Chapter 171 - 74-78

074 Trapped in the City

Four days. We had been stuck in Iron Kettle for four days.

I was getting sick of it.

We sat at a modest roadside stall—one of those places with creaky wooden tables, chipped bowls, and a vendor who had likely served enough travelers to predict their orders before they even spoke. The air was thick with the scent of sizzling oil, fragrant herbs, and the rich, spiced aroma of slow-braised meat.

My bowl held steaming rice, tender pork belly glazed in a dark, caramelized sauce, and greens stir-fried in garlic and sesame oil. A clay cup of herbal tea sat untouched beside it. I barely needed food, but some xianxia spices weren't just flavorful—they carried minor effects, sharpening the mind or calming the nerves. A cultivator could live off Qi alone, but I'd take a good meal over silent meditation any day.

It wasn't like I could interact with Qi the same way a cultivator does.

Across from me, Hei Mao idly poked at his food. His disguise—woven by the Magic Scroll of Disguise I'd given him—remained intact. Back in Lost Legends Online, the scroll had been a gimmick, letting players assume NPC appearances from preset models. Here, the effect lasted indefinitely unless disrupted by physical stimulus of a certain level.

I rested my chopsticks against my bowl. "Lost your appetite?"

Hei Mao exhaled sharply, irritation flashing in his eyes. "How much longer are we staying?"

I felt the same. The city enforcers had been dragging their feet, keeping 'suspicious' individuals detained under flimsy pretexts. They were stalling.

Lu Gao set his chopsticks down and leaned forward, voice lowered. "I overheard something last night about the murder."

I kept eating, but my focus sharpened.

"The victim was the vice sect master of the Black Anvil Sect," he said. "But there are conflicting accounts. Some claim it was actually the sect master himself, and the truth is being concealed."

Ren Xun furrowed his brow. "Why cover it up? A sect master dying would be a big deal, but they'd still have to announce it sooner or later."

Lu Gao shook his head. "It's not just that." He glanced around, lowering his voice. "The City Lord's son was killed that night as well."

That made the air grow heavier.

Ren Xun clicked his tongue. "No wonder the city's locked down."

The Black Anvil Sect was powerful, but it was still just one force among many. A sect master's death was an event, but not necessarily a disaster for the city. But the City Lord's son? That was a political nightmare.

Hei Mao's fists clenched. "And they still haven't found the murderer?" His voice was low, tight with barely restrained emotion. 

"They say it was a demonic cultivator," Lu Gao folded his arms. "The body was found completely drained of blood."

I stopped eating. That sounded an awful lot like a vampire.

The more I traveled, the more I encountered things that shouldn't exist outside Lost Legends Online. Either LLO had drawn inspiration from this world… or something far stranger was happening.

Hei Mao let out a frustrated sigh, shoving a piece of pork into his mouth. "So we're stuck here because some freak is running loose?"

I finished my meal and set my bowl aside. "We're not going to sit around waiting. Ren Xun, come with me."

Ren Xun blinked. "Where?"

"A bookstore."

He looked at me like I'd suggested something absurd. "A… bookstore?"

I brushed off my robes and stood. "I need to check something."

We paid and stepped onto the bustling streets.

As we walked, I turned to Ren Xun. "How does the Empire control the dissemination of knowledge?"

Ren Xun considered the question before replying. "Knowledge is divided into five classes. Class Five is the lowest—meant for outsiders. It includes common knowledge, things a traveler might learn simply by passing through. Most publicly available books fall under this category."

"That was what I expected. And Class Four?"

"Class Four covers knowledge on cultivation—the first four realms. It includes fundamental techniques, theories, and general information on Qi." Ren Xun's tone was even, practiced. "It also includes city-sensitive knowledge—things that might affect security or governance but wouldn't shake the Empire itself."

I nodded. That made sense. "Class Three?"

Ren Xun hesitated, just for a moment. "Class Three pertains to the greater world—the balance of power beyond individual cities and regions. It contains knowledge that could influence powerful sects or shift the Empire's standing."

I raised a brow. "So if I wanted to know which sects secretly oppose the Empire, that would be Class Three?"

"Exactly," he said. "Information like that, in the wrong hands, could be dangerous."

"And Class Two?"

His expression grew serious. "Class Two knowledge is directly tied to the Empire's fate. Only high-ranking officials, sect leaders, and the imperial court have access to it."

"And Class One?"

Ren Xun exhaled slowly. "The highest tier. Class One knowledge is enough to stir immortals. It includes secrets of true immortality, the fundamental truths of this world, and matters that could unravel existence itself."

I took a moment to absorb that. "And you? What do you have access to?"

Ren Xun gave a wry smile. "Class Four. Maybe a few things that brush against Class Three. But if you're looking for a bookstore…" He gestured at the crowded street. "You'll only find Class Five knowledge."

Basic history, travel guides, useless trivia. Not what I needed.

I sighed. "Figures."

Still, it wouldn't hurt to look.

The bookstore was nestled between two larger buildings, its wooden sign worn but still legible. Ironmoor's Grand Repository. A grand name, though I doubted it lived up to it.

The moment we stepped inside, the scent of aged parchment and ink filled the air. Shelves lined the walls, crammed with scrolls and bound books—some stacked haphazardly, others arranged with care. The lighting was dim, the only illumination coming from flickering lanterns set along the wooden beams. A few customers browsed in silence, the occasional rustling of pages and murmurs of interest breaking the stillness.

I ran a hand along the spines of the books before picking one at random. A guide to Ironmoor's flora—complete with neatly drawn illustrations of herbs and medicinal plants. It might prove useful. I tucked it under my arm and moved to another shelf.

The selection was varied—regional histories, travelogues from wandering cultivators, basic Martial-Tempering manuals. Nothing groundbreaking, but I hadn't expected anything more. According to Ren Xun, this shop only carried Class Five knowledge—the most basic, publicly available information.

Still, I didn't mind. The books Gu Jie and Old Song had procured for me held more insightful knowledge about the world and the Empire, but it wouldn't hurt to supplement that. I pulled another book from the shelf, this one detailing the legends of Deepmoor Continent. A glance at the preface told me it was half speculation, half folktale. But even legends held a kernel of truth.

I was about to check out when movement outside the store caught my eye.

Through the window, a line of shackled people was being marched down the street. A burly man led them, prodding them forward like cattle. Chains clinked with each step, rattling against the stone.

Slaves.

I frowned, fingers tightening around the book in my hands.

Among the pile of books I had gathered, one mentioned the Empire's slavery system. I flipped through its pages, scanning for relevant passages, but I still turned to Ren Xun for confirmation.

"What's the Empire's stance on slavery?"

Ren Xun glanced at the scene outside and let out a quiet sigh. "Slavery is only permitted here, in the Deepmoor Continent," he said. "The rest of the Empire abolished it long ago. The people you see there—" he gestured toward the chained procession, "—are likely criminals deemed unredeemable."

I closed the book and studied the captives more closely. Some wore hardened expressions, their gazes sharp with defiance. Others were hollow-eyed, already resigned to their fate.

"And what makes someone 'unredeemable'?" I asked, not bothering to hide my skepticism.

Ren Xun hesitated. "…That depends."

I gave him a sidelong glance, but he offered nothing more.

A scream split through the marketplace.

Not just a cry—this was raw, desperate. One of the slaves was thrashing against his chains, his voice hoarse yet unyielding.

"This is wrong! Slavery is wrong! I didn't do anything!" His wrists strained against iron bindings as he struggled. "I have a family! They'll starve without me! Please! Someone—someone help!"

The slaver leading the group shoved him forward, nearly making him stumble. "Keep moving."

"I'm not a murderer! I didn't kill anyone! Please, believe me!" The man's sobs were ragged, his body trembling as he fought against his fate. "I swear! I swear on my ancestors—!"

I reached out with my Divine Sense.

He was lying.

I exhaled quietly and watched as they dragged him away, his screams fading into hoarse sobs. No one paid him any mind. Merchants barely looked up from their stalls. A few passersby whispered, but there was no outrage. No sympathy. Just another day in Ironmoor.

Still, I took no joy in watching.

A light thump on my shoulder pulled me from my thoughts.

"You alright?" Ren Xun asked. His tone was casual, but there was something else in his gaze—concern, maybe.

I studied him for a moment.

I considered asking how confident he was in their judicial system. Whether he truly believed every slave was guilty beyond doubt, their fate justified.

But I let the thought pass.

Instead, I turned back toward the bookstore and stepped inside. "Come on," I said. "We still need to buy these books."

Back at Iron Kettle, we gathered the others and made our way toward the meeting spot.

Word was Gu Jie and Dave were finally being released today.

Summon: Holy Spirit didn't have a time limit, so Dave still persisting wasn't strange. It was one of those mechanics where summons could stick around indefinitely unless dismissed or destroyed. Still, the thought of him standing around in full plate armor for days amused me.

I connected to Gu Jie via Voice Chat. "Think they'll actually let you go today?"

"Mn. Affirmative," she replied between bites. "They already told us we're free to leave."

That made things easier.

…Huh. How did I know she was eating? Voice Chatdidn't transmit things like that. Maybe there was a way to improve it…

Five minutes later, we arrived at the meeting spot—a small food stall at the street corner.

