Suspicion at the Hem of His Robe, Qingwan's Night Probe Shattered the Veil

Moonlight was sliced to pieces by the clouds, scattering across the gravel path beyond the courtyard wall.

I crouched down and pinched up that pinch of ash with my fingertips. What the crow had spat out before dying was clean—there was no poison, no lingering curse mark—but the meridians inside its body looked as if some force had scorched them from within, extinguishing even its soul-fire without leaving a trace. Something was wrong with this courtyard. It was neither an array at work nor a gu infestation, but a subtler, purer oppression—as though a mountain were pressing down upon the air, invisible yet enough to make birds and beasts instinctively steer clear.

I lowered my gaze to my palm. Amid that ash was an extremely fine golden thread, faintly gleaming in the night wind. It was a fragment I had taken from the hem of Ji Wuchen's robe last night. I had only meant to investigate whether he had come into contact with something from the Forbidden Ground, yet when the medicinal power seeped into it, a trace in the shape of the character "Pseudo" had surfaced, only to vanish in an instant. Now, this golden thread shared the same origin as the ash inside the crow. They had come from the same source.

I rose and slowly made my way along the edge of the courtyard wall. I infused a thread of Blood Phoenix Essence into the soles of my shoes, and my steps became as light as fallen leaves gliding over bluestone. The patrolling disciples had just passed around the corner, their lantern glow receding into the distance. Using the shadows of the trees as cover, I leaped onto the wall. With a flash of my body, I landed amid the stone forest at the edge of the Forbidden Ground.

It was far colder here than outside. Indescribable things drifted through the air, like fragments of lingering laws or ripples from shattered Dao principles. An ordinary person would grow dizzy upon entering, their spiritual meridians thrown into chaos, but my Blood Phoenix Body protected my Sea of Consciousness well enough for me to barely endure it. I slipped along the massive boulders, my gaze sweeping the ground—several dead leaves lay piled in a crack between the rocks, their edges glowing faintly gold, as if something had scorched them.

Ten steps farther ahead stood the base of a collapsed altar. Beneath the slanting moonlight, a figure sat cross-legged at its center.

It was Ji Wuchen.

His back faced me. He had changed out of his Black Martial Robes and now wore only a rough short-sleeved shirt. A tear at his waist hung open, exposing half his calf. A pale golden pattern slowly moved beneath his skin, winding like a snake. Every rise and fall distorted the surrounding air once, drawing invisible power into his body and turning it into a warm current flowing through his meridians.

He was absorbing Remnant Dao.

He was neither cultivating a Cultivation Technique nor drawing qi into his body. He was directly devouring the shattered Dao principles adrift within the Forbidden Ground. His body was like a net, soundlessly fishing up the scraps of heaven and earth. Every breath swallowed a small piece of dispersed law power.

I held my breath and crouched behind a stone, narrowing my eyes as I silently activated the Blood Phoenix Eye Technique. My vision instantly sharpened. I saw that the meridians around his body were not the silvery threads of light possessed by ordinary cultivators, but a nearly liquid pale-golden substance surging endlessly beneath his flesh. Whenever a strand of Remnant Dao drew near, that golden current would actively meet it, entangle it, grind it apart, and absorb it.

This was not what a Wasted Meridian should look like.

Three years ago, his Dao bones had been utterly destroyed. When the clan examined his body, everyone had confirmed that his spiritual roots were severed and that he could no longer gather qi. Yet the body before me not only possessed intact meridians, but its method of circulation far surpassed every inheritance in the Northern Wastes.

I formed a hand seal, and a completely transparent Spirit Butterfly appeared in my palm. It was a scouting puppet refined from a drop of my blood. It could sense the nature of Spiritual Power and even trace the remnants of a Cultivation Technique. Its wings trembled lightly as I slowly sent it toward a point three chi above Ji Wuchen's head.

The Spirit Butterfly flew very slowly, barely stirring the air. It circled above Ji Wuchen and was just about to approach that layer of pale golden radiance when suddenly—

Bzz!

An invisible ripple exploded from his body, too fast to react to. Before the Spirit Butterfly could even struggle, its entire body disintegrated in an instant, turning into fine powder that drifted down in a soft shower. Not even its soul core remained.

My heart tightened, and I abruptly retreated half a step.

My foot snapped a dead branch beneath it.

Crack.

The sound was not loud, but within the silent Forbidden Ground, it was especially piercing.

Almost at the same moment, Ji Wuchen opened his eyes.

He neither turned around nor rose. He merely slowly turned his face, his gaze piercing through the night mist and nailing itself directly to the boulder behind which I hid.

