“Senior Brother Tu, there’s movement over there. Should we go take a look?”

A thunderous roar rolled in from a thousand miles away, shaking the very air. Zhuang Qingyun abandoned the tent he was assembling and rushed over to Tu Ruoxu, who was surveying the terrain nearby.

Tu Ruoxu stared at the mushroom cloud blossoming on the horizon. It lingered ominously, refusing to disperse. He frowned, deep in thought, before shaking his head.

“Ignore it. That explosion has Qi Yuan written all over it. To create a spectacle of that magnitude, he must have detonated at least a hundred Sunburst Talismans simultaneously.”

He gestured vaguely at the destruction in the distance. “The power of that strike rivals a peak Soul Formation attack. Add the amplification from the Yang Evil energy in this environment, and his enemy has likely already been reduced to ash. There is no need for us to save him.”

Tu Ruoxu paused, smoothing his robes, his voice regaining its practiced calm.

“And if the enemy Fellow Daoist Qi encountered survived that? Then rushing over would only mean delivering our own corpses to the slaughter. It would be a meaningless waste of time.”

He looked Zhuang Qingyun in the eye, his expression grave. “In short, no matter what happens over there, we must remain composed. We will meet ten thousand changes with stillness and stick to the plan. Do you understand?”

“You’re right.”

Zhuang Qingyun nodded, his face filled with admiration. “Senior Brother Tu is truly thorough. I was too impatient.”

Tu Ruoxu wasn’t finished. He tapped his chin, his eyes narrowing.

“For Fellow Daoist Qi to be forced into his trump cards so quickly… the danger in this cave dwelling exceeds my calculations. The three layers of warning arrays outside our camp are far from sufficient.”

He made a decisive chopping motion. “We need at least ten layers. Only then will we be secure.”

“Yes, Senior Brother Tu!” Zhuang Qingyun agreed instantly.

The two exchanged a knowing smile, filled with the wisdom of survival, and turned back to their task—leisurely setting up tents and layering defensive formations, completely ignoring the apocalypse on the horizon.

Elsewhere.

Someone is here!

Qi Yuan instinctively snapped his gaze toward the source of the voice.

A figure descended slowly from the entrance of the treasure vault. He was draped in a black hooded robe, his frame tall and emaciated. His face was gaunt, the skin clinging to his skull with a sickly, deathly pallor.

But most disturbing were his eyes. They lacked whites entirely—just two pools of sinister, bleeding crimson.

A Demonic Sect cultivator?

Qi Yuan froze, his mind racing.

Wait. The entry restrictions for this dimension are strict. No more than three people, and no one above the Nascent Soul realm. How did this guy get in?

Before Qi Yuan could process the anomaly, a crushing Pressure descended.

It was heavy, tangible, carrying the metallic scent of blood. It slammed into him, wrapping around his limbs like wet cement. Qi Yuan felt the blood in his veins turn sluggish, solidifying under the influence of some bizarre law. He felt as though he had sunk into a boundless quagmire; even twitching a finger required immense effort.

“Wretched ant,” the black-robed figure rasped. His voice dripped with resentment, a deep-seated loathing for every living thing. “You stand before This Seat, yet you do not kneel?”

As the last word fell, the gravity around Qi Yuan doubled. It felt as if an invisible mountain had been dropped onto his shoulders.

Strong. Ridiculously strong.

His heart seized with a cold chill, but Qi Yuan didn’t hesitate. He cycled his magic power to its limit.

Buzz!

The Heaven and Earth Black Yellow Cover erupted with brilliant light. A dome of dazzling, earthy radiance surged upward, groaning under the strain as it barely managed to hold back the terrifying Pressure.

While struggling to stay standing, Qi Yuan’s mind flashed through the memories he had stolen from the Slaughtering Daoist. A realization clicked.

The spatial laws of this pocket dimension were broken and fragile. They physically couldn’t support the descent of a high-tier cultivator from the outside world.

Yet, this “Demonic Sect disciple” clearly possessed power at the Void Refinement realm—at the very least. If he were an outsider, his mere presence would have collapsed the dimension. Since the cave wasn’t imploding, there was only one explanation.

He wasn’t an intruder. He was part of the furniture.

“Oh?”

The black-robed man raised a brow, surprised that Qi Yuan hadn’t been flattened into meat paste. A cold, cruel smile stretched his pale lips.

“No wonder you dared to barge in here alone. You have some tricks. A pity.” His voice dropped an octave, vibrating with killing intent. “Today you encountered This Seat. You are destined to die here.”

He raised his right palm.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

Countless blood-red chains erupted from thin air. They slithered like crimson vipers, weaving a net of death as they shot toward Qi Yuan.

Death was imminent. The pressure was suffocating.

Yet, Qi Yuan didn’t dodge. He didn’t even flinch. He simply stood there, staring at the terrifying entity with a look of utter contempt.

“Laifu,” Qi Yuan said coldly. “It’s you, isn’t it?”

