Su Rumei froze, staring at the old man who had just strolled out of Gu Xiu’s courtyard. He looked vaguely familiar, yet her memory insisted he was a stranger. However, the spiritual arrays of Cloud Firmament City hummed in resonance with his every breath.

Instinct overrode confusion. Su Rumei immediately bowed low. “Su Rumei of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion greets the City Lord!”

This was no stranger. This was the master of Cloud Firmament City, Sang Shoudao.

Last night, Sang Shoudao had severed his soul five times, erasing his existence from the collective memory of the world. By all rights, he should have dissipated into nothingness. Yet, here he stood.

“Little girl, no need for such formalities,” Sang Shoudao chuckled, his voice light. “This old man is just a leisurely city lord. We don’t need so many rules.”

As the words left his lips, a strange force took hold. Su Rumei, still bent in a bow, found herself forcibly straightened upright. She hadn’t moved a muscle voluntarily.

She stared at him, terror flooding her heart.

Was this Utterance Followed by Law? No, there was no domain expansion, no surge of spiritual energy, no manipulation of worldly laws. This was pure Soul Power.

This was the ability of one who had attained the Dao through the Soul.

Soul Power was the most terrifying of forces. A sufficiently strong soul could search memories, seize bodies, or invade the mind of another during a moment of weakness. Legends spoke of Ghost Emperors who could alter a person’s physical actions and even their consciousness with a mere whisper.

This reclusive City Lord had controlled her body with a single casual sentence. If he ordered her to slit her own throat, would she do it with a smile?

“Don’t worry, little girl,” Sang Shoudao said, his tone amused. “This old man isn’t that bored.”

The terror in Su Rumei’s heart vanished as quickly as it had arrived, soothed by his voice.

Sang Shoudao shook his head helplessly and turned back to wave at Gu Xiu. “I need to go back and properly digest this heaven-defying opportunity. If I stay out, my careless words might cause a catastrophe.”

“I’m off!”

The old man turned and walked away. With every step, wisps of purple mist and auspicious clouds bloomed beneath his feet, only to dissipate a moment later. It was a sight that made Su Rumei tremble.

She did not know the truth of the previous night.

Sang Shoudao’s suicide ritual had succeeded; the world had abandoned him. But Heaven had taken pity. His ritual had coincided with Gu Xiu’s soul reconstruction, triggering a celestial phenomenon so rare it was considered a myth.

Soul Returning to the Violet Palace.

It was the most mysterious and domineering phenomenon in the path of the soul. It arrived silently and left without a trace, like the wind. Yet, for any Yin Soul or Ghost Cultivator, it was the ultimate prize.

It offered the chance to attain the Dao in a single day.

The phenomenon used the body as a mansion and Qi as a guide, creating a funnel that devoured the fragmented souls of heaven and earth. Last night, that vortex had swallowed every wandering spirit in the city, including Guan Xuelan’s severed “Waste Soul” and the self-mutilated soul of Sang Shoudao.

The vortex itself was the unformed “Violet Palace.” The soul that could conquer all others inside that cage would become the master.

It had been perilous. Guan Xuelan’s Waste Soul—that Ghost Venerable—had tried to seize the opportunity to revive.

But Gu Xiu was there.

Although Gu Xiu’s cultivation was too low to establish the Violet Palace for himself, he had three distinct advantages: the Earth Cloud Sprout, the Golden Feather Soul Pill, and the backlash feedback from the Character ‘Mi’ Rune. For a brief moment, his soul was the strongest anchor in the world.

He had chosen to protect Sang Shoudao.

Using his own soul as a shield, Gu Xiu had guarded the old man’s fading consciousness, helping him re-gather his scattered essence. Then, he had fed the other trapped souls to him.

Guan Xuelan’s Ghost Venerable had been powerless. She could only watch in horror as the old man devoured her, turning her power into his own nourishment.

Sang Shoudao had lost his past, but he had gained a future.

The world had forgotten the old Sang Shoudao, but the new Sang Shoudao had been reborn within the Violet Palace. He had attained the Dao in a single step.

