Ruo Xianxue sneered, her voice crawling along the walls of Zhi Xuan’s Sea of Consciousness like thorns scraping against silk. "What is this? The Butcher of the Southern Region suddenly lost in thought just because he heard the name of a faction? Does the scent of that girl’s peach blossoms still linger in your soul so much that you’ve lost your edge, Zhi Xuan? Remember, she is a pillar of purity, and you are a black stain this world wishes to erase."

  "Be silent, Sacred Devil," Zhi Xuan replied flatly. "I am not speaking of shallow mortal emotions. I am speaking of karmic knots. If the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf holds that much influence in the West, then my presence there can never truly be hidden. Those mournful eyes of hers... they are eyes capable of recognizing my soul even if I shed my skin a thousand times."

  Zhi Xuan refocused on the conversation of the two practitioners at the center table. He needed to ascertain if the massive shifts or fluctuations in the West were linked to the movements of the great factions currently hunting him.

  "Well, the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf has always provided a calming atmosphere," the silver-robed man started again. "Regardless, they possess ancient cultivation techniques sufficient to rival the Ancient Clans. And they have that warm Holy City."

  "Fine, I'll go with you this time," his companion replied, setting his cup on the table. "By the way, word is the South has improved slightly. Though, I heard yesterday that the Devil Gu Fengyan just left Qinghe after intimidating the Holy Light Sect—how insane is that?"

  "Gu Fengyan again?" interjected one of the men sitting with two women, his interest piqued by the name. "A truly endless Ancient Madness."

  "Hush! Lower your voice, Li!" whispered one of the women, glancing anxiously around the pavilion. "Speaking that name in the open is like inviting a crow of ill omen to perch on your shoulder. Do you want us all dragged into the business of the Great Elders?"

  The man called Li simply snorted, draining his wine. "Why be afraid? Qinghe is far from here. Besides, I heard from my relative, an outer disciple of the Holy Light Sect, that the Devil didn't just intimidate them. He raised a Soul Transformation corpse from the earth! Imagine—a body that should have been dust, forced to crawl out and shatter the Triple Light Formation!"

  "A living corpse at the Soul Transformation realm?" the silver-robed man interrupted, his eyes wide. "That’s impossible. I once saw a cultivator from the Black Corpse Sect in the Huang Tu Plains, and even they need decades to forge a single puppet like that. This Gu Fengyan... he truly isn't human. He’s the reincarnation of an ancient disaster."

  The second woman, who had been silent while twirling her hair, finally spoke with a trembling voice. "I heard it’s not just his power that’s terrifying, but his gaze. They say whoever looks into his eyes sees a frozen hell. And the pattern on his forehead... they say if you look at it too long, your soul will be sucked in to feed his Banner."

  "Pah, you all listen to too many market fables," chimed in a one-eyed man from another corner, causing the entire table to turn toward him. "Gu Fengyan is ruthless, yes, but he has principles. He doesn't kill mortals without reason. He only targets those too greedy for his head. Look at Qinghe—the old tavern where he hid still stands, doesn't it? Only those who came with swords were destroyed."

  "You’re defending him, Uncle?" Li asked searchingly.

  "I’m not defending a Devil," the one-eyed man replied, sharpening a small dagger under the table. "I’m just saying, if you want to survive in Yao Gu, never become a hunting dog for those grand factions. They give you a hundred spiritual stones, while that Devil will give you a one-way ticket to the afterlife. Fair trade, isn't it?"

  "Still," the silver-robed man hissed, returning to the main topic, "with this unrest in the South, the borders will surely be tightened. Let that Devil rot here; I hear that if someone is consumed by a Devil, they won't last long before they collapse from within."

  "True," his friend agreed, nodding. "That’s why if we want to leave for the West to find herbs near the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf, we must depart tomorrow morning before the regional seals are closed again."

  Zhi Xuan sipped his bitter tea one last time, letting the warmth wash down his ice-cold throat. Beneath the Ghost Hood, a thin, mocking smile touched his lips. The mortal world was always full of judgments born of ignorance; they viewed the Southern Region as a cage, not realizing that for a dragon, a cage is merely a place to sharpen claws before soaring through the heavens.

  "Rot here?" Zhi Xuan whispered in his mind, his tone flat yet carrying a vibration that made the shadows beneath his table ripple slightly. "You speak as if regional boundaries are walls capable of holding back the laws of nature. Yet for death, no land is too far to visit."

  Zhi Xuan placed the porcelain cup down with a movement so fluid it made no sound on the scarred wooden table. He rose, his robes sweeping the floor like shifting night mist. No one in the West Wind Pavilion noticed the 'insect' as he walked toward the exit, passing practitioners still busy debating the fate of his head.

  As his feet touched the black jade streets of South Gate City, the bone-chilling night air greeted him. High above, the majestic Cross-Region Ferry was being prepared; its masts, crafted from the bones of celestial whales, began to glow with wind formations, creating a low hum that vibrated the soul.

