Su Shan cupped her hands toward Li Meng in a formal salute, her face streaked with tears and grime. “Thank you for coming to our aid, Junior Brother!”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and dove toward the forest below, her purple robes fluttering like a broken butterfly. Li Meng narrowed his eyes, watching her desperate descent until she vanished into the canopy.

“It’s… it’s you?”

A voice dripping with venom echoed across the night sky.

High above the ruins of the Sunset Glow Temple, Li Meng turned his gaze back to the black-robed cultivator hovering hundreds of meters away. The man was framed by a massive, roiling cloud of black mist that had taken on a humanoid shape.

Li Meng chuckled, a low, rumbling sound in his chest, and stroked his long white beard.

“I thought that whine sounded familiar. So, it’s my old defeated foe.”

Now that the chaos had settled, the recognition was instant. This was the same Ghost Spirit Sect Foundation Establishment cultivator he had humiliated at the Qian Family Fortress nearly six months ago.

What is he doing this deep in the State of Zhao again? Li Meng mused. Persistent little cockroach.

The black-robed cultivator stared at Li Meng, his eyes bloodshot and trembling with a cocktail of rage and terror.

Ever since crossing paths with this old man, his life had become a parade of misfortunes. First, his wife was slain by this very hand. Then, upon returning to the sect in disgrace, he was punished so severely he nearly lost his cultivation base. He had been exiled to this cursed Sunset Glow Mountain to nurse a Spirit Puppet as penance.

Just as the puppet was on the verge of forming its Ghost Core—his ticket back to power—these Joyous Union Sect pests had arrived. He had been forced to activate the “Nine Nether Spirit Devouring Array” prematurely to silence them. And now, just as victory was within his grasp, his nemesis had returned like a recurring nightmare.

He looked down at the crater where his Spirit Puppet lay destroyed. It was over. The puppet was gone. The mission was failed. The sect’s punishment for this failure would make death look like a mercy.

The cultivator looked up, his face twisted into a mask of pure hate.

“The debt of my wife’s blood is irreconcilable! Today, we settle this karma once and for all!”

He screamed, his hands blurring as he formed a final, desperate seal. “DIE!”

The humanoid black mist roared—a sound like a hurricane tearing through a canyon—and lunged at Li Meng with claws of shadow outstretched.

Simultaneously, the black-robed cultivator exploded into a cloud of smoke and shot in the exact opposite direction, fleeing for his life.

Li Meng blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity.

“You… you just said we were settling karma! How can you run?”

One moment the man was screaming about blood debts and eternal vengeance, and the next he was leaving a smoke trail on the horizon.

Demonic path cultivators, Li Meng thought, shaking his head. Truly treacherous. Not a single word of truth in ten sentences.

“What kind of Joyous Union Sect disciple are you anyway?!” The cultivator’s voice drifted back, thin with distance and frustration. “The debt will be paid another day!”

“Hmph. You think you can leave?”

Li Meng raised a hand, his expression cooling. “Rise.”

From the ruins of the temple below, a streak of gold shot upward. The Golden Geng Spirit Sword, still thrumming with power, answered his call. It ascended like a reverse lightning bolt.

The humanoid mist was ten zhang away from Li Meng when the sword caught it from below. The golden light skewered the shadow, shredding the construct into harmless wisps of vapor in a single heartbeat.

However, three dark objects emerged from the dissipated mist, hurtling toward Li Meng.

Li Meng frowned. With a flick of his sleeve, a golden talisman shot out and slapped onto his back.

Buzz.

A spherical barrier of radiant golden light expanded around him just as the three artifacts began to glow with unstable, violent energy. Spiderweb cracks raced across their surfaces.

“Self-detonation?” Li Meng’s eyes widened.

He kicked off the air, retreating rapidly.

BOOM!

The sky fractured. Three magical artifacts—including the High-Grade Soul Suppressing Bell—detonated in unison.

The shockwave was a physical wall of black energy, a spiritual tide that swallowed the moonlight. Li Meng was engulfed like a leaf in a hurricane. The golden sphere flickered, groaning under the strain, as he was batted out of the sky.

He hit the forest like a meteor.

Trees snapped like matchsticks. A trench of overturned earth and splintered wood carved a hundred-meter scar through the forest floor.

At the end of the trench, a pile of debris shifted. Li Meng climbed out, coughing and dusting off his yellow robes.

“Is blowing up high-grade artifacts a hobby now?” he muttered, sounding more annoyed than hurt.

He rubbed his temples. The Soul Suppressing Bell’s detonation had carried a nasty psychic backlash. If not for the omni-directional protection of his enhanced Golden Shield Talisman, his soul would be ringing like a struck gong right now.

He pulled a small bronze mirror from his sleeve and checked his reflection.

“Good. The hair is still perfect.”

Satisfied, he stowed the mirror and expanded his Divine Sense.

“Junior Sister Hua and Junior Brother Qian are stable. Good. Now, for the others…”

He slapped another talisman onto his back—an Earth Escape Talisman. His body dissolved into a streak of yellow light and sank seamlessly into the soil, vanishing from sight.

In a clearing not far away, the air was heavy with the smell of iron.

“Senior Brother! You… you can’t die!”

Su Shan sat in the dirt, her hands hovering helplessly over Sun Ju’s shattered chest. His ribcage was crushed, and his breath came in wet, shallow rattles. His life force was leaking away like water through a sieve.

Sun Ju managed a weak, blood-stained smile. “Is Junior Sister… worried about me?”

“How can you joke at a time like this?” Su Shan choked out, tears streaming down her face.

Sun Ju’s gaze softened. Su Shan was rare in their sect. Most female disciples viewed men as stepping stones—tools for dual cultivation to be discarded when they outlived their usefulness. Their hearts were cold, their eyes fixed only on the Dao.

But Su Shan… she was crying for him.

“Senior Brother, don’t speak. I’ll help you sit up. Meditate. You can heal.”

Sun Ju shook his head, the motion barely perceptible. “It’s no use, Junior Sister. My meridians are shattered. Just let me look at you. If you are safe… I die without regret.”

Su Shan fell silent, gripping his hand as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

“Senior Sister? How is Senior Brother?”

A calm voice spoke from behind her.

Su Shan jumped, turning to see Li Meng standing there. He had appeared without a sound, his white robes pristine despite the battle.

Sun Ju struggled to focus his glazing eyes on the newcomer. This was the reinforcement?

White hair, a face like a youth… truly a Sage-like bearing, Sun Ju thought dimly. An immortal has come.