If his physical body weren’t limited to the Void Refining realm, he could have opened the Heavenly Gate and ascended to Immortality right then and there. Even so, while his body was mortal, his soul was now comparable to a true Immortal.

This was what it meant to have Providence that defied the heavens.

Gu Xiu watched the old man’s retreating figure with a faint smile. A purple vortex, wild and untamed, flashed briefly in his eyes.

Sang Shoudao had gained a heaven-defying opportunity. But Gu Xiu? His harvest was earth-shattering.

If the prize of the phenomenon was to become the Violet Palace for a moment, Gu Xiu had managed to keep the Violet Palace itself.

Deep within him, upon his previously empty Indestructible Dao Platform, a magnificent mansion radiating purple light now sat in silence.

He was currently too weak to open his Sea of Consciousness or wield the full power of the Violet Palace. But the foundation was laid.

Sang Shoudao was the present. Gu Xiu was the future.

One day, when his cultivation caught up, this Violet Palace would grant him power that would make the heavens tremble.

“Manager Su,” Gu Xiu spoke, breaking the silence. “May I ask the purpose of your visit today?”

Su Rumei snapped out of her daze. “Ah! Yes. We came today to invite Fellow Daoist Feng to become an Elder of our Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion!”

“An Elder?” Gu Xiu wasn’t surprised. His gaze drifted to the woman standing beside her—Wan Xiaobei.

In his dream of ten thousand years, he had seen her. He knew exactly who she was.

“Yes,” Su Rumei nodded eagerly. “We wish to invite Fellow Daoist Feng to become an Eighth Grade El—”

“Not Eighth Grade.”

Wan Xiaobei shook her head, cutting her subordinate off. She stepped forward and curtsied elegantly toward Gu Xiu.

“This humble one is Wan Xiaobei,” she said, her voice clear and respectful. “I have come to invite Fellow Daoist Feng to serve as our highest-ranking dignitary. A Ninth Grade Elder.”

What?

Su Rumei’s jaw dropped.

The Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion had a strict hierarchy. First Grade was the lowest; Ninth Grade was the peak. She had fought hard internally just to get approval for an Eighth Grade offer, given “Feng Bugui’s” low cultivation.

She never expected the Pavilion Master to change the terms the moment they met. To jump directly to Ninth Grade was unheard of.

Even Gu Xiu raised an eyebrow.

“Fellow Daoist Feng,” Wan Xiaobei continued, ignoring her subordinate’s shock. “As a Ninth Grade Elder, you will enjoy every privilege we can offer. Whatever you need, whatever you desire—if the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion can do it, we will move mountains to make it happen.”

She spoke with absolute solemnity. She was not addressing a Foundation Establishment junior; she was treating him like a peerless grandmaster.

Gu Xiu looked at her deeply. He appreciated her decisiveness.

“I am honored by Pavilion Master Wan’s regard,” Gu Xiu said after a pause. “I, Feng, am willing to accept the position of Ninth Grade Elder.”

He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. “However, one should not receive rewards without merit. I imagine Pavilion Master Wan seeking out a mere Foundation Establishment cultivator like me must have a specific purpose?”

Wan Xiaobei’s eyelids twitched. Does he know?

But she was the Pavilion Master for a reason. She did not waste time with probing questions.

“You are correct,” she admitted openly. “The Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion does indeed have a matter requiring Fellow Daoist Feng’s assistance.”

While Gu Xiu entered the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion to receive the robes of a Ninth Grade Elder, a storm was brewing elsewhere.

Deep within the stronghold of the Four Seas Gang.

A powerful cultivator, recently emerged from a long seclusion, stood in the center of the sect’s treasury. His face was a mask of dark, twisting fury.

He looked at the empty pedestal where the Earth Cloud Sprout should have been. He looked at the row of shattered soul lamps representing his dead disciples.

His killing intent flooded the chamber, cold and suffocating.

“Qingxuan…” he hissed through gritted teeth. “You have gone too far!”