from the air.

“Hmph!”

Lu Anchen snorted. With a blur of motion, he charged the formation, intending to teach this ignorant mortal the difference between heaven and earth.

“Come then!”

The general did not cower. He roared, stepping forward to meet the charge, his heavy broadsword cleaving down toward Lu Anchen’s skull with enough force to split a boulder.

Lu Anchen narrowed his eyes. He didn’t dodge. He didn’t block. He simply dropped his hands to his sides and let the blade fall.

CLANG!

The sound was not of steel cutting flesh, but of metal striking an indestructible bell.

The battlefield fell into a deathly silence. Every soldier froze, staring in disbelief.

Lu Anchen stood immovable as a mountain. The general’s broadsword had snapped clean in half upon impact. The heavy strike, backed by decades of martial training, had left nothing but a faint white mark on Lu Anchen’s forehead.

Upon reaching the late stage of Qi Refining, a cultivator’s skin became tough as copper and hard as iron. Mortal steel was no more dangerous than a dry twig.

The general stared at the broken hilt in his hand, his worldview shattering. In decades of warfare, he had never witnessed such a monstrosity. It was unheard of in the entire nation.

“Insolent.”

Lu Anchen reached out and snatched the broken blade fragment from the general’s grip.

“Go arrange the rooms. Now.”

With a casual squeeze of his palms, Lu Anchen crumpled the fine steel into a ball of scrap metal, kneading it as easily as dough.

“This… this…” The general’s face drained of color. He stumbled backward, terror overtaking his rage.

As if waking from a nightmare, he hurriedly bowed, his voice trembling. “Yes! At once, Immortal Master!”

The surrounding soldiers, witnessing the feat, lowered their weapons in abject fear. At the general’s frantic shouting, they scattered like a receding tide to carry out the orders.

Peace returned to the villa courtyard.

“It seems this little kingdom doesn’t possess a single cultivator,” Gu Yue chuckled softly, leaning toward Qin Lu.

Qin Lu nodded. If a high-ranking general reacted with such shock, this land was truly a spiritual wasteland. However, after today, legends of immortals would surely spread through the countryside.

Once their power was demonstrated, the mortals became terrifyingly efficient. In less than an incense stick’s worth of time, guest quarters were prepared.

Qin Lu directed Steward Chen to take the servants and their own supplies—Spirit Rice and demon beast meat—to the villa’s kitchens to prepare dinner. They wouldn’t eat the mortal food.

In a quiet pavilion within the villa’s garden.

Qin Lu sat by the edge of a pond, watching koi drift through the water. He raised his Wine Gourd, taking a long, satisfying pull of Spirit Wine. The tension of the journey melted away.

Beside him sat Cao Yunxi and Lu Xian. The three middle-aged men were enjoying a moment of brotherhood before the evening meal.

“Another three days of flight, and we should reach the White Jade Market,” Lu Xian estimated with a smile.

“That is quite fast,” Qin Lu mused. “Though, if we flew through the night, we could arrive even sooner.”

“True,” Cao Yunxi agreed. He looked up at the twilight sky, his expression turning thoughtful. “It has been five days since we left Wuji Market. I wonder… what has become of it.”

Lu Xian swirled his cup. “They say Zhu Lian has a mild temperament. He likely wouldn’t commit a massacre. It is beneath a Foundation Establishment senior to slaughter low-level cultivators without cause.”

“That is the best-case scenario,” Qin Lu added. “I only worry that Li Qingdu might try to fight to the death, forcing the market’s cultivators to man the Grand Formation. If that happens, it will be a bloodbath.”

“Rest assured. There will be no war at Wuji Market.”

A clear, delicate voice interrupted them.

White robes fluttered as a figure descended from the sky, landing gracefully beside Qin Lu. It was Gu Yue.

“Greetings, Senior!”

Lu Xian and Cao Yunxi scrambled to their feet, bowing deeply with hands cupped.

In the cultivation world, strength dictated status. Regardless of age, a Foundation Establishment cultivator was a Senior to anyone in Qi Refining. Etiquette was survival.

Qin Lu remained seated, the only exception to the rule, a privilege earned through their shared history.

“Why would the market be fine?” Qin Lu asked, genuinely puzzled.

Gu Yue smiled radiantly, taking a seat on a stone bench. “Because Li Qingdu isn’t there. And if the Market Master is gone, Zhu Lian has no reason to vent his anger on the residents.”

“Huh?” Qin Lu blinked. “Li Qingdu isn’t there? How do you know?”

“Because I told him to run.”

“Ah? When did you do that?” Qin Lu looked dumbfounded.

“Right before we left,” Gu Yue said casually. “I left a letter with a servant, instructing them to deliver it to Li Qingdu two days after our departure. I warned him of Zhu Lian’s impending arrival. Once he reads that, he will flee to save his own skin.”

The three men exchanged glances. None of them had expected such a maneuver.

Qin Lu was silent for a moment before sighing helplessly. “You were actually quite kind to him.”

“It was nothing,” Gu Yue said lightly. “Market Master Li is a decent man. It would be a pity for him to die meaninglessly.”

Lu Xian leaned forward, a frown of worry on his face. “Senior, will this implicate us? Technically, we deserted the market. What if Li Qingdu survives and comes looking for trouble later?”

Gu Yue waved her hand dismissively. “Relax. He won’t dare.”

Qin Lu opened his mouth to ask more, but he spotted Steward Chen hurrying toward the pavilion.

“Immortal Masters!” Chen bowed low. “The evening meal is prepared.”

Qin Lu stood up, dusting off his robes. “Well then. Let us eat.”