Gu Jie was casually munching on sweets, her fingers lightly dusted with sugar. Beside her, Dave stood in his full knightly getup, posture as rigid as ever.

I waved them over.

Gu Jie set her sweets aside and rose to her feet, offering a martial artist's bow.

Dave thumped his chest in salute.

I nodded in acknowledgment. "Let's talk elsewhere."

We found a quiet park with only a few visitors strolling about. A decent enough place to speak without prying ears. There was a wooden bench near a stone lantern, so I sat down, still carrying Ren Jingyi's bowl. The others took their places—some standing, some leaning against trees.

Dave remained beside me like a statue. The rest of the group naturally formed a loose circle.

Gu Jie's gaze lingered on Hei Mao for a beat too long, her expression unreadable.

Hei Mao shifted awkwardly. "It's, uh, a disguise," he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "From a Magic Scroll… that he gave me." He gestured vaguely in my direction.

Gu Jie hummed, her eyes flicking from his too-pretty face to his unnaturally vibrant red hair. "I see."

She turned back to me. "We probably won't be able to leave anytime soon," she said, dusting off her hands. "I overheard some guards talking. They're reinforcing the perimeter."

Ren Xun frowned. "I can read the formations from here," he murmured, tilting his head slightly as his gaze swept the air. "And that says a lot about how strong their defenses are."

Hei Mao crossed his arms. "What are they defending against?"

Lu Gao clicked his tongue. "Probably the rumors," he said. "You know—the Demonic cultivator and the Buddhist freak stirring up trouble."

Dave offered a different perspective. "Or," he said, voice calm but firm, "the formations aren't to keep something out. They're to trap something inside."

Silence settled over us.

Even now, they still hadn't found the murderer.

Gu Jie faked a cough into her fist, then straightened, shifting into a more formal stance. "I have my report."

I nodded for her to proceed.

She raised a finger. "First, I successfully procured vegetables for the fish."

Internally, I winced. Over the past three days, I'd bought enough fish food to feed an entire school of Ren Jingyis. At this rate, she probably thought she was living in a luxury buffet.

Gu Jie, oblivious to my mild suffering, continued. "Second, I investigated the black-masked people."

At that, my attention sharpened.

Not just mine. Hei Mao, who had been leaning casually against a tree—well, as casually as he ever got—immediately stiffened. His whole demeanor shifted. Eyes narrowing, hands curling into fists.

If he were still a ghost, I had no doubt the miasma rolling off him would've sent half the city guards running.

Instead, what I felt was something colder.

Bloodlust.

Raw. Seething. Ice-cold.

The others couldn't sense it, but I could. It pulsed through the bond we shared—the link between a Paladin and his Holy Spirit.

I clenched my jaw slightly. This wasn't just a matter of curiosity for him.

This was personal.

I met Gu Jie's gaze. "So, what can you tell me about them?"

075 Black Mask

Gu Jie had always possessed an uncanny talent for gathering information. When one's cultivation revolved around avoiding misfortune, a keen sense of observation became second nature. It was no wonder she excelled at piecing together scattered clues into something more.

Arms crossed, she leaned forward, her voice steady and measured. "The black masks are tied to the undead. Thousands of years ago, a cult arose, devoted to the study of undeath—not merely its practice, but the philosophy behind it." She paused, sweeping her gaze across us, making sure we followed. "That cult was purged. Or so history claims. Yet lately, there have been whispers of their resurgence. The disturbances in Deepmoor follow their pattern almost exactly."

I frowned. "You're saying they've returned?"

Gu Jie nodded. "Or perhaps they never truly left."

That alone was concerning, but her expression told me she had more to say.

"There's also the matter of a demonic cultivator infiltrating the Abyssal Clans. The rumors say they were behind the deaths of the Black Anvil Sect's vice sect master and the City Lord's son."

Lu Gao stroked his chin. "Some say it was the sect master himself who died. Any truth to that?"

"No way to verify, but someone important certainly perished," Gu Jie replied. "Regardless, if the Abyssal Clans are involved, then this is far worse than we thought."

A heavy silence followed.

Then—Hei Mao fell to his knees.

No. He kowtowed.

My breath caught as his forehead pressed against the ground.

"Master," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I beg you… Let us hunt them down."

Master?

I stared, stunned. Where was the sharp-tongued youth, always ready with a smug remark? The awkward boy who squirmed under too much attention?

Now he knelt, trembling, unshed tears glistening in his eyes.

My chest tightened.

Ren Xun hesitantly raised his hand.

I exhaled. "Speak."

He shifted under my gaze, clearly uneasy, but he forced himself to continue. "You asked me once about the black-masked cultivators."

I narrowed my eyes. "I did. Get to the point."

"Uuuh… I might have forgotten to say some things… He straightened, as if bracing for my reaction. "The Abyssal Clans… they once wore black masks as a symbol of their allegiance."

Everyone tensed. Even Hei Mao, burning with quiet rage, stilled.

Ren Xun continued carefully. "I don't know anything about worshiping undeath. But I recall reading about the masks. They were once a mark of their affiliation—though not all still follow the tradition."

Ah. So that was his aim. A subtle attempt at damage control. He feared I'd take this knowledge and declare the entire Deepmoor Continent an enemy.

I wasn't that reckless. Or that foolish.

Cultivators had a flair for dramatics—declaring blood feuds over spilled tea, waging sect wars over minor slights, swearing vengeance unto the tenth generation.

But that wasn't me.

I arched an eyebrow. "So you're telling me the black-masked figures we're dealing with… might not actually belong to some ancient cult of Undeath?"

Ren Xun nodded. "That's exactly what I'm saying. Just because they wear black masks doesn't mean they're all from the same group. It could be a faction within the Abyssal Clans… or something else entirely."

Fair enough.

"Noted." I didn't press the matter further. "Anything else?"

Ren Xun exhaled, his shoulders loosening slightly. Clearly, he had expected me to start a war over this revelation. "No, that's the main thing. I just wanted to make sure you had all the facts before making any decisions."

I glanced at Hei Mao. His jaw was tight, his posture rigid, but he held his tongue. The fury from earlier still simmered beneath the surface, though he did a decent job of containing it.

I gave a slight nod, mostly to myself. "Then let's focus on what we actually know and not jump to conclusions."

I tapped my fingers against my arm, letting Ren Xun's words settle before asking, "Alright. Then tell me—how did the Abyssal Clan system even start?"

I had read about the Abyssal Clans. Or at least, what was permitted for outsiders to know. At the very least, they were an established force known across the continents.

Ren Xun took a deep breath, crossing his arms. "You want the short version or the long version, Senior?"

"The important parts. And keep the embellishments to a minimum."

He smirked. "You wound me." Then his expression turned serious. "The Grand Ascension Empire didn't simply rise from nothing. It spread through conquest, and at the heart of it all stood the Grand Emperor himself. The way history tells it, he didn't just command armies—he personally carved his way across continents, defeating experts one by one. His strength alone was said to be enough to suppress an entire continent with a single hand."

I raised an eyebrow. That sounded like the usual historical embellishment, but I let him continue.

"At first, the Emperor intended to halt his expansion at six continents. That was his original goal. But then, he encountered a problem… Deepmoor."

I tilted my head. "What made Deepmoor different?"

Ren Xun's lips pressed into a thin line. "The cultivators of Deepmoor had powerful backing—the Abyss Clan."

I frowned. "The Abyss Clan. Not the Abyssal Clans we know today?"

"Correct. They were different back then—more… fanatical. Their entire existence revolved around war. Not just any war, but war without end. They funneled undead from the Evernight Continent, unleashing an endless tide of corpses against the Empire. No matter how many soldiers the Empire sent, the Abyss Clan replenished their forces with the very dead they slew. It was an unrelenting nightmare."

A chilling tactic. One that made me understand why even an empire as vast as Grand Ascension would hesitate. It reminded me of liches and necromancers back in LLO, but with a twist.

I exhaled. "So how did the Empire stop them?"

Ren Xun exhaled. "At first, they didn't. The Empire suffered heavy losses, and the Grand Emperor realized that if he kept pushing, he might not win. So instead of throwing his forces into a losing war, he changed tactics—he sought an alliance."

"With who? Get to the point."

"The White Clan of the Evernight Continent," Ren Xun answered. "They were powerful in their own right, but unlike the Abyss Clan, they weren't obsessed with war. The Grand Emperor forged a marriage alliance with them. With their support, the tide turned. The Abyss Clan was eventually suppressed, and Deepmoor's cultivators had no choice but to submit. Riverfall Continent followed soon after, becoming the eighth territory under the Empire's rule."

I absorbed the information, piecing it together with what I already knew. The Grand Emperor had been powerful enough to subjugate entire continents—yet even he had struggled against Deepmoor's undead-fueled warfare. It had taken an alliance to end the conflict.

And now, centuries later, rumors of black-masked figures and undead cults were surfacing again.

"Sounds like history's trying to repeat itself," Gu Jie muttered.

