“Furthermore, on Seventh Martial Uncle’s Spirit Beast Peak, nearly half the beasts were butchered by the array. Many others are critically maimed and require vast quantities of healing pills.”

“And…”

The executive elder stood in the center of the main hall, trembling. His report on the Azure Mystic Sacred Land’s losses came in broken, fearful stammers. With every word he uttered, his heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird.

His terror didn’t stem solely from the oppressive, suffocating aura radiating from Guan Xuelan on the main throne. It was the weight of the numbers. Every sentence he spoke represented a catastrophic hemorrhage of the sect’s resources.

The damage was absolute.

Although the Guardian Sect Array had gone rogue, Guan Xuelan had used her Mahayana Supreme power to forcibly dismantle it almost immediately. Yet, the devastation was total. Disciples were dead. Spirit beasts were carcasses. The Repository was a ruin. The newly planted spirit herbs were ground to dust.

It was as if a spiritual typhoon had ravaged the mountain, leaving nothing but scars in its wake. But this was worse than a natural disaster. This was humiliation.

To be slaughtered by one’s own defensive array, within the safety of one’s own walls? Such a farce had never occurred in the history of the Azure Mystic Sect.

“Enough.”

Guan Xuelan finally spoke, cutting off the elder’s trembling litany. Her voice was cold, devoid of emotion. “Organize the manpower. Focus entirely on restoration.”

“Yes, Sect Master!” The elder bowed deeply, eager to flee. He knew the coming conversation was not for ears as lowly as his.

“One more thing,” Guan Xuelan added just as he reached the threshold. “The sect is now under total lockdown. Entry is permitted; exit is forbidden. As for the matter of the Qingxuan Sword Array… not a whisper is to leave this mountain.”

Her eyes narrowed. “If anyone violates this command… kill them without mercy.”

The final words dripped with such overwhelming killing intent that the elder felt his blood freeze. He nodded frantically and scrambled out of the hall.

The moment he vanished, the facade of composure among the direct disciples shattered.

“Master! What is happening? Why did the array suddenly turn on us?” Lu Qingyao was the first to break, her voice rising in a shrill wail. She looked wretched—robes tattered, hair a bird’s nest of tangles, weeping with the affectation of a wronged princess.

“My spirit beasts! So many of them died! My heart… it hurts so much!”

Lu Qingyao was fully immersed in her own victimhood. Her Spirit Beast Peak had been decimated, and she had nearly been cut down by the rogue array. Had she not possessed life-saving treasures, and had Guan Xuelan not acted swiftly, she would be a corpse.

Guan Xuelan looked down at her seventh disciple, her expression dark as stagnant water. After a heavy silence, she spoke.

“A Mahayana Supreme acted against us from the shadows.”

The air in the hall instantly solidified. Even Lu Qingyao choked on her sobs, freezing in place.

“A Mahayana?”

“Does Master know who?”

“Who would use such underhanded means? What is their goal? Which faction are they from?”

Questions erupted from the disciples. Even Shi Siling, usually the picture of indifference, could not hide the shock on her face. A Mahayana cultivator making a move was an earth-shattering event.

“This Venerable One does not know.” Guan Xuelan pursed her lips, glancing at Jiang Xun, who stood stiffly by her side. “I intended to bestow the Sect Master’s Token upon Jiang Xun today. However… the token was stolen from within my spatial ring.”

What?

The disciples gasped. To steal from the storage ring of a Mahayana Supreme?

“The thief used a secret technique to corrupt the token, forcing it to ‘abandon the sect,'” Guan Xuelan continued, her voice tight with suppressed rage. “Because the token severed its bond, the Guardian Sect Array lost its anchor and went mad, indiscriminately slaughtering our own.”

The disciples stood in a daze. The explanation offered a terrifying clarity. It explained the chaos, but the implications were scalp-numbing.

Someone had bypassed a Mahayana’s senses, stolen the core of the sect’s inheritance, and weaponized their own defenses against them.

“M-Master…” Lu Qingyao swallowed hard, her arrogance replaced by fear. “Are you certain it was a Mahayana?”

“To act under my nose, completely undetected… aside from a Mahayana, who else could possibly achieve this?” Guan Xuelan frowned.

“Then… what does this Supreme want?”

Guan Xuelan remained silent. She had no answer. The pettiness of the act confused her—stealing the token just to cause chaos felt vindictive, yet beneath the dignity of a Supreme.

“This person’s strength is likely not above Master’s,” Shi Siling analyzed, her voice regaining its cool detachment. “Otherwise, they would not need to hide their head and tail like a rat.”

“I agree,” Xu Wanqing added, frowning. “But the motive is strange. Stealing the token is troublesome for us, but we can recast it. The token itself is useless to outsiders. It feels… it feels like they just wanted to disgust us.”

“Disgust us?” Lu Qingyao scoffed, wiping her tears. “Since becoming a Sacred Land, we have been nothing but benevolent. We rarely exterminate entire clans anymore. Why would a Mahayana bear such a grudge?”