  "Zhu Qinglan with her snow jade, and Ye Xishui with her mournful eyes," Ruo Xianxue’s voice crawled with sharp cynicism. "You truly are a strange butcher, Zhi Xuan. You destroy sects, yet you collect the hearts of sacred women as if they were cheap spiritual stones."

  "Karmic knots are never cheap pieces, Ruo Xianxue," Zhi Xuan replied as he strode through the crowd swarming toward the airship docks. "They are burdens that slow my blade, yet also witnesses that this body once possessed a real heartbeat."

  Zhi Xuan navigated the high pier made of ancient ironwood, looking toward the largest airship—a massive ark capable of holding thousands to cross the spatial storms between regions. At the pier entrance, rows of arrogant guards stood, checking every passenger.

  "How much for one ticket to West Light City?" a middle-aged practitioner in front of Zhi Xuan asked, his voice shaking as he reached into his leather storage pouch.

  "Twenty mid-grade spiritual stones," the guard replied lazily, his eyes sharp as he monitored every movement. "And ensure your identity seal is valid. We don't want to carry fugitive trash that will get this ship intercepted in the middle of the Sky Veil."

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  Zhi Xuan stood in line, his head lowered slightly so his hood obscured his stiff face. In his eyes, this ship was not mere transport, but a chess piece that would take him off the Southern Region board, which was already too crowded with intrigue.

  "Next!" the guard shouted.

  Zhi Xuan stepped forward. He pulled out a jade identity slip from his storage bag—a dusty remnant of a distant past—and handed it to the guard. "Ming Xu."

  The guard grabbed the dull, dusty jade, turning it several times under the mental lamp hanging from the pier post. The name Ming Xu was an identity that had slept for hundreds of years in the recesses of Zhi Xuan's storage.

  "Ming Xu... Divine Wheel stage," the guard muttered, squinting as he tried to compare the energy fluctuations from the jade with the aura Zhi Xuan was intentionally suppressing. "Someone at the Divine Wheel stage wants to cross regions? Do you want to be a slave or just die there in poverty?"

  Zhi Xuan merely bowed slightly, clasping his hands. "This junior has reached First Ember, and I wish to try my luck seeking better money for my family."

  The guard gave a harsh snort, a mocking chuckle escaping his dry lips. He tossed the dull jade back at Zhi Xuan with a careless motion. "Try your luck? The West is no place for dreamers with dim soul fires like yours, kid. There, if you don't have a strong sect background, you'll just end up as a sacrifice in the mines or beast fodder in the herb fields."

  Zhi Xuan caught the jade with a motion he intentionally made look a bit clumsy. "Junior understands the risks, Sir. But in the South, the sky has become too dark for me."

  "Whatever," the guard waved his hand, signaling him to pay. "Twenty mid-grade stones. Don't waste my time, there's a long line behind you."

  Zhi Xuan reached into his robe pocket, pulling out stones taken from his various spoils. The glow of the stones contrasted sharply with his appearance as a lowly wanderer. Once the transaction was done, the guard handed him a flickering copper plate—access to the lower deck.

  "Get to the bottom deck. Don't you dare set foot in the upper pavilion area if you value your legs," the guard threatened before shouting for the next in line.

  Zhi Xuan walked along the long ironwood gangplank toward the hull of the massive ark. As he entered the lower deck, the smell of human sweat, damp old wood, and a suffocating mix of spiritual energies assaulted his senses. The room was vast but cramped, filled with hundreds of low-level practitioners and mortal merchants huddled among cargo crates.

  He found a quiet corner, leaning against a wooden wall that vibrated as the ship's formations began to roar. Around him, people spoke in low tones about their hopes for the West—of more fertile land, purer cultivation techniques, and peace under the protection of the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf.

  In that dim corner, the creaking of the ship's wood vied with the cacophony of human voices. Although Zhi Xuan tried to isolate himself, his ears could not avoid the conversation of a group of young practitioners sitting nearby on hard sacks of grain.

  "Did you hear?" whispered a youth with a scar on his cheek, glancing toward the stairs leading to the upper deck. "I heard that members of the Yun Noble Clan are crossing over in the upper pavilion. They’re carrying crates guarded by Consciousness Transformation practitioners!"

  "The Yun Nobles? Why are they going West?" a girl in ragged hunter’s clothes asked while sharpening her dagger. "Didn't they just lose their mining territory in the South due to the chaos triggered by that Devil, Gu?"

  "Exactly because of that, idiot!" a stout man beside them interjected. "They’re smuggling their remaining treasures out before the grand factions seize everything to fund the 'devil hunt'. Now, everyone with a few stones is racing to leave the South. This place is considered cursed."

