The crowd dispersed upon receiving their orders. The wind on Fuguang Platform swept through the morning mist, and soon, only the three personal disciples remained.
Jiang Jin stepped forward, cupping his hands and bowing. “Second Senior Sister, Fourth Senior Brother, is there anything I can do?”
Zhu Zhao glanced at him, her expression calm and devoid of any extra emotion. “There are still many rogue cultivators and disciples afflicted with dark poison stranded in the Ward-Off-Illness Pavilion. If you are free, go help the Sixth Elder transfer them all to the back mountain shelter and settle them in.”
Jiang Jin was startled upon hearing this, feeling a trace of reluctance. “Those chores can just be left to the outer yard disciples. I am a sword cultivator; I can do far more than that. If there's any scouting needed or anyone to capture, you can leave it to me.”
Zhu Zhao already had a mediocre impression of him. Hearing his words, she frowned slightly, her tone growing colder. “You've been in the sect for less than two years, and your foundation is still shallow. Do your duty first. Taking care of yourself is already a big help; there's no need to take matters into your own hands.”
Jiang Jin wanted to say more, but seeing that her expression brooked no argument, he could only cup his hands and accept.
Zhu Zhao only then turned her head, casting a glance at Xie Zhou as she said in a low voice, “Come with me for a moment.”
The two entered the main hall's discussion hall, and the heavy wooden doors shut behind them, sealing out the sound of the wind.
The candlelight flickered on the desk, casting dense shadows of the scrolls onto the walls.
Zhu Zhao got straight to the point: “How is the matter I asked you to investigate? What secret technique is being used to control Wen Tang?”
Standing by the candlelight, half of Xie Zhou's pale face was cast in shadow. He shook his head. “I've searched through all the records and secrets within the Tianshu Realm, but there is no record of such a secret technique.”
“No record?”
Zhu Zhao pursed her lips, her dark eyes as deep as thick, swirling ink. “Wen Tang grew up steeped in dark poison, so her soul is several times more resilient than an ordinary person's. Common soul-controlling arts wouldn't even be able to touch her, let alone extract her love threads directly—not to mention those unorthodox methods from Black Cloud Mountain.”
“Moreover, using Wen Tang to control other puppets is definitely no ordinary puppetry. Where on earth did Ye Chongguang get such an evil technique?”
“There is one thing worth noting.”
Xie Zhou looked up. “A while back, Elder Huaisang of Taiqing Pavilion was frequently entering and leaving Yong'an Tower.”
“Yong'an Tower?”
A flash of surprise crossed Zhu Zhao's eyes. “How did it get involved with Yong'an Tower? Hasn't Yong'an Tower always remained neutral, never interfering in sect disputes...”
Xie Zhou corrected her, “If the pay is right, there is nothing in this world Yong'an Tower won't do.”
Zhu Zhao couldn't help but rub her temples.
He was right. Yong'an Tower had never been truly neutral. They were morally ambiguous and purely profit-driven. As long as the compensation was sufficient, there was nothing they wouldn't dare touch.
She just hadn't expected Ye Chongguang to dare wade into a bottomless swamp like Yong'an Tower just to set up this chessboard.
She shook her head and ordered, “Keep investigating, and keep a close eye on Yong'an Tower's movements as well. Report to me immediately if there is any unusual activity.”
Xie Zhou didn't answer. Instead, his gaze passed over the flickering candlelight and landed on her. “Did you go look for Song Yao?”
Zhu Zhao's movements paused, her fingers curling slightly at her side.
Xie Zhou curled his lips. “Didn't you suspect she had other motives before? What? Now you're begging to have a meal with her?”
Zhu Zhao cast a sideways glance at him, her tone carrying a hint of light mockery. “At least I can still sit down and have a meal with her. What about you? When you were injured by Wen Tang, I didn't see her showing much concern for you.”
She mocked him mercilessly, “Xie Zhou, your pity play didn't work, did it?”
Xie Zhou's expression instantly chilled, his lips tightening into a hard, cold line. He turned around and pushed the door open with a loud bang before walking out.
Zhu Zhao stared at the closed door and sneered, though she didn't feel the slightest bit of satisfaction from winning the exchange.
