Han Lie strolled along the bluestone-paved streets of Qingzhou City, his gaze drifting over the surroundings.

The city hadn’t changed much from his memories.

The streets were lined with vendors hawking their wares, the air thick with noise. Cultivators stood before small stalls, faces flushed red as they fiercely haggled over ten or twenty Spirit Stones, spittle flying in their fervor.

Perhaps because the martial competition was approaching, Qingzhou City was unusually lively.

The bustling crowd was composed mostly of cultivators who had stepped onto the path of immortality. Of course, the vast majority were trash at the Qi Refining Stage. Even Foundation Establishment Stage cultivators were few and far between.

The great powers—the Heavenly Void Sect, Sun Moon Sect, and Myriad Sword Pavilion—looked down upon a mere martial competition hosted by a City Lord.

But for the loose cultivators, this was a rare, grand event.

Even if they didn’t place in the rankings, there was a participation prize. It wasn’t much, but for rogue cultivators who often didn’t know where their next meal was coming from, it was enough of a lure.

This was the Qingzhou City Lord’s primary method of attracting bodies. After all, if he held a grand tournament to gild his own son’s reputation and no one showed up, it would be a humiliating farce.

Han Lie first found an inn. He spent a few Spirit Stones to purchase and change into a pristine white Daoist robe.

The moment the silk draped over him, Han Lie felt an aura of transcendent elegance settle upon his frame.

Clothes make the man; a saddle makes the horse. The saying held water.

Shedding the coarse hemp garments he had worn for a hundred years, Han Lie felt physically lighter. He stepped out and headed straight for the Clear Breeze House, the largest restaurant in Qingzhou City.

“Esteemed Daoist, you’ve arrived! Please, come right in!”

The doorman at Clear Breeze House greeted him with practiced warmth. Guided inside, Han Lie took a seat at a table near the corner. He had little choice; the establishment was packed to the rafters.

“Bring this humble Daoist a pot of your finest tea,” Han Lie ordered.

“Right away! Please wait a moment, it will be here soon!”

Not long after, the doorman returned with a steaming pot.

Han Lie casually tossed ten Spirit Stones onto the table. “Young man, this humble Daoist is new here. I do not know who the current City Lord of Qingzhou might be?”

The doorman’s eyes lit up as he snatched the Spirit Stones. He leaned in, eager to explain.

“The Esteemed Daoist is here for the martial competition, yes?”

“The current Qingzhou City Lord is named Han Zhentian…”

“Hold on!” Han Lie’s voice cut through the air, sharp and sudden. “What did you say the City Lord is called?”

“Replying to Esteemed Daoist, it is Han Zhentian,” the doorman repeated, confused but compliant. He continued fluently, “You may not know, but it is said that Lord Han obtained a great opportunity eighty years ago. Originally, he was only at the Qi Refining Stage, but his cultivation advanced by leaps and bounds!”

“In less than fifty years, he soared to the Golden Core Stage!”

“As for how he later became the Lord of Qingzhou City… well, there are many rumors…”

Han Lie waved his hand, dismissing the chatterbox.

“Han Zhentian… Han Zhentian…”

Han Lie murmured the name softly, his voice barely a breath.

His dark, profound pupils trembled.

Because his father’s name was also Han Zhentian!

If this were truly the case, then…

This Senior finally understands why Grand Elder Chi Lian specifically ordered me to participate in this competition.

It made perfect sense. It explained why Chi Lian had given him such specific instructions: After winning, you must announce your name and origin to the world.

That explained it. That explained everything.

If that is so… then, Father… let This Senior see just how capable this son you are so proud of—the one you threw this entire competition for—truly is.

Han Lie took a deep breath, trying to settle the turbulent waves in his heart.

“Esteemed Daoist, would you mind sharing your table?”

Suddenly, a voice clear as spring water and melodious as a zither pulled Han Lie’s thoughts back to reality.

He looked up.

Standing nearby was a woman who resembled a fairy. She wore neat, form-fitting attire and a bamboo hat. A veil draped down from the brim, covering half her face, yet it could not conceal the stunning beauty beneath.

“I mind.”

Han Lie withdrew his gaze, lifted his teacup, and took a leisurely sip. His reply was indifferent, bordering on cold.

Rejected, the veiled fairy did not leave. Instead, she persisted. “The hall is completely full. Only your table has an empty seat.”

“This humble maiden is named Xiao Yuruo, a rogue cultivator passing through. Might Esteemed Daoist be willing to accommodate me today?”

Hearing this, Han Lie glanced around the hall.

There were clearly several tables that weren’t full.

The fairy’s speech is graceful, her tone brimming with confidence. Though her clothes are designed to be inconspicuous, they cannot hide a dignified, aristocratic bearing.

That hat and veil cannot hide beauty worthy of an immortal descended to earth. If she were truly a rogue cultivator, she would have long been snatched up by some old Nascent Soul monster to be a concubine in his mountain stronghold.

Han Lie smiled, a cynical edge to his lips.

“If you were truly a rogue cultivator,” he said casually, “you wouldn’t be standing here asking nicely.”

Xiao Yuruo showed no embarrassment at being exposed. Instead, she cupped her hands in admiration. “As expected of Esteemed Daoist. Your insight is indeed sharp.”

“In that case, I shall be honest. This humble maiden comes from the Myriad Sword Pavilion.”

“Myriad Sword Pavilion?”

The teacup paused at Han Lie’s lips. He raised an eyebrow.

Interesting. Could it be that Xiao Yuruo has seen through This Senior’s origin from the Heavenly Void Sect?

The thought flashed through his mind, but he quickly dismissed it.

He was merely one among thousands of Servant Disciples in the Heavenly Void Sect. He wasn’t some Holy Son or Young Sect Master. It was no exaggeration to say he was utterly unknown.

That left only one possibility.

Xiao Yuruo was attracted by his Pure Yang Sacred Body.

Having deduced this, Han Lie waved his hand, signaling for her to sit.

Xiao Yuruo wasn’t reserved in the slightest. She sat down and poured herself a cup of tea without standing on ceremony.

“Might I ask Esteemed Daoist’s honorable name?” she inquired.

“No need for ‘honorable’. My surname is Lin. Single character, Mo.”

“So it is Daoist Lin,” Xiao Yuruo continued smoothly. “If this humble maiden isn’t mistaken, Daoist Lin is a rogue cultivator drawn here by the martial competition?”

From her perspective, a man with such transcendent elegance yet only at the mid-Foundation Establishment Stage could only be a rogue cultivator. A sect disciple with that bearing would have higher cultivation.

“The fairy’s insight is indeed sharp.”

After a brief pause, Han Lie decided to play along with her assumption.

“I am showing off my clumsiness before the expert. This humble maiden rarely misjudges people.”

Then, Xiao Yuruo boldly extended an invitation.

“I observe that Esteemed Daoist possesses a transcendent elegance and a righteous aura, quite fitting for the temperament of my Myriad Sword Pavilion.”

“If Esteemed Daoist is interested, this humble maiden can recommend you join the Myriad Sword Pavilion. You would no longer need to drift about without a fixed abode.”

“What does Esteemed Daoist think?”