“Fellow Daoist Wang, my word isn’t wind. When I said I would help you enter the Calamity Abyss Valley, I meant it.”

Zhou Kai leaned back, his eyes locking onto hers with a weight that made the air in the room feel heavy. “In a few days, I’m making a move personally to settle this for you. That spot in the Valley? Consider it secured.”

The sheer confidence in his voice acted like a stabilizing pill, instantly quieting the frantic, jagged thoughts clawing at Wang Qiaoqiao’s mind. But before she could press for details, Zhou Kai’s expression sharpened into something much colder.

“Fellow Daoist, are you keeping up with the chaos at Crouching Tiger Mountain? The ruins aren’t just a local squabble anymore. Even the Nascent Soul old monsters are starting to poke their heads out of their caves.”

“I’ve heard the rumors,” she replied, her brow furrowing. “The three major sects are locked in a shadow war over exploration rights. Clashes, casualties—the whole mountain range is a powder keg on a short fuse. But why bring that up now?”

“Because the water is getting murky,” Zhou Kai said, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “With the ruins open, every vulture in the region is circling. The market is going to turn into a slaughterhouse soon. I’m leaving.”

He glanced at Chen Ziqing, who was perched beside him with a mask of dutiful, wide-eyed innocence.

“I’ll be gone for at least a month, maybe more. Ziqing is staying behind. Her cultivation is… well, she’s fragile. I can’t have her here alone while the world burns. I want you, Fellow Daoist Wang, to move into my home while I’m away. Keep an eye on her. If some brainless thug decides to try their luck, I want you there to break their fingers for me.”

Live at your house?

Wang Qiaoqiao’s eyebrows shot up. She looked at Zhou Kai with a new, playful glint in her eyes. This man… she thought. First the show of force, then the promise of the Valley, and now an invitation to his private quarters. He’s weaving a web, and he’s doing it beautifully.

“You certainly value Ziqing,” she teased, her voice taking on a melodic, probing quality. “And you’ve made quite the grand promise to me. One might think you truly consider me a dear friend. But if I agree to play house… what kind of ‘interest’ will I be collecting on my return?”

She leaned forward, letting her eyes linger on his lips, waiting for a crack in his stoic facade. When he remained a stone wall, she let out a tinkling, slightly wicked laugh.

“But really, Zhou Kai, I’m a direct descendant of the Wang line—an unmarried lady of status. I can’t just shack up in your residence. Think of the scandal! My family would lose all face. Besides, if that arrogant prick Chen Xingze comes back demanding her head, you’d have to reveal your secret as a second-grade alchemist just to keep my name clean, wouldn’t you?”

She was right, and they both knew it. Her presence would force his hand if things went south. Zhou Kai didn’t look bothered; he simply nodded, as if he’d already calculated her refusal into his plans.

“Fair point. It was presumptuous of me. In that case, don’t stay here.” He pivoted seamlessly. “Just rent a place nearby. Close enough to hear her scream if things go wrong. Of course, I don’t expect you to work for free. When I get back, the ‘repayment’ will be more than enough to satisfy you.”

Wang Qiaoqiao’s eyes narrowed. A flicker of suspicion—or perhaps jealousy—crossed her face. “You’re so worried about the little sister. But what about the elder? I recall you have a Dao Companion, Chen Ziyi. She’s a mere Mortal, isn’t she? You’re just leaving her to the wolves?”

Zhou Kai’s face didn’t twitch. “Ziyi has… delicate health. She needs a specific spiritual regimen that I have to prepare daily. Leaving her here would be a death sentence. Taking her with me is the only way I can guarantee her safety.”

What? Wang Qiaoqiao was baffled. Taking a Mortal into the middle of a sectarian war zone? Because he wants to ‘care’ for her? She sensed a massive secret lurking behind those words, but she was smart enough to know when a door was locked for a reason.

Zhou Kai wasn’t about to tell her the truth: Chen Ziyi was his primary source of Omni-Points. Twenty days of travel meant twenty days of potential “Deep Interaction.” He wasn’t about to let those points go to waste.

“Fellow Daoist Wang,” Zhou Kai said, cutting the tension. “Before I head out, I need one more thing from you. I hear the Chen family is getting desperate. They’re offering a king’s ransom to any loose second-grade alchemists who can help them with Foundation Establishment Pills.”

Wang Qiaoqiao’s eyes lit up. This was her territory. “The news is everywhere. They’re just waiting for the final ingredients to arrive.”

Zhou Kai smirked. He flicked his wrist, and three jade vials appeared on the table. He popped the stoppers. The room was instantly flooded with a thick, herbal aroma so pure it made the lungs tingle. Each vial held ten pills—Top-Grade, with perfect, shimmering pill patterns.

“These are for ‘personal use,'” Zhou Kai said, pushing them toward her. “I want you to use them to bury the Chens.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, her fingers trembling as she reached for the vials.

“Simple. Spread the word that a wandering master alchemist has arrived at the market. A ghost. Eccentric, elusive, and incredibly skilled. Tell them he doesn’t talk to anyone but you. You are his only voice, his only bridge to the world.”

He leaned in, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Use these pills as proof of his genius. The Chens are starving for Foundation Establishment. When they see these, they’ll bite the hook. They’ll hand you their most precious materials, begging for his help. And while they’re waiting for their ‘master’ to finish… you’ll already be safe inside the Calamity Abyss Valley.”

Wang Qiaoqiao’s breathing hitched. “And if they trace it back to us?”

“I’m just a ‘broken’ alchemist with a ruined dantian,” Zhou Kai smiled thinly. “And the master? He’s a traveler. Gone like a dragon in the clouds. Who could find him? Besides… don’t you trust your own silver tongue?”

Wang Qiaoqiao stared at the pills, then at the man. He wasn’t just a talent; he was a shark. If she tied herself to him now, she wouldn’t just survive the Wang family’s internal politics—she’d dominate them.

“Fine,” she breathed, the fire returning to her eyes. “Leave the Chens to me.”

After a long session of planning and a heavy purchase of defensive talismans, Wang Qiaoqiao left with a predatory grace. Zhou Kai watched her go before turning back to the room.

Chen Ziqing looked up, her “innocent” eyes brimming with worry. “Brother Zhou…”

He patted her head, his touch lingering just a second too long. “Stay safe. Reach the second layer of Qi Condensation by the time I’m back, and I’ll have a reward for you.”

That afternoon, Wang Qiaoqiao moved into a small courtyard diagonally across from them. From her balcony, she had a perfect line of sight to Zhou Kai’s front door.

As night fell over Crouching Tiger Mountain, the market lights flickered like dying embers. Inside the house, Ziqing had finally fallen into a fitful sleep.

Zhou Kai moved like a shadow. He approached the bed and lifted the sleeping Chen Ziyi into his arms. She was warm, her body soft and pliant in her slumber. She stirred, let out a tiny, sweet moan, and tucked her head against his shoulder. He leaned down, his lips brushing her forehead.

He didn’t hesitate. Holding his prize, he slipped out into the cold mountain air.

Across the street, Wang Qiaoqiao watched from her window. She saw the silhouette of the man carrying the mortal woman into the darkness.

“He really took her,” she whispered to the empty room, her heart feeling a strange, hollow twinge. “A Mortal… into that abyss.”