Chapter 174 - 90-92

090 Hollow Point

The veranda where we sat embodied the Shadow Clan's reserved elegance—spacious yet unadorned, its wooden beams darkened by time and a tiled roof curving subtly at the edges. Delicate wind chimes swayed from the eaves, their intermittent notes blending with the evening breeze.

Beyond the railing, a mist-shrouded garden stretched into the distance, its winding paths obscured by drifting fog. Lanterns flickered like distant fireflies, their glow mirrored in the koi pond's still waters. This was a place for quiet contemplation, for hushed conversations over tea.

And tea, of course, was what we drank.

I took a slow sip, letting the warmth settle within me. The taste was rich—earthy, slightly bitter, yet carrying a lingering sweetness that clung to my tongue.

More than that, it felt different.

The moment it passed my throat, something stirred within me—a faint surge, subtle yet unmistakable. A ripple of energy, threading through my being.

"This tea is quite something." I set the cup down, studying it. "It tastes... different."

Hei Yuan smirked, pleased. "Naturally. The roots used to make this tea drink deep from the ley lines of our ancestral land. They absorb qi for decades before a single leaf is harvested." He swirled his own cup, watching the liquid move. "To cultivators, it is more than mere tea—it tempers the body, sharpens the mind, strengthens the flow of qi."

I hummed in thought, taking another sip.

Once, I would have hesitated.

The idea of consuming qi-infused anything would have sent me into a spiral of paranoia. After all, my body did not belong to this world. I had once wondered—what if I carried unseen plagues from my old world, or worse, what if this world harbored pathogens fatal to me?

And qi?

What if it wasn't a blessing but a slow-acting poison? What if my very existence was at odds with the laws of this realm?

That caution still lingered. Brukhelm and Lu Gao were proof enough that qi was not always a gift.

But this tea?

This was fine.

A small amount of qi wouldn't kill me.

And given the vitality I felt with each sip, I was beginning to think it wasn't so bad after all.

I swirled the tea in my cup, watching the ripples settle before taking another sip. The warmth spread through me again, laced with that subtle, undeniable current of qi.

Setting the cup down, I leaned back slightly and glanced at Hei Yuan. "So," I began, "what moved you to invite me for tea?"

Hei Yuan's lips curved faintly. "Must there be a reason? Can I not simply extend a courtesy?"

I raised a brow. "A courtesy, is it? You and I both know your clansmen might see it differently." I gestured toward our surroundings—the secluded veranda, the hushed atmosphere, the quiet, private conversation. "Won't this invite unnecessary speculation?"

Hei Yuan scoffed, shaking his head. "My clan is not so petty. They know I act with purpose." He met my gaze, his expression calm yet unwavering. "And whether they approve or not, they trust my judgment."

"Is that so?" I tapped a finger against the table. "Then let's turn the question around—what made you think I'd accept?"

Hei Yuan studied me for a moment, then exhaled lightly. "Shall I hazard a guess?"

I smirked. "Go on."

He took his time, sipping his tea before answering. "You thought I might be more forthcoming in a private setting," he said. "Without prying eyes, you hoped I'd let something useful slip."

I chuckled, raising my cup in a mock salute. "Not bad."

"But," Hei Yuan continued, his expression cooling, "if you believe I would betray my clan's trust so easily, you will be disappointed."

I leaned forward slightly, lowering my voice as if in confidence. "What's so important about your past that it must remain hidden? Black masks aren't exactly a fashion statement. If you're ashamed, I'd understand."

To my surprise, Hei Yuan actually laughed, shaking his head. "If only it were that simple."

His fingers tapped idly against the table, but when he spoke again, his tone was steady, deliberate. "I will give you a month." His voice carried an unmistakable weight. "If, by then, you and your people still refuse to cooperate and leave, I won't hesitate to bloody my hands."

I arched a brow but said nothing. "Even if it kills you?"

"Even if it kills me." His gaze remained steady. "For now, you are free to roam the eastern wing. If you wish to step beyond it, however, you must be accompanied by myself, Hei Mu, or Hei Mai."

I scoffed. "No need. The eastern wing suits us just fine. Better yet—" I gestured toward the tea, the quiet veranda, the vast library beyond us. "—let us make our resting place in the Umbral Scripture Hall."

Hei Yuan drained the last of his tea, setting his cup down with a soft clink. Then, rising to his feet, he dusted off his sleeves and regarded me with a measured look.

"I will allow it," he said at last. His voice was even, but something unreadable flickered in his gaze—curiosity? Wariness? He wasn't saying.

Then, without another word, Hei Yuan turned on his heel and left.

I let out a slow breath, watching his retreating figure. I had expected him to be more forthcoming, but it seemed my Speech stat wasn't quite cutting it. Either that, or he was just as adept at maneuvering through words as I was.

No use dwelling on it. I drained the last of my tea and made my way back to the Umbral Scripture Hall.

Inside, the others were gathered as usual—reading, cultivating, or pretending to do one of the two. As I stepped in, their gazes flicked toward me.

"I have news," I announced. "Hei Yuan has granted us permission to use the library as our resting place."

A brief silence followed before Gu Jie nodded. "It's better this way."

Ren Xun leaned against a bookshelf, arms crossed. "Agreed."

Hei Mao merely shrugged. "I don't mind."

From his corner, Dave, ever the dutiful knight, spoke up. "My Lord, do you not trust the Shadow Clan?"

I met his gaze. "It's not about trust. It's about caution." Folding my arms, I added, "Better safe than sorry. We only have one life, after all."

Dave's head tilted slightly at that, the metal joints in his Puppet Armor shifting. I could practically hear the gears turning in his artificial skull.

Before he could voice whatever thought had taken root, I cut in, "Yes, I have resurrection magic. But there will always be exceptions." My gaze swept the room. "The fact that I couldn't restore Lu Gao's meridians and spirit roots proves that even my healing has limits."

At that, I noticed Lu Gao, sitting unnaturally still in the corner. His posture was rigid, his breath uneven. His face had gone pale, beads of sweat forming along his brow.

My eyes narrowed. "Lu Gao… What's wrong?"

Slowly, as if each motion required immense effort, he raised his index finger.

"I…" His voice was barely above a whisper. "I succeeded."

Silence.

I took a careful step forward. "Succeeded on what?"

He swallowed. "Blessed Weapon."

On his finger?

The room tensed.

I kept my voice even. "Lu Gao… calm down."

His breathing was shallow. His hand trembled.

"If I let go of it," he rasped, "I feel like I'll die."

A faint glow pulsed at the tip of his finger—pure white light, unnervingly sharp.

I took another step forward, voice steady. "Lu Gao, close your eyes."

He hesitated, then obeyed, his breaths still ragged.

I turned to Dave. "Dispel Divine Possession. Return to my body."

Without hesitation, Dave complied. His Puppet Armor slumped where it sat, the glow in its eyes fading. A hollow clang echoed through the library as the lifeless metal shell sagged under its own weight.

The moment I returned to my body, I activated Divine Possession—but this time, I seized control of Lu Gao.

A strange sensation washed over me as my consciousness shifted. My own body faded from my perception, replaced by his. The weight of his limbs, the rhythm of his pulse, the tense grip he had on his sense of self—it all became mine.

At the edges of my awareness, his thoughts hovered, small yet burning with excitement, expectation… and raw hope.

He had done it. He had finally succeeded. And now, he was trusting me not to let it kill him.

Meanwhile, my real body—the one I had just left—was under Dave's control. "Take my place," I instructed through our mental link via Voice Chat. "Keep up the act and ensure everyone's safety while I'm gone."

Dave's response was immediate. "Understood, my Lord."

I could no longer access my Item Box in this state. That meant I needed contingencies—just in case I was suddenly exorcised. Egress should be enough to bring us back, but it was better to be prepared.

"Dave," I said, my voice now coming from Lu Gao's lips. "Hand me a Featherhome."

A silver feather appeared, hovering before me. I reached out and took it, tucking it securely inside Lu Gao's robes.

Featherhome—a consumable item that allowed me to teleport to my party. If things went sideways, we'd have a way out.

I turned to Gu Jie. "Continue cultivating."

She shot me a skeptical glance but said nothing.

Then, I faced Ren Xun. "Stay alert. Keep teaching Hei Mao. And make sure he learns more than just the characters for 'black' and 'cat.'"

Hei Mao grumbled, still not fully grasping the situation.

I exhaled sharply. "Listen well—Lu Gao and I are at a critical point in cultivation."

That wasn't exactly a lie.

For me, this was another step in my experimentation—substituting qi with mana.

I took a deep breath, cast Zealot's Stride, and rushed forward.

In the next instant, I was running in the air.

Zealot's Stride had truly paid off. With each step, a faint golden glow shimmered beneath my feet, granting traction where none should exist. I pushed forward, putting distance between myself and the Shadow Clan's territory. Below me, the landscape blurred—rolling hills, winding rivers, endless sky.

"Lu Gao, you still in there?"

A flicker of his consciousness stirred. "Yes, Master. I can feel everything you do…"

His voice was tight with strain.

