The air grew heavy as Shen Xian and Wei Zhaoli navigated the jagged shadows of the subterranean passage, eventually emerging back into the desolate periphery of the Bronze Blood Hall. Above, the sky remained a bruised, sanguine hue, and a foul wind moaned through the ruins, tugging at the hem of Wei Zhaoli’s silk skirt.

“I should leave you here,” Zhaoli said, coming to a halt. Her voice was steady, but there was an uncharacteristic softness in her gaze. “In my state, I’m merely dragging you down. A burden you don’t need in the depths of this place.”

Her gains from the Blood Hall were immense, but her essence had not yet fully stabilized. To continue into the unknown would be an act of recklessness, a luxury they couldn’t afford.

Shen Xian turned, his expression warm. Three days of dual cultivation had done more than just purge the insidious Gu poison; it had stoked the fires of her cultivation, pushing her to the very precipice of a breakthrough. With her [Third-Stage Puppet] at her side, her safety was all but guaranteed.

“Understood,” Shen Xian replied. “Be careful out there.”

“I will.” Zhaoli nodded, took three steps, and then hesitated. Without turning back, she whispered into the wind, “The God Burial Valley is a place of ancient malice… you must come back alive.”

Before he could respond to the tenderness in her voice, she leaped onto the shoulder of her massive, winged puppet. With a snap of obsidian wings, she became a receding black speck against the horizon.

Shen Xian watched her go, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. After everything we’ve shared, she’s still as shy as a novice disciple.

Shaking off the distraction, he transformed into a streak of azure light, his [Profound Heaven Azure Cloud Robe] snapping like a whip in the gale. Between his brows, the [Li Fire True Seal] began to thrum with a dull, rhythmic heat, pulsing in sync with the chaotic energies of the southeast.

Hours later, the horizon began to ripple. A vast, grayish-dark expanse loomed ahead—the God Burial Valley. Even from ten miles out, the air tasted of copper and ancient dust. The very fabric of space seemed warped, twisted by an invisible weight.

Shen Xian slowed his pace, his Soul Formation-level Divine Sense unfurling like an invisible tide. Suddenly, his brow twitched. Ten miles ahead, hidden within a jagged limestone cave, he caught a familiar, flickering flame of life—weak, desperate, and laden with the scent of old blood.

“Wei Qingshan?” Shen Xian’s eyes narrowed. “Hardy as a weed, that one.”

He remembered the man’s cowardice during the encounter with Ye Qingxian. To think the fool had survived her blade and found his way here. Shen Xian masked his aura, his body becoming a ghostly blur as he glided toward the cave. He had a debt to settle, and a certain bronze compass to investigate.

The cave’s entrance was warded by a thin, shimmering restriction, but to Shen Xian’s heightened senses, it was as flimsy as wet paper. Inside, Wei Qingshan sat atop a [Green Jade Formation Plate], his face a mask of agony. Three jagged, cauterized holes in his chest—souvenirs of Ye Qingxian’s sword—pulsed with a sickly light. Despite his state, his fingers were locked in a complex, rhythmic mudra, one that mirrored the runes of the bronze compass.

“Senior Brother Wei,” Shen Xian’s voice echoed off the damp walls. “Still clinging to life, I see.”

Wei Qingshan’s eyes snapped open, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks. “Shen Xian!”

He scrambled to rise, three purple-rimmed calculation beads sliding from his sleeve to hover defensively. “What… what do you want?”

Shen Xian chuckled, producing the bronze compass. It rotated slowly above his palm, casting erratic shadows. “I’ve come to ask for a tutorial. This ‘treasure’ of yours is quite temperamental.”

Greed and malice warred on Wei Qingshan’s face. “The Heavenly Secret Plate! So it was you. You think a common thief is worthy of the Divine Mechanism Sect’s greatest legacy?” He coughed violently, spitting a glob of dark blood. “You are nothing!”

“Worthy or not, let’s see how it fares against its master.”

Shen Xian moved. The [Wuchen Sword] sang as it divided into five illusory shadows, a blizzard of cold steel that boxed Wei Qingshan into the cave wall.

Though crippled, Wei Qingshan was still a Half-Step Nascent Soul cultivator. He smashed the jade pendant at his hip, releasing nine streaks of azure light that wove into a shimmering star chart above him.

“Nine Luminaries Heavenly Secret Formation!” he screamed.

It was the same killing move he had used against Ye Qingxian, but without the compass to anchor the resonance, the formation was brittle. Shen Xian didn’t even slow down. His [Nine-Aperture Exquisite Needles] shot forward, seeking out the formation’s nodes with surgical precision.

CRACK!

The star chart shattered. Wei Qingshan collapsed, blood leaking from his mouth. “You… you monster…” He hissed, suddenly tearing his robe open to reveal a weeping, blood-red talisman etched directly into his skin. “By my essence, I summon the Ancestor!”

The talisman exploded in a crimson mist. A towering, blurry phantom rose from the crown of his head, its eyes like twin lightning bolts. “Who dares strike a disciple of the Divine Mechanism?”

Shen Xian remained silent. He summoned the [Sky-Burning Cauldron], the massive vessel hovering like a miniature sun. A deluge of white-hot [Li Fire True Flame] poured from its mouth, the heat so intense the cave walls began to vitrify.

“Li Fire True Flame?!” The phantom’s voice shook. “Are you a successor of the Old Monster?”

Shen Xian ignored the query. He bit his tongue, spraying a mist of essence blood onto the cauldron. “Burn the Heavens, Boil the Seas!”

Nine fire dragons erupted from the cauldron’s carvings, their roars shaking the mountain. They swarmed the phantom, their white heat melting its azure light like wax. With a final, piercing shriek, the Ancestor’s shadow evaporated into nothingness.

“No!” Wei Qingshan turned to flee, but Shen Xian’s sword was faster.

Pfft.

The blade took him through the back, the tip emerging from his sternum in a spray of gore. As Wei Qingshan staggered, Shen Xian stepped forward, his palm erupting in a dark blood-lotus.

“Devour Soul, Seize Spirit!”

Crimson threads lanced into Wei Qingshan’s skull. His body arched, eyes rolling back as his memories were forcibly unspooled.

Shen Xian closed his eyes, absorbing the flood of information. “I see…”

The bronze compass found by the Profound Turtle was merely the anchor; Wei Qingshan’s [Heavenly Secret Spirit-Locking Plate] was the lens. Together, they formed the complete [Heavenly Secret Plate], a tool capable of deducing the very threads of fate and plundering the providence of others.

Merging them required the skills of a master smith, a feat impossible for most. But Shen Xian smiled. He had just inherited a Soul Formation-level smithing legacy.

With a flick of his finger, a spark of True Flame reduced Wei Qingshan’s remains to ash. Shen Xian stepped out of the cave, his gaze fixed on the distorted horizon of the valley. It was time to see what else the Gods had buried.