  "Cursed?" An old man, seemingly drunk in another corner, broke into a pathetic, raspy laugh. "The South isn't cursed because of Gu Fengyan. The South is cursed because our leaders were too busy licking the feet of the Ancient Han Clan in the Central Region that they forgot how to protect their own land. Gu Fengyan is just a mirror showing how fragile we all are!"

  "Shut up, old man!" the scarred youth snapped, face pale. "Do you want the guards to throw you into a spatial storm? Talking like that is asking for death!"

  The old man simply spat on the floor. "Death? I've been dead since my son was killed in a Gu Fengyan massacre years ago. Now I’m just a hunk of meat wanting to see if the sun in the West truly rises with a different color, or if it’s all the same dust in a prettier package."

  Suddenly, a middle-aged man in decent merchant's attire approached the group, carrying the scent of cheap incense. "Heh, forget about the Devil or the Sects. Did you hear the latest news from South Gate City this afternoon? They say someone saw a tall figure in black-and-white robes on the forest outskirts before the gate opened."

  Instantly, the noisy lower deck fell silent. Hundreds of eyes turned toward the merchant.

  "Tall? Black-and-white robes?" The hunter girl's voice trembled. "You mean... he's already in this city?"

  "Maybe," the merchant shrugged, eyes glinting. "But the guards say it’s just the imagination of a frightened beggar. Besides, why would a Soul Transformation expert leave his own slaughter ground?"

  "Not necessarily," the stout man said seriously. "I heard he’s not from these plains. Someone saw the same man two hundred years ago when the Three Plains Competition began—a man from the Xing Luo Plains named Zhi Xuan."

  "Zhi Xuan?" The scarred youth repeated the name, brow furrowed as if digging through the dust of history. "Xing Luo? You mean the plains home to the Ancient Zhu and Ancient Hua Clans?"

  "Exactly!" the stout man replied, his voice dropping to a whisper that forced those around him to lean in. "Two hundred years is not a long time for high-cultivation monsters. Ancient records in my archive mention a youth who brought similar terror—a blade that split laws, eyes that knew no fear, and the winner of the Three Plains Competition. His name was Zhi Xuan, the Heavenly Devil of Xing Luo."

  "But Uncle," the hunter girl interrupted, her face turning paler under the dim mental lamps, "if he truly is that Zhi Xuan, shouldn't he have returned to the Xing Luo Plains after winning the competition?"

  "Who knows what a devil like that thinks?" the stout man snorted, leaning back against a crate. "No one knows where Zhi Xuan went for these two hundred years. What's clear is that the appearance of Gu Fengyan in the South is too similar to the Zhi Xuan of the past. The black sword, the same eyes, and a coldness that can freeze blood in a single glance."

  "If it’s true he’s the winner from two hundred years ago," the drunk old man murmured, his voice clearer now as if the name had jolted his consciousness. "Then his cultivation has soared. I heard from merchants a hundred years ago that he was only at the Five Elements realm back then. But if he is now Gu Fengyan, a Soul Transformation expert, his progress is terrifyingly fast."

  "Fast?" The merchant laughed cynically. "For your information, old man, the name Zhi Xuan was a nightmare that swept through Yao Gu at the very center of power. He defeated Mu Chen, the heavenly genius of our sacred plains, and other incredibly strong geniuses. Even the Holy Woman of Yao Gu from the Immortal Palace and Elder Qing He of the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf acknowledged him!"

  "The Holy Woman of the Immortal Palace... and Elder Qing He?" The hunter girl's voice was now a mere squeak. "Those two figures standing at the peak of the Yao Gu Plains' sky? How could they deal with a youth from a remote place like Xing Luo?"

  "That’s the thing!" the merchant exclaimed, slapping his palm against a wooden pillar. "I heard that Elder Qing He—that grand Holy Woman—even defended the youth in front of cultivators when he showed he walked the Devil’s Path! There are wild rumors that they both recognized Zhi Xuan was the only one ignored because he was under the protection of the Ancient Zhu and Ancient Hua Clans."

  "The Ancient Zhu and Hua Clans protected him?" The scarred youth snorted skeptically. "How could two great pillars from across the plains risk their reputation for one newcomer? Especially if he truly walked the Devil’s Path."

  "You don't understand, kid!" The stout man cut in, eyes flashing with excitement. "Zhi Xuan then wasn't just a talented practitioner. He was an anomaly! They say he possessed a mysterious bloodline, or at least, held secrets that made the Ancient Clans afraid to touch him carelessly. But the craziest part isn't that..."

  He paused, ensuring every eye on the lower deck—including the mortal merchants who usually ignored cultivation matters—was fixed on him.

  "The craziest part is how he left the Yao Gu Plains after winning everything. He just vanished! Like steam in a storm. And now, after two hundred years, 'Gu Fengyan' appears in our remote South. Don't you see the pattern? He has returned to take back something he left behind."