I examined our now-golden index finger—the one still crackling with unstable energy. The glow pulsed, flickering at the edges, held together by sheer willpower. I couldn't afford to lose control now.

As I ran, I focused on the energy surging through it. Was it qi? No—this was mana.

A subtle but striking difference hit me.

Qi had always been easy to grasp with Divine Sense, flowing naturally through meridians, forming the foundation of cultivation. But mana? Mana was different. Harder to perceive, harder to control. If qi was a tangible particle, something I could seize and mold at will, then mana was an elusive wave—fluid, shifting, always slipping just beyond my grip.

I frowned. "Is this a fundamental difference between the two energies?"

Back on Earth, I wasn't exactly a physicist. My major had been Education—I knew how to break down concepts, how to teach in digestible pieces. Hand me a textbook, and I'd learn well enough to explain it to a classroom. But coming up with original theories? Proving things mathematically? That wasn't my strong suit.

Yet, here I was, standing at the edge of an entirely new system of power, forced to figure it out as I went.

To be honest, I'd been lucky so far. My method of teaching Lu Gao—meditation, mana perception, absorbing skill flavor texts to deepen his understanding—had all been trial and error. No grand theory. No rigid structure. Just experimentation until something worked.

And now, finally, we had a real lead.

If mana and qi functioned on fundamentally different principles, then understanding that difference might be the key to pushing my abilities even further.

Gaining skill proficiency through understanding flavor texts had been a good start, but that was just the surface. I needed to go deeper.

If I could adapt this world's skill system to my own, I might even be able to create original skills—something that wasn't bound by the rigid structure of the Paladin class.

I pushed that thought aside for now and focused my mind, speaking inwardly to Lu Gao.

"Tell me, how exactly did you cast Blessed Weapon on your finger?"

Lu Gao hesitated. His consciousness flickered in the back of my mind, uncertain. "I… I was frustrated. I kept trying to cast it, but no matter what I did, it wouldn't work. It felt like something was missing."

I remained silent, letting him gather his thoughts.

"Then, while reading in the Umbral Scripture Hall, I found a book on philosophy. It mentioned how the term 'weapon' wasn't limited to metal or blades. A warrior's body itself could be a weapon."

That… actually made sense.

If that was the case, could I cast Blessed Weapon on my teeth? No—stretching it too far. It wasn't just about interpretation. There was something more.

Lu Gao continued, his tone more certain now. "I also recalled an assassination technique taught in my clan—one that used the index finger like a spear. The movements mimicked a piercing thrust, precise and lethal. When I thought about my finger as an extension of my intent, something just… clicked."

I narrowed my eyes. "So you were able to cast Blessed Weapon because you redefined what counted as a weapon?"

"Exactly. I thought about my finger as a spear, the way I once wielded qi in my clan's techniques. And then… it just worked."

I processed his words carefully.

Lu Gao had reinterpreted the very concept of the skill, bending its definition to activate it in a way that wasn't normally possible. Even though he still struggled to perceive mana, he had bypassed that limitation—not through brute force, but by reshaping his understanding of the skill's nature.

This… this was valuable.

Perhaps skill activation wasn't just about following a system's rules. Perhaps it hinged on how one conceptualized the ability itself.

In hindsight, my method of training—using flavor texts as a reference—followed the same logic. I had just taken extra steps to reach the same conclusion.

A rocky outcrop appeared in the distance, and I guided my descent toward the hill. My landing sent loose pebbles skittering down the slope, the uneven terrain pressing firm beneath my feet.

This spot would do.

There was space here—enough space—and scattered chunks of rock that would serve as decent targets.

Lifting my hand, I examined my index finger, still glowing faintly from the lingering effect of Blessed Weapon. The sensation was… strange. It wasn't just an enchantment. It was proof that rules could be bent—that sheer will could redefine what constituted a weapon.

"Lu Gao." I shifted my focus inward. "Show me how you did it."

I felt his presence stir within me. His voice came, not as a spoken word, but as a thought woven with memory.

"Master already knows how I did it. You were in my body when I cast it."

"Knowing and understanding aren't the same thing," I countered. "I need to see how you first learned. How you first trained."

A brief silence.

Then, like a floodgate breaking open, his memories surged forward, pulling me in.

I stood in a training hall, surrounded by murmurs. Elders and instructors lined the perimeter, watching with measured anticipation.

At the center stood a child—no older than eight or nine—dressed in crisp martial robes embroidered with the Lu branch clan's sigil. His hair was neatly tied, his stance proud, and his eyes…

His eyes shone with boundless confidence.

"Lu Gao will be the one to elevate us."

"His talent surpasses all before him. He will be our answer to the Lu Imperial House."

The voices surrounded him, feeding his growing arrogance. The young Lu Gao smirked as he performed one technique after another, flawlessly executing the basic forms of the clan's internal arts. His strikes were sharp. His footwork pristine. Every movement radiated untapped potential.

A mentor stepped forward, eyes filled with quiet approval.

"Good. Very good. With this talent, you may even stand among the main clan's elites one day."

Lu Gao puffed up with pride.

"Of course I will! Why wouldn't I?"

But arrogance was a fragile thing.

One day, his training took a different turn.

"You lack the right constitution for the main clan's vaunted techniques," an elder informed him. "You will never master them."

The words struck like a slap to the face. Lu Gao straightened his back, confusion flashing across his youthful features.

"That's not true! I can learn anything!"

The elder's gaze was cold steel. "No, you cannot. Your talent lies elsewhere. If you wish to be of use, then refine your skills as an assassin."

Anger burned in his young chest. Assassin techniques? That was for those who hid in the shadows, those too weak to stand openly as warriors.

"I refuse!" he declared. "I will prove I belong among the main clan's finest!"

The clan had no room for rebellion.

They arranged a match. A duel against a main clan child of his age. A test. A lesson. A way to put him in his place.

The day of the match, the air was thick with expectation.

Lu Gao stepped into the arena with his pride intact. Across from him stood his opponent—a boy dressed in far more elaborate robes, his presence calm, unwavering.

The duel began.

The first exchange shattered his delusions.

The main clan child moved with effortless grace. His strikes carried a force that outmatched Lu Gao's best efforts. Every attack Lu Gao unleashed was met with superior technique, his footwork countered with flawless positioning.

He was being overwhelmed.

And then—desperation.

Instincts buried deep within his training surfaced. He abandoned his standard forms, shifting into an entry-level assassination technique. His body flickered. A shadowy blur. His fingers formed into a spear-like thrust, aimed at a vital point.

The main clan child barely dodged in time. The attack grazed his shoulder.

The duel was over. Lu Gao had won.

But when he looked around—

There was no applause.

The elders were silent. His opponent wasn't humiliated—only disappointed.

Lu Gao had been forced to fight like an assassin to secure his victory.

His pride crumbled.

And from that day forward, his path was decided for him.

Or so that would have been the normal course of events.

But reality could be cruel.

The memories sharpened. Details I hadn't noticed before came into focus—the beads of sweat clinging to young Lu Gao's brow, the disappointed stares of the elders, the barely veiled sneers of the main clan cultivators.

Lu Gao let go, surrendering his past to me.

The story continued.

His victory had not been celebrated. It had been punished.

The main clan could not tolerate disgrace—not when the boy hailed as their future had been humiliated by a mere branch clan child—and with a dirty assassination technique, no less.

The insult had been unbearable.

A week later, they came for Lu Gao.

They called it a lesson. They called it justice.

But it was vengeance.

He was dragged to the training courtyard—the same place where he had once been admired—and stripped of everything.

His dantian was shattered. Not completely, but just enough to cripple his cultivation indefinitely.

"Consider this mercy," one of the elders said. "You may still live. But you will never surpass your station."

He was discarded.

Left to wallow in his failure.

No longer a prodigy. No longer a symbol of hope.

Just a broken child clawing his way back to the heights that had once been promised to him.

I gasped, tearing free from the memory. The weight of it crushed my chest, the injustice of it all burning like white-hot fire behind my ribs.

A name echoed in my mind.

"Hollow Point."

I breathed it aloud. My voice was steady.

Something shifted inside me.

Lu Gao's pain, his anger, his relentless struggle—it all poured into the technique, mingling with my own sheer stats and the burning radiance of Blessed Weapon.

And something new was born.

A white-hot surge of power flared along my right arm. Purple and white flames erupted from my skin, devouring my sleeve in an instant.

The heat didn't burn me. But the sheer force of it sent my pulse racing.

Within me, Lu Gao stirred, stunned.

"What is this…?"

I turned my burning hand, watching the flames curl around my index finger.

This was no longer a simple stab meant to pierce flesh.

This was something far greater.

I glanced at my ruined sleeve, then back at the wild energy crackling along my limb.

"I don't know what to call it," I said. "You're the one who made it possible. Give it a name, Lu Gao—my disciple."

Lu Gao was silent.

And then—

A laugh.

Not bitter, not hollow. But something giddy. Almost childlike.

"It is an honor, Master," he said, his voice lighter than it had ever been. "Then… Hollow Point: Incursion!"

I smirked. "Good name."

