A-Lang stood frozen, his rough palms now clutching gold pieces that felt searing hot—far more valuable than all the lives contained within this dead-end alley. He wanted to offer his thanks, but his tongue felt leaden as he watched the steady back of Zhi Xuan moving toward the front door of the tavern.

  Zhi Xuan stepped out from the kitchen into the dim main room. Old Mo sat behind the counter, his sunken eyes staring hollowly at the wide-open door, where the harsh midday sun dissected the dust floating in the air. Upon seeing Zhi Xuan, the old man stood abruptly, his hunched back straightening slightly out of deep-seated reverence.

  "Senior," Old Mo greeted in a hoarse voice. "The Morning Dew Wine you ordered three days ago has evaporated in its cup. Shall I pour you a fresh one?"

  Zhi Xuan stopped right at the exit, his gaze fixed forward. "Keep your wine, Old Mo. I have found what I sought down there. Ensure that basement remains locked, and let no other human breathe the air left inside it."

  Old Mo nodded submissively, his trembling hands wiping cold sweat from his temples. "This servant understands. The secrets of this place will be buried with my bones."

  Zhi Xuan stepped out into the narrow alleys of Qinghe City. He reactivated the Ghost Hood, causing his figure to fade into a grey silhouette, invisible to the crowds passing by. He navigated the increasingly busy streets; cloth merchants shouted advertisements for silk from the eastern regions, and the aroma of hot buns wafted from roadside stalls.

  However, Zhi Xuan’s keen senses caught something unusual. Beneath the mundane bustle, there was a sharp, disciplined fluctuation of spiritual essence. At the intersection leading to the city square, a group of practitioners dressed in pristine white armor with golden phoenix emblems on their chests had gathered. They carried large parchment scrolls, posting them on every notice board.

  "Listen, citizens of Qinghe!" shouted one practitioner at the Consciousness Transformation realm, his voice amplified by spiritual essence to thunder through every corner. "The Holy Light Sect and the Four Directions Alliance have issued an arrest warrant for the Devil Gu Fengyan! Anyone providing information or harboring him will be deemed an accomplice and executed!"

  Zhi Xuan stopped in the shadows of an ancient bell tower. He stared at the posted portrait; a crude sketch, yet sufficient to depict a tall man with long hair and an oppressive aura. Below it, a reward was listed that could make a small sect wealthy overnight: ten thousand high-grade spiritual stones and one Soul Purifying Pill.

  "They move quickly," Ruo Xianxue hissed within the Sea of Consciousness, her laughter sounding like the sharp scraping of metal. "Ten thousand jade stones? Your head is now worth more than a small auction, brat."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his sapphire eyes beneath the hood. "Let them chase shadows. They only sent Consciousness Transformation practitioners? If I wished, I could make him pluck out his own Divine Wheel."

  Zhi Xuan turned away from the crowd, which was beginning to stir with whispers of fear and greed. He headed toward the higher district of the city, where grand pavilions belonging to mortal nobles and local lords stood haughtily. There, the air felt thinner yet rich with the scent of expensive sandalwood incense.

  "They send Consciousness Transformation practitioners just to be heralds?" Zhi Xuan muttered as he skirted the shadows of high walls. "How laughable."

  He exhaled slowly. For him, Qinghe City was a mere stopover to forge the Ancient Nirvana Puppets. Now finished with dozens of them, he had tasks to attend to—most notably, silencing the factions still clamoring about his existence.

  Zhi Xuan walked with a peculiar calm, as if he were a lord of death strolling through his own backyard. The Ghost Hood vibrated faintly, absorbing every ripple of light that hit his body, making him like a ghost lost in the bustle of the mundane world. His sapphire eyes continued to observe the Holy Light Sect practitioners, who looked arrogant in their white armor.

  "They are hunting for prey in the wrong place," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice barely audible, swallowed by the wind carrying the scent of sandalwood.

  He stopped at an arched stone bridge crossing a small river within the city. Below, the water flowed calmly, carrying fallen lotus petals. Zhi Xuan stared at his faint reflection in the water. He didn't see himself as he once was, but rather a vessel of karma filled with the will of slaughter.

  Suddenly, an old man in tattered clothes but carrying the withered aura of a First Ember realm practitioner approached one of the white-clad guards. With a trembling voice, he pointed toward the dead-end alley where Old Mo’s tavern was located.

  "M-Milord... I saw someone suspicious enter the alley down there a few days ago," the old man whispered with an undisguisable tone of greed. "He was tall, very tall... and his presence made my hair stand on end."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes. It seemed human greed was sharper than any concealment formation. Although the Ghost Hood obscured his form, the traces of intent he left in the minds of the weak—like Old Lu the wood carrier or the drunkards—were now bearing poisonous fruit.

  "Fool," Ruo Xianxue spat, the vibration of her voice carrying an overflowing bloodlust. "Will you let that old rat sell your head for a few spiritual stones?"

  "Let him speak," Zhi Xuan replied internally, his hand moving beneath his robes to touch the cold surface of the Ruthless Heavenly Banner. "This world needs a warning. They think they are hunting a tiger, when they are actually inviting a disaster that will swallow this entire city."