She paused, a thought striking her. “Could it be… Gu Xiu?”

The name hung in the air like a curse.

Nian Zhaoxi, who had been standing in the corner like a withered statue, suddenly flinched. Her hollow eyes widened, a flicker of panic darting through her despair.

“Gu Xiu is dead,” Lu Qingyao immediately dismissed her own theory with a sneer. “Perhaps someone thinks we harmed him and seeks revenge? Aside from that insidious villain, I can’t think of anyone who would stoop so low!”

The group frowned. Gu Xiu had been the ‘Azure Mystic Sword Immortal,’ but he had no connections to Mahayana experts. No Supreme would lower themselves to fight for a dead man.

“I believe it is more likely a rival power,” Third Senior Sister Xu Wanqing speculated. “Someone has set their sights on our position. Another Sacred Land, or perhaps an ancient clan. They want to weaken our foundations, humiliate us, and make the world believe Azure Mystic is vulnerable.”

“They want to create chaos to exploit later!”

The mood in the hall darkened. This theory was far more plausible than a ghost from the past. And far more dangerous.

“We have built this reputation over generations. Damn them for daring to covet it!” Lu Qingyao’s fear vanished, replaced by her usual haughty aggression. “Master, should we exterminate a few sects to send a message?”

“Hmm?” Guan Xuelan raised an eyebrow.

“If someone wants the world to think we are weak, we must show them our strength,” Lu Qingyao declared, her eyes gleaming with malice. “We strike hard. We slaughter the chicken to terrorize the monkeys. That will intimidate the petty villains.”

The disciples nodded thoughtfully. Violence was a language everyone understood.

“We need a justification,” Guan Xuelan said slowly. “We are a Sacred Land, not a demonic sect. We cannot slaughter families without cause, or we risk uniting the lower sects against us. We must maintain the moral high ground.”

Lu Qingyao smiled, a cruel, knowing expression. “Then let Little Junior Brother Jiang Xun go out for ‘training.’ Whoever provokes him…”

“We exterminate their entire lineage.”

While the Azure Mystic Sacred Land plotted their self-righteous vengeance, the atmosphere in Cloud Firmament City was equally volatile.

Listening-to-Rain Pavilion. Night.

Gu Xiu sat in his room, ostensibly deep in cultivation. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open. He turned his gaze toward the city center.

Battle.

The spiritual fluctuations were violent and chaotic.

He pushed open his door and stepped into the courtyard. Xiao He came rushing over, looking flustered.

“Immortal Feng! The Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion has been attacked!” she cried out. “The Four Seas Gang has launched a raid. Steward Su sent a messenger specifically to warn you—do not go out tonight!”

“Attacked?” Gu Xiu raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise.

“Yes! The Four Seas Gang has mobilized their entire force. They are fighting right at the Pavilion’s doorstep!”

Gu Xiu’s expression remained calm, though his mind was racing.

The Four Seas Gang attacking the Pavilion was expected. Su Rumei had prepared for this and warned him well in advance. He wasn’t worried about the Pavilion’s survival.

He was thinking about his prey.

If the Four Seas Gang had emptied their nest for a full-scale assault, then the ‘Three Elders’—Daoist Sanquan and his cohorts—would surely be making their move. They wouldn’t be able to sit still.

Xiao He, mistaking his silence for concern, added quickly, “Immortal Feng, please don’t be rash. Steward Su insists you stay safe. The Pavilion has countermeasures. Just focus on your cultivation.”

Gu Xiu nodded, slipping back into his persona of the cautious, timid rogue cultivator. “I understand. I am a man who listens to advice. I won’t add to the chaos.”

He retreated into his room and immediately activated the courtyard’s defensive arrays. He layered restriction upon restriction, sealing the space.

To any outside observer—or prying Divine Sense—it would appear that ‘Feng Bugui’ was sitting cross-legged on his bed, terrified and completely shut off from the world.

Truly turning a deaf ear to the storm outside, focusing solely on the Dao.

However.

While the projection of Feng Bugui remained motionless, a figure clad in absolute black had already materialized outside the courtyard walls.

Gu Xiu moved through the city’s shadows like smoke. He suppressed every ounce of spiritual energy, appearing no different from a mortal, yet his speed was ghostly. He drifted through the blind spots of the city, unseen and unheard.

Before long, he stood before a sprawling estate in the southern district.

This was a forbidden zone for rogue cultivators. The headquarters of the Four Seas Gang.

Gu Xiu didn’t enter the main gate. He swept his gaze over the compound, noting the emptiness left by the gang’s mobilization. He circled to a side entrance, retrieved a specialized talisman, and crushed it.

In the next instant, he melted into the darkness, vanishing without a trace.

Tonight, the moon was obscured, and the wind howled through the empty streets.

It was an auspicious night to repair a Dao Injury.

The mantis was busy stalking the cicada, completely unaware that the oriole was already behind it, waiting to strike.