Laifu?!

The two syllables hit the black-robed man harder than any spell.

His ferocious expression shattered. His crimson eyes bulged, nearly popping out of their sockets.

“You… you know me?” he shrieked, his voice cracking.

A violent shudder ran through his body, as if waking from a trance. He frantically waved his hand, recalling the blood chains just inches from Qi Yuan’s face. He hovered there, staring at the young man with a mix of suspicion and bewildered terror.

“Laifu. Of course I know you.”

Qi Yuan smiled faintly, his posture relaxing into casual arrogance. “You are the Blood Spirit clone created by Fellow Daoist Han. You are the steward of this cave dwelling. Am I right?”

Qi Yuan watched the monster’s reaction and let out a massive internal sigh of relief. Got him.

This was the enemy’s home turf. The opponent was a Void Refinement Blood Spirit. In a fair fight, Qi Yuan’s chances of survival were basically zero.

Why fight hard when you can fight smart?

Still, Qi Yuan hadn’t expected the steward to still be alive. Usually, when the main body dies, the Blood Spirit clones perish with them. The odds of survival were astronomical.

This thing had clearly degraded from the Dao Integration realm down to Void Refinement, but it had survived. It had even possessed—Body Seized—some unlucky Demonic Sect cultivator who wandered in previously. Impressive tenacity.

But the name…

Qi Yuan mentally shook his head. Han Lie, you absolute hack. Your naming sense is tragic.

“Laifu” was the kind of name you gave a village dog. It was the “Fido” or “Spot” of the cultivation world. To give a cosmic horror, a former Dao Integration powerhouse, a name like Laifu?

It was a good thing this steward never left the house. If he introduced himself as “Laifu” in the wider cultivation world, he’d be laughed to death before the fight even started.

While Qi Yuan roasted the naming choice internally, the black-robed man was trembling. His pupils constricted to pinpoints.

“You… just who are you? How on earth do you know that?”

Qi Yuan’s lips curled up. He clasped his hands behind his back, exuding the aura of a senior.

“I am a close friend of your master. Naturally, I know who you are.”

“Close friend?”

Laifu’s face darkened instantly. “Hmph! Nonsense!”

“My master perished tens of thousands of years ago,” Laifu snarled, suspicion leaking back into his voice. “You are nothing but a junior, a mere Nascent Soul ant. How could you possibly know my master?”

The killing intent flared again.

“You won’t talk? Fine. This Seat will perform a Soul Search on you right now. We shall see what secrets you are hiding!”

Laifu’s expression twisted into something vicious. He stepped forward, raising his claw.

“Do you recognize this?”

Qi Yuan moved with lightning speed.

He pulled a ghostly azure longsword from his spatial storage, flashed it in front of Laifu’s face for a split second, and immediately stowed it away again.

“This is the token your master gave me,” Qi Yuan declared, his voice booming with righteous authority. “If you dare show me any more disrespect, when your master returns, he will skin you, drain your blood, and melt you into slag!”

Laifu froze.

“The Abyssal Condensation Sword?!”

The black-robed man’s twisted face went rigid. He stared at Qi Yuan, his eyes trembling with shock, fear, and uncertainty. “Master’s personal sword… how is it in your hands?”

Qi Yuan laughed, a sound of supreme confidence.

“Fellow Daoist Han did not die. He was merely grievously injured by the Dao Tribulation and fell into a deep slumber. He only awoke recently.”

Qi Yuan began to pace, weaving his web of lies.

“However, his Dao injuries were too severe. Fellow Daoist Han’s cultivation has regressed to the Foundation Building realm. He intended to return to this cave dwelling to heal in seclusion, but his current body cannot withstand the harsh environment of the chaotic void outside.”

Qi Yuan stopped and pointed a finger at the Blood Spirit.

“Therefore, Fellow Daoist Han entrusted me to enter the cave dwelling and retrieve specific items to help him return to his peak. The Abyssal Condensation Sword is his proof!”

Qi Yuan had browsed Han Lie’s memories via Soul Searching. He knew enough to impersonate Han Lie himself if he wanted to.

But he chose not to.

This Blood Spirit had developed self-awareness. If Laifu learned that his “invincible master” was now a weak Foundation Building cultivator, ambition might override loyalty. The story of the “wicked servant killing the master” was a classic for a reason.

But claiming to be a friend? That changed the dynamic completely.

It told Laifu that his master was alive, had powerful allies, and would eventually return to power. Fear and awe would keep the dog on its leash. Laifu wouldn’t dare act rashly.

After all, Han Lie was once the Slaughtering Daoist. Even starting over from Foundation Building, his rise would be meteoric.

Qi Yuan was openly looting the cave under the banner of “running errands for Han Lie.” Even if Laifu harbored doubts, he wouldn’t dare risk eternal torture by attacking his master’s envoy.

This was a Yang Conspiracy—an open stratagem.