Several days after Sun Yuanzhao disappeared, the Celestial Masters' Mansion gradually realized that something was wrong.
The first to discover this were the disciples of the Punishment Hall, whose head had not shown up for three consecutive days, and even the daily morning lessons were not being conducted by anyone.
At first, everyone thought he was in seclusion practicing magic, but when someone mustered up the courage to go to his residence to investigate, they found the room empty, the prayer mat covered with a thin layer of ash, and the oil lamp cold.
Sun Yuanzhao has disappeared.
The prefect, Zhou Xuanzhen, immediately ordered a thorough investigation. However, after searching high and low, they couldn't find the person. Instead, they found a large number of letters exchanged with the demonic path in a secret compartment under Sun Yuanzhao's bed.
There were communication talismans from the Blood Motian Sect, Yin Pills sent by demonic cultivators, and several forbidden items used to conceal their auras—the evidence was irrefutable.
The head of the Punishment Hall, who had been in charge of criminal law in the Celestial Masters' Mansion for many years, was actually a spy planted by the demonic sect within the mountain gate.
When the news spread, the entire manor was shaken. No one had expected that Chief Sun, who was usually upright, incorruptible, and impartial, would actually be colluding with the demonic path.
Recalling the numerous ambushes and frequent leaks of their whereabouts during their descents down the mountain over the years, everyone broke out in a cold sweat.
The root of the problem wasn't outside; it was right under their noses.
Inside the main hall, Zhou Xuanzhen sat facing several other immortals, their faces grave.
Zhang Shouyi stroked his beard, his voice deep. "Sun Yuanzhao's cultivation is not weak, with the strength of the Seventh Realm Early Stage. If he is truly a spy of the demonic path, killing him would be impossible for an ordinary person."
He disappeared so cleanly, and yet evidence was conveniently left in the house; it's clear someone deliberately let us see him."
"That's right," Zhao Qingxuan replied. "That person not only killed Sun Yuanzhao, but also found out his background for us."
This person knows our Celestial Masters' Mansion extremely well, and his cultivation level is probably far above Sun Yuanzhao's. He might even be... the mysterious person who has repeatedly caused strange phenomena over the past twenty years."
Zhou Xuanzhen nodded slowly, a deep sense of apprehension and gratitude rising in his eyes. "Twenty years have passed, from the golden light of the Ancestral Hall, the strange movements of the Thunder Altar, Dao Resonance surging Daoist aura of Cinnabar Glow Separate Courtyard, to the aura of the Celestial Master that night."
Now that they've eliminated an internal traitor for us, if this person truly stands on the side of our Celestial Masters' Mansion, it will be an immense blessing."
"But what if he has ulterior motives?" Sun Xuanzhao... no, now it should be said that another elder whispered, "A person who can kill Seventh Realm cultivator silently and prevent Sun Yuanzhao from even calling for help, if he wants to harm us, the Celestial Masters' Mansion probably won't even have a chance to fight back."
The hall fell silent. The group exchanged glances, all seeing lingering fear in each other's eyes.
After a long while, Zhou Xuanzhen said softly, "Since he's helping us, it means he won't be our enemy for the time being. But who exactly is this person?"
No one can answer that.
Outside the hall, a gentle mountain breeze swept by, making the copper bells on the eaves tinkle.
The person they were talking about was currently in the small courtyard outside the gate, slowly sweeping the fallen leaves in front of the steps in the evening breeze.
Ten years have passed in the blink of an eye.
In the Celestial Master Realm, demonic practices are becoming increasingly rampant.
The Blood Motian Sect launched attacks everywhere, while the Demon Sect, the Ghost Gate, and evil cultivators took advantage of the chaos to rise up, plunging the entire world into a bloodbath.
Although the Celestial Master’s Mansion of Mount Longhu has not been directly attacked, a storm is brewing. Fewer and fewer disciples are coming down the mountain, and the number of pilgrims outside the mountain gate is decreasing day by day.
Chen Du continued to do his odd jobs.
But no one knows when it started, he used a special potion to paint a few strands of gray on his temples, and he also drew a few fine lines at the corners of his eyes.
He was a little hunched over and walked a little slower, like many old Daoist priests who had spent most of their lives at the Celestial Masters' Mansion but never achieved much.
That's convenient, too young and people will overthink it; older, and they'll look more like the guardians of the Magic Treasure Hall.
Yes, he has now been transferred to the Magic Treasure Hall.
This place was originally a very important location within the mansion. During the heyday of the Celestial Masters' Mansion, only true disciples were allowed to enter.
