“Fellow Daoist Feng,” Wan Xiaobei said, her business persona snapping into place. “Since you have no objections, we have a plan. Your cultivation is perfectly below the Golden Core threshold, and your mastery of formations is exactly what we need. As a Ninth Grade Elder, your participation is invaluable.”

She paused, calculating the timeline.

“We depart in three days. The rest of our team is en route to Cloud Firmament City. Once they arrive, we enter the valley together.”

Gu Xiu nodded. “Three days is acceptable.”

Before leaving, Gu Xiu spent several hours reinforcing the protective arrays of the Ten Thousand Treasures Pavilion. He also requisitioned a batch of high-grade materials—perks of his new rank—before returning to the Listening-to-Rain Pavilion.

Three days was tight.

He had to fulfill his contract for the talismans, but more importantly, he intended to push his first Dao Platform to the Great Perfection stage.

He had already gathered the necessary resources. The materials he had just “borrowed” from Wan Xiaobei would ensure the first few platforms were flawless. If time permitted, he even planned to cast the foundation of his second Dao Platform before they left.

As he walked through the bustling streets, a sudden prickle of danger touched his spine.

Gu Xiu didn’t break stride, but his figure blurred as he slipped into a narrow alley. In the blink of an eye, the Three-Body Mask was activated. His aura shifted, blending seamlessly into the background noise of the city.

A powerful sweep of Divine Sense washed over the alley a heartbeat later.

Gu Xiu relaxed his defenses, allowing the probe to wash over him without resistance. Finding nothing suspicious, the Divine Sense retreated as quietly as it had come.

Not far behind him, a female disciple of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land frowned, scanning the crowd.

It was Tang Bizhu, Qin Meran’s direct disciple.

“What’s wrong, Senior Sister?” a junior disciple asked, noticing her pause. “Why did you stop?”

Tang Bizhu shook her head, confusion lingering in her eyes. “Nothing. I thought I saw… a familiar figure.”

“A familiar figure?”

“I must have been mistaken,” Tang Bizhu dismissed the thought. “Let’s go. We need to reach the city gate. We cannot be late to welcome Fourth Martial Uncle.”

The group hurried toward the city outskirts, their anticipation palpable. While they waited, the disciples gossiped with the arrogance typical of a Sacred Land.

“I still don’t understand what happened to Fifth Martial Uncle,” one disciple grumbled. “She’s been unconscious for days. The Four Seas Gang is useless. If they hadn’t been taking decent care of her, I’d suggest we ask the Master to slaughter the lot of them.”

“What do you expect from a local gang?” another scoffed. “Their leader is a spineless worm. Did you see him? Bowing and scraping like a servant. I don’t know how a man with no backbone survives in a city like this.”

“It’s not that they’re weak; it’s that Azure Mystic is too strong,” a third disciple declared proudly. “Anyway, forget them. We’re going to Falling Rain Valley next. The opportunities inside are ours for the taking.”

“I heard another group is coming to join us.”

“More? Isn’t the limit thirty disciples per sect? That would make over a hundred of us.”

“So what?” The disciple sneered. “If not for that ancient treaty, Falling Rain Valley would be the private garden of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land. Letting others in is an act of charity. Who dares to complain?”

“Exactly. In my opinion, we should ignore the ‘Five Sects and Three Clans’ agreement entirely. Beat the others down and take everything. Why share our resources with trash?”

“It’s a pity Little Martial Uncle has already formed his Golden Core,” a younger disciple sighed wistfully. “If he could come, it would be so safe. I wanted to explore the secret realm with him.”

“Don’t worry. I heard Little Martial Uncle’s first stop on his training journey is Falling Rain Valley. He might be outside to guard our backs!”

Their chatter was cut short by a terrifying pressure descending from the heavens.

The disciples looked up to see a massive warship breaking through the clouds, hovering ominously above the city gates. On the prow stood a figure radiating cold, absolute authority.

The disciples instantly fell silent, straightening their robes and bowing deeply.

“Greetings, Fourth Martial Uncle!”

“Greetings, Peak Master!”

The arrival was Shi Siling—Peak Master of the Spirit Beast Peak, the strongest of the second generation, and the strictest disciplinarian in the sect.

Shi Siling stepped off the warship. In a blur of motion, she appeared on the ground before them. With a casual wave, the massive vessel shrank into a tiny jade pendant, which she clipped to her waist.

Her gaze swept over the disciples like a freezing wind.

She paused on one young man. He trembled, sweat beading on his forehead.