The air crackled around me as I took a single step forward.

And then—I lurched.

For an instant, my weight vanished, as if the world itself had momentarily lost its hold on me. It felt like an instantaneous movement technique, but… different.

I reappeared in front of a massive rock.

My glowing index finger stabbed forward.

The moment my finger touched the stone—

White cracks exploded across its surface, lightning-fast.

Purple flames surged through the fractures, devouring the core.

For a single breath, the rock held together—as if defying the inevitable.

And then—

It ceased to exist.

Not shattered.

Not broken.

Just… dust.

I exhaled, shaking off the lingering energy. The remnants of the flames danced in the air before fading into nothingness.

Within me, Lu Gao let out a slow, awed breath.

"That was… absurd."

I grinned, flexing my fingers. "Feels like just the beginning of something even greater."

091 The Story So Far

Dear readers,

You might be wondering.

Where's the story going?

An excellent question. After all, so many threads had been woven into this grand tapestry—some stretching across continents, others buried in history's shadows. Let's take a moment to untangle a few, shall we?

The Black Clan. The Shadow Clan.

One reigned, the other not so much.

But what about the Abyss Clan? A name rarely whispered, yet weighty enough to stir unease. What role did they play? Were they merely another piece on the board, or the hand that moved the pieces?

And then there was Hei Mao.

He bore the surname 'Hei'—a thread that could tie him to any of these clans. Could he truly be one of them? Perhaps he was the missing link, the key to unraveling the fate of his slaughtered family. A pawn waiting to be promoted, or a king who had yet to claim his throne?

How about Tao Long? Anyone here forgotten his name already?

If anyone still remembers him, let's ask—just where was Tao Long at this moment?

Once a promising name in the world of cultivation, now swallowed by silence and history. Now, he served the Ward, an organization that desired to defend this world from Outsiders. If you were so curious where he was, he was probably skirting the Stormcall Continent's borders, trying to look for a certain vampire and priestess…

Let's shift our focus to a different place.

Two figures—one bound in faith, the other in blood—now lost in the decayed, wretched heart of the Black Forest.

Joan, the priestess. Alice, the vampire princess.

How did they end up on the Stormcall Continent? Was it fate, or something far more sinister?

Yet, even as their whereabouts remained uncertain, their reputation grew elsewhere. Rumors whispered of a demonic cultivator and a Buddhist freak—a duo wreaking havoc across the Deepmoor Continent. A demon and a monk, feared and ridiculed in equal measure.

Now, dear reader, what were the chances that these two figures were the very same priestess and vampire we last saw wandering through the Black Forest?

Fascinating, wasn't it?

The contradiction was jarring, especially how they initially appeared in the Stormcall Continent. What did the black masked cultivators want with them? Surely, you knew… If you didn't, then go back to Chapter 28, and yes, I'm being sarcastic. Humor me.

The group was still hosted—if one could call it that—by the Shadow Clan. A month was all they were given before Hei Yuan would bloody his hands.

What would become of them?

Would they break free, or sink deeper into the clan's machinations?

My best guess was… they'd triumph against all odds. Predictable? Well, don't judge too early. After all, it was just a guess. Who knew what twists and turns awaited them along the road?

And finally… The Paladin.

David. Da Wei. The man walking a path none had dared before.

He sought to reshape the very nature of cultivation. To mold a system that did not belong in this world into something that could thrive within it.

And now, with Blessed Weapon evolving and new techniques being born, what was in store for him?

What would his Order of Paladins become?

And more importantly…

Would this world even allow it?

So many threads. So many destinies.

So, dear reader, you're right—it's a lot to keep track of.

But wasn't that what made it exciting?

Ah, that was long-winded, wasn't it?

Was I talking too much?

Oh my, apologies…

I suppose I got carried away. But you can't really blame me, can you? There's so much going on—scheming clans, lost prodigies, demonic priests, vampires, princesses, and our dear protagonist trying to brute-force his way into rewriting cultivation itself. A tangled mess of fate and ambition, the very essence of this world.

But… where were my manners?

Introductions.

Yes, that was bad manners on my part.

Ahem.

Hi, I am the Narrator.

…Too much?

Too on the nose?

Well, deal with it.

This was my first appearance, after all. To be fair, I'm not even a character. You won't see me walking around in fancy robes, spouting cryptic wisdom, or challenging arrogant young masters in a crowded tea house.

No, no.

I served no other purpose than to narrate.

I'm not some cosmic entity who exists beyond time and space. I don't manipulate fate. I don't watch over the world with omniscient amusement, sipping celestial tea and chuckling at mortal struggles.

And no, before you get any ideas—I am neither a God nor an Immortal.

I am a phenomenon.

An afterthought.

An echo.

And to a rare, enlightened few, I am something more—the Voice that speaks to the Void.

And you, dear listener, dear reader, dear wandering soul?

You are the Void.

Intriguing, wasn't it?

But enough philosophy.

Back to the Story…

Where were we? Ah, yes.

The world of cultivation.

A land where logic takes a backseat to those who have the biggest dantian and the loudest arrogance. Where throwing hands was an official method of debate, and if you don't have a heaven-defying bloodline, a secret master, or a mysterious jade slip hidden in your robes, then congratulations—you're cannon fodder!

Here, resentment was measured in lifetimes, not in petty grudges. Face was the most valuable currency, worth more than spirit stones, more than divine artifacts, more than one's own internal organs.

And immortality?

Oh, the great lie of the cultivation world.

The one thing every fool chases, convinced that if they just cultivate hard enough, long enough, and ruthlessly enough, they could escape the cycle of life and death.

But the truth?

Even gods can die.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves.

This story wasn't about them.

It's about a certain Paladin. A man who decided that divine blessings, faith, and holy zealotry belonged in a world that had never heard of such things. A man who believed in power through belief, rather than belief through power.

It's about lost children of fallen clans, about betrayed geniuses, about warriors of blade and spell, all clawing their way up a mountain that may or may not even have a peak.

So, dear Void, dear listener, dear witness to it all…

Shall we continue?

"This is incredible, but..."

Lu Gao was confused.

Delightfully confused.

And all because of his Master.

It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, really. Being around his Master often led to questions—too many questions—ones that he never would have asked before, ones that didn't even seem relevant to cultivation.

Like, why was mortal food so important?

Or, why did his Master want to know if he still sh—

Wait. No. Don't focus on that. That wasn't the point.

Let's rewind.

It had already been a few days since they began their training arc.

His Master's words, not his.

What was even a training arc?

Lu Gao didn't know. But his Master had said it with such confidence, such authority, that he simply accepted it. After all, wasn't that what being a disciple meant?

Yes.

A disciple.

His Master had called him that. His disciple.

And that alone made him feel like the best there ever was.

Was that weird?

Maybe.

But did he care?

No.

Lu Gao moved his mana, shifting it through his broken meridians in a way that felt unfamiliar, yet strangely reminiscent of how he once used qi.

And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, he felt like he was cultivating again.

That alone made him happy.

But it wasn't just the cultivation that had changed him. His Master had changed him too.

Lu Gao had learned—through strange, often baffling conversations—that life wasn't all about cultivation or strength.

His Master was kind.

So kind, in fact, that the so-called righteous cultivators felt painful to look at in comparison.

And then, of course, there was the sharing of bodies.

Which sounded… wrong, when put like that. But in truth, Lu Gao had simply gotten used to his Master's presence within him, their consciousnesses intertwining whenever Divine Possession was invoked.

His Master once said, "The body is a temple. One must cherish the body."

Which… contradicted a lot of his Master's own actions.

For instance, he kept eating mortal food. Something most cultivators wouldn't approve of.

In his Master's defense, he was a foodie.

And, as he had so eloquently put it—

"I was curious if I still shit."

Lu Gao would have preferred never hearing that.

But that was his Master's eccentricity at work.

Again, don't focus on the shit. That wasn't the point.

The point was the temple.

Because one day, in between bites of shrimp, his Master had said something that stuck with him.

"It's more of a personal belief," his Master had mused, "so don't take it too seriously."

"The body is a temple."

"And people go to temples to pray. They seek answers. Find strength in their faith. Hope for the better."

Then, he had asked—

"If the body is the temple… then where are the people?"

Lu Gao had stared at him, deeply contemplating this profound question.

And then he answered—

"Maybe it was the shrimp."

His Master had laughed.

A genuine, hearty laugh.

"You kind of have a point," he had admitted, using cultivators as an analogy. "Every time a cultivator consumes pills, slaughters people, or cultivates, aren't they doing the same? Praying for a long life, seeking answers in their Dao, finding strength in their faith and way of life? If the body is a temple, then a cultivator's faith must be built upon the idea of consumption."

Lu Gao had furrowed his brows.

"So… did I answer right?"

His Master had merely shrugged.

"Maybe."

Then he had added, "I don't really know. There are a thousand answers to every question."

But that answer wasn't enough for Lu Gao.

Because if his Master had posed the question, then his Master must have had an answer of his own.

So Lu Gao had asked—

"To your analogy, Master… if the body is the temple, then where are the people? What would be your answer?"

