Zhang Xian stared at the communication jade slip in his hand, his knuckles turning white.

“Average mortal lifespan is less than forty years; lives are being drained.”

These words pierced his mind like jagged knives. He thought of his wife in the Great Liang Kingdom, his foster father in the mountain village, and all those familiar faces. Had their very lives been consumed by some unseen force?

Almost at the same moment, a chilling aura manifested beside him.

“The mountain-protecting array has been deactivated,” Li Fuxi said, her voice terrifyingly calm. “Shall we depart now?”

She didn’t wait for his response. She stood with her sword aura restrained yet simmering, like a volcano on the verge of a cataclysmic eruption.

Without a word, Zhang Xian flicked his sleeve. The flying vessel hummed as it unfolded, hovering in mid-air. However, just as he prepared to board, a hoarse voice called out from above.

“Zhang Xian, may I hitch a ride on your vessel?”

Zhang Xian looked up to see a disheveled young man floating in the sky. He had sunken eye sockets and skin so pale it seemed he hadn’t seen sunlight in years.

“You are…” Zhang Xian started, taken aback.

The young man moved his fingers slightly. Twelve Zhiyin figures instantly arranged themselves neatly behind him, their gazes calm yet carrying an unusual gravity.

Zhang Xian understood immediately. This was the legendary “Puppetry Prodigy,” the Yunmiao Sect’s most mysterious Supervisor: Wei Miyou.

“Is Elder Su Ling not coming?” Zhang Xian asked.

Wei Miyou’s mouth twitched into a faint grimace. “She is already faster than the flying vessel.”

The group boarded. Zhang Xian formed hand seals to activate the ship, and the vessel transformed into an afterimage, tearing through the clouds as it shot toward the coordinates where the secret realm had vanished.

Inside the cabin, Li Fuxi went directly to the hot spring chamber without a word, closing the door to cultivate. Assisted by the Dragon Saliva Jade Liquid, she had clawed her way back to the third stage of the Golden Core realm. But she knew it was far from enough to avenge her master.

In another part of the ship, Wei Miyou retreated into a bedroom and did not reappear. Instead, it was a Zhiyin puppet who knocked on Zhang Xian’s door.

“Come in.”

The puppet stepped inside, the character “One” embroidered on her chest.

“Sister Zhiyin,” Zhang Xian asked, “you had a clone at the scene. Did you discover anything else?”

“I know little more than you,” she replied, her voice carrying an unnatural weight. “The first time I entered that realm, I found nothing. By the time I entered again, its core had been dismantled.”

She looked at him with spiritual patterns swirling in her eyes. “Because the secret realm isolated our consciousness, I learned nothing of her final moments. However, I can confirm one thing.”

“What?”

“The opponent most likely possesses Nascent Soul combat power.”

Zhang Xian’s pupils contracted. Every Nascent Soul monster in the Southern Region belonged to one of the six major powers. If there were hidden demonic cultivators at that level, the entire structure of the cultivation world was about to be overturned.

“When did such monsters infiltrate the Southern Region?”

Zhiyin shook her head. “Clone Two was destroyed. Master is furious—he hasn’t left the mountain gate for six hundred years until now.”

Her tone softened when mentioning Wei Miyou. “Supervisor Wei has some social anxiety. Please do not take offense at his silence.”

“Then you…”

“I came on my own initiative,” Zhiyin replied. “But Master’s consciousness is projected through me. Since he didn’t object, it means tacit approval.”

It was just like how Zhang Xian’s spiritual consciousness had enveloped Captain Yun Shang. When she was healing Li Fuxi, had Zhang Xian wished it, he could have not only observed everything she saw but also taken control of Yun Shang.

Zhiyin paused, tilting her head. “I can sense that the anger of Master and Li Fuxi is like a volcano, while your fury resembles the deep ocean.”

Her puppet-like directness allowed her to ask without reservation: “Can you tell me why?”

Zhang Xian remained silent for a long moment.

“We puppets have consciousness, but we don’t understand human emotions,” Zhiyin said with a small smile. “Su Ling says you humans like to hide things when you speak.”

“There are no secrets,” Zhang Xian finally said, his voice hoarse. “This matter began in my friend’s minor world. I have family and friends there—all mortals.”

He clenched his fist until it shook. “Their lifespans were short. I always thought it was the environment or the lack of spiritual energy. But now I know… their lives were being stolen.”

Zhiyin froze. “So you want to see the face of the enemy? Even if they are at the Nascent Soul stage?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I’m overestimating myself?” Zhang Xian added with a self-deprecating smile. “A False Core cultivator against a Nascent Soul?”

Zhiyin smiled back. “Others might find it laughable. But I won’t. Neither would Su Ling.”

She turned to leave, offering one final thought: “You are a living cultivator; we are merely puppets. You can grow; we can only maintain ourselves. Your future will take you further than we can ever go.”

The flying vessel pushed its engines to the limit, tearing through the heavens like a blazing meteor. Three days later, they reached the site.

Over twenty flying vessels hovered in the air, their flags fluttering in the wind. Five of the six top powers had arrived. The Cloud Raiment Pavilion’s vessel, marked with the character “Cloud,” was prominently positioned.

Below them, the long-barren mining pit had been leveled by a single, colossal sword strike. The rock was smooth as a mirror, residual sword aura still humming in the air.

At the bottom of the hundred-meter pit sat a stone platform—the exact spot where the secret realm had vanished.

As they descended, Zhiyin raised her hand. Countless puppet components converged like a starry river, merging into her body. Her aura solidified, and the spiritual patterns in her eyes deepened.

“Master isn’t good with people, so he won’t be going down,” she said. “Please, keep your vessel active.”

Zhang Xian understood. He produced a puppet replica identical to himself. “I gave one to Su Ling before. This one is for you.”

Zhiyin’s eyes brightened as she accepted it. Just then, the bedroom door opened and Wei Miyou stepped out, a stiff, unnatural expression on his pale face.

He cupped his hands awkwardly. “Th-thank you… I will pay… remuneration.”

He turned and fled back into the room immediately.

“Master actually thanked you,” Zhiyin said, performing a formal bow. “That is truly unprecedented.”

Zhang Xian shook his head. “Now isn’t the time for pleasantries.”

Zhiyin stroked the puppet replica. “I am sincere. Master will use this replica on me—improving my quality is, in your terms, equivalent to upgrading my spirit root.”