Ren Xun pressed on, his voice steady yet carrying the weight of history. "After suppressing the Abyss Clan, the Grand Emperor didn't leave things as they were. He didn't trust them. Not completely. So he forced a marriage alliance upon them to ensure their cooperation. The Abyss Clan, knowing they had no other choice, agreed—but only on the condition that certain… practices would still be permitted in Deepmoor."

I frowned. "Practices like what?"

Ren Xun met my gaze. "Necromancy. Blood rituals. Dark arts that would've been forbidden in the Empire's heartlands."

"And the Emperor allowed that?"

"Not exactly. He imposed strict conditions. The Abyss Clan was forbidden from practicing umbramancy—their most feared legacy—and they were tasked with policing Deepmoor's cultivators, ensuring their practices remained within 'acceptable' limits." Ren Xun exhaled. "On top of that, the Emperor ordered an annual audit. Imperial officials would arrive each year to ensure they weren't stepping out of line."

I could already guess how that went. "And they just accepted that?"

Ren Xun let out a dry chuckle. "Not without fury. To them, umbramancy wasn't just a technique—it was their very identity. Stripping it away was like gutting their soul. But they played along. On the surface."

I narrowed my eyes. "You're saying they didn't actually accept it, did they?"

If I had the option to skip the cutscene, I would've taken it. But I kept listening.

Ren Xun shook his head. "Of course not. They schemed."

"Typical," Lu Gao remarked.

"To outmaneuver the Emperor, the Abyss Clan split itself in two. One branch swore loyalty, rebranding themselves as the Black Clan. They upheld the alliance, followed imperial law, and played the role of obedient subjects."

His voice darkened.

"The second branch disappeared into the shadows."

Gu Jie exhaled, already seeing where this was going. "And they became the Shadow Clan."

Ren Xun nodded.

"I've come across their name once or twice in my investigations… but never anything conclusive. I've never heard of the term 'Abyss Clan,' but I knew the Black Clan and the Shadow Clan shared a past."

"Because they erased it," Ren Xun confirmed. "The Black Clan rewrote their records, severing all ties to the Abyss Clan. They even abandoned the black masks. Officially, the Shadow Clan didn't exist. Unofficially, they continued practicing umbramancy, preserving the Abyss Clan's true teachings."

Hei Mao's eyes narrowed. "And the Empire just let that happen?"

"They didn't know," Ren Xun admitted. "Not at first. By the time suspicion arose, it was too late. The Shadow Clan had already buried themselves too deep, and every attempt to root them out ended in failure. Over the centuries, they faded into myth."

His expression darkened. "But that wasn't the end of it."

I crossed my arms, waiting.

"With the Emperor's favor, the Black Clan wasted no time solidifying their position. They used their newfound authority to legalize certain… techniques."

"Techniques banned in the rest of the Empire," I guessed. "That was part of the deal with the emperor, yes?"

Ren Xun inclined his head. "Yes. Exactly. But it wasn't just for their own benefit. The Black Clan created a system to shield the Shadow Clan from scrutiny—the Abyssal Clan. They structured it from the ground up, drawing in sects, families, and factions from across the continents who practiced taboo arts. Instead of being hunted or exiled, these groups were given a place to exist legally—under the Black Clan's supervision, of course."

I frowned. "So the Abyssal Clan… isn't actually a single clan?"

"No. It's an entire network." Ren Xun's tone was matter-of-fact. "A collection of disparate groups, bound together by the same need—survival. The Black Clan's logic was simple: contain them, regulate them, and make them useful. It was a compromise—a way to turn a threat into an asset."

And one that could benefit the Empire in the long run. Better to control something dangerous than to destroy it outright.

I let out a slow breath. "And that actually worked?"

Ren Xun exhaled. "For a time. But secrets never stay buried forever. Eventually, an Imperial Auditor uncovered the truth. The Black Clan's involvement was exposed, and the Emperor was furious."

I didn't need to ask what happened next. The answer was obvious.

"He personally punished them, didn't he?"

Ren Xun lowered his head. "Yes. Half the Black Clan was slaughtered. The Shadow Clan suffered the same fate. But even with such a brutal reckoning, the damage had already been done. The Shadow Clan survived, and the Black Clan remained as Deepmoor's rulers. Yet since that day, they've been bitter rivals, blaming each other for their downfall—never realizing it was the Emperor who orchestrated their division."

I tapped a finger against my arm. "The Black Clan must see the Shadow Clan as traitors who ruined everything."

"And the Shadow Clan sees the Black Clan as the ones who got caught," Ren Xun finished. "Their feud has never ended. Even now, they scheme against one another, fighting for control over Deepmoor." He hesitated. "At least, that's what I've heard. I imagine the Black Clan is still in a far better position than the Shadow Clan…"

I took a deep breath, letting the weight of the story settle in. "So these black-masked people we've been wanting… they might be from the Shadow Clan?"

Ren Xun's expression darkened. "It's possible," he admitted. "But be careful—don't mistake the Abyssal Clan for your enemy. It's just a system, a shelter for many factions. If you want the real culprits, the ones pulling the strings from the dark, then the Shadow Clan is where your investigation should lead."

There was an unspoken plea behind his words. He was warning me—not just about the Shadow Clan, but about the danger of making a reckless move.

I met his gaze and nodded. "I understand."

Then I turned to Hei Mao. "What do you want to do?"

Hei Mao clenched his fists but didn't hesitate. "I trust Ren Xun."

That was expected. Ever since he received the bracelet with the magatama, he had acknowledged Ren Xun in his own way. I glanced at Ren Xun, who looked somewhat pleased but was clearly trying to maintain a neutral face. Yeah… his affection points were definitely working overtime.

Hei Mao exhaled slowly, steadying himself. "I'll stay calm and follow your lead."

I nodded. "Then it's decided. Our next destination is the Shadow Clan."

Gu Jie clicked her tongue. "Leaving the city won't be easy."

Ren Xun crossed his arms. "With the formations reinforced? No chance. I have confidence in Senior's strength, but if Senior destroys those barriers, we'll have more trouble than we can bargain for."

He wasn't wrong. Blasting our way out would put a giant target on our backs—not just from the city guards, but from every major force in Deepmoor. The Black Clan, the Imperial Auditors, the Abyssal Clan—all of them would descend on us in an instant.

But I already had a plan.

I turned to Ren Xun. "How confident are you in sneaking the boat out of the docking area?"

Ren Xun blinked, then grinned. "Compared to breaking through the city's formations? Infinitely easier." He cracked his knuckles. "Getting the boat out quietly is a much smaller problem than deciphering an entire city's defenses."

"Good," I said. "Then we're doing that."

Ren Xun pumped his fist, his grin widening. "If I fail, I'll spell my name backward from now on."

I stared at him. "That's some dedication."

He smirked. "It's called confidence."

I shook my head. "We'll see."

076 Grand Escape

"One last thing," I fixed my gaze on Ren Xun. "Why not the Black Clan? They wear black masks too. Who's to say they're not involved?" I gestured toward Hei Mao. "You might not know his full story, but it's written in his eyes—he wants vengeance. So tell me, are you hiding something? What are the odds that the Black Clan are the true culprits? What if you are misleading us?"

"That's…" Ren Xun tensed, a bead of sweat forming at his temple. Yet, to his credit, his voice remained steady. "Senior, I cannot say for certain. I have no proof of their innocence or their guilt." He exhaled, glancing at Hei Mao. "And yes, I know his story. He told me two nights ago. As for my motives, I only follow my father's orders—to ensure you don't… er… slaughter the wrong people."

I barked out a laugh. "So you were worried about that." I clapped him on the back. "Relax. I don't make a habit of massacring innocents."

Hei Mao gave me a deadpan look. "You're mean."

I snorted. "What, you wanted me to go berserk?"

"It would be cool."

Ren Xun muttered under his breath, "No, it would not."

I ignored them, turning my thoughts to the real issue. The Black Clan or the Shadow Clan—one of them had a hand in Hei Mao's tragedy. Maybe both. Maybe neither. But this was bigger than just masked assassins.

Gu Jie tapped her fingers against her arm, her expression unreadable. "We should act under cover of darkness," she said. "Midnight is best."

A solid plan. Fewer eyes, fewer interruptions. I nodded. "Agreed."

I glanced at the others. "Objections?"

Ren Xun shook his head. "Night suits our purpose."

Hei Mao's wavering resolve solidified. The others followed, nodding one by one.

"Then we wait."

I turned to Lu Gao and handed him Ren Jingyi's bowl. "Watch her."

Lu Gao scowled. "I'm not a fish sitter."

"She trusts you," I said flatly. "Consider yourself honored."

He opened his mouth to argue, but I was already moving on. "The rest of you, return to Iron Kettle. Lay low until midnight. Dave, stay."

The group dispersed. I waited until they were gone, then turned to Dave. "You've been on edge. What's wrong?"

"My Lord, I am fine. Thank you."

I started walking, and he followed without further instruction. The streets bustled around us, the city's rhythms shifting with the hour. Too many ears to speak openly. I switched to Voice Chat.

"Anything to add to Gu Jie's report?"

