After sending word that he was safe, Zhang Xian began to plot his next move.

His cultivation progress remained the highest priority. While his arsenal of tricks was vast—enough to preserve his life in a pinch—he was still far from capable of killing a Nascent Soul expert in a head-on collision. To truly stand his ground, he needed more than just clever gadgets; he needed raw power.

His immediate itinerary presented a choice: head to Penglai Island, or visit the headquarters of the Cloud Raiment Pavilion?

The identity of the mysterious shadow assassin was almost certainly Xuan Zhou, Yun Wanqing’s husband who had been missing for two centuries. The man had fallen into the demonic path, utilizing the [Withered Glory Samsara Restriction] to drain the lifespans of mortals in the Great Liang Kingdom.

Coupled with the “hatred of taking one’s wife,” the enmity between them was absolute. It was a blood feud with no room for negotiation.

However, since Xuan Zhou was hiding his identity, he likely wouldn’t move against Yun Wanqing yet. As long as Zhang Xian didn’t expose the truth and force a confrontation, she remained relatively safe.

Penglai, on the other hand, held a different pull. He hadn’t seen Lele in over two hundred years. He yearned to stand before her and tell her, with his own voice, that he had returned from the grave.

Furthermore, the mysterious Supreme Elder of Penglai seemed to favor him. In the face of looming Nascent Soul threats, both Su Ling and this Supreme Elder were critical pieces on the chessboard.

Zhang Xian made his decision. “To Penglai first.”

Though resolved to leave, Zhang Xian couldn’t simply abandon Yun Wanqing without support. He visited the Cloud Raiment Pavilion’s branch in Yujing City and summoned the manager.

The manager, a man with a sharp nose for news, instantly recognized the wealthy “prospective son-in-law.” His attitude was enthusiastic to the point of obsequiousness.

“Deliver these to Sect Master Yun Wanqing on my behalf,” Zhang Xian said, producing two exquisite jade boxes.

One contained the Earth-Grade ephemeral artifact, the [Void Breaking Shuttle]. The other held his life-saving trump card, the [Nine Nether Tribulation Puppet].

“Yes! At once!” The manager accepted the boxes with both hands, trembling slightly at the responsibility. “This subordinate will personally place them in the Young Miss’s hands!”

Zhang Xian watched the man’s deference and thought of the coming storm. A whim struck him.

He waved his hand again.

Whoosh!

A brilliant flash of spiritual light flooded the hall. Suddenly, the floor was buried under a literal mountain of treasure.

Dozens of high-quality magical items, over a hundred bottles of rare medicinal pills, and stacks of top-grade artifacts cluttered the room. The sheer density of spiritual energy made the air vibrate.

“And these,” Zhang Xian said, gesturing to the pile like it was mere trash. “Demons are running rampant. Everyone needs to sharpen their fangs. Contact Commander Yun Qi later; have him distribute these resources to the guards and the core members.”

The manager’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull.

He stared at the heap. There were Spirit Treasures mixed in there! Actual Spirit Treasures, being handed out to subordinates like cabbages?

The manager felt the urge to kowtow right then and there. This was the behavior of a true tycoon, a whale among minnows. It was no wonder this man dared to ignore the Central Continent’s Baoqing Workshop—he had the capital to back up his arrogance.

“Consider it done, Master Zhang!”

With his conscience cleared regarding Yun Wanqing, Zhang Xian wasted no time.

He utilized the massive teleportation array in Yujing City, paying an exorbitant fee of Spirit Stones without blinking. Space warped around him, and he vanished in a pillar of light.

He re-emerged in Chaozhou, on the southern coast.

The salty sea breeze slapped against his face. Zhang Xian summoned his flying vessel, transforming it into a streak of prismatic light that shot toward the open ocean. His destination: the legendary, mist-shrouded Penglai Immortal Island.

Mid-flight, he crushed a transmission talisman to alert his contact.

“Elder Su, I have departed for Penglai. ETA: two days.”

The reply came almost instantly, a single, imperious word:

“Come.”

Two days later, deep in the Southern Sea.

The flying vessel tore through a layer of clouds. Below lay the boundless azure ocean, stretching to the horizon where sea met sky.