  The Holy Light Sect practitioner nodded haughtily, tossing a small pouch of spiritual stones to the old man. "If your information is correct, you will be rewarded more. Fellow brothers! To the western sector alley!"

  The group of practitioners immediately sped off, their white robes fluttering like wings of death. Zhi Xuan did not follow them directly. Instead, he leaped lightly onto the roof of the tallest pavilion, moving like a shadow crossing the moon in broad daylight.

  From that height, he watched the mob of practitioners surround Old Mo’s tavern in a crude battle formation. Mortal citizens nearby fled in terror, slamming doors and windows shut as if a great storm were about to strike.

  "Come out, Devil Gu Fengyan! Do not hide behind the stench of this mortal tavern!" shouted the group leader, his spiritual essence exploding, shattering Old Mo’s weathered tavern sign into flying splinters.

  Old Mo emerged trembling, followed by A-Lang, whose face was as white as cotton. "Great lords... mercy... there is no Devil here... only us..."

  "Silence, old man!" The practitioner raised his hand, ready to unleash a palm of light to level the building.

  However, before the light could explode, the atmosphere in the alley suddenly turned as cold as a grave. A killing intent from above froze the surroundings.

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  SRAAAAKKK—!

  Zhi Xuan, standing atop the tower, flicked his finger in a graceful yet lethal motion. The tavern door shattered into pieces from the inside. Not by an explosion of energy, but by a manifestation of Soul Transformation power so pure that the surrounding air seemed to be sucked dry.

  "Sending weaklings like you to capture a Soul Transformation expert?" The low echo of Zhi Xuan's voice carried a chilling weight. "Has the Southern Region truly grown so insulting toward me?"

  From behind the remaining dust at the threshold of the ruined tavern, a tall silhouette began to solidify. He stepped out with a rhythm so slow, yet every footfall on the stony ground sounded like a sledgehammer striking the hearts of the Holy Light Sect practitioners. The Ghost Hood that had previously hidden his identity fell away, revealing black-and-white robes that fluttered even though no wind blew.

  The group leader, a Consciousness Transformation practitioner, suddenly felt his Divine Wheel vibrate violently. The spiritual essence that had been overflowing in his palm dimmed, as if the light itself feared the darkness brought by the figure before him.

  "G-Gu Fengyan..." he whispered, his tongue feeling numb. The arrogance that had been on his face was replaced by a ghastly, terrifying pale. "You... you are really here?"

  Zhi Xuan stopped walking. His dark purple hair, reaching down to his waist, flowed freely, revealing the slaughter pillar patterns on his temples, which now glowed with a deep blood-red hue. His sapphire eyes scanned the practitioners one by one, not as opponents, but as piles of straw waiting to be burned.

  "You destroyed the tavern where I drank my wine," Zhi Xuan said, his voice smooth yet carrying a mental resonance that made the ears of the lower practitioners bleed. "And you disturbed the silence I had just built."

  "Do not fear! He is alone!" shouted one practitioner, trying to rally his courage. "Form the Light-Locking Array! Send a signal to headquarters!"

  Six other practitioners immediately lunged forward, attempting to form a circle around Zhi Xuan. They frantically wove hand seals, creating a golden net of light that descended from the sky to trap the Devil's movements. However, to Zhi Xuan, their movements were no faster than a caterpillar wriggling on a leaf.

  "A formation like this... will only become your own funeral shroud," Zhi Xuan hissed. He did not draw a sword, nor did he release a grand technique. His left hand merely rose slightly into the air, his fingers curving into a peculiar claw.

  SRASSHH!

  Zhi Xuan’s hand movement was not a mere physical pull, but a manipulation of space so violent that the air around the practitioners solidified like steel walls closing in. The six bodies in white uniforms were forcibly dragged upward, their limbs kicking at the void, while their faces turned blue from the sudden loss of breath.

  "Release... release us!" the leader roared as he tried to strike his mental dagger toward Zhi Xuan.

  Zhi Xuan remained unmoved, his sapphire eyes flashing coldly beneath clouds that had suddenly turned black. "You come bearing the name of Holy Light, yet your hearts are filled with the stench of greed. Return to your rotten Sect."

  With a soft thud, he launched the six youths into the air like a catapult. Though Zhi Xuan didn't know the exact direction of their sect, he ensured they wouldn't stain his robes and that he wouldn't carry the same blood curse as he did with Zhao Wu—the thing he loathed most. The six practitioners shot off like falling stars of ill omen, piercing the low clouds over Qinghe City before disappearing in a terrifying arc.

  Now, only the group leader remained—the Consciousness Transformation practitioner who had shouted so loudly before. He fell to his knees, his golden glowing sword now lying useless in the dirt of the filthy alley. All his courage had collapsed, replaced by a primal instinct forcing him to keep crawling backward.

  "P-Please... have mercy..." he whimpered, his voice breaking into a pathetic sob. "I was only following the elders' orders... I didn't know... I didn't know his power was this great..."