And his Master had smiled.

A small, knowing smile.

Then, without hesitation, he had answered—

"You."

"Gu Jie."

"Hei Mao."

"Ren Jingyi."

"Jiang Zhen."

"Dave."

"Ren Xun."

"Ren Jin."

"The people to my temple are the bonds I've created."

And that—more than anything—struck Lu Gao's heart in ways he had never expected.

Beautiful, wasn't it?

That was David for you.

He was raised right, so credits go to his parents.

But let's move on.

We have others to check in on, after all.

So, let's return to the Shadow Clan's premises, where a certain young noble was engaging in a most arduous and noble task.

Ren Xun was teaching Hei Mao to read and write.

"Hei Mao, pay attention."

Ah, Ren Xun.

The second son of an imperial prince.

He had status. He had wealth. He had honor.

And he wanted none of it.

He had joined this journey for one simple reason—to chaperone the Master in hopes of finally convincing his father to let him go.

Because Ren Xun didn't want status.

He could use wealth and honor, but status? Responsibility? The heavy chains of nobility?

He never cared for any of that.

Ren Xun was a man who loved puzzles and adventures.

He fantasized about being a minstrel, a sea explorer, a treasure hunter, or a wandering scholar.

So many dreams.

So many things he could never be.

Because he wasn't allowed to be.

His father's enemies were aplenty. And his grandfather's enemies were ten times that number or maybe more. That meant his movements were restricted, his adventures carefully monitored, his every action weighed against the consequences it might bring to the family.

Sure, the Empire's eight continents were vast, but he had seen enough of them.

That was how prolific his activities had been.

How desperately he sought the freedom that always eluded him. And then there was that girl, the woman who opened his heart to all of the possibilities that he'd never seen before. Because of her, he learned to be brave, confronted his father, and for once decided he could be something other than a prince's son.

"Ren Xun?"

The voice pulled him from his thoughts.

He blinked, realizing Hei Mao was staring up at him with wide, expectant eyes.

"What does this character mean?" Hei Mao pointed at the scroll, his small fingers tracing the ink strokes with great concentration.

Ren Xun grinned.

"And here I thought you weren't paying attention."

Hei Mao huffed. "I was! You just took too long to answer."

"Is that so?" Ren Xun chuckled, reaching out to flick the boy's forehead lightly.

Hei Mao scowled, rubbing the spot before grumbling under his breath.

Ren Xun simply laughed.

The boy was like the little brother he never had.

Then, his gaze landed on Hei Mao's wrist.

The bracelet.

A simple accessory, just a single jade magatama strung on a dark cord.

A gift he had given the boy.

"You really like that thing, don't you?" Ren Xun mused, tilting his head.

Hei Mao blinked at him, confused.

"Huh?"

"That bracelet. I've seen you cherish it more than the gifts from Gu Jie and Lu Gao." He smirked. "You sure you're not playing favorites?"

Hei Mao immediately panicked.

"No! I—That's not true!" He waved his hands frantically. "I like their gifts too! They're—They're really useful!"

Ren Xun gave him the look.

Hei Mao froze.

Then…

A defeated sigh.

Averting his gaze, Hei Mao muttered, "I just… like yours a lot."

Ren Xun's smirk softened.

"Why?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Hei Mao hesitated.

And then, in a small voice, he confessed—

"I used to be a ghost."

Silence.

Ren Xun blinked.

"Come again?"

Hei Mao nodded slowly, looking down at his hands. "Big Brother Wei did something, so I could be a… kind ghost."

Ren Xun was befuddled.

A ghost?

He looked at Hei Mao again, as if searching for some ethereal quality he had somehow missed.

Nope.

Still a normal-looking boy.

"You're telling me…" Ren Xun started slowly, "that you were an actual ghost? I thought Senior was joking!"

Hei Mao nodded.

Ren Xun ran a hand down his face. This group. This insane, ridiculous, absurd group.

"Alright, fine," he exhaled. "But what does that have to do with the bracelet?"

Hei Mao's grip tightened around the jade.

"Because…" He bit his lip. "You said it wards off evil spirits and ghosts."

Ren Xun blinked.

Then it hit him.

Hei Mao smiled—a small, bittersweet smile.

"It makes me feel like I'm not a dirty ghost anymore."

His fingers curled around the jade, as if holding onto something precious, tangible.

"It makes me feel like I can keep going… without losing control. Without harming good people along the way."

Ren Xun stared at him for a moment.

Then, ever so gently, he reached out—ruffling the boy's hair.

"Idiot," he murmured, his voice oddly fond.

Hei Mao huffed, swatting his hand away.

But he was smiling.

And so was Ren Xun.

See?

David had a point after all.

In the same way a person could be a temple, Ren Xun was doing the same.

And the bond he had created with Hei Mao?

That was what allowed the boy to have more faith in himself.

But what about Hei Mao?

Could he be a temple to someone else, too?

The answer was simple.

Yes.

The moment Ren Xun's heart was touched by the boy, Hei Mao also became his temple—a place where he could confide, reflect, and seek answers.

That was the nature of human connection, wasn't it?

A cycle.

A web.

A thread tying one soul to another.

Hei Mao continued his studies, flipping through scrolls with focused determination.

"What's this one mean?" he asked, tapping at a particularly complicated character.

Ren Xun leaned over, glancing at it.

"That one? It means 'destiny.' Or 'fate,' depending on the context."

Hei Mao frowned. "Weird. Fate has a word?"

Ren Xun chuckled. "Of course it does. Cultivators love talking about fate. They use it as an excuse for everything."

Hei Mao snorted. "Sounds dumb."

"Oh, absolutely." Ren Xun grinned before leaning back. "Speaking of dumb… Want to hear something embarrassing?"

Hei Mao looked up, intrigued.

"Sure."

Ren Xun exhaled, looking at the ceiling with a wistful expression.

"There was this girl I liked. Lin Lim."

Hei Mao's eyes widened. "Wait—really?"

"Mm." Ren Xun smirked. "She was a beggar. A blind one."

Hei Mao blinked. "Wait—what?"

"She led a whole group of beggars. I met her by accident when I snuck out of the palace one night. She was… different."

"Different how?"

Ren Xun's eyes softened.

"She didn't care about my status. She didn't care about my name. To her, I was just some rich brat complaining about problems that weren't problems."

Hei Mao raised a brow. "Was she wrong, though?"

Ren Xun laughed. "No, she had a point."

Lin Lim had changed him. To Ren Xun, she was his temple.

She had taught him that freedom wasn't just about leaving the palace—it was about choosing your own path.

She made him realize he didn't want to be a prince, a pawn in his father's political games.

"I wanted to be free," Ren Xun murmured. "To travel. To see the world. To be more than just some rich brat."

And that was what led him to bargain with his father.

"I told him," Ren Xun said, "that if he truly wanted me to fulfil my duties as a royal, he had to agree to one thing."

"And that was?" Hei Mao asked.

Ren Xun smiled.

"He had to give Lin Lim and me his blessing when we got married. Gosh… I loved that woman…"

Hei Mao stared.

"Wait. That's your condition?"

"Yep."

"So you're saying… if you ever go back, it'll be to marry Lin Lim?"

"That's right."

Hei Mao grinned.

"That's kinda romantic."

Ren Xun sighed dramatically. "I know, I know. I'm an idiot."

"You said it, not me."

They laughed.

And they talked.

And then they talked more.

Maybe it was because Hei Mao was still young, at least mentally. The point was, he was still unburdened by the same chains that held Ren Xun back, but there was something about his presence that was comforting.

Perhaps this was why Ren Xun didn't mind teaching him.

Hei Mao was learning fast.

It was almost ridiculous.

But then again, his Spirit Mystery realm cultivation probably had a lot to do with that.

Still, he was seriously sharp for a kid.

Though when he wasn't studying, he did… odd things.

For example, talking to the goldfish.

Yes.

You heard that right.

Please don't tell me you've forgotten already.

Hei Mao could talk to fish.

Why?

Who knows?

It was one of those mysteries even David probably couldn't explain.

One day, while on a study break, Hei Mao sat by Ren Jingyi's aquarium, staring at her with a pensive expression.

The fish blinked up at him. "What's wrong with you?"

Hei Mao sighed.

"I can't find anything about the black-masked cultivators. Everything about them is vague. It sucks."

The fish tilted her head (in whatever way a fish could tilt its head).

"You're really stumped, huh?"

"Yeah." Hei Mao sighed again.

"Why don't you ask His Eminence?"

"I will," he muttered. "Just… I wanted to figure it out myself first."

Ren Jingyi hummed.

"You're kinda stubborn, you know that?"

"I know."

Then, after a brief silence, Hei Mao peered at the fish.

"Hey, you getting bored?"

The fish pouted.

"Not really bored. Just… lonely."

Hei Mao blinked.

"Lonely?"

"Yeah. Big Sister Gu Jie's been focusing on her cultivation lately, so I don't really have anyone to talk to."

That made sense.

And when a fish was lonely, there weren't many solutions.

So—

She did what any reasonable, intelligent, spiritually-advanced goldfish would do.

