Penglai Immortal Island, the Eastern Coast.

Three women stood atop a jagged reef, silhouetted against the vast expanse. Each possessed a unique allure, their beauty peerless and transcendent. One of them was Su Ling.

At the head of the group stood a woman with hair like drifting snow, yet her face was as delicate and youthful as a maiden’s. She spoke to the figure beside her.

“Lele, this ocean is known as the ‘Boundless Sea.’ What lies within your sight is merely a grain of sand in its vastness. When I first arrived here, I too was shaken by this scenery.”

Her voice carried a weight of endless emotion. “I once flew over these waters for months, seeking their end. Yet, even after exhausting my mind and spirit, I never touched the boundary. I had to return in regret.”

The woman addressed as “Lele” slowly turned. Her features were exquisitely beautiful, possessing a pure innocence untouched by the mortal dust of the world. Hearing the white-haired woman’s words, she replied faintly.

“This sea is about what I imagined.”

Indeed, in her childhood, she would listen to her brother’s stories every night before sleep. In those tales, her spirit roamed freely. The images in his descriptions were vaster than the ocean before her eyes, more dazzling than the stars, and more scorching than the sun.

She pointed toward the horizon where the sky bled into the sea. “Though the blue sea is vast, it must have an end. On the opposite shore, there should be another continent.”

The white-haired woman smiled. “Oh? How do you know?”

“Big Brother told me.”

Lele’s tone was calm, absolute.

The white-haired woman knew exactly who this “Big Brother” was. Her eyes grew complex, and she fell silent.

Withdrawing her gaze from Lele, she turned to Su Ling. “Have you thought this through? That Creation Immortal Pill… are you really just giving it away?”

Su Ling’s expression remained unchanged. “The Master instructed me to tell you: do not waste your efforts on him. Though the Immortal Pill is precious, it is useless to the Master. A single pill might prolong his life by ten years, but the Master has lived long enough. He wishes to rest.”

The white-haired woman fell silent for a long time.

The sea breeze tousled her snowy hair, and a trace of profound loneliness and longing flickered in the depths of her eyes. Looking at Su Ling, it was as if she saw through her to another familiar figure—one who always wore a gentle smile.

“Are you going to leave me too?” she murmured softly.

“The Master instructed me to stay by Miss’s side from now on,” Su Ling replied, her tone as placid as ever.

“True. This new body of yours… its potential and perfection have already surpassed the peak state of his original self. It’s no wonder he was willing to give the Creation Immortal Pill to that brat,” the white-haired woman remarked with a sigh.

A ripple of light passed through Su Ling’s eyes. “Zhang Xian truly has the ability to create miracles. Not only the Master, but even Zhiyin and I have decided to place our bets on him.”

The white-haired woman finally smiled. “If that’s the case, I’m genuinely curious. If fate permits, I really should meet this boy.”

On the other side of the reef, Lele seemed oblivious to their conversation. She continued to gaze obsessively at the horizon, the sea breeze lifting her hair. Amidst the rolling waves, she saw the shimmering reflection of the person she missed most.

The first day of the Demon Sweeping Assembly.

As the morning sun rose, four magnificent white jade arenas stood imposingly in the center of the venue. Their scale far surpassed the Seventy-Two Peaks Martial Arts Tournament of the Yunmiao Sect.

The densely packed spectator stands were already overflowing, with countless gazes converging on the central platforms.

One area offered the best vantage point—the VIP seats.

Xia Xuanyin of the Great Xia Dynasty occupied the seat of honor. On the Yunmiao Sect’s side, True Person Wang Ya and Zhiyin appeared composed. Not far away, the two representatives from the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect exuded profound, abyssal auras.

Zhang Xian soon spotted Yun Wanqing among the VIPs. Seated beside her was a slightly plump middle-aged male cultivator—presumably her father, Yun He.

Clutching the jade token numbered “Left One,” Zhang Xian leaped onto the designated “Jia” platform.

Opposite him, a young monk drifted gracefully onto the stage. His complexion was fair and clean. It was Monk Jian Chan from the Mountain Zen Monastery.

For the opening rounds of the Demon Sweeping Assembly, four arenas operated simultaneously. Many eyes locked onto Zhang Xian’s match, sparking animated discussions.

“Tsk, why is this guy’s aura so weak and floaty? His Golden Core looks unstable. How did someone with this level of cultivation get selected?”

