“The Spirit Ruins Sword Sect’s secret realm is completely isolated from the outside world. Communication is nearly impossible. The distress signal we received came from a Law Enforcement Elder stationed in Yujing City. He detected an abnormal seal locking down the realm’s entrance and sent the message in a moment of desperate urgency. By the time we received it and rushed here… it was already too late.”

An old man, his aura withered to the point of collapse, was helped forward by two cultivators. Zhang Xian recognized him immediately—he was an Elder of the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect he had met at the Demon-Subduing Conference three years ago.

Now, the old man’s eyes were vacant, his face the color of dead ash. He looked as though his soul had been ripped away.

“I… I was handling market affairs in Yujing City,” he murmured, his voice trembling. “Suddenly, I felt violent spatial tremors and a heart-palpitating evil aura erupting from the secret realm entrance…”

His body began to shake uncontrollably. “I rushed to the entrance. It was completely sealed by a layer of black threads, like a massive spider web. I used everything I had—Dharma Treasures, talismans, I even self-detonated my Life-Bound Artifact—but I… I couldn’t even scratch that black net!”

“Then… a man in black robes walked out.” The elder’s eyes widened in terror. “He glanced at me. Just one glance, and I felt my very soul freeze in place. He didn’t even bother to kill me properly. He just waved his hand… and everything went dark.”

“When I woke up… Yujing City was already… already…” The old man broke down, tears streaming down his wrinkled face. His legs gave out, and he collapsed into the arms of his supporters.

Real Man Wangya stepped forward, his voice urgent. “Did you see his face? Any distinguishing features? Is it a new manifestation of the Seven Emotions Evil Thoughts?”

The elder shook his head in agony. “I couldn’t see clearly. I only felt his aura… it was terrifying. Far more tyrannical than the Black Venerable ever was.”

Suddenly, Zen Master Ming Kui’s expression changed drastically.

He snatched the Buddhist prayer beads from his wrist and drove his Divine Sense into them.

“Not good!” He snapped his head up, panic flashing in his eyes. “An intense demonic aura has appeared outside the main altar of the Mountain Zen Monastery! The Guardian Formation has fully activated—we are under attack!”

“What?!”

The group recoiled in horror. The demons were acting with rampant aggression—first annihilating the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect, and now immediately laying siege to the Mountain Zen Monastery?

“Move!” Old Pavilion Master Yunhe roared, his beard and hair bristling with rage. “We must reinforce the Mountain Zen Monastery immediately!”

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, at the foot of the Yunmiao Sect.

A figure dressed in the blue-and-white inner sect robes of the Yunmiao Sect strolled calmly through the mountain gate’s restrictions. His face was ordinary, the kind you would forget instantly, but his eyes were exceptionally calm and profound.

He stepped through the gate, his fingers deftly forming a set of hand seals to unlock the secondary restrictions.

Along the path, passing disciples smiled and greeted him. “Good afternoon, Senior Brother.”

He nodded back with a polite smile, his demeanor perfectly natural.

Stepping onto a flying sword, he transformed into an inconspicuous streak of light, heading straight for the summit of Spirit Sword Peak. As he approached, he slowed, his gaze sweeping over the luxurious flying ship hovering above the peak.

He landed softly on the ground, looking up at the vessel. A faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He walked toward the simple thatched hut that served as the residence. He pushed the door open and entered. The interior was sparse. He scanned the room before his eyes settled on a scroll tucked in the corner.

He walked over and gently unrolled it. The character “Xi” (Dawn)—written with vigorous strokes containing boundless sword intent—leaped off the paper.

“Heh…”

He let out a soft, ambiguous chuckle, shook his head, and tossed the scroll back into the corner like trash.

Exiting the hut, he walked to the flat bluestone clearing in the yard. He extended his right index finger. A wisp of golden light coiled around his fingertip—extremely pure, yet tainted with a strange, eerie Buddhist nature.

His movements were elegant and precise, as if he were painting on the canvas of the void. Wherever his finger traced, a trail of condensed, unscattering golden light remained.

Within moments, a complex golden symbol—the Buddhist Swastika “卍”—formed in the air.

He flicked his finger.

The golden symbol turned into a streak of light and melted silently into the air above Spirit Sword Peak. Like a drop of water merging into the sea, it vanished without a ripple.

“The formation is set.” He nodded with satisfaction, as if he had just completed a trivial chore.

He walked over to a nearby stone stool, sat down, and produced a jug of wine and a jade cup. He poured himself a drink, sipping leisurely as he gazed out at the rolling sea of clouds, waiting.

Not long after, a sword light descended steadily onto the peak.

It was Chen Tiexin, an inner sect disciple of Spirit Sword Peak. She was on patrol duty today. From a distance, she had spotted a stranger sitting in this secluded, private area of the summit. Puzzled, she landed to investigate.

“You there, Junior Brother.” Chen Tiexin frowned slightly, her scrutinizing gaze locking onto the young man.

She noted his inner sect robes, but his temperament was jarringly different from any disciple she knew. That utter composure, that stillness… it gave her an inexplicable sense of pressure.

Subconsciously, her hand drifted to the hilt of her sword. “What are you doing here? This is the summit of Spirit Sword Peak. Unauthorized entry is forbidden. How did you get in?”

The young man didn’t pause his drinking. He slowly lifted his eyelids, his flat, emotionless gaze settling on Chen Tiexin.

“You are a disciple of Spirit Sword Peak?”

Chen Tiexin felt a chill run down her spine under his gaze, as if he were stripping her soul bare. She steadied herself and spoke solemnly. “Correct. I am Chen Tiexin, Inner Sect Disciple. May I ask your name? If you are looking for someone, Peak Master Li and Supervisor Lin have both left the mountain.”

As soon as the words left her mouth—

WHOOSH!

A sharp sound tore through the air. A figure dropped from the sky, landing instantly between Chen Tiexin and the mysterious young man.

It was Zhang Xian.

He landed steadily, his breathing even, wearing his habitual gentle smile as if he had just happened to be passing by. He didn’t even look at the young man behind him. Instead, he turned directly to Chen Tiexin, his tone relaxed and breezy.

“Senior Sister Chen, no need to be nervous. This is a friend of mine. He came specifically to see me.”

Chen Tiexin blinked, taken aback. She looked at Zhang Xian, then glanced at the young man, who remained seated and composed.

Zhang Xian’s friend?

She had never heard of him having friends like this. Didn’t most male disciples despise him? And wait… wasn’t Zhang Xian supposed to be at the Spirit Ruins Sword Sect right now? How did he suddenly appear here?

Suspicion surged in her heart. She opened her mouth to ask.

But just as her lips parted—

Zhang Xian’s right hand, hanging loosely at his side and shielded from the stranger’s view, made a sharp, deliberate gesture.

His index and middle fingers pressed together and tapped his thigh three times. Tap. Tap. Tap.

Chen Tiexin’s pupils contracted to pinpoints.

That was the Yunmiao Sect’s highest-level silent code.

Extreme Danger. Flee Immediately.

A blast of cold terror shot from the soles of her feet to the top of her skull.

“Oh… so it’s Junior Brother’s friend.” Chen Tiexin forced herself to speak, crushing the panic rising in her throat. “In that case, this disciple won’t disturb you.”

She didn’t dare look at the young man again. She turned on her heel, her movement crisp and decisive.

The tip of her foot tapped the ground, and she vaulted onto her flying sword. With a clear hum of energy, she shot down the mountain without looking back.