She ate her Spirit Stone.

Again.

Hei Mao narrowed his eyes.

"You've been eating those a lot lately."

Ren Jingyi mumbled through her mouthful. "Mmmf. And?"

"You're almost at the Third Realm, you know. Also, you are getting more and more eloquent."

"Yeah? And?"

Hei Mao shrugged.

"Dunno. Just saying."

The fish paused, blinking up at him.

Then, suddenly—

SPLASH.

A wave of water shot out from the aquarium, soaking Hei Mao's face.

Hei Mao froze.

Ren Jingyi grinned. Well, grinned like a fish, because she was a fish.

"Hah. That's what you get."

Hei Mao wiped his face.

"You're getting fat."

Ren Jingyi gasped.

"I take it back. You're the worst. So mean."

Hei Mao simply smirked.

Some might argue that a talking fish was too cliché in an xianxia setting.

Some might say it was a staple—a fundamental part of the genre.

However, in reality, it was simply the natural progression of things.

Like me, it was more a phenomenon than something bound by the rules of existence.

Ren Jingyi's spark continued to grow.

She was changing.

She still couldn't use Qi Speech—that required at least Fourth Realm cultivation—but she was getting there.

The question was…

Would she even want to talk?

Truth be told, she preferred brooding over talking.

She wasn't exactly a social fish.

Except when she was talking to Hei Mao.

Why?

She didn't know.

But if she had to guess…

Perhaps it was because they both lost their families at a young age.

The memories weren't crystal clear, but the impression remained.

And the more Ren Jingyi's spark and existence grew stronger, the more her memories began to assert themselves.

Vague impressions from the past would come to her, slipping through the veil of time like whispers in the water.

Like how her Momma Fish was… corrupted.

A demon.

A black-robed cultivator.

And then—

A shadow of a memory.

His Eminence.

Da Wei.

Picking her up.

It was making her uncomfortable.

Ren Jingyi wasn't sure if she wanted to remember.

If she wanted to know.

What did it matter?

She was happy now.

Wasn't she?

The water in her aquarium rippled as Gu Jie returned.

She shelved a few manuals before turning toward Ren Jingyi, a small smile on her face.

"Jingyi, have you eaten?"

Without waiting for an answer, she started feeding her all sorts of herbs.

Ren Jingyi wasn't going to complain.

Food was food.

She nibbled at the herbs, watching as Gu Jie gently rested her chin on her palm, looking at her fondly.

For a moment, Ren Jingyi wanted to talk to her.

To say thank you.

To ask… why were you always so kind to me?

But she couldn't.

She wasn't there yet.

And she hated that.

There were only two people she could talk to at her current cultivation, Hei Mao and His Eminence. Sometimes, she wanted to talk to His Eminence. But she couldn't find the courage.

Frankly…

She was scared of him.

Of Da Wei.

Of what he knew, of what he was.

Of what he could see in her.

So instead, she listened.

Gu Jie began telling stories as she fed her.

Stories about the things she experienced.

Anecdotes from His Eminence's eccentricities.

And sometimes, just doting on her, like a big sister would.

Life as a fish was… simple.

And Ren Jingyi liked that.

She was happy.

She was content.

But sometimes…

Just sometimes…

She wondered if there was more.

And ironically—

She was scared of becoming more.

At the same time, she wished for it.

It was complicated.

Gu Jie finished feeding the fish and, with a flick of her wrist, retrieved a new Spirit Stone from her Storage Ring, dropping it into the water.

"Eat well, grow strong," she murmured absently.

Ren Jingyi, the fish in question, made no reply—just a flick of her tail as she grabbed the stone with her mouth.

Gu Jie didn't linger. She turned, dusted off her robes, and made her way to Ren Xun and Lu Gao, who were still searching for any clues about the black-masked cultivators.

"Anything?" Gu Jie asked as she scanned the rows of bookshelves.

Ren Xun shook his head, flipping through an old scroll. "Nothing concrete. Just scattered mentions, vague references. If they were a major faction, there'd be more on them. But it's as if they don't exist. I think the Shadow Clan is playing us."

Hei Mao sighed, rubbing his temples. "I thought I'd found something earlier, but it turned out to be some old folk tale."

Gu Jie hummed in thought, picking up a book and flipping through it. Nothing. She closed it and slid it back onto the shelf.

"Then there's nothing else to do but cultivate," she said, already turning to leave.

Ren Xun groaned. "Of course you'd say that."

Gu Jie just smiled.

She had no time to waste.

Gu Jie was currently at the Will Reinforcement realm, steadily pushing toward Spirit Mystery.

Her progress was fast—faster than it had ever been in her previous time as a disciple of the Heavenly Demon.

The way she was now, she had already surpassed her past cultivation, breaking through limits that once seemed impossible.

It was because of the Warlock Legacy.

When she was just a disciple within the Heavenly Cult, she was never taught offensive techniques. The sect only gave her cultivation methods to raise her realm, but no real power to wield.

But the Warlock Legacy…

It supplemented her with skills.

Powerful, painful skills.

Her Master often used unfamiliar words when explaining the Warlock Legacy, but she was nothing if not studious.

She took out a small booklet, personally penned by her Master. The pages were slightly worn from use, the ink still crisp.

Her Master called it a walkthrough.

A walkthrough to the Repentant Skill Pathway.

According to her Master, skills could be learned in three ways:

1. Through the help of a Specialized NPC

2. By obtaining a Skill Book

3. By completing a Quest

"What was even an En-Pi-See?" Gu Jie had once wondered aloud.

It sounded profound, like some grand Daoist principle, but was completely lost in translation.

After some deep thinking (and some headaches), Gu Jie understood that NPCs were just what her Master called instructors—people who taught skills.

Then there were Skill Books, magical tomes that bestowed knowledge through inheritance.

Gu Jie had neither of these.

Which meant she had only one option left—Quests.

So, what were Quests?

A Quest was a set of goals that needed to be completed to gain a skill.

For example—

She had learned Fake Death by brushing with death too many times.

She had learned Curse by wishing someone bad luck or ill fate.

And most recently, she had learned Curse Reversal by casting Curse on herself a hundred times and enduring it.

Gu Jie flipped through the booklet.

The skills Fake Death, Curse, and Curse Reversal were crossed out—completed.

But there were two more skills she wanted.

Two more she needed.

· Great Curse

· Repentance

Learning Great Curse required her to Curse herself a thousand times.

Since she had already done a hundred, she only needed nine hundred more to go.

As for Repentance, she needed to cast Curse Reversal a thousand times.

It was going to be painful.

So she needed privacy.

She vanished.

A moment later, she reappeared on the Floating Dragon, where the obscurity formations had already been repaired.

Perfect.

She sat down, took a deep breath, and began.

"Curse."

A shiver ran through her body.

Pain.

Not a mere illusion—real, tangible pain, sinking into her bones, eating away at her strength.

She clenched her fists.

"Curse Reversal."

A golden glow wrapped around her, undoing the affliction.

But sometimes—

"Curse Reversal."

It failed.

And she had to endure the suffering again.

The skill worked most of the time, reversing the curse and granting her temporary buffs and healing.

But that small percentage of failure—

It was agonizing.

"Curse."

A wave of dizziness.

"Curse Reversal."

Relief.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Blood dripped from her lips.

Her vision blurred.

But she continued.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the Spirit Stone, absorbing its qi to replenish her strength.

She wiped her mouth, ignoring the iron taste on her tongue.

Just a few hundred more times to go.

She could do this.

Because she had to.

Gu Jie wanted to be of use to her Master.

It was as simple as that.

Her strength was meager, laughable compared to the true powerhouses of this world. But that didn't matter. She was willing to work hard, to push herself beyond her limits.

Because when the time came—when her Master needed her—she would be there.

Not as a burden.

Not as someone to be protected.

But as a shield.

So she endured.

She cursed herself, reversing it over and over, forcing her body to adapt, to learn, to grow.

Pain. Healing. Pain again.

She had lost count of how many times she had done it when—

Someone appeared on the boat.

She froze, instantly recognizing the figure before her.

It was Master Da Wei.

No.

It was Senior Dai Fu—inside Master Da Wei's body.

Gu Jie bowed respectfully.

"Senior," she greeted.

She had long since learned that Da Wei and Dai Fu were not their real names.

She had heard their true names once—deep in her mentalscape, when they defended her from the fragment of the Heavenly Demon.

Yet—

She could not pronounce them.

No matter how hard she tried, the syllables twisted in her mouth, refusing to take form.

So she had settled for the closest approximation—the names they themselves used in this world.

Da Wei and Dai Fu.

Gu Jie met Dai Fu's calm gaze. "Senior, when will Master return?"

The Holy Spirit, standing before he,r exhaled softly. "Most likely in a month's time."

His voice was neither rushed nor uncertain.

"His Lord is at a crucial phase in his cultivation. Disturbing him now would be unwise."

Gu Jie nodded. She had expected as much.

She would have to wait.

That was fine.

She had plenty to do.

The others in their group were aware of Dai Fu's nature. They knew he was a Holy Spirit.