"Gu Jie reported signs of misfortune looming over the city, though she could not pinpoint its source. With her counsel, we agreed that cooperation with the local law enforcement would bring the least calamity." Dave's response was immediate, steady. "The lass wished to protect you, My Lord, in her own way. Forgive her impudence."

I waved it off. "And this misfortune—what did you find?"

"I dealt with it, My Lord. There was a vampire in the next cell I was kept in."

I frowned. "A vampire?"

"Yes, My Lord. Or something close to one."

"You're certain? Could've been a demonic cultivator. Plenty of those dabble in arts that make them resemble the undead."

Dave hesitated. "That was my first thought."

I gave him a sharp look. "But?"

He exhaled. "It claimed to offer me immortality."

My fingers twitched. "And?"

Dave's voice remained level, though I caught the edge of restrained frustration. "It planned to turn both the detainees and the enforcers into its familiars. Said it was going to start a riot."

I clicked my tongue. "Bold of it to assume things would go that smoothly."

Dave snorted. "It was boastful about it. Said it had already laced the city's food and water with dormant blood. Just needed the right trigger to activate it. Apparently, it was caught right before it could turn the entire city into its slaves." He paused. "A low-level creature, but confident in its master plan. Kept mentioning a 'benefactor.'"

I narrowed my eyes. "And this benefactor?"

Dave hesitated. That pause told me everything.

"No name. Only that vampire was gifted a formation method. Something tied to its transformation scheme."

I rubbed my temple. First devils in Riverfall, now this.

"Did it suspect you?" I asked.

"No, My Lord. Likely took me for a low-tier cultivator who had an odd technique."

That tracked.

"He even wanted to make me a vampire kin rather than a mere familiar."

I scoffed. "Let me guess—he wouldn't shut up because of your Charisma stat?"

Dave allowed himself a smirk. "Indeed, My Lord."

Figures. High Charisma was a cheat in more ways than one. Even enemies turned into monologuing fools.

"And what did you do next?"

"Multiple Holy Smites from the next cell over."

I blinked. "Wait, what—"

"Turned him to ash."

I let out a low whistle. "That explains the delay in your release."

"Yes, My Lord. The enforcers were scrambling over the sudden 'disappearance' of a detainee."

I sighed. "I would've preferred you consulted me first. And Gu Jie, too." I shook my head. "You didn't leave any traces, did you?"

"I ensured there was nothing left before they found the remains." Dave's tone was more serious now. "Hid the ash. Apologies, My Lord. It happened too quickly, and I wished to report directly to you."

Honestly, I didn't mind.

"Next time, hold nothing back. Speak to me first," I said, halting mid-step and turning to face him fully. "And?"

Dave met my gaze, his expression grim. "I found a black mask."

I exhaled slowly.

Hellspawned devils in Riverfall.

Blood-drinking pretenders here.

And now, black-masked figures lurking behind it all?

Just what was so special about this world that calamity kept converging upon it?

I exhaled through my nose. "Keep the vampire matter to yourself for now."

Dave nodded. We continued walking in silence until I abruptly turned into an alleyway. He hesitated for only a moment before following.

"My Lord," he said, glancing around warily. "What are we doing here?"

I pulled out a Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation, holding it up for him to see. "I'd rather not embarrass myself if this doesn't work." The entire escape plan depended on my ability to get everyone out. Calling it 'embarrassing' if I failed was an understatement.

Dave raised an eyebrow. "My Lord intends to bypass the city's spell formations with that?"

"More or less."

He hummed, tapping the chin of his helm. "The theory holds merit. The city's formation arrays function on distinct principles; interference may not be an issue. Still, caution is best."

"See, this is why I keep you around." I grinned.

Dave inclined his head. "I am honored, My Lord."

I focused on the scroll. The wax seal remained intact. Running a finger over it, I felt the faint pulse of magic thrumming beneath. Just as I was about to break the seal, Dave's hand shot out, gripping my wrist.

"I should do it, My Lord."

I frowned. "What?"

"If the formation reacts, My Lord can simply dispel me."

I gave him a flat look. "Dave."

"Better yet," he continued, unbothered, "if instant death awaits on the other side, at least My Lord won't suffer."

I narrowed my eyes. "That's a rather dramatic way of saying 'let me be the guinea pig.'"

Dave shrugged. "I prefer 'calculated risk.'"

Annoyingly, he wasn't wrong. Handing him the scroll would be the smart choice. But if I was being honest, I wanted to experience the sensation of using genuine magic. Faith-based spells had their limits. If I studied teleportation long enough with my Divine Sense, perhaps I could replicate it…

Yeah. I was making excuses.

Dave crossed his arms. "My Lord has only one life. My Lord should cherish it more."

I sighed. "I could just use Castling on you if I get caught in the formation."

"And if it's an area-wide countermeasure?"

Damn him for being reasonable.

"Fine," I relented, shoving the scroll into his hands. Then, pulling out another, I handed it to him as well. "I want to test its accuracy. Go, then report back."

Dave smirked. "Understood, My Lord."

And with that, he tore the scroll open.

Dave vanished in the blink of an eye. One moment, he stood beside me, Magic Scroll in hand. The next, he was gone, snuffed out like a candle in the wind.

I waited. A second. Then a minute longer.

Our connection remained intact. The Voice Chat link still held. Good.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

Dave's voice came through, steady as ever. "My Lord, I have arrived at the spell's maximum range. The incantation was true, and I remain unharmed."

I exhaled, tension easing from my shoulders. Step one was a success.

"I'd like to scout the location myself, get a proper estimate," I admitted. "We need the best possible route to the Floating Dragon." But I wasn't the one there. Dave was. "For now, you're my eyes. Recon first. If anything feels off, use the Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation to retreat."

"As you command, My Lord," Dave answered without hesitation.

I listened as he described the scene in real time. The layout of the streets. The enforcers' patrol routes. The formation engravings embedded in the walls. He even noted how the moonlight reflected off certain rooftops—because of course he would. Knightly types always had a flair for poetic details.

For thirty minutes, I absorbed everything. Then, in another blink, Dave reappeared beside me, as if he had never left.

"The scroll was incredibly accurate, My Lord," he reported. "I suspect our bond refined its precision. It placed me exactly where I envisioned, no deviation."

I smirked. "Good. That means we can use it without worrying about misfires."

We had a way out. Now, it was just a matter of making our move.

I activated Voice Chat again. "Hei Mao, how are the others?"

"They are fine," Hei Mao responded immediately. "Everyone is lying low at the Iron Kettle, as you instructed."

"Good. Meet me at the shop."

"As you wish."

I turned to Dave. "Follow me."

As we walked, I filled him in. "We haven't been idle these past four days. Ren Xun secured me roughly Class 4 knowledge in book form. Lu Gao handled supplies and secured a shop deal. Hei Mao acted as a deterrent, as his Fourth Realm cultivation was enough to dissuade most troublemakers."

Dave nodded, saying nothing. He was waiting to see where this was going.

We reached the blacksmith's shop. Hei Mao was already there, arms crossed, waiting.

The shopkeeper, Old Hua, spotted us the moment we stepped inside. His wrinkled face split into a grin.

"Ah, you're here," he said. "It's done."

He led us to the back of the shop, where an armor set stood displayed on a sturdy wooden stand.

The moment I saw it, I knew.

Styled after the armor of the Round Table, the mother organization of the first Paladins, it gleamed under the dim lantern light. The breastplate bore intricate engravings, a radiant cross entwined with celestial runes. The pauldrons, shaped like noble beasts—lions and gryphons—exuded an air of guardianship, their fierce visages frozen in a silent vow. The gauntlets had finely layered plates, balancing dexterity and defense, while the greaves were sculpted for swift, unburdened movement. A flowing blue cape, embroidered with silver, completed the ensemble, its fabric carrying the dignity of a knight's oath.

Regal. Righteous.

It was for Dave.

He stood motionless, gloved fingers tracing the engravings. Though his helm concealed his face, I could picture his expression—pure, unfiltered surprise.

Man, I just made Dave speechless.

That had to be an achievement!

Old Hua cleared his throat. "This here is the Puppet Armor, built according to the blueprints you provided." His voice carried a hint of pride as he gestured to the gleaming set. "Lightweight but durable. The internal mechanisms are reinforced, allowing flexibility without sacrificing defense. I adjusted the puppet framework, so it doesn't strictly follow Buddhist methods—figured that wouldn't suit your request."

"Good call," I nodded.

The blueprints weren't entirely my own. I had copied them from the pile the Cloud Mist Sect provided, then cross-referenced them with the knowledge at my disposal. A refinement here, an adjustment there—until the final design became something practical.

"Tested the joints myself," Old Hua continued. "Automation functions work as expected. Pour Qi into it, and it'll act on command. Not perfect, but a damn fine piece of work, if I say so myself."

"That's all I needed to hear." With a flick of my wrist, I stored the Puppet Armor into my Item Box.

Old Hua stretched out a hand, palm up. "Now, about my payment."

I reached into the Item Box and retrieved two handfuls of Lost Legends Online gold coins, letting them clink into his waiting palm.

The old blacksmith whistled. "Good stuff. Tougher than standard metals, too! These'll make fine materials for my next projects." He weighed them briefly before pocketing the lot.

I cupped my fist and bowed. "Many thanks, Master Hua."