But nowadays, talent is scarce, and even a vital place like the Magic Treasure Hall can only be guarded by an old handyman.
Chen Du would sit at the door every day, sweeping away the dust, flipping through old books, and closing the door at sunset.
Nobody gave him a second glance.
That night, there was no moon in the mountains, and the wind was strong with heavy clouds.
A young figure bypassed the main entrance and silently climbed over the side wall.
The person kept their aura extremely low, and their footsteps were as light as a ghost.
But Chen Du noticed it the moment he raised his eyes.
That was an inner disciple of the Celestial Masters' Mansion, named Liu Qingshu.
He has good aptitude and has entered the Third Realm of Evil-Driving at a young age, making him highly regarded in the manor.
But at this moment, his eyes were empty and stiff, and his movements were unnaturally stiff, as if he were being pulled by something.
On the surface, it is Liu Qingshu, but in reality, the soul within this body has already been implanted with a Puppet Seal.
The Puppet Sect Master was hundreds of miles away, yet he could use this body as if it were his own arm.
Liu Qingshu tiptoed to the depths of the Magic Treasure Hall, his gaze slowly sweeping over the dusty magic treasures.
He reached out and took down a small, dark bronze mirror, then picked up a short sword wrapped with yellow talismans, his movements extremely light, as if he were picking through something in his own storeroom.
He even muttered a sigh, "Everyone says the Celestial Master’s Mansion of Mount Longhu has declined, and seeing it today, it's true. My disciples have been turned into puppets, and the Magic Treasure Hall is being looked after by a useless old Daoist priest, yet there hasn't been the slightest commotion."
He put the magic weapon into his sleeve and turned to leave.
But just as he reached the door, he suddenly realized that it had been closed at some point.
At the doorway, the "useless old Daoist priest" was leaning back in an old bamboo chair, holding half a feather duster in his hand, calmly sweeping the dust off his knees.
Liu Qingshu stopped in his tracks, his brows furrowing slightly. After a moment, a smile appeared on his lips, and he decided to stop pretending. "I didn't expect that an old geezer like me would have some discernment."
However, let me give you a piece of advice: don't meddle in other people's business. The Celestial Masters' Mansion is almost gone; it's not worth risking your old life here."
Chen Du raised his eyes, his cloudy old eyes reflecting a faint candlelight, as if he didn't understand what he was saying.
He slowly stood up, the bamboo chair creaking behind him, and then walked step by step toward Liu Qingshu.
The pace wasn't fast; it was even somewhat unsteady. Yet, Liu Qingshu suddenly felt that with each step the old Daoist took, the temperature in the Magic Treasure Hall dropped a notch.
Chen Du finally stopped, looking at Liu Qingshu's young but blank face. "I advise you to put the things back."
Liu Qingshu was still standing beside the magic weapon shelf, but his eyes had changed.
A chilling and malevolent killing intent slowly seeped from the hollow.
The Puppet Sect Master, hundreds of miles away, was watching Chen Du through this body.
"How dare some old geezer, a mere gatekeeper, talk to me like that?"
He wasn't unaware that the Celestial Masters' Mansion might have hidden protective measures, but he certainly wasn't referring to the old Daoist priest in the old robe before him.
A lowly servant, a good-for-nothing, dares to stop him?
"If you hadn't happened to run into me tonight, would you even be worthy of recognizing my identity?"
As he spoke, he slowly turned around, the short sword and bronze mirror still pressed against his skin, cold as ice.
He's going to kill him to silence him.
A menial laborer died here, and no one will know.
The Celestial Masters' Mansion wouldn't even bother with a mere old man.
Without another word, he moved swiftly, and the short sword hidden in his sleeve was already thrusting towards Chen Du.
The blade gleamed with an eerie light; it was poison tempered using a secret technique of the Puppet Sect, capable of killing instantly upon contact with blood.
This sword strike would be more than enough to deal with an ordinary servant.
He could even picture the old man lying on the ground, convulsing.
But he didn't see the scene he expected. Chen Du simply raised his hand slowly and casually pinched the short sword between two fingers, as if he were holding a poisonous snake that was pouncing on him.
The sword tip stopped three inches from his throat, unable to go any further.
Liu Qingshu's pupils suddenly contracted.
The Puppet Sect Master, though hundreds of miles away, felt a chill rush up his soul in that instant.
The power emanating from between those two fingers was profound, vast, and boundless.
Chen Du was still hunched over, his face still looking like he hadn't woken up yet.
He looked at Liu Qingshu, who was frozen in place, and softly repeated, "Put the things back."