But they didn't understand what that meant.

Not truly.

They accepted it, acknowledged it, but they didn't perceive it the way she did.

Perhaps it was because she was a Warlock.

Perhaps it was simply her nature.

But to her, Da Wei and Dai Fu felt different.

Da Wei was like the sun—warm and gentle, an all-encompassing light that illuminated the world.

Dai Fu was like the moon—calm and serene, ever-watching from above, distant yet present.

Both were celestial.

Both were untouchable.

And yet, both had saved her.

Dai Fu raised a hand, and a pulse of ethereal light surrounded her.

Instantly, the lingering pain from her self-inflicted Curses vanished. Her energy stabilized, her breath eased.

She frowned. "Senior, you shouldn't have bothered."

Dai Fu simply smiled. "You can rely on me, you know. The others would help you just as much. We are a Party after all."

Gu Jie opened her mouth, then closed it.

She had no response to that.

So instead, she simply bowed her head and returned to her training.

She cast Curse upon herself again.

She endured the pain again.

She reversed it again.

All while simultaneously cultivating her Qi, refining her body, mind, and spirit.

She worked.

She worked hard.

Ah, my dear reader, are you still there?

Hopefully, this portion of the story wasn't boring you.

Now, let us turn our gaze to David_69—or Dai Fu, the Holy Spirit. Or perhaps, simply Dave—a nickname His Lordship had bestowed upon him.

Frankly, Dave didn't care much for names.

They were fleeting, trivial things.

What mattered to him was His Oath—the one he had sworn alongside His Lordship.

As a Paladin, he had fought countless battles, spilling enough blood to drown nations. If all the corpses he had cut down were stacked into a pile, they could fill an entire battlefield, forming a mountain of the dead.

It wasn't something he was proud of.

But it was something he had accepted.

His faith in humanity was a contradiction in itself.

Humans were weak, selfish, flawed—yet despite all their shortcomings, they endured. They thrived.

And so would he.

Because he had faith—not just in humanity, but in himself.

He had faith in His Lordship.

He had faith in His Lordship's humanity as well.

That faith was what had sustained him for centuries, and it was the same faith that guided his actions now.

Dave spent his time on the boat, assisting Gu Jie with her training.

She was determined, pushing herself harder than necessary. He admired that about her.

After training, he would spar with her under Hei Yuan's supervision, in the training ground reserved for them.

Then, as the day wound down, he would socialize with his other companions and share tea with Hei Yuan.

It was a routine, but it was a necessary one.

And so the days passed.

Until one evening, as he sat across from Hei Yuan, sipping tea under the dim lantern light, the old fox finally spoke up.

"Why don't you mind me supervising your sparring?" Hei Yuan asked, his expression unreadable.

Dave paused, considering the question.

His answer was simple—because he was currently acting on His Lord's behalf.

Everything he did reflected His Lordship's honor. And as a Paladin, he would never act in a way that tarnished that honor.

But he knew Hei Yuan would find such an answer unsatisfying.

So he worded it differently.

"One of our prerequisites is that we must be supervised when outside the eastern wing," Dave replied, taking another sip of tea. "So it doesn't really matter, does it? We'd rather ask you just accommodate our training. It would be a bad look for you if you let visitors hurl their spells around in your territory unattended, wouldn't it?"

Hei Yuan's gaze sharpened. "You're too naive."

Dave chuckled. "Not naive. Practical."

Hei Yuan arched an eyebrow.

Dave leaned forward slightly, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. "Your spies aren't that good. I can sense them from a mile away."

Hei Yuan scowled, but quickly schooled his expression. "Ridiculous."

Dave simply smiled. "It's fine. I don't mind being watched. The sparring. Our discussions. The reading we do. Our research. It was irrelevant, unless you mean harm to us."

"And why is that?" Hei Yuan's fingers tightened around his teacup. "Aren't you wary of your techniques being stolen?

"Of course, I am not worried," Dave set his cup down with a soft clink. "Because even if they saw everything, they lack the means to imitate even a fraction of our power. In the end, if it goes down into a fight… it's clear to me, you'd lose so much more than me."

A flicker of offense crossed Hei Yuan's face.

The old fox was cautious—cunning, even—but Dave was not easily ruffled.

He had seen men like Hei Yuan before.

And he knew that, despite the Shadow Clan's vast resources and experience, they were still playing catch-up.

They simply didn't have the foundation to grasp what lay beyond their reach.

Hei Yuan knew it too.

And that was why, despite his irritation, he remained silent.

Dave simply picked up his teacup and took another sip.

The night continued, calm and unbroken.

So…

This was the part of the story that would shake up everything we knew so far.

Let us turn our gaze to Hei Yuan—and by extension, the Shadow Clan.

They were but a shadow of their former selves. Once, they had stood equal to the Black Clan, their closest kin. But now? They couldn't even compare.

Yet, despite their decline, the Shadow Clan had not crumbled completely.

How had a clan like them survived the tides of history?

It was simple.

Information.

They had one of the most formidable intelligence networks in the Empire. Their umbramancy had weakened, their strength had waned—but their secrets still held power.

And power, in any form, could be leveraged.

With their secret arts, they propped themselves up beneath the tyranny of the cultivation world. Knowledge was their weapon.

Recently, Hei Yuan had received new intelligence. Reports from Yellow Dragon City in the Riverfall Continent had arrived, bringing with them troubling news. Their branch in Riverfall wasn't as refined as their other networks, but it was still competent.

From the reports, Hei Yuan learned of Da Wei's involvement with Imperial Prince Ren Jin. He read about the Emperor's invitation, which confirmed that Da Wei had indeed an appointment with the Emperor himself.

That alone was enough to make Hei Yuan wary.

But that wasn't what truly disturbed him.

No…

It was the stories surrounding Da Wei.

Hei Yuan exhaled slowly, recalling the report.

A divine healer? A saint of healing and demon-slaying?

Ridiculous.

The reports painted Da Wei as some kind of mythical figure, a cultivator who brought miracles wherever he went.

No matter how Hei Yuan tried to scheme, there was no path forward where his Clan survived Da Wei's ire.

Thus, he made a calculated decision—

He would do the unthinkable.

He would help them.

The sooner Da Wei left, the safer the Shadow Clan would be.

Hei Yuan folded the report and slid a long scroll across the table.

"I'm willing to assist in investigating Hei Mao's lineage," he stated, his voice measured.

The truth was, he had given these orders long ago.

Hei Yuan had suspicions about Hei Mao's bloodline—particularly, a connection to the late Shadow Patriarch, who had vanished without a trace.

But the timeline didn't match. The disappearance didn't happen during the Grand Emperor's punishment of the Black and Shadow Clans. At least, according to Hei Yuan's investigations.

No, this mystery stretched far beyond that.

It was older than the Abyss Clan itself.

Older than the Grand Emperor's war against Deepmoor Continent.

Hei Yuan tapped the scroll. "Read it."

Da Wei—no, Dai Fu unbeknownst to Hei Yuan—glanced at the ancient parchment before unfolding it. His golden eyes flickered as he scanned its contents.

After a moment, he spoke. "You're saying Hei Mao is practically royalty."

Hei Yuan smirked. "If you consider a fallen legacy to be royalty, then yes."

He leaned back, watching Dai Fu's expression carefully. "Before the Abyss Clan became what it is today, it was a sect—the Eternal Undeath Sect. And it is old. Very old."

Dai Fu frowned. "If this sect was so old, how did you even find records of it?"

Hei Yuan let out a quiet scoff. "Do not underestimate the Shadow Clan."

He wouldn't admit it outright, but it was pure luck.

Who would have thought that the late Shadow Patriarch's journal contained historical accounts from three thousand years ago?

Using that as a reference, he had ordered his people to compile a report.

And the results had been… fascinating.

Hei Yuan summarized the findings.

"The Abyss Clan's origins were not without turmoil. Before it was established, the Eternal Undeath Sect experienced a dark age—a time of chaos."

"It had to do with immortals ascending."

Dai Fu's gaze sharpened. "Go on."

Hei Yuan continued.

"The sect's immortals wanted to ascend together, bringing their entire sect with them."

"To do that, they devised a Secret Art—a ritual that would bind the faith of every single member."

"However, there was a couple that refused to ascend."

Dai Fu raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Hei Yuan scoffed, shaking his head. "Because they wanted to stay behind. To grow old and live as mortals together."

"Fools," added Hei Yuan with vitriol.

"The Secret Art could only succeed if every person with the surname Hei consented. The couple's defiance meant that the ritual failed."

"The immortals were forced to ascend alone."

"With their departure, the Eternal Undeath Sect collapsed—its foundation shattered. Without their divine leaders, they fell into civil war."

"They destroyed themselves."

Hei Yuan's expression turned unreadable.

"Among the casualties… were the strange couple."

"And their twins—Hei Mao and Hei Mei."

Silence fell between them.

Dai Fu stared at the scroll, his mind undoubtedly racing.

Hei Yuan took a sip of his tea, his tone almost amused. "So tell me, Da Wei… does this change anything?"