He grunted but returned the gesture. "Don't get yourself killed out there."

"What's the Puppet Armor for?" Hei Mao squinted at me, arms crossed. "What am I even doing here?"

His current disguise, a red-haired martial artist with a wild and untamed look—was striking. Then again, with the sheer variety of eccentric cultivators flooding the streets, he fit right in.

Dave was the one to answer. "My Lord, I have an inkling as to its purpose."

"Of course you do," I said. "It's for you."

I led them into another alley, away from prying eyes. Once we were clear, I pulled the Puppet Armor from the Item Box. Dave stepped forward, straightened his back, and activated Divine Possession.

The Puppet Armor responded instantly. The formations along its surface flared to life. Runes glowed, Qi circuits thrummed, and with a final pulse of energy, the armor moved.

A tremendous pressure erupted from it.

Hei Mao tensed beside me, his stance subtly shifting as the oppressive aura of a Seventh Realm cultivator filled the alley. It was the same pressure I had felt when facing the Heavenly Demon.

Dave's was slightly stronger.

I raised a brow. "Not bad. You probably could've been stronger."

Dave turned his armored hands over, clenching and unclenching his gauntleted fingers. "Stronger, indeed. Normally, Divine Possession would halve my attributes, yet I find myself unaffected."

I clicked my tongue. "That's unfair."

But it made sense. The Puppet Armor was designed to house an artificial spirit. If the Cloud Mist Sect's records were accurate, it should be a perfect vessel for Divine Possession.

"However, my Ultimate Skills are beyond my reach." Dave nodded and then thought about it. "Thankfully, my other skills remain usable."

I hummed in thought. "Sounds like Brukhelm's situation back at the Yellow Dragon Festival."

The method was different, of course. Brukhelm had been confined to a specific form of power, while Dave's possession of the armor was a far more refined approach. Regardless, this was a major boon. A cultivator whose strength could be measured in this world's system should deter plenty of trouble.

I gestured toward him. "Can you lower the pressure you're releasing? No need to invite unnecessary eyes."

Dave straightened. Slowly but surely, the oppressive energy receded until it matched Hei Mao's level.

I grinned. "Perfect. Now, let's move. That spike in pressure will have drawn attention."

Midnight arrived.

We gathered in our room at the Iron Kettle. The atmosphere was tense but determined as I handed each of them a Magic Scroll of Great Teleportation. One by one, they accepted the scrolls like fragile treasures. Even the bowlfish got one. I dipped a scroll into her fishbowl, watching it float at the surface.

…I really hoped that would work.

I swept my gaze over them. "Gu Jie, you lead the way."

She nodded, rolling her shoulders. "Understood."

Gu Jie went first, activating her scroll. She relied on Sixth Sense Misfortune to scout ahead, waiting for any premonition of disaster before confirming the path was safe. When nothing struck her down, she sent word through Voice Chat.

"It's clear. Proceed."

That was all the others needed. One by one, they activated their scrolls, vanishing in bursts of light.

And then… only Ren Jingyi, Dave, and I remained. He stood beside me, ever the vigilant knight. "My Lord, I shall protect thee in this moment of vulnerability."

I exhaled and focused. My awareness sank into the depths of Divine Possession.

Ren Jingyi stirred. I exerted fine control, carefully manipulating her delicate fins. Her tail flicked upward, curling just enough to tear the scroll floating in her fishbowl.

A flash of light engulfed the water. The bowlfish vanished.

Back in Voice Chat, Gu Jie made a startled sound. "I—I caught it!"

I stared at her, noting her half-scared, half-relieved expression.

Good. That was one less worry.

I released my hold on Ren Jingyi and returned to my body. A faint golden light shimmered beside me as Dave emerged from the Puppet Armor, dissolving into his Holy Spirit form. With a swift motion, I reached out and stored the empty suit into my Item Box.

"We shall move as one, My Lord," he said, his voice steady.

I nodded. No need to waste an extra scroll.

Without hesitation, I tore mine.

The world blurred. Space twisted.

And then we arrived.

The others were already gathered, crouched in the shadows near the docks. The Floating Dragon bobbed gently in the water nearby, looking as unassuming as ever.

As I approached, Ren Xun whispered, "I've already snuck aboard and disabled the formations. It didn't take long."

I raised a brow. "You're unexpectedly good at this."

"It's my second talent," He smirked but was already moving, his voice low. "Let's avoid flight for now and take the river…"

We wasted no time. Under the cover of darkness, we boarded the boat, slipping into our positions.

The Floating Dragon glided across the water, slow but steady. No creaking wood, no splashes, just the faintest ripple disturbing the surface.

No alarms. No pursuit.

Only the quiet, careful rhythm of our grand escape.

077 Brewing Storm

The storm raged across the sky, dark clouds twisting like writhing serpents. Lightning flashed, illuminating the figures soaring within the storm's embrace—two riders, one upon a beast of purity, the other upon a beast of taint.

Alice, a pink-haired vampire with crimson eyes, rode astride a Bicorn. The beast's two horns glinted like curved daggers in the erratic bursts of light. The creature galloped through the sky as if the wind itself were its domain. Beside her, Joan, a blonde priestess with emerald eyes, guided her Unicorn forward. The creature's single spiraled horn cut through the downpour like a beacon of divinity.

And both women were absolutely furious.

Alice muttered darkly under her breath. "This is ridiculous. Every step of the way, delay after delay. Do you know how frustrating it is to—"

"Whose fault do you think that is?!" Joan shouted over the howling storm.

Alice rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. It's not my fault people are so enamored with me."

Joan groaned, gripping the reins of her Unicorn tighter. "You enthralled an entire outpost, Alice! We wasted hours unravelling that mess!"

Alice placed a hand on her chest in mock offense. "I did not enthrall them. They simply fell for my natural charm."

Joan shot her a glare sharp enough to cut steel. "You walked in, smiled, and suddenly a whole squad of knights were groveling at your feet!"

Knights? Probably not. Soldiers? Most likely.

"I digress," Alice smirked, fangs glinting. "That's not enthrallment—that's charisma."

Joan let out a frustrated yell. "You turned their captain into a thrall!"

"That part might have been intentional," Alice admitted, tossing her cerise hair back. "But I had to test if my powers were dulled in this world. How was I supposed to know he'd be so susceptible?"

Joan pinched the bridge of her nose, inhaling deeply. "We're supposed to be covert, Alice. Covert."

Alice waved a hand dismissively. "And yet, no one's chasing us, are they?"

Joan didn't respond immediately, though the look on her face suggested she was counting to ten to keep from throwing Alice off her Bicorn.

Thunder cracked around them, a bolt of lightning streaking dangerously close. Alice barely flinched, merely sighing. "If it makes you feel better, I'll be good for the rest of the trip."

"I'll believe that when I see it," Joan muttered.

The storm churned ahead, and the two riders pressed onward.

Lightning tore across the sky, a jagged spear of light splitting the heavens. The deafening roar of thunder followed an instant later.

Joan reacted immediately, raising her staff. A shimmering golden barrier flared to life around her, deflecting the rain and stray arcs of electricity. A second later, she turned and cast another toward Alice, shielding her from the storm's wrath.

Alice scowled. "I had it under control."

Joan shot her a look. "You were about to get fried."

Alice scoffed but didn't argue. Instead, she focused on keeping her Bicorn steady as they rode through the turbulent sky. The storm raged around them, but after what felt like an eternity, they finally broke through the thickest part of the clouds. Rain still lashed against them, but at least they had some breathing room.

Their mounts surged forward, hooves striking nothing but air, carrying them at speeds that blurred the world beneath them. The city lights below were mere specks swallowed by the storm's gloom.

Joan gritted her teeth and turned to Alice. "Where is David now?"

Alice placed a hand over her chest, feeling for the isolated drop of blood within her heart. The connection flared—distant yet unmistakable. It was part of a Blood Pact she had forged with him eons ago, a bond not even time could sever.

Her frown deepened. "He moved again. A few kilometers from where he was before."

Joan blinked. "He moved again? Through that?" She gestured at the storm they had barely managed to pierce.

Alice nodded. "I don't know about the storm though…"

Joan looked like she was about to cry. "Why is he so fast? He doesn't even have a mount!"

Alice's grip on the reins tightened as memories stirred. David was always a competent warrior. An adventurer. But the thought of him moving so quickly—without a steed—left her unsettled.

Joan, seeing her expression, quickly added, "He did find a quest to procure a mount, you know. He just never bothered to do it. He kept saying his Egress skill was enough."

Alice arched a brow. "And?"

Joan let out a tired sigh. "And… the portal system our world follows is rather advanced. This world clearly… doesn't have a portal system of its own…"

Alice stared at her for a long moment. Then, with a sigh, she flicked the reins of her Bicorn, urging it forward.

"He's lazy like that," she muttered.

Being lazy on the wrong things was more like it.

Since dropping into this world, Alice and Joan have been on one excursion after another. If it wasn't one thing, it was another—beast attacks, cultists, demonic incursions, and more. Every time they thought they had a moment to breathe, trouble found them again.