“Pfft, if not for the introduction saying he’s from the Yunmiao Sect, I’d have taken him for some lucky rogue cultivator. It seems even the six major factions have a lot of padding.”

“Yeah, put me in there, I could do better!”

“Look at that monk opposite! With such delicate, tender skin, he looks like a lecherous flower monk at first glance. Definitely not a good person. Hurry up and hammer him!”

“Ahem, calm down, fellow Daoist! He’s a legitimate disciple of the Six Paths Zen Monastery, not the Joyful Zen Monastery.”

On the platform, Zhang Xian was pondering his strategy. He needed a way to win easily while concealing his true trump cards.

Should I bribe him? But how do I slip him the money under everyone’s noses?

Suddenly, Jian Chan pressed his palms together and bowed to Zhang Xian.

“Amitabha. Young Benefactor Zhang, this humble monk greets you. Observing your demeanor is truly captivating. This humble monk has an impertinent request…”

He smiled benignly. “Would the Benefactor be willing to engage in a fair and pure exchange of Daoist techniques? We shall compete solely on our own cultivation bases, without employing any external spiritual treasures or sharp weapons. What do you say?”

Zhang Xian put on an innocent face. “Master, you jest. What spiritual treasures could I possibly have?”

Jian Chan bowed again. “The Benefactor is too modest. This humble monk had the fortune to observe the recorded images of your heroic displays during your sect’s tournament. Not only do you possess numerous personal spiritual treasures, but even the puppets you command shimmer with spiritual light. They are extraordinary.”

Zhang Xian cursed inwardly.

Plan A: Feign Weakness. Status: Failed.

He hadn’t expected their intelligence network to be this thorough.

“Master is perceptive,” Zhang Xian replied with a straight face. “However, in my hometown, we call those ‘Top-Grade Magical Instruments,’ not spiritual treasures.”

Having said that, Zhang Xian gave Jian Chan no further chance to prattle.

He attacked immediately!

Whoosh!

A water puppet materialized beside Zhang Xian, tearing through the air to pounce on the monk. Simultaneously, Zhang Xian formed hand seals. Two illusory tree shadows manifested behind him, firing several sharp cyan lights that arced through the air to cut off Jian Chan’s retreat.

Jian Chan clearly hadn’t anticipated Zhang Xian’s reaction to be so swift and decisive. The assault was instant and ferocious.

Although Jian Chan possessed a sixth-level Golden Core cultivation, he was not adept at defense. Under Zhang Xian’s storm-like offensive, he was instantly left flustered and hard-pressed.

The long sword in the water puppet’s hand was particularly troublesome. Imbued with the power of a Spirit Treasure, it was nearly impossible to block with bare hands.

Just as Jian Chan prepared to activate a wide-area Buddha Light to suppress the puppet, his eyes widened.

He saw Zhang Xian holding a talisman.

Lightning energy surged violently across its surface.

It was an Earth-grade talisman.

“Holy shit!”

The curse slipped out of the monk’s mouth before he could stop it.

You’re using an Earth-grade talisman right off the bat? Are you made of money?!

Jian Chan made a prompt decision.

He allowed the water puppet’s palm to graze his protective Buddha Light. Borrowing the recoil force, he somersaulted backward, flying through the air to land precisely outside the arena boundaries.

“Amitabha! The Benefactor’s skill is superior. This humble monk admits defeat!”

Jian Chan’s voice carried a hint of unwillingness, but his feet were firmly planted on the ground below the stage. The match was over.

Zhang Xian stopped his attack and stood firm, recalling the water puppet into his system space.

He did some quick mental math. Some trump cards were exposed, but fortunately, this monk knows how to read the room. He surrendered fast. My consumption wasn’t too bad.

Jian Chan walked away from the arena with a regretful expression. The exchange had lasted barely ten breaths.

Damn rich people!

He was not convinced!!

In the subsequent matches, the figures Zhang Xian was monitoring all defeated their opponents without suspense: Li Fuxi, Yang Poxiao, Wang Yue, and Long Zhi.

Then there was Hu Yanzhi, the Young Master of Baoqing Workshop.

His match had taken place simultaneously with Zhang Xian’s. Zhang Xian felt he had finished his fight quickly, but Hu Yanzhi was even faster.

When Zhang Xian looked over, he saw Hu Yanzhi’s opponent lying in a pool of blood. The man’s body had been pierced by several bloody holes—a miserable sight.