Dai Fu slowly rolled up the scroll. "It changes everything."

Hei Yuan smirked.

"Good."

Hei Yuan's fingers tapped rhythmically against the wooden table. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a weight to his words as he spoke.

"I have a theory," he began.

Dai Fu, still reading over the ancient scroll, looked up. "Oh?"

Hei Yuan leaned forward slightly. "The Eternal Undeath Sect… I believe it has been reborn."

A heavy silence filled the air.

"Reborn?" Dai Fu's voice was calm, but the undertone of suspicion was impossible to miss.

Hei Yuan nodded. "Yes. And if I'm right, then the unrest in Deepmoor is their doing."

Dai Fu narrowed his eyes. "You sound certain."

"I am," Hei Yuan said smoothly. "Some of them may even be hiding within the Shadow Clan's ranks." He let the words linger, watching for any reaction. "But I believe most of them are with the Black Clan."

Dai Fu raised an eyebrow. "And why, exactly, are you so confident about that?"

Hei Yuan smirked.

Ah, that was the thing.

He wasn't.

The truth was—Hei Yuan was lying.

Not entirely, of course. There was some truth in what he said. He wouldn't be a very good schemer if there weren't.

But did he actually know that the Eternal Undeath Sect had infiltrated the Black Clan? No.

Did he actually care if Da Wei saw through his lie? Also no.

Hei Yuan only wanted Da Wei's group gone.

The longer they stayed, the more dangerous it became for the Shadow Clan.

So he gave them something.

Something useful enough to get them moving.

"If you're interested in more than just history," Hei Yuan said, his voice slow and deliberate, "then I have something more… relevant."

Dai Fu didn't reply immediately. He simply watched. Waiting.

Hei Yuan reached into his Storage Ring and withdrew two sheets of parchment.

With a flick of his wrist, he set them down on the table, revealing two eerily lifelike portraits.

"The Eternal Undeath Cult has made its move," he said, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "They've been manipulating the Abyssal Clans, feeding them misinformation to stir them into action."

Dai Fu—no, Dave, the Holy Spirit currently occupying His Lord's body—leaned forward to inspect the parchments.

And then…

His mind went blank.

Because staring back at him from the parchment were two very, very familiar faces.

A blonde priestess with piercing emerald eyes.

And a vampire with rosy pink hair.

Joan and Alice.

"They're looking for these two," added Hei Yuan. "From what we gathered, these two have been operating in Stormcall. But think about it, bounty posters of them are appearing here instead of Stormcall Continent. Seems suspicious."

Dave's internal monologue was instant and absolute.

What the actual hell?!

His Lord's body didn't flinch, but inside, Dave was cursing up a storm.

How the hell did those two end up here?!

"They weren't the only ones interested," Hei Yuan continued. "The Black Clan suddenly deployed cultivators there as well. However, chances were, they weren't Black Clan cultivators but undercover cultists."

Dave's fingers tightened slightly.

"The Black Clan? Undercover cultists?"

"Mn." Hei Yuan nodded. "And it gets worse." He glanced at the scroll again, voice dropping slightly. "Several of my own people—Shadow Clan cultivators—vanished in Stormcall. They were later found dead."

The air between them grew heavier.

"I take it the Eternal Undeath Cult had a hand in that?" Dave asked.

Hei Yuan's expression didn't change. "Obviously. My men weren't careless enough to get caught by common bandits."

Dave exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to run a hand down his face.

"And you're telling me all this… why?"

Hei Yuan's smirk widened. "Because I want you to leave, of course."

Dave almost laughed. At least he was honest about it.

092 One Month

It had been a month since Lu Gao and I went into seclusion. But instead of meditating in a cave like proper cultivators, we had claimed a small portion of the hillside as our personal training ground. It wasn't as romantic as those old cultivation stories made it sound—no mystical waterfall, no ancient ruins, just a lot of trial and error under the open sky.

Thanks to my evolved Divine Possession, I had been able to stay inside Lu Gao's body for an extended period, refining our understanding of Blessed Weapon and other techniques. With each session, we were getting closer to breaking past the limitations of conventional techniques imposed by the Paladin Legacy, pushing both his martial arts and my skills into a realm beyond what this world recognized.

Using Divine Possession continuously had been tough on me. It wasn't as simple as taking over a body and calling it a day. Maintaining it required expending a spell slot and mana daily, meaning I had to carefully manage my resources to not exhaust myself into a coma. Still, this method had accelerated our training tremendously.

But that wasn't the only thing that happened in the past month.

Joan D'Arc and Alice… were here.

When Hei Yuan first revealed the Shadow Clan's latest intelligence to Dave, I nearly made the hasty decision of abandoning everything to track them down. But we had no leads, except for one troubling name: the Eternal Undeath Cult.

I could feel it in my bones. Something big was going to happen here in Deepmoor.

Even Gu Jie felt it. She had prophesied that a powerful misfortune was accumulating within the Shadow Clan itself. If something major was coming, this was ground zero.

And if that was the case, fleeing might have been the correct answer.

But that wasn't the answer we wanted.

Hei Mao wouldn't be satisfied with just leaving. His past, his lineage—there were too many unanswered questions. To the boy, there were a lot of stakes for him. Ren Xun had proposed two possibilities:

1. The Shadow Clan was collaborating with the Cult.

2. The Cult wanted something from the Clan, and that's why the misfortune was gathering.

Either way, trouble was brewing.

With all this in mind, I had given the order for everyone to focus on increasing their cultivation and strength as much as possible.

As for Ren Xun, I had tasked him with the delicate mission of negotiating with Hei Yuan.

I could only hope that Hei Yuan would listen.

That aside...

I had learned a lot in the past month.

For example, bypassing the cooldown restriction of normal skills by channeling more mana into them. It was a simple concept in theory, but the execution required an absurd amount of precision and control—too much mana, and the skill would destabilize; too little, and it wouldn't activate at all.

What's more, I had discovered that certain skills could be empowered if I poured additional mana into them. This only worked on evolved skills, but even then, the results were astonishing. A simple technique could become something far beyond its original limits, as if I were breaking the very laws that governed this world's system.

"Agh... Tis my woe..."

Lu Gao let out a groan, stretching his limbs. His expression was calm, but I could tell he was feeling stiff after another grueling session.

"Should we switch?" he asked, rolling his shoulders. "It's not that I am ungrateful, Master... but..."

I rejected the idea immediately. "No. You need to get used to your new body."

Lu Gao sighed but didn't argue. He knew I was right.

His left arm, once no different from the rest of his body, was now pitch black, a writhing mass of contained power.

The demonic taint inside him had been a hidden factor, something we only discovered after countless experiments. Instead of trying to purge it, we had redirected it, concentrating it into a single limb—his left arm. By doing so, we had turned it into something beyond flesh, something that could be wielded as a weapon rather than a curse.

And from that process, Hollow Point: Incursion was born.

It was a technique created from the clash of demonic taint and spiritual purity, a violent but controlled explosion of two opposing forces. Of course, Lu Gao no longer needed to push himself to dangerous extremes to use it—after mastering the technique, he could activate it at will.

"So how do you feel?" I asked.

"Never been better, Master."

Lu Gao took a deep breath, channeling mana into his lungs, using the Hollow Breath Technique.

A technique that had proven to be shockingly compatible with replicating qi cultivation through mana. It was through this method that we had developed Mana Road Cultivation, a means to bypass traditional cultivation limits and create something entirely new.

"I miss my sword, though," remarked Lu Gao. "I know I shouldn't be picky, but..."

Lu Gao's sword had long since splintered from overuse. But that didn't matter.

He didn't need it.

He clenched his blackened fist, mana swirling around it like a vortex, and stepped forward.

With a sharp exhale, he drove his fist into the ground—Hollow Point: Incursion.

The earth shuddered beneath us, and in the next instant, purple flames erupted everywhere, consuming the hillside in a chaotic, twisting blaze. Lu Gao managed to perform such a feat, even with his broken dantian, and this was all thanks to Mana Road Cultivation.

What was Mana Road Cultivation?

It was a method that Lu Gao and I devised together, a way to cultivate without meridians or a dantian—something no native of this world would have even considered possible. It worked by saturating the body with mana, forcefully stimulating qi in the process.

Another way to put it? We were tricking the body into thinking it was cultivating.

It wasn't without its flaws. Unlike true cultivation, Mana Road Cultivation didn't extend lifespan, nor did it grant the mystical abilities that cultivators gained through the refining of their essence, bloodline, or soul.

But it followed the same ranking system, emitting the same pressure as an equivalent cultivator of the same rank. The only difference? There were no minor categorizations, no stars to denote the progress within a realm. You either advanced, or you didn't.

In terms of power-ups, unique attributes, or advantages of this cultivation method, we still have nothing on that front, but the theory was sound. It would take time to know just how good this cultivation method was, but so far, no complications had arisen in practicing the Mana Road Cultivation.

