Zhang Shan had returned and left a letter?

Han Yu listened to the news, his gaze fixed straight ahead, betraying nothing. He mused that Old Daoist Li’s maneuver was clever—by creating a trail, the old man could swiftly deflect suspicion from himself. It was a solid strategy for a clean break.

“Senior Brother Zhang just left like that? What am I supposed to do about my cultivation now?” Liu Lan wiped her eyes, her voice trembling. “We had an agreement…”

Her lament hung in the air, met with cold silence. In this place, compassion was a rare currency. Who would step into Zhang Shan’s shoes and part with their own precious resources just to provide for her?

As they whispered amongst themselves, a sharp, abrasive shout cut through the morning air. “What are you all loitering for!”

The group turned to see Steward Wang striding toward them, his protruding belly leading the way.

Old Daoist Li’s body tensed instantly. He pushed his Breath Concealment Technique to its absolute limit, surreptitiously tugging the brim of his bamboo hat lower.

Han Yu followed suit, activating his own concealment. He didn’t want to take any chances. What if the Steward possessed some hidden knack for sensing the jagged aura of the Blood Refining Art or Han Yu’s true cultivation level?

As it turned out, they were overthinking it. Steward Wang swaggered over with his usual arrogance. Wei Kunyi met him halfway, a flirtatious smile plastered on her face. “A very good morning to you, Steward Wang!”

The Steward let out a greasy chuckle. “And to you, Little Wei!”

His mirth vanished as he turned to the others, his face hardening into a mask of authority. “What’s this commotion? Why are you all huddled together?”

Wei Kunyi snatched the yellow paper from Liu Lan’s trembling fingers and presented it to the Steward. “Look at this, Steward Wang. The Laborer Disciple Zhang Shan left this note. He claims he lost hope of breaking through to the fourth layer of Qi Refining and has gone off to seek his fortune. He says his return is ‘uncertain.'”

Steward Wang’s expression soured as he scanned the paper. “‘Uncertain’? How bold!”

“Does he think he can come and go as he pleases? Does he think my Spirit Field Department is his personal bedchamber?”

“This is a clear case of absconding with the sect’s techniques! I’ll have the Outer Disciples hunt him down, drag him back, and break his legs for this!”

After his outburst, he barked, “Who among you actually knew this Zhang Shan?”

Wei Kunyi chimed in immediately. “I do, Steward Wang. Zhang Shan possessed Five Spirit Roots. He’s been in the sect for twenty years, but after reaching the third layer of Qi Refining seven years ago, he hit a wall. He likely realized the Outer Sect was forever beyond his reach and decided to flee.”

Steward Wang gave her a look of approval. “Hmph. Well said, Little Wei. You always did have a sharp head on your shoulders.”

He then whirled on Liu Lan, his voice dropping an octave. “And you? What are you blubbering about? Was he your lover? Do you know where the rat ran off to?”

Liu Lan frantically wiped her face, stammering out the truth—how her harvest was short, how she lacked the fifty-catty quota of spirit rice, and how she was now destitute of resources after her benefactor’s sudden departure.

Steward Wang narrowed his eyes at her red-rimmed gaze, then looked back at Wei Kunyi. “Is her story straight?”

“It is,” Wei Kunyi confirmed.

“Something isn’t right here…” Steward Wang’s eyes darted around, his suspicion mounting. “Where did Zhang Shan live? Lead me there. I’m searching his hut!”

The disciples were stunned. They couldn’t fathom why a simple runaway would warrant such a thorough investigation. Wei Kunyi, however, didn’t hesitate; she immediately took the lead.

Steward Wang took a few steps, then paused to point at the thick-browed Sun Kang. “You! Go fetch Junior Brother Ji and Junior Brother Hua for me. Now!”

Sun Kang recognized the names—they were the two Outer Disciples who assisted the Steward. He didn’t dare linger, acknowledging the command and sprinting off.

As the Steward and Wei Kunyi disappeared toward the stone huts, the remaining disciples exchanged uneasy glances. They could all sense a storm brewing. Old Daoist Li took the opportunity to quietly slip away, retreating into the shadows of his own quarters.

“Should we follow?” one laborer whispered.

Another shook his head vigorously. “With the Steward’s temper? If things turn sour, he’ll just use us as punching bags. I’m staying clear.”

They remained in the fields, speculating wildly about what could have prompted such a reaction. Liu Lan, realizing her fate was tied to the outcome, eventually mustered the courage to follow the Steward’s trail.

Moments later, Sun Kang returned with two men in the blue robes of Outer Disciples. After a brief exchange, the two—surnamed Ji and Hua—hurried toward Zhang Shan’s hut.

The three officials conferred in hushed, urgent tones before moving on to search Liu Lan’s hut as well. Afterward, the Steward ordered Liu Lan to stay put under the watchful eyes of Wei Kunyi and Sun Kang. No one was permitted to enter or leave the residences.

Without another word, Steward Wang summoned a Plantain Leaf, mounted it with the disciple surnamed Ji, and took to the sky. They were heading for the inner mountain to report.

Deacon Hua remained behind, his hand resting near a Magical Artifact as he monitored the area. Seeing the escalation, the rest of the laborer disciples scattered to their huts, desperate to avoid being swept up in the fallout.

Back in his hut, Han Yu focused. He circulated his Breath Concealment Technique, masking his first layer of Blood Refining and veiling his second layer of Qi Refining to look like the first.

He did a quick inventory of his belongings: four catties of spirit rice, two Mystic Heart Fruits, and three Jade Slips—one for his basic techniques, the ancient slip containing the Spirit Root Refining Art, and the gift from Senior Brother Jin Qi.

Wait—the crows. He looked at the nest beneath his bed and the faint scuff marks on the walls from his spell practice. To a casual observer, they were nothing. To a professional investigator, they were clues.

He dismantled the nest until it was just a pile of stray twigs and grass, which he scattered into the spirit fields. He wiped away the practice marks, telling himself he’d claim they were left by a previous tenant.

Just as he finished his preparations, the air above the valley began to whistle and thrum.

Disciples peeked out from their doorways. High above, Steward Wang and several blue-robed Outer Disciples were descending on Plantain Leaves. Behind them, two Inner Disciples in gold-trimmed robes glided down on shimmering flying swords.

Bringing up the rear was a man in deep purple robes, standing atop a massive, five-foot-wide glowing flower.

“All Laborer Disciples! Assemble at once for questioning! Any delay will be treated as treason!” Steward Wang’s voice boomed across the valley, amplified by spiritual power.

Han Yu’s heart hammered against his ribs. It wasn’t just the Outer Disciples anymore. They had brought in the Inner Sect elite—cultivators at the seventh layer or higher—and a Deacon. A Deacon was a Foundation Establishment master.

How could a lowly laborer like Zhang Shan warrant the attention of a Foundation Establishment cultivator?

Had they found traces of the Demon Blood Sect? Was the hunt for a Demonic Cultivator beginning?

Han Yu felt the walls closing in. If they caught Old Daoist Li and proved he was a demon, would the old man sell him out? And more importantly, could Han Yu himself survive the scrutiny of a Foundation Establishment expert?