It didn't help that the language barrier between them and the locals was immense. Alice had a natural talent for picking up new languages, but even she struggled with the dialects here. Joan, on the other hand, relied entirely on divine intuition—and that wasn't always accurate. More than once, she had accidentally blessed a gathering of cutthroats.

How was that even possible?

Didn't she have a passive skill that could detect karma?

Before they knew it? Alice had slaughtered a group of black-masked thugs who were trying far too hard to pretend to be vampires.

"Honestly, it was embarrassing," Alice muttered under her breath, recalling the encounter. They had the pale skin, the dramatic capes, and the exaggerated hissing down to an art—but the moment she actually sank her fangs into one of them, they tasted human. Utterly human. And weak.

Meanwhile, Joan… well, Joan had cured an entire settlement of vagrants and stopped a plague.

And somehow? That had angered the local aristocrats.

Alice scoffed. Typical.

Joan, riding beside her, furrowed her brows. "You're scoffing."

Alice tilted her head. "Am I?"

"Yes."

Alice gave an exaggerated sigh. "Just thinking about how ridiculous it is that you, of all people, managed to stir up noble ire."

Joan groaned. "Don't remind me."

Alice smirked. "Oh, I will. You should've seen their faces."

She may not have spoken the language fluently, but she had seen it in their eyes—the way the aristocrats seethed, the way they bristled at Joan's miracle. Of course, Alice knew an aristocrat if she saw one… The self-worth was too obvious…

Alice was an aristocrat herself. Not in this world, but an aristocrat was an aristocrat, no matter the language barrier. The moment she laid eyes on those nobles, she knew what they were thinking.

It wasn't about power.

It wasn't about faith.

It was about control.

And Joan had just taken it from them.

Funny thing, they'd probably manage to get this 'control' back the second she and Joan left the place. That was just the way things were…

Alice's Danger Sense flared.

She reacted instantly, snapping her gaze toward the incoming threat. "Joan! Shield—now!"

Joan needed no further warning. With a practiced motion, she raised her staff, golden light erupting from its tip. "Shield of Faith!" she declared, forming a shimmering golden barrier around Alice. Then, in the same breath, she reinforced herself. "Shield of Eternal!" A second, far sturdier shield enveloped her, its holy radiance warding off the storm's darkness.

A pillar of azure lightning struck down from above. It wasn't chaotic like natural lightning—it was controlled, precise, and lethal. A divine strike. And it was fast.

It came in a straight, unerring path—too deliberate to be random.

An attack.

The moment the lightning struck her barrier, Alice felt the strain. Of course it cracked, she thought with an exasperated sigh.

As a vampire, she had fought against the Church more times than she could count. She knew their spells, their tactics, their weaknesses. She knew that an ordinary Shield of Faith wouldn't hold against a high-tier smiting spell.

Which was why she had prepared.

With a single thought, she activated the spell stored in her Spell Resonance.

Shield Drain.

Dark energy pulsed around her, a second barrier forming in a brief flicker of violet light. The cracking Shield of Faith shattered completely, but instead of leaving her defenseless, the broken fragments were absorbed into her new defense. The lingering force of the divine lightning was drained into the void, leaving her untouched.

Joan, meanwhile, remained entirely unscathed. The Shield of Eternal around her didn't even flicker. As expected.

Joan glanced at Alice, her eyes sharp. "That wasn't a stray bolt."

Alice scoffed. "Obviously."

Joan immediately repositioned herself forward and raising her staff once more. "Shield of Faith!" Another golden shield overlapped her existing one, reinforcing her defenses even further.

Alice narrowed her crimson eyes, scanning the stormy skies. "Now then… who dares?"

A streak of lightning split the stormclouds apart. From the cascading light, a figure emerged.

A young-looking man, dark-haired and draped in arrogance, floated before them. Behind him shimmered the mirage of a massive serpentine dragon, its azure form coiling in and out of visibility like a phantom of the storm. The air around him crackled with power, the residual charge of his arrival making Joan's unicorn shift uneasily.

Alice sniffed the air.

Dragon.

Not entirely, but enough that her instincts flared.

The man spoke, his voice firm and commanding.

Alice, naturally, understood none of it.

She sighed. "Great. Another one."

Joan, to her credit, remained composed despite the obvious language barrier. She gripped her staff, ready but not aggressive, waiting to see how things would play out.

Alice, however, had other concerns. She observed the man closely, her crimson eyes narrowing as she activated a passive ability she'd always found useful—one that let her sense life force and vitality. It was rarely wrong.

And this man—

Alice's expression darkened. "Joan. He's not as young as he looks."

Joan tensed. "How old?"

Alice pursed her lips. "Old."

"How old?"

Alice's gaze flicked to the stranger again, reading the layers of accumulated life force within him. "Not ancient," she muttered, "but definitely seasoned by vampire standards. The kind of lifespan that makes common undead jealous."

Joan groaned. "Of course. Because nothing in this world can ever be normal."

Alice silently agreed. The lifespan discrepancies in this world were ridiculous. Some mortals burned out in forty or fifty years, barely managing a full century if they were lucky. And then there were these people—the ones who clung to life with Legacy-based powers or whatever mystical nonsense this world followed.

Centuries. Millennia.

It wasn't fair.

Even Alice—a vampire, an existence fundamentally meant to last—felt a little envious of the sheer absurdity of these so-called "superhumans."

She sighed, rubbing her temples. "I don't suppose you suddenly learned the local language in the past five seconds?"

Joan shook her head. "Nope."

Alice clicked her tongue. "Figures." She looked back at the stranger. "Alright, pretty boy. What exactly do you want?"

"We should retreat," Joan said, her voice calm despite the storm still raging around them.

Alice almost fell off her Bicorn.

"Excuse me?" She gawked at her companion. "Retreat? Joan, we outnumber him two to one!"

Joan didn't budge. "That doesn't matter."

Alice scoffed. "Doesn't matter?" She gestured toward the dark-haired man floating before them, his aura flaring like a coiled dragon ready to strike. "He's strong, sure, but we are strong. And last I checked, two beats one."

Joan shook her head. "I won't fight him."

Alice narrowed her eyes. "And why not?"

Joan sighed as if the answer should have been obvious. "Because he's accumulated too much virtue."

Alice blinked. "What?"

Joan pressed a hand to her chest. "I follow a path of virtue. I can't just attack someone so steeped in positive karma. It would go against everything I believe in."

Alice clicked her tongue in annoyance. Of course she forgot about that blasted passive priests had—the one that let them see karma like some divine scoreboard.

"So what, you're saying he's some kind of saint?"

Joan tilted her head. "I wouldn't go that far. He could be a self-righteous murderer, for all I know. But if someone's racked up that much good karma, it means they've done a lot of good. And I'm not about to pick a fight with a person like that without a good reason."

Alice exhaled sharply, tapping her fingers against her thigh.

She hated to admit it, but Joan did have a point.

Not about the karma nonsense—that was just priestly superstition—but about their positioning. They were both casters.

Alice specialized in high-speed aggression and spell layering, while Joan was a defensive support specialist. Neither of them was built for prolonged melee combat, and this man reeked of someone who thrived in magical close quarters. After all, why would this man proudly present himself in front of them?

If he was an artillery mage of sorts, he would have stayed hidden and continued to bombard them with spells, instead of appearing in front of them.

Of course, that didn't mean Alice was about to run away.

"If it does come to a fight," she muttered, "I can take him."

Joan gave her a look. "Alice—"

"I can take him," she repeated, more firmly this time. "If push comes to shove, I'll handle it in single combat."

She was a pure-blooded vampire, after all. She had her pride.

But Joan wasn't backing down. "We should focus on finding David," she reminded.

That, Alice couldn't argue with.

David was still moving. His location had shifted yet again, further out of their reach. If they wasted time fighting some random powerful stranger, they'd just fall even further behind.

Alice clicked her tongue one last time. "Fine," she muttered. "We'll play it safe."

The dragon-kin finally grew tired of talking. His expression hardened, and without another word, he raised both hands. Azure lightning crackled, condensing into two massive electrospheres that hummed with destructive energy.

Alice clicked her tongue. "Took him long enough."

With a single fluid motion, she dismounted her Bicorn. Her wings—black, leathery, and bat-like—unfurled from her back with a powerful snap. As her feet hovered just above the ground, she reached behind her and unslung a parasol from her Shadow Space.

Not just any parasol. Her parasol.

Unlike the so-called "champions of the realms," who carried the blessings of the Lost Supreme—Item Boxes, divine artifacts, ridiculous system protections—immortal souls like her had to rely on their own power.

That was fine. She preferred it that way.

The first electrosphere hurtled forward, crackling with raw power. Alice flipped open her parasol, tilting it just slightly. A translucent barrier formed along her parasol's curved surface as she activated Magic Guard.

The impact sent a ripple of force through her body, but she held firm, redirecting the brunt of the attack to the side.

Meanwhile, her Bicorn took the other electrosphere head-on.

The beast let out a pained shriek, its hooves scraping against the storm-wet air as the lightning coursed through it. But it was a tough creature—it held for just long enough to do what she needed.

"Go," she whispered.

The Bicorn responded instantly, lowering its horns and charging straight for the dragon-kin.