"Master, thank you for this opportunity—"

"Less yapping, more cultivating," I shut down Lu Gao rather quickly. "In the end, this is all a product of your hard work and providence, so don't attribute your success to me. We know too little of what exactly we are doing, and we can't be sure for certain that the Mana Road Cultivation is the right path. We are making progress. That's good, but we must also be wary every step on the way."

Speaking of progress, our research into this system had also led to another major revelation—the reason why I had always perceived qi as particles while mana felt like waves.

The explanation was simple:

· Mana traveled in waves, originating from the Great Subconscious—the unseen force that connected all minds, memories, and possibilities.

· Qi, on the other hand, was static—it existed between Heaven and Earth, bound by the fundamental laws of this world.

In truth, Qi never actually moved. The way cultivators hoarded it, gathered it into their meridians and cores, created the illusion of movement. But what they called "Qi" was likely just life force, vigor—some aspect of existence they had mistaken for an energy they could control.

It made sense why mana and qi were incompatible. Mana was fluid, ever-changing, adapting to the mind's intent. Qi was fixed, shaped by natural laws.

I let out a breath, shaking my head. There was still too much to unpack. But for now, I had to focus.

Lu Gao spoke.

"I'm ready."

He reached into his robes, withdrawing a tome—a thick, ancient-looking book with a white cover emblazoned with golden scripture. The White Path of the Paladin Legacy.

We had deliberately avoided using it until now.

Using a Legacy Advancement Book was a guaranteed way to accelerate his growth, unlocking Innate Knowledge and allowing him to use my skills with greater ease.

But that would have defeated the entire purpose of our experiment.

If Lu Gao had unlocked his Immortal Soul from the start, Lu Gao could have immediately gained an instinctual understanding of my abilities while under Divine Possession. There would have been no need to develop new techniques—no Hollow Breath, no Hollow Point: Incursion, no Mana Road Cultivation.

We wouldn't have learned anything.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Once you open that book, there's no turning back. It'll bind itself to your soul, and your path as a Paladin will be set in stone. From here on, you'll be walking a path not most would dare walk... One day, you'll have to swear an Oath. Dedicate yourself to a cause. Find the meaning of 'God' in ways that mattered. The challenges would escalate dramatically once you accept to inherit the Legacy of the Paladins, and it was an understatement to say it would affect your way of life severely. "

Lu Gao smirked, his pitch-black left arm shimmering with restrained power.

"I've already made my choice," he said. "It's time to see how far I can go, Master."

I was still inside his body, sitting in the back seat under the effect of Divine Possession, so I could feel it all—the eagerness buzzing beneath his skin, the expectations brimming in his heart, the hope that shone in the depths of his soul.

It was overwhelming, almost suffocating in its purity.

But I didn't hesitate.

"You're free to do as you like," I told him. "I trust you, disciple."

With those words, his emotions shifted.

Eagerness transformed into action.

Expectations became commitment.

Hope turned into certainty.

Lu Gao exhaled and reached for the Legacy Advancement Book. The golden-embossed tome rested on his lap, emanating a faint, holy radiance—it was a direct fragment of the System, something that would rewrite his very being. And then he tried opening the book, but failed…

Nothing happened.

The book remained closed.

Lu Gao furrowed his brows and tried again, pressing his hand against the cover. He poured his will into it, his intent, but the tome remained stubbornly shut as he tried to pry it open.

"Ngggh…"

A silence stretched between us.

It seemed Lu Gao wasn't so lucky that he might be carrying an Immortal Soul like Gu Jie or Fan Shi.

Lu Gao asked, "Master… how are souls even immortalized?"

As he continued struggling with the tome, his voice was calm, but I could tell he was thinking, trying to understand the reason behind his failure. To an extent, Lu Gao was aware of how my power system worked. It was part of his education, so it wasn't strange for him to ask about Immortal Souls or allude to it.

I gave him the answer as naturally as breathing.

"A soul's immortality is innate," I said. "The soul exists beyond life and death—it's eternal in itself. What the Legacy Advancement Book does is awaken that eternity, express it in a way that the world can see."

Lu Gao nodded slowly, still staring at the unmoving tome. "Then why won't mine awaken?"

I exhaled, trying to piece together what small lore knowledge I could offer. "Because… not all souls are robust enough or have enough history to manifest their true potential."

That was the truth. Back in LLO, the only NPCs who could awaken their Legacies were the ones who were reincarnations of past champions, or had souls that had accumulated enough meaning.

The System recognized weight. If a soul was too young, too blank, it simply lacked the foundation to unlock the true path of a Legacy.

Lu Gao looked down at the book. His voice was quiet, thoughtful.

"Then… I cannot open it."

There was no bitterness in his tone, no resentment. Just a simple statement of fact.

"Then let me try," I said. "I've been wanting to test this... I hope this works..."

I switched with Lu Gao, taking control of his body. The moment my hands touched the book, I felt resonance—a sense of connection that hummed deep in my bones.

The tome shuddered as I pried it open… but it didn't turn to motes of light.

I immediately understood why.

"I already have the White Skill Path unlocked," I muttered. "So this is understandable."

Back in LLO, I had only obtained a few skills from the White Paladin tree, but I never fully advanced into the White Path. Skill Points were very expensive after all, and I only picked skills I needed from the White Path.

I switched back to Lu Gao, allowing him to regain control.

And this time—

The book dissolved into countless motes of light, streaming into his body.

Lu Gao inhaled sharply, his aura fluctuating wildly as the Paladin Legacy surged through him. His Immortal Soul had awakened.

I watched the process with interest, my mind racing with new possibilities.

So… this was a convenient loophole.

If I had enough Legacy Advancement Books, I could theoretically awaken any number of mortals to a Paladin Legacy, as long as I opened the book first before handing it off. Was it necessary to do it while under the effect of Divine Possession, or could I just pry them open and hand them?

I wouldn't know, unless I tried them.

A sense of pride swelled within me, expressing it through my heart and sharing it with Lu Gao.

"Congratulations," I said. "You've taken your first steps into the White Path."

Lu Gao took a deep breath, still feeling the lingering effects of the Legacy Advancement Book settling into his soul. His body trembled, not with weakness but with overflowing power, and his foundation strengthened in ways it never had before.

We had achieved our goal—one month of relentless training, testing, and refining. Mana Road Cultivation, Hollow Point: Incursion, the evolution of Hollow Breath Technique, and now Lu Gao's advancement into a Paladin.

Was it realistic to get this far in just a month?

For others, probably not.

But for us, it had been a stroke of luck, a series of breakthroughs, each pushing us toward something greater.

"It's been a month now..." I remarked softly. "Let's return to the others."

"Yes, Master!"

It was time to return to the others.

I just hoped Ren Xun had convinced Hei Yuan about the impending threat. As Gu Jie had prophesied, something big was coming, and I needed the Shadow Clan to be ready.

Ren Xun had Dave's support—if anyone could turn the tables, it was them.

I was about to activate Zealot's Stride when my Divine Sense flared in warning.

A hundred hostile presences.

One, two, three… no, five… no—more than a hundred.

Their auras ranged from Mind Enlightenment to Will Reinforcement, with a handful of Spirit Mystery experts mixed in.

Lu Gao's cultivation was only at Will Reinforcement, but with Divine Possession boosting him, he was roughly at Jiang Zhen's level. If I were to take the wheel and lock in, I should be able to elevate our combat potential to an exponential degree.

But was it enough?

Right on time, Dave's Voice Chat suddenly connected to me.

"My Lord—Shadow Clan's under attack!" Dave's voice was urgent, but still controlled.

My thoughts snapped into place.

Dave didn't have an Item Box, but he could use Voice Chat like I could—at least that made communication easier. Since he was in control of the main body, he should be able to use the Item Box, giving me confidence that he and the others would be fine.

"Prioritize protecting our people," I ordered. "I'll be there as soon as I can…"

I cut the connection.

A dozen black-masked cultivators finally stepped out from the shadows, surrounding me. Their dark porcelain masks were carved with bloody scriptures, their silent presence exuding nothing but hostility.

Shadow Clan was several hundred kilometers away... or maybe more.

At my fastest speed, I could probably make it back in thirty minutes or less.

…Much less, considering the current Lu Gao under Divine Possession was faster and stronger than we started.

I studied the masked cultivators, my voice sharp.

"What do you want?"

No answer.

Instead, their spiritual pressure spiked, talismans appearing in their hands.

I didn't waste time.

I bolted.

Zealot's Stride activated, propelling me forward to buy time for my skill, but—

From the shadows above, dozens more cultivators intercepted me, blades gleaming.

My body reacted instantly—

Flash Step!

I displaced myself, dodging the incoming sword strikes. In the next breath, I was already stepping into the air, running toward the Shadow Clan's direction.

While moving, I channeled power into Egress, preparing to teleport back—but then—

Something went wrong.

I felt it through Divine Sense.

Multiple lives were suddenly snuffed out.

The ones holding talismans—they were the first to die.

My eyes widened.

A sacrificial spell.

I thought of using Featherhome, but they were faster.

I barely had time to blink before—

—The familiar hill, landscape, and masked cultivators vanished.

I was suspended in midair, looking down at an endless blackened forest.

"Where… is this?"