"Have you seen enough?"

His voice was low, yet it carried not a trace of weakness. Instead, it was like a blade hidden away for years, finally drawn an inch from its sheath.

My fingertips trembled, and the last traces of butterfly powder in my palm scattered with the wind. He knew I was there. Perhaps he had sensed me from the moment I entered the stone forest. Yet he had remained still, allowing me to spy on him until I released the Spirit Butterfly—that had been an act of testing his bottom line, and only then did he speak.

I gave no answer. With a tap of my toes against the ground, I shot into the air and swept toward the heights of the stone forest. My cloak fluttered behind me as I skimmed past the treetops, swiftly widening the distance between us.

No pursuit came from behind.

I glanced back. Ji Wuchen still sat where he had been, his head slightly tilted as he looked toward the spot where I had just stood. There was neither anger nor surprise on his face. Instead, it was as if... he had been waiting for someone.

I leaped out of the stone forest and landed on the path leading back to my residence. The night wind brushed against my face. Most of the butterfly powder in my palm had already been blown away, but a little remained stuck between my fingers, glinting with an almost imperceptible gold.

This powder should not have existed. The Spirit Butterfly had been Blood Refined; after its soul was destroyed, it should have dissolved into nothingness. Yet the ash left behind after it shattered possessed tangible texture and even retained a trace of warmth. That meant the force which had shattered it was not merely defensive. It resembled a higher-order backlash of laws—not aimed at the puppet itself, but at the act of "investigation."

I quickened my pace, passed through two corridors, vaulted over a low wall, and returned to the courtyard of my residence. Pushing open the door, I locked it behind me and immediately took a jade box from my Treasure Pouch, carefully storing away the remaining butterfly powder.

The wick flickered.

I stared at the jade box, my breathing slightly heavy. In that instant just now, Ji Wuchen's gaze had reminded me of something—not the arrogance of the strong looking down on the weak, nor the panic of an impostor exposed, but a kind of... long-foreseen calm.

He was not afraid of others discovering his abnormality.

He was afraid that no one would investigate.

I raised a hand and brushed my brow. Blood Phoenix Essence slowly circulated through my Sea of Consciousness, dispelling the chill brought on by the Forbidden Ground. When my fingers touched my temple, I realized that the ends of my hair had somehow been stained crimson, and the color was spreading toward the roots.

Such a change had only appeared before when my emotions fluctuated violently.

I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, my gaze was already cold.

Tomorrow at the hour of the dragon, I would go change his medicine again.

This time, I would not merely feel his pulse.

I walked to the table, spread out a sheet of Talisman Paper, dipped my brush in ink, and wrote three words: Pseudo Primordial Chaos.

The brush halted.

A gust of wind suddenly swept past outside, making the window paper rustle loudly. I looked up and saw a gecko lying still in the corner beneath the eaves, its tail slightly curled.

Its eyes were cloudy, and a trace of gray seeped from the corner of its mouth.

A moment later, it convulsed twice and fell from the wall, striking the edge of the windowsill and shattering into several shriveled remains.

I did not look away.

When that Spirit Butterfly had shattered just now, I had seen the same gray ash spill from its mouth.

It was not poison, not a curse, nor ordinary energy backlash.

It was a kind of "purification."

It was as though something was silently erasing every trace of those who tried to pry into the truth.

I closed the jade box and placed it beneath my pillow. Turning around, I blew out the oil lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

In the distance, the night sky above the Forbidden Ground remained overcast.

Deep within that stone forest, Ji Wuchen slowly raised his right hand, palm facing upward. An extremely fine stream of pale golden qi flowed between his fingers before sinking into his bloodline.

[Heaven-Slaying Origin: 2.7/10]

The system was silent, but he knew that someone had already stepped into his game.

He closed his eyes and reentered his cultivation state. Pale golden patterns climbed upward along his spine, gradually approaching his shoulder blades.

As long as he absorbed two more strands of Remnant Dao, the third strand of Origin would reach completion.

By then, the Pseudo-Primordial Body would undergo another transformation, and even the slightest flaws would be concealed.

He did not need to hide completely.

He only needed to remain hidden until the moment was deadly enough.

Outside, the wind stopped.

I stood before the window, my fingers pressed against the icy window paper as I felt the deathly still night outside.

The gecko's corpse still lay on the windowsill, its shriveled eye sockets facing in my direction.

I slowly withdrew my hand. A speck of butterfly powder was still lodged beneath my nail.

It was scorching hot.