A perfect distraction.

The dragon-kin barely had time to react as the creature slammed into him, sending him skidding backward.

Alice, hovering above, smirked.

The Bicorn would die, of course. But it wasn't true death. As an immortal steed bound to her soul, it would simply resurrect inside her, ready to be summoned again when needed.

Joan, standing further back, raised her staff. She twirled it counterclockwise, her voice ringing out over the storm as she chanted in an ancient tongue.

A golden light enveloped them.

Alice felt the familiar pull of Mass Teleportation.

Right on cue, her Bicorn was obliterated.

A combined water-lightning spell surged toward it, colliding with such force that the creature didn't even have time to scream. It simply dispersed into fine ash, its essence retreating back into her soul.

Alice grinned.

"You'll pay for that," she whispered.

She stretched out her hand, fingers weaving in a practiced motion. A dark mist coiled around her wrist before taking shape—a phantasm of a straw doll, eerily resembling the dragon-kin.

"Wretched Effigy."

The moment she clenched her fist, the doll's limbs twisted, fraying at the joints.

A curse.

One that would ensure he wouldn't be catching up to them anytime soon.

As the teleportation completed and the world around them shifted, Alice gave a small wave, her grin never fading.

"Better luck next time, lightning boy."

078 Divine Flood Dragon

Tao Long's body convulsed as an unseen force clawed at his insides, ripping through his meridians like a thousand venomous needles burrowing into his flesh. His breath hitched, and a metallic tang filled his mouth—his own blood, welling up from deep within. The pink-haired Blood Demon's curse was unlike anything he had ever experienced.

"This vile sorcery—!" Tao Long's voice was hoarse as he grit his teeth. He could feel the very foundation of his cultivation trembling. His internal energy surged in desperation, coiling around his dantian in layers of protective force, but the curse was relentless, gnawing away at his essence with a sinister, unseen hand.

A searing pain lanced through his limbs, as if countless phantoms were tearing at his soul. His once indomitable vitality, cultivated over centuries, now felt like a candle flickering in the wind. His meridians pulsed erratically, barely holding together under the relentless assault.

He staggered, falling to one knee atop the storm-ridden sky. "Damn it!" This was no ordinary hex. It was a malediction crafted from the very essence of resentment, its roots sinking deep into his karmic threads. If he did not suppress it soon, his cultivation might suffer irreparable damage.

Through the haze of agony, Tao Long lifted his gaze just in time to see the two women vanish into the void—space twisting and folding around them as they fled. The Buddhist Witch's teleportation spell had activated just as the Blood Demon's black beast dissolved into ashes.

Tao Long clenched his fists so tightly that his nails pierced his palms.

"They escaped!"

He let out a ragged breath, the storm around him responding to his fury with violent bursts of lightning. The mirage of the azure dragon behind him let out a silent roar, yet even its might could not purge the insidious energy slithering through his body.

"Blood Demon… Buddhist Witch…" Tao Long spat out each title with venom. He had fought countless foes in his lifetime—righteous cultivators, demonic beasts, even heretics who wielded the power of devils. But never had he suffered such humiliation. To be cursed so effortlessly, to watch them slip through his fingers like fleeting mist… it was intolerable.

His fingers wove a series of intricate hand seals, golden lightning crackling between them. He was no mere cultivator—his lineage was of the Celestial Azure Serpent, a proud descendant of the dragon race. His body was far more resilient than mortals, his soul tempered by tribulations few could endure.

Yet…

Even with all that, he had been powerless against the wicked spell.

Tao Long wiped the blood from the corner of his lips, his fingers trembling slightly from the lingering pain. A mere curse had forced him into such a pitiful state. The shame burned within him hotter than the lightning that coursed through his veins.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself into stillness. The storm continued to rage around him, but he no longer commanded it. For the first time in centuries, he had been wounded so severely that even the heavens refused to respond to his call.

Seating himself cross-legged in the air, he began to circulate his qi. His meridians were in shambles, his dantian quivering as it fought to retain its integrity. Had he been any weaker, had his cultivation been even a fraction lower, this curse would have crippled him permanently.

But he was Tao Long. A Divine Flood Dragon of the Azure Serpent Lineage.

With a single gesture, he inscribed a sigil in the air before him—the ancient character for Longevity (壽). The golden script pulsed with celestial energy, illuminating the dark clouds like a second sun. Another character followed, this one for Healing (癒), swirling in a slow orbit around him as he meditated.

His breath evened. His pulse steadied.

Tao Long possessed countless arts inherited from his powerful bloodline—he could summon storms with a whisper, manipulate the vast oceans with a flick of his fingers, and call down divine lightning upon his enemies. But among his many abilities, his healing arts were one of the most profound. With proper cultivation, they could mend flesh, rejuvenate the spirit, and extend longevity beyond mortal comprehension.

And yet…

Even after a dozen breaths, he felt the weight of the curse still pressing upon his soul. It clung to him like a shadow, a lingering taint that refused to be purified.

Unreasonable. Tao Long's brows furrowed. A Blood Demon and a Buddhist Witch—an abominable pairing, yet their coordination had been near flawless. The Blood Demon had landed a devastating curse while the Buddhist Witch had provided the means of escape. "Even I could not react in time."

The admission was bitter, but he did not deny it.

Slowly, he moved his fingers, but his limbs felt heavy—his body, once brimming with vitality, now sluggish and weighed down. His qi still circulated, but his movements were dulled, as though he had been bound by invisible chains.

A cold glint flickered in his eyes.

"The next time we meet, Blood Demon… Buddhist Witch… There will be no escape."

As someone who had ascended to the Ninth Realm, Tao Long naturally possessed arrogance befitting his strength. But with his long life came countless battles, and this was not the first time he had found himself on the backfoot.

His mind drifted back to that battle.

The Heavenly Demon.

Even though that man had only been at the Eighth Realm, his sheer combat prowess had proven insurmountable. Tao Long had fought alongside two others—cultivators who stood at the peak of the world—and yet, even together, they had barely managed to match him, let alone subdue him.

The Virtuous King had suffered such grievous wounds in that battle that he was forced into closed-door cultivation, indefinitely sealing himself away to recover.

The Heavenly Sword, one of the greatest warriors of this era, had met an even worse fate. He had been thrown into a strange spatial distortion, cast into an unknown void by the Heavenly Demon's unfathomable strength. His fate was still uncertain.

And Tao Long?

He alone had emerged from that battle relatively unscathed.

Not because he had been the strongest—no, that honor had gone to the Heavenly Sword in terms of raw offensive prowess—but because of his inborn vitality. As a Flood Dragon, his regenerative abilities far surpassed that of ordinary cultivators. Wounds that would have left others crippled for life were nothing more than minor setbacks to him.

The vivid sensation of that battle still lingered in his bones. The moment when that accursed man had drawn power from some unknown dimension, his entire presence shifting as if he had become something beyond mortal comprehension. That fight had been one of the hardest he had faced in the past millennia.

And yet, even then, he had not fallen.

Tao Long exhaled sharply, shaking away the memory. Now was not the time to dwell on past battles. He had prey to hunt.

Raising his hand, he channeled his qi into a tracking spell. Thin, glimmering threads of water formed in the air around him, dispersing into the wind. His Rain-Seeking Technique—a method of tracking through precipitation, covering vast distances but lacking precision. If he combined it with Lightning-Calling Sight, a technique requiring an elaborate ritual but providing pinpoint accuracy, he would be able to locate any target, no matter how well they hid.

At least, that was the theory.

Yet… he found nothing.

His expression darkened.

The curse he had cast upon them—the curse that ensured rain would always follow his prey—had been dispelled.

"Impossible…" Tao Long muttered, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits.

His rain had followed them even across dimensions before. For it to simply vanish meant that the Blood Demon and the Buddhist Witch possessed means far beyond his initial estimation.

Frustration coiled in Tao Long's chest like a slumbering serpent roused from its rest. His lightning-calling spell had yielded nothing. The rain-seeking technique—his supposedly infallible method of tracking—had been broken. His prey had slipped from his grasp, and he had no means to pursue them.

A storm rumbled in his heart, but he forcefully suppressed it.

Instead, he reached into his storage ring and retrieved an ornate wooden disk, carved with intricate formations that pulsed faintly with spiritual energy. With a flick of his wrist, he activated the formations, letting go of the disk as it hovered before him.

The air shimmered, distorting as if rippling water had swallowed the space above the disk. Then, from the mirage-like haze, an image of an elderly man took form.

Shouquan.

The leader of Ward.

A figure of immense wisdom and unwavering resolve, Shouquan's long beard cascaded like a waterfall of silver, his sage-like eyes brimming with the weight of centuries. Though merely a projection, his presence carried an authority that few in this world could ignore.

"Tao Long." Shouquan's voice was calm yet firm, like the steady current of an ancient river. "Have you completed your task?"

Tao Long cupped his fists in salute. "This junior humbly reports failure. The Blood Demon and the Buddhist Witch have eluded me."

Shouquan's gaze did not waver, nor did his expression betray any sign of disappointment. Instead, he sighed as if this was merely another piece in a long, frustrating game of weiqi.

