The next morning, the sun rose over a broken town.

Soul Rest Town was a shell of its former self, its streets scarred and empty. Under He Tao’s guidance, Han Lie and Xiao Qingge toured the heart of the operation—Mine #1.

It was massive. The tunnels stretched deep into the earth, pulsating with the faint hum of raw spiritual energy. Compared to the mine Han Lie had once defended with Zhuo Hongyi, this was a leviathan.

“Originally, we had over a thousand disciples here,” He Tao explained, his voice echoing in the cavernous main shaft. “Now? Less than six hundred.”

He spoke of the casualties casually, as if tallying lost tools rather than lives. Han Lie understood the logic. In the eyes of the sect, outer disciples were renewable resources. Spirit stones were not.

“Deacon He,” Han Lie asked as they returned to the sunlit surface. “How are the spoils divided?”

He Tao’s smile was polite but firm. “That is sect confidentiality, Brother Han. I hope you understand.”

“Of course.” Han Lie didn’t press. He didn’t need to. He knew the world. The miners got scraps; the managers got a feast. And a man like He Tao, overseeing a vein this rich? His pockets were undoubtedly heavy with illicit gains.

“Go about your business, Deacon,” Han Lie said, waving a hand. “Fairy Qingge and I will take a walk.”

They strolled through the desolate streets of Soul Rest Town. The silence was absolute, broken only by the crunch of their boots on debris.

“Brother,” Xiao Qingge chirped, breaking the quiet. “I know how the stones are split.”

Han Lie glanced at her. “Oh? Enlighten me.”

“I can tell you, but you have to promise not to snitch.” She looked at him with wide, conspiratorial eyes.

“I promise.” Han Lie raised three fingers. “I swear to the Heavenly Dao.”

“No need for oaths!” She quickly covered his hand with her own soft fingers, her touch lingering. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t say anything.”

She leaned in, her voice dropping to a whisper. “The miners? They get one stone for every hundred they dig. The managers get five. But the top brass, like Deacon He? Their base salary is thirty thousand a year.”

“Thirty thousand,” Han Lie mused. “But the real money isn’t in the salary, is it? I assume the actual take is… significantly higher? Add a zero?”

“Hehe.” Xiao Qingge giggled, the sound light and airy. “Brother, your imagination is too limited. Add a zero, then multiply by three.”

Han Lie stopped walking. Three hundred thousand? No… nearly a million spirit stones a year?

For the first time in a long while, Han Lie felt a pang of genuine envy. He risked his life hunting bounties and grinding missions, while a glorified accountant sat on a mountain of wealth.

“Jealous?” Xiao Qingge teased, poking his arm. “Don’t be. It’s blood money. If the mine falls, their heads roll first. Besides,” she beamed, “a talented cultivator like you can earn plenty. Just this mission alone will net you a fortune, right?”

“True enough,” Han Lie admitted.

“How do you know all this?” he asked.

“I’m a direct disciple of the Spirit Treasure Hall,” she said simply. “Money is our language.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Xiao Qingge tugged on his arm again.

“Brother, let’s change the subject. It’s boring.” She looked up at him, her expression shifting from playful to oddly intense. “Do you have someone you like?”

Han Lie blinked. “That’s direct.”

“We’re just chatting!” She pouted. “If you don’t want to say, pretend I didn’t ask.”

Han Lie chuckled, a dry sound. “It’s not a secret. Yes, I have someone.”

Xiao Qingge’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second. “Oh? Who is she? She must be amazing to catch your eye.”

“She is…”

Han Lie paused. His senses flared.

He looked up, his gaze locking onto the horizon. Ten streaks of light were tearing through the sky, heading straight for the town.

“Visitors,” Han Lie murmured.

Xiao Qingge followed his gaze, her brow furrowing. “The Myriad Sword Pavilion? Again? Can’t they give it a rest?”

The group closed the distance rapidly. Within seconds, the lead figure became clear. She was a woman of icy elegance, her white robes fluttering like storm clouds.

Han Lie’s eyes widened slightly. Xiao Yuruo.

It had been years, but she was unmistakable. The aura of the Golden Core Perfection stage radiated from her, cold and sharp as a blade.

Xiao Yuruo spotted him instantly. Her expression, initially fierce, softened into shock, then a flicker of joy—until her gaze drifted down.

She saw Xiao Qingge. Specifically, she saw Xiao Qingge’s hands wrapped intimately around Han Lie’s arm, her body pressed close to his side.

The temperature in the street dropped ten degrees.

Xiao Yuruo’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. The joy vanished, replaced by a vinegary, suffocating pressure that rolled off her in waves.

“Han Lie,” she called out, her voice smooth but carrying a terrifying edge. “It has been a long time. I see you’ve been… busy.”

Han Lie felt a headache forming behind his eyes. He gently disengaged his arm from Xiao Qingge’s grip, but the damage was done.

“Xiao Yuruo,” he greeted, keeping his tone neutral. “I didn’t expect to see you leading a raid.”

The Myriad Sword Pavilion disciples landed behind her, weapons drawn, but Xiao Yuruo didn’t look at them. Her focus was entirely on the petite woman standing next to Han Lie.

“I heard a monster was guarding this mine,” Xiao Yuruo said, her eyes locked on Xiao Qingge. “I came to see if the rumors were true. I didn’t expect to find… distractions.”

Xiao Qingge, sensing the hostility, stepped forward. She didn’t cower. Instead, she tilted her head, her ‘innocent’ smile returning, though it didn’t reach her eyes.

“Distraction?” Xiao Qingge chirped. “I’m Xiao Qingge. And you must be the ‘old friend’ Brother was just telling me about?”

The air between the two women crackled.

Han Lie stepped between them. “This isn’t the place. If you’re here to fight, Yuruo, then draw your sword. If you’re here to talk… we should do it elsewhere.”

Xiao Yuruo stared at him for a long, silent moment. The jealousy in her eyes warred with something deeper—longing, perhaps, or regret.

Finally, she sheathed her sword with a sharp click.

“Talk,” she said coldly. “But I expect answers, Han Lie. About everything.”