“As an Azure Mystic disciple,” Shi Siling said, her voice soft but cutting, “your appearance is a disgrace. Your robes are disheveled. You are slovenly.”

The disciple paled. His robe was merely slightly wrinkled at the hem.

“You will not enter Falling Rain Valley,” she commanded. “Return to the sect and receive punishment.”

Shi Siling walked past him without a second glance. The other disciples immediately fell into step behind her, ignoring their former companion as if he were a leper. The condemned disciple slumped, tears welling in his eyes, but he dared not utter a word of protest.

Shi Siling ignored the drama. She looked up at the walls of Cloud Firmament City, a flicker of doubt in her eyes. She tried to recall the history of this place, but her memory was blank. It was as if the city had no past.

She shook her head, dismissing the thought. She wasn’t here for history.

As she prepared to enter the city, a man stepped forward from the shadows of the gate and bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the dust.

“Four Seas Gang Leader, Yu Sihai, pays respects to Peak Master Shi!”

Shi Siling looked at him with indifference. “Yu Sihai?”

“It is this humble one,” Yu Sihai said, his voice fawning. “I heard Peak Master Shi was arriving and have prepared a grand banquet to cleanse the dust of your journey.”

“Unnecessary,” Shi Siling cut him off. “I am here for my junior sister.”

“Ah, the deep bonds of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land are truly admirable,” Yu Sihai praised, undeterred. “Since Peak Master Shi is eager, I will not waste your time. Please, follow this humble one.”

Yu Sihai led the way to the Four Seas Gang headquarters, acting more like a servant than a leader. He tried constantly to engage Shi Siling in conversation, and when she ignored him, he happily chatted with the disciples.

He accepted their rudeness with a smile. When they ordered him around, he obeyed. Even the pedestrians on the street pointed and laughed at the “servant leader,” but Yu Sihai’s smile never wavered.

Shi Siling watched him with thinly veiled contempt.

She was a proud woman who believed a cultivator should conduct themselves with dignity. A man like Yu Sihai, who had abandoned his pride for survival, was beneath her notice.

Still, she thought, he is the local power. A few scraps from our table might turn this dog into a useful loyalist for the sect.

Her thoughts shifted as they arrived at the room where Qin Meran lay.

Shi Siling examined her unconscious junior sister and frowned deeply.

“Why is she like this?”

“This…” Yu Sihai shook his head, looking distressed. “When our people found Peak Master Qin, she was already in this state. We have investigated, but found no cause.”

Shi Siling placed a hand on Qin Meran’s wrist. Her physical injuries had been healed, but her Divine Soul was locked in a deep slumber. It wasn’t a coma induced by trauma; it was a refusal to wake up.

She was hiding.

“Leave us,” Shi Siling ordered.

“Does Peak Master Shi need anything? The Four Seas Gang has—”

“I said, get out.”

“Yes, yes, of course. This humble one will wait outside.” Yu Sihai bowed repeatedly and backed out of the room, closing the door softly.

Alone, Shi Siling sighed. She looked at the pale face of her junior sister, hesitating for a moment before raising a finger.

She tapped Qin Meran’s forehead.

“Junior Sister,” she whispered. “Since you have trapped yourself in a cocoon of your own making, I will have to cut you free.”

“Let me see what you are dreaming.”

“Dream Severing!”

Shi Siling’s consciousness surged into Qin Meran’s Sea of Consciousness.

It should have been a vast, open ocean. Instead, she found a small, dark island. In the center stood a wooden hut, its door wrapped in heavy iron chains.

Self-Imprisonment of the Heart.

Shi Siling frowned. She didn’t break the chains immediately but walked to the door and listened.

From inside the locked hut, Qin Meran’s voice sobbed.

“I knew… I knew from the start.”

“I have failed the sage books I read. I have failed Gu Xiu. I have failed the sect.”

“I was never a noble scholar. I am a hypocrite. A thorough, rotten hypocrite. I am a sinner. A great sinner!”

“Qin Meran, you deserve to die!”

Shi Siling froze. Was Qin Meran… repenting?

But then, a second voice rang out from the hut—sharp, arrogant, and screeching.

“No! I am not wrong!”

“I have studied the classics since childhood! I understand all principles! I discern all rights and wrongs!”

“I am the strategist of the Azure Mystic Sacred Land! I am the smartest person in the sect!”

“I cannot possibly be wrong!”

“It is Gu Xiu who is wrong! He is the one! It is him!”

Shi Siling stepped back, her expression darkening.

Two voices. One person.

“This is…”

“A Debate of the Heart.”