Outside White City, in a desolate, secluded grove.

Crows cawed from withered branches as Shen Li crushed a Blood Fiend Sect communication talisman. Its ashes drifted down, mingling with the charred corpses of three heretical cultivators sprawled at his feet.

“Master,” a black-clad death warrior knelt on one knee, his blade still dripping with dark blood. “We have purged the heretics’ lair as you commanded. One was left alive for the authorities… It will be enough to have the people of White City sing the praises of the Shen family’s virtue.”

The incident at the cave dwelling—where heretical cultivators had infiltrated their territory—had triggered a major purge within the family.

Although he, the second young master, hadn’t been caught red-handed, the family elders all knew he had been targeting his own kin. Naturally, the fallout had implicated him.

So, he had simply left the estate to exterminate some heretics, conveniently eliminating a few who were working against him in the process.

Shen Li gave a casual grunt, but his fingers suddenly pinched a speck of drifting ash.

It was a message from a trusted confidant within the family: “Ten days from now, Ye Qingxian will attend the ancestral rites.”

The ash erupted into flame in his palm.

Mother is always like this! A chill spread through his heart.

She would move heaven and earth for that worthless piece of trash.

His mind instantly flashed back to the Treasure Pavilion, to that useless brother of his daring to speak of the family succession!

Previously, he had dismissed it as the meaningless babble of an ant. But now…

“Ye Qingxian.” Shen Li ground the flames into nothing, the name a venomous whisper between his teeth.

That woman’s cultivation had soared recently, her strength now second only to his own. She had even stumbled upon a significant opportunity. If she were allowed anywhere near the ancestral shrine’s formation during the rites, unforeseen complications could easily arise.

The ancestral rites, held only once a century, were of paramount importance—and restricted to cultivators below the Golden Core realm. As the designated heir, if he failed to gain the ancestors’ recognition this time, not only would he have to wait another hundred years, but his cultivation would stagnate for a century as well.

That was absolutely unacceptable.

Shen Li’s gaze burned with intensity, a flicker of raw killing intent in his eyes.

He would never allow anyone to threaten his inheritance!

That very night, Shen Li used a secret channel to contact Mo Lan and Mo Zhu.

These two guards were his sleeper agents, planted in Shen Xian’s residence to monitor him on ordinary days and act when necessary.

“I want Ye Qingxian indisposed,” Shen Li’s voice echoed from a faint, shimmering projection, as cold and hard as frozen iron. Mo Lan and Mo Zhu stood side-by-side, their expressions impeccably respectful. “There is no need to take her life—just ensure she cannot attend the ancestral rites.”

The woman was too valuable to the Shen family; she could become a powerful asset in the future. Killing her was out of the question.

Mo Lan lowered her head. “Understood, my lord.”

“And remember, if this is exposed…” Shen Li let the sentence hang, his cold stare saying the rest.

“My lord, we know exactly what must be done,” Mo Lan and Mo Zhu replied in solemn unison.

“Go.” Shen Li waved his hand, and the projection dissolved into scattered sparks of light.

He watched them fade, a faint, cruel smile tugging at his lips.

Though Mo Lan and Mo Zhu were his people, without concrete evidence, the family could do nothing to him.

After all, he hadn’t ordered a murder.

And he had no fear of them betraying him. He had rescued the pair from the brink of death and placed a binding restriction upon them—a seal that made betrayal an impossibility.

With that arranged, Shen Li still wasn’t satisfied.

The ancestral rites concerned his very future as the heir; no detail could be left to chance.

He decided he would pay another visit to his elder brother.

Shen Xing had once entered the ancestral grounds and received a blessing from the first patriarch. His knowledge of the place was profound. Perhaps he could offer some advice.

With his mind made up, he planned to return to the estate the following day.

The night was deep, and the Shen family estate lay shrouded in silence.

Mo Lan and Mo Zhu stood motionless in the shadows outside the courtyard, their figures melting seamlessly into the darkness.

Their gazes were locked on the courtyard, where the faint flicker of a lamp cast a warm glow and the soft humming of a maid, Xiang’er, could just be heard.

As guards, they were meant to be on patrol. Tonight, however, they had a different mission.

“The master’s orders must be carried out,” Mo Lan murmured, her voice as crisp as frost.

Her fingertips gently caressed a small, cyan jade bottle. Inside, a medicinal powder glowed with an eerie blue light.

Mo Zhu nodded slightly, his spiritual sense sweeping silently across the courtyard. Shen Xian was in his room, reading ancient texts. Ye Qingxian’s residence remained impenetrable. Only Xiang’er was outside.

He said softly, “Ye Qingxian has reached the late stage of Foundation Establishment. Her vigilance is extremely high. An ordinary approach will not fool her.”

“That’s why we must make her take it willingly,” Mo Lan’s lips curved into a slight, cold smile.

Mo Zhu narrowed his eyes, his gaze falling on Xiang’er, who was busy pruning the flowers and plants.

“We’ll control her directly,” Mo Zhu whispered, his voice devoid of warmth. “Use the Soul-Stealing Charm. Turn her into our puppet.”

A gleam of satisfaction flashed in Mo Lan’s eyes. “An excellent idea. Every move she makes will be under our command. Ye Qingxian will never suspect a thing.”

The two exchanged a look, each seeing the fierce determination in the other’s eyes. They were long accustomed to carrying out Shen Li’s orders, employing any means necessary to achieve their goal.

However, neither of them noticed that, on the courtyard wall directly above them, a snow-white spirit cat was crouched in silence.

The cat was pure white, save for its eyes, which were as clear as amber and gleamed coldly in the moonlight.

It watched the two figures below, its ears twitching slightly, capturing every whispered word.

Mo Lan and Mo Zhu continued to finalize their plan, completely oblivious to the fact that their entire scheme was being overheard.

“Ye Qingxian may be strong, but she’s still made of flesh and blood,” Mo Lan sneered. “Once she ingests this Spirit-Eating Powder, her spiritual energy will fall into chaos within three days. Attending the ancestral rites will be impossible.”

“Xiang’er prepares spiritual tea for her every day. We just need to add the powder to the tea,” Mo Zhu’s eyes glinted with malice. “Once the Soul-Stealing Charm takes hold, she will be our puppet, utterly incapable of resistance.”

Mo Lan nodded. With a light flick of her fingertips, a wisp of azure spiritual energy coalesced in her palm, forming a tiny, intricate talisman.

“Let’s move.”

Before the words had even faded, the two shot forward like ghosts, heading straight for Xiang’er.

Xiang’er was bent over her task when a sudden chill washed over her. Before she could react, a cold hand clamped onto the back of her neck.

“Agh—!”

Her eyes widened in terror, but she found herself unable to make a sound.

Mo Zhu tapped his finger, and the azure talisman instantly sank into Xiang’er’s brow.

Her body trembled violently, and her gaze went vacant, as if her very soul had been drained away.

“It’s done,” Mo Lan sneered. “From now on, she is our puppet.”

Mo Zhu nodded in satisfaction. “Tomorrow at noon, she will serve Ye Qingxian the poisoned tea. Everything is under control.”

Just as the two were about to depart, a sound broke the silence.

“Meow!”

A soft cat’s cry echoed through the night.

Mo Lan and Mo Zhu froze, their bodies stiffening. They looked up to see the snow-white spirit cat peering down at them from the wall, its amber eyes filled with what looked disturbingly like mockery.