Neither of them was any better than the other.
One had to resort to coercion just to secure a meal, while the other had to hide in the shadows just to get close. All of their feelings were too shameful to be brought to light.
She withdrew her gaze and looked back down at the scroll, but her fingertips paused at the edge of the page, not turning it for a long time.
...
Meanwhile, after leaving Fuguang Platform, Jiang Jin ultimately did not go to the Ward-Off-Illness Pavilion. Instead, he made a turn, flew out of Nine Saints Hall on his sword, oriented himself, and headed straight toward Black Cloud Mountain.
Ever since he returned from Wuzhou City last time, he had been having the exact same dream.
In the dream, he was a once-in-a-century genius of Nine Saints Hall. Having entered the sect for barely two years, his brilliance was already fully revealed. The Hall Master personally taught him sword formulas, the elders praised him continuously, and even his senior brothers and sisters, who were usually proud and aloof, regarded him with high esteem.
Not only that, but his Second Senior Sister, Fifth Senior Sister, and many other junior sisters in the hall had all become his close female companions...
The sect disciples crowded around him, and wherever he went, he was the center of attention, enjoying boundless glory.
Yet, there was no Lin Mu in his dream.
Every time he woke up, his back would be drenched in a light sweat, but his chest would be surging with a secret, burning restlessness.
Sitting on the edge of his bed and pondering it repeatedly, the more he thought about it, the more terrifyingly real the dream felt.
If Lin Mu had never existed, if she hadn't outshone him at every turn, would he have been respected and pursued by everyone just like in the dream?
If there were no Lin Mu, would all the glory she had snatched away have belonged to him instead?
But whenever this dark thought grew so wild that it threatened to burst from his chest, the image of the young girl smiling with crescent eyes would uncontrollably float into his mind.
He also remembered how she had returned from being injured in the demon realm, her eyes red and her small face crumpled as she begged the Sixteenth Elder to save him, her soft voice tinged with a sob.
A girl who had once been so completely devoted to him—even if she had grown distant for some unknown reason now—if she had truly never appeared in this world...
He did not dare to think further. Forcing the thought down, another matter came to mind.
He had heard that his Fifth Senior Sister was now completely ruthless and unrecognized anyone. Lin Mu must be in grave danger in her hands.
He if rescued her, perhaps Lin Mu would be deeply moved.
Furthermore, he was currently unable to figure out what she was thinking. They had been separated for several days now. Once they met, he wanted to make his feelings clear to her.
There were too many people coming and going around her, which always made him feel somewhat uncomfortable.
He wanted to rightfully and properly keep those people away from her.
At this thought, he couldn't help but tighten his grip on his sword formula. He suddenly surged his spiritual energy, and his flying speed increased by several notches.
The blue-white sword light cut through the sky above the mountain forest. His robes rustled loudly in the mountain wind, and the cold air stung his cheeks, but he was completely oblivious to it.
...
Black Cloud Mountain was quite far from Nine Saints Hall. By the time Jiang Jin arrived at its outskirts using his spiritual arts, it was already evening.
However, Black Cloud Mountain was far more bizarre than he had imagined.
The rolling mountains stretched endlessly, with a layer of gray mist permanently blanketing the peaks, appearing as though it were soaked in a sinister, cold moisture.
He flew in circles on his sword three or four times but failed to see even a glimpse of the mountain gate. He was forced to descend, landing on a thick bed of decaying leaves, intending to follow the mountain path to see if he could find another way in.
To his dismay, the further he walked, the more disoriented he became.
The dusk pressed down heavily, and the shadows of the trees overlapped. The only sound around him was the rustling of leaves blown by the wind; even the chirping of insects was scarce.
Furthermore, suppressed by the misty miasma, he could no longer fly his sword back out.
Jiang Jin's brow furrowed tighter. His fingertips gripped the hilt of his sword, and just as he was about to channel his spiritual energy to force his way through the formation, he suddenly felt that the surroundings were terrifyingly quiet.
He whipped his head around.
Behind him, several pale, stiff, and cold figures had emerged at some point, staring straight at him.
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