  Zhi Xuan stepped closer, his lengthening shadow seemingly swallowing the wretched practitioner. "Ignorance is the first sin for those who dare call themselves cultivators. Disrupting the peace of others is the second. And the most unforgivable sin..."

  Zhi Xuan stopped right in front of the man's nose. He leaned down slightly, letting the slaughter patterns on his temples be clearly seen, radiating a coldness that made the leader's heart skip a beat.

  "...is the fact that you are all too weak even to serve as my sword practice," Zhi Xuan whispered. "Begone before I shatter your entire bloodline."

  The practitioner did not wait for a second warning. With what little strength remained in his Divine Wheel, he forced himself up, tripping over his own stained robes, and ran headlong out of the dead-end alley. He didn't even dare look back, as if a single glance behind him would allow death to pluck his soul through the Devil's sapphire eyes.

  Silence returned, but this silence carried a different weight. Wood dust from the destroyed tavern sign still drifted slowly, landing on the blackened earth. Old Mo and A-Lang remained frozen at the threshold of the missing door, staring at Zhi Xuan's steady back as he stood in the middle of the now-deserted street, for all the mortals had fled since the spiritual essence began to surge.

  Zhi Xuan took a long breath, an exhale that brought a chill like an autumn arriving too soon. He turned slowly, looking at Old Mo, whose face was further wrinkled by fear.

  "This tavern is no longer safe for you," Zhi Xuan said, his voice now flat again, losing its lethal edge. "The gold I gave you is enough for you to start a life in another city, far from the reach of the Holy Light Sect."

  "S-Senior..." Old Mo trembled. He tried to kowtow, but Zhi Xuan held his movement with a gentle wave of essence. "Your kindness is so great... but your identity... is it true you are the Devil Gu Fengyan who shakes the Southern Region?"

  Zhi Xuan did not answer directly. He only looked at the darkening sky, as if the clouds themselves refused to meet his gaze. "A name is but a label. To you, I am merely a customer who disliked your overly bitter wine."

  He then turned to A-Lang. The thin youth still clutched his gold pieces tightly, but his eyes held a strange glint of admiration rather than fear.

  "This world will never be quiet as long as light and darkness still fight for prey," Zhi Xuan murmured. "Go. Do not let the lingering scent of death from me cling to your clothes."

  Without waiting for a response, Zhi Xuan triggered his Ghost Hood again. His physical body faded, merging with the shadows of the high city walls, until in an instant he had vanished from mortal sight. He did not head for the city gates; instead, he bolted toward the top of the western watchtower, where he could overlook all of Qinghe City, which was now beginning to stir with panic.

  In the distance, he saw a golden signal flare explode in the sky—a sign that reinforcements from the Holy Light Sect were being deployed toward the city. They were like ants seeing their nest disturbed, moving wildly without realizing they were approaching a fire that would consume everything.

  "You let one man live to report," Ruo Xianxue spoke again, her tone thick with bloodlust. "Are you intentionally baiting those big dogs out of their kennel?"

  "I simply do not wish to have the same misfortune I had with Zhao Wu that day," Zhi Xuan replied internally with a heavy sigh. "If I kill them indiscriminately, I will undoubtedly receive the same Exterminator's Mark, which would drown me in suffering once more."

  "The only way is to silence them," Zhi Xuan muttered coldly, his brow furrowing slightly. "Great Saint, what if I do not wish to kill, but I go to their sect to shut them up?"

  "Silence them without killing?" Ruo Xianxue laughed uproariously, a laugh that echoed like thousands of daggers clashing within Zhi Xuan's consciousness. "Since when did the Devil from the Forest of Eternal Death become so naive? You wish to be a saint atop the heap of corpses you’ve made? The cultivation world knows no 'silence' unless their tongues are cut or their hearts have stopped beating!"

  Zhi Xuan did not rise to the provocation. He stood tall atop the watchtower, letting the strong wind buffet his robes. His sapphire eyes glared toward the horizon, where the golden glow from the Holy Light Sect grew brighter, signaling the arrival of elders bearing heavenly authority.

  "I am not talking about mercy," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice as cold as frost on a glacier. "I am talking about the risk of gaining that blood curse mark again. If that happens, I will be hunted once more; every location I visit will be known just by them looking at me."

  Zhi Xuan closed his eyes for a moment, letting his thoughts drift into the Heavenly Trifold Reincarnation Cauldron, where the Exterminator's Mark was still sealed—throbbing like the heart of a trapped dragon. He did not want to add the burden of a new curse to his already fractured soul. To him, slaughtering a lowly sect was not difficult, but facing the chains of karma that would perpetually haunt his steps was a wearying futility.

  "I will go to them," Zhi Xuan murmured. "Not as a beggar for life, but as a living warning. If they cannot be silenced with words, then I will silence them with a horror so great they will be too afraid to even whisper my name."

  Zhi Xuan lunged from the watchtower, his body cutting through the air like a black arrow released from a God's bow. He no longer hid behind the Ghost Hood. Instead, he allowed his aura to explode bit by bit—a grey radiance carrying the deathly chill of Nirvana—acting as a beacon that challenged the heavens.