In the distance, the silhouette of an archipelago began to form. The islands were scattered like stars across a board, wreathed in ethereal mist. It looked exactly like the celestial realm described in legends.

“Penglai,” Zhang Xian muttered, his spirits lifting. He pushed more qi into the vessel, accelerating.

However, after flying for the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, the islands didn’t seem to get any closer. They remained tantalizingly fixed on the horizon.

Zhang Xian frowned, slowing his approach. A formation.

It was likely a spatial distortion array—”So Close, Yet Worlds Apart.”

Just as he prepared to message Su Ling again, the swirling mist ahead churned violently. Two figures emerged from the fog, stepping onto the empty air.

They were young disciples of Penglai, a male and a female. They bowed toward Zhang Xian’s vessel, their expressions calm but laced with a newfound respect.

“Is the one before us Master Zhang of the Yunmiao Sect?”

Master Zhang?

Zhang Xian felt a secret thrill ripple through him. In the cultivation world, being addressed as Zhenren—or “Master”—was a title usually reserved for those with the power of a Nascent Soul or exceptional prestige. He had finally climbed high enough to earn it.

He nodded, maintaining a dignified facade. “I am he.”

The male disciple gestured to the side, opening a path. “Master, please follow me.”

Zhang Xian politely stowed his flying vessel and followed them. To his surprise, they did not fly toward the islands in the sky. Instead, they dove straight down toward the ocean surface.

Just as they were about to smash into the waves, the water parted.

It was as if an invisible giant hand had sliced the ocean open. A deep, crystalline tunnel appeared, leading straight down to the seabed.

An underwater Dragon Palace? Zhang Xian marveled inwardly. Show-offs.

He descended through the tunnel. At the bottom, the view exploded into grandeur.

A magnificent complex of palaces constructed from massive coral reefs and luminous white jade lay before him. The structures emitted a soft, bio-luminescent glow that lit up the dark ocean floor. Enormous sea beasts, ancient and silent, swam lazily around the perimeter like living patrols.

The disciples led him to the entrance of the main hall before bowing and retreating.

The hall was vast and empty, save for a single figure standing with his hands clasped behind his back.

He was a young man in a cyan Daoist robe. His features were handsome, his temperament steady as a mountain. His aura was deep, vast, and terrifyingly restrained—a Half-Step Nascent Soul expert.

Zhang Xian narrowed his eyes. This man gave off a strange, powerful sensation, eerily similar to Long Zhi before her recent breakthrough.

Hearing footsteps, the young man turned. A gentle smile touched his lips as he cupped his hands.

“This must be Master Zhang of the Yunmiao Sect. I am Qin Yuan, Deputy Sect Master of the Penglai Immortal Sect.”

Deputy Sect Master?

Zhang Xian’s mind raced. This was a position equal to Wang Ya’s. He hurriedly returned the bow. “Zhang Xian pays his respects to Deputy Sect Master Qin.”

Internally, he was shocked. How had he never heard of such a powerhouse? Along the way, he had sensed numerous Golden Core auras. Penglai was far too low-key; their true strength likely eclipsed what the outside world suspected.

Qin Yuan didn’t waste time with the flowery pleasantries typical of other sects.

“Elder Su has informed us of your arrival,” Qin Yuan said smoothly. “However, she and the others are currently occupied with critical matters. They cannot step away for a few days. If you do not object, I have arranged a quiet residence for you to rest in the meantime.”

Zhang Xian paused. It was a polite dismissal, but a dismissal nonetheless.

Still, facing a Deputy Sect Master who was personally receiving him, he couldn’t exactly complain.

“I will follow the Deputy Sect Master’s arrangement,” Zhang Xian agreed.

A disciple led him to an elegant courtyard perched on an underwater ridge, protected by a transparent barrier. It offered a stunning, panoramic view of the ocean depths.

“Master, please rest here. If you need anything, simply transmit a message.” The disciple left a talisman and withdrew.

Zhang Xian stood in the courtyard. The scenery was breathtaking, yet he felt a sense of displacement.

He tried sending a message to Su Ling, asking for clarification.

The reply came back moments later. It was even shorter than the last one.

“Wait.”