"I see." His voice carried a hint of resignation. "This would have been much easier if the Emperor had lent us his assistance."

Tao Long's frown deepened.

"The Emperor… rejected our invitation a long time ago already."

Why would the Emperor involve himself with this matter at their request?

The Emperor of the Grand Ascension Empire, the one who stood at the pinnacle of the world, had refused to lend his strength to Ward's mission. A mission that should have been at the heart of every power's concern.

Defending the world from the Outsiders.

"The arrogance of monarchs," Tao Long said, his tone laced with restrained disdain. "To think he would turn a blind eye to the encroaching threat simply because it does not yet knock on his gates."

Too bad.

Tao Long liked the Emperor enough that he used to think humans weren't so bad.

Shouquan chuckled, though the sound was devoid of mirth. "The great factions are much the same—the Alliance, the Empire, the Temple, the Union—all with their own ambitions. They acknowledge the threat, yet they all believe themselves untouchable."

"We will continue our work," Shouquan declared, his voice resolute. "With or without the great powers of this world. Return to your work when you have recovered, Tao Long. If push comes to shove, the Grand Emperor would probably be able to handle it. After all, he has the Heavenly Eye. However, it was important you'd be there when that happens, so that you could help. Goes to show the importance of Ward and that he could trust us."

Tao Long's expression darkened as he pondered over Shouquan's words.

The Grand Emperor was a man with too much pride in his bones, a monarch who dared to name himself the Final Emperor, as if declaring to the heavens themselves that after him, there would be none.

Arrogant, yes. But such arrogance was not without merit.

For he possessed the Heavenly Eye.

An innate gift that only appeared in times of great strife, the Heavenly Eye was a power that granted its wielder insight beyond mortal or immortal comprehension. It was said to see all things under the heavens, granting its user both prescience and divine authority.

And now, such a gift had manifested once more.

The last recorded wielder of the Heavenly Eye had appeared three thousand years ago.

Back then, Tao Long had been but a rough-edged youth, filled with reckless ambition and little concern for the great tides of history.

And yet, the fact that this power had reemerged after so long…

It spoke volumes.

Shouquan's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Tao Long," the elder's mirage flickered slightly, but his presence remained commanding, "what is your assessment of these Outsiders?"

Tao Long exhaled, gathering his thoughts before answering.

"They are not natives," he stated firmly. "Their cultivation methods are foreign, unlike any system known to us. Their energies do not align with the natural laws of our world."

He hesitated for a moment before adding, "And then, there is the issue of the language barrier."

Shouquan's eyes narrowed slightly. "That alone is telling. If they were mere wanderers from another continent, we would at least recognize some similarities in dialect. But if even our most ancient linguistic arts fail to decipher their tongue… then their origins truly lie beyond our realm."

Tao Long nodded grimly.

Shouquan folded his arms behind his back. "And their strength?"

Tao Long's fingers twitched slightly. He had no desire to admit the truth, but honesty was paramount in this situation.

"At least as strong as me," he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. "Possibly stronger."

Shouquan's brows lifted slightly.

"Of course, making a direct comparison is difficult," Tao Long continued. "Their cultivation system is entirely foreign. Their abilities do not follow the principles we know, and their techniques operate on an unfamiliar logic. However…"

His golden eyes gleamed with a solemn light.

"…one thing is clear: they are dangerous."

Tao Long exhaled slowly, steadying his thoughts before he continued.

"Should we seek the Emperor's assistance?" he asked, his voice calm but firm. "With the Heavenly Eye, he can perceive beyond time and space. If anyone could locate these Outsiders, it would be him."

Shouquan did not answer immediately. Instead, he let out a weary sigh, rubbing his temple as though Tao Long's words had only deepened the burdens weighing upon him.

"Tell me," Shouquan said instead, his voice slow and deliberate. "Why do you think you were sent here, instead of the others?"

Tao Long fell silent.

Of course, he already knew the answer.

He prided himself on his skills, on his bloodline, on the vast arsenal of techniques at his disposal. But within the Ward, he was hardly the best tracker. There were others who surpassed him in divination, others who specialized in reading the flows of fate.

So why had he been the one deployed?

Because if it had been anyone else—the Emperor would have taken offense.

Tao Long's lips pressed into a thin line.

The Grand Formation that encircled the Emperor's domain was no ordinary barrier. It was an all-encompassing array, one that allowed him to perceive everything within his borders. Not even a speck of dust was beyond his awareness.

And yet, this same formation also forbade entry to powerful outsiders.

Unless they were born within his domain…

Or had gained his personal acknowledgment.

Tao Long had both.

A native of the Stormcall Continent, raised in his youth upon the lands of Riverfall Continent—his roots were tied to the Emperor's domain. More importantly, he had once aided the Emperor himself in a time of great tribulation.

It had been a mere coincidence back then.

He had not known the young warrior struggling against insurmountable odds would one day rise to claim the greatest throne beneath the heavens.

But the Emperor had not forgotten.

"…I understand," Tao Long finally said, inclining his head slightly.

Shouquan nodded. "The Emperor will not interfere. Not unless the balance of the world itself is at stake." He folded his hands behind his back. "And even if he were willing… are you truly prepared to be in his debt?"

To owe the Emperor a favor—it was not a price one paid lightly.

"…No," he admitted. "I am not."

Shouquan offered a knowing smile. "Then continue your pursuit by your own means. Do not expect the Final Emperor to move for us."

Tao Long gave a short nod, but Shouquan wasn't finished.

"You must also ensure that the Ward's presence in the Empire is recognized. If we are to be of any use in the coming calamitous events, the Emperor must see our worth."

Tao Long frowned. "And how am I to do that?"

Shouquan exhaled. "Best case scenario? You kill the Outsiders."

Tao Long's lips thinned. That was obvious.

Shouquan continued, "At minimum, you must hinder them—stall their movements while ensuring civilian lives are not caught in the crossfire. And if possible, position the Heavenly Eye to its greatest advantage before the tragedy I foresaw comes to pass."

Tao Long straightened. "A tragedy? Why are you saying this to me… just now?"

He didn't mean any disrespect by his tone of voice, but Shouquan could be very secretive in his own way. Tao Long had expected no less, but it was hard getting used to.

Shouquan's expression darkened.

"I have seen a rift opening," he said gravely. "From within, undead and demons shall spill forth, a tide from the depths of hell itself."

Tao Long clenched his jaw. He was no stranger to battle, nor to the horrors that lurked beyond the known world. But for such creatures to manifest within the Empire—

"…If disaster is inevitable," he said carefully, "then shouldn't we inform the Emperor? Better yet, shouldn't he be the one to handle this?"

Shouquan let out a mirthless chuckle. "Do you truly think the Emperor does not already know?"

Tao Long stiffened.

"The Grand Emperor is ambitious," Shouquan murmured. "You must consider the possibility that he has his own designs—that he seeks to capture these Outsiders rather than eliminate them. To take advantage of their presence."

Tao Long's brows furrowed.

"If he truly wanted to capture them," he said, "then with his Heavenly Eye, wouldn't he have done so already?"

Shouquan gave him a knowing look.

"If the Emperor would move, we would have known it by now," Tao Long admitted, exhaling slowly.

Shouquan inclined his head. "Precisely. And yet, he remains silent."

A tense silence stretched between them.

"…Why?" Tao Long finally asked.

Shouquan's voice was calm, but heavy with meaning.

"Because his prescience precedes mine."

Tao Long's breath hitched.

"He has likely seen a different future, one where he does not need to act—one where he is confident in the outcome."

Tao Long fell silent, digesting the implications.

If that was truly the case… then what was the point of him being here?

Shouquan seemed to read his thoughts.

"We still need his cooperation," he said. "Or, better yet, his allegiance to the Ward."

Tao Long exhaled through his nose.

This was not a mere chase anymore.

This was a test of worth—both for himself and for the Ward.

Shouquan's expression was unreadable as he regarded Tao Long through the floating mirage. "What did the Outsiders look like?"

Tao Long exhaled slowly, recalling the details. "One had crimson eyes and pink hair, the other had emerald eyes and golden hair. The pink-haired woman wielded dark arts, while the blonde exuded a sacred aura—likely a Buddhist practitioner."

Shouquan's gaze darkened, but instead of concern, an odd look flickered across his face.

Tao Long raised a brow. "What is it?"

Shouquan shook his head. "They are not the ones who will bring calamity upon the Empire."

Tao Long's eyes narrowed. "That's impossible."

He had arrived in the Empire prepared—his first task had been to investigate all disturbances. Every trace, every rumor, every ripple in the vast ocean of the world's Qi. The presence of two foreign entities with unusual cultivation methods had matched the profile of the Outsiders he sought perfectly. There was no mistake—these two were the ones.

And yet…

Shouquan sighed. "The Outsider who will bring tragedy upon the Empire… is not a woman."

Tao Long frowned. "Then who is it?"

Shouquan gave him a long, almost pitying look.

"…A man."

Tao Long waited, his patience thinning. "And?"

Shouquan's lips parted.

"…And his fish."

A long silence stretched between them.

Tao Long blinked.

His expression remained composed, but his mind had come to a complete halt.

"…His what?"