A crow flapped away, and the shadow on the broken wall swayed.
I leaned against the stone wall, my breathing steady. Three strands of Heaven-Slaying Origin lay within me like three dormant rivers, flowing silently. Ye Qingwan sat in the corner with the medicine pestle across her knees, her fingers occasionally brushing the lingering speck of golden light on her sleeve as though confirming something.
She did not ask me anything else.
Wind poured in from outside the kiln cave, making the broken tiles chime softly. Smoke rose in the direction of the distant city; the morning market had likely opened. The sounds of the guards changing shifts had also ceased, and this area had returned to silence.
Yet I could feel that her gaze had never left me.
Half an hour ago, she had asked softly, "Will he really come?"
I had said, "He will."
Now, footsteps came.
They were very light, yet steady. One person, neither concealing his aura nor bringing anyone else along.
Ye Qingwan raised her eyes toward the cave entrance, slowly placing a hand on her medicine pestle.
Yan Jiuxiao appeared at the entrance of the kiln cave. He wore the same official robe as last night, though its cuffs were dusted with dirt and its collar slightly wrinkled. He stood there without entering immediately, first sweeping his gaze over the two of us before letting it linger on my face for a moment.
"I brought the map," he said. His voice was hoarser than yesterday, though he remained composed.
I did not move.
He stepped inside, took a dark green Jade Slip from his robes, and placed it on a flat stone on the ground. Fine patterns were carved across its surface, giving off a faint, ghostly gleam.
"All known strongholds, hidden sentries, and contact codenames within the Northern Wastes are inside." He stared at me. "Where is what you promised?"
I slowly rose to my feet, neither hurried nor slow. With a turn of my palm, that strand of pale golden Origin emerged again, hovering before my fingertips like mist and smoke, yet never drifting apart.
Yan Jiuxiao's gaze tightened slightly.
"The power contained within a Pseudo-Primordial Body is not something just anyone can bear," I said, my tone as flat as if I were discussing the weather. "If you are greedy for too much, the backlash will consume you."
He frowned. "You said you would give me the other half."
"I also said that it recognizes its master." I looked at him. "If you want to live, you will have to do things my way."
He said nothing, but his fist clenched slightly.
I smiled faintly and flicked my fingertip.
That strand of golden light instantly transformed into countless tiny motes, drifting toward his face like morning mist and silently seeping through his nostrils.
He abruptly staggered half a step back, his body going rigid.
Then his expression changed.
The veins on his forehead throbbed violently. His eyes flew wide open, his pupils shrinking sharply. He raised both hands to clutch his head, his knuckles whitening as though something had slammed into the depths of his Sea of Consciousness.
"No... this isn't real!" he snarled, his voice trembling. "I never... I never met them!"
He stumbled into the stone wall, his back pressed against the cold rock as sweat slid down from his temples.
I watched him quietly.
He knew I was watching, but he had no time to hide it.
Because he was "seeing" himself.
In the secret chamber three days ago, candlelight flickered. He sat behind a desk, facing a Black Robed Figure wearing a conical hat. Spread across the table was this very Jade Slip. He pointed to a certain mark and said in a low voice, "We can set bait here and draw them out."
They were people from the Blood Demon Sect.
It was intelligence he had personally handed over.
"I never agreed to cooperate!" he rasped, his teeth grinding together. "I only... wanted to find out who was pulling strings behind the scenes!"
"But you kept a duplicate of the Jade Slip," I said. "And you tacitly allowed them to obtain the formula for the City Defense Bureau's sealing wax."
He jerked his head up to look at me, his eyes filled with horror. "How could you know that? That's impossible! I already... sealed away that memory!"
"Sealed away?" I stepped closer. "Then who put the illusion you are seeing now into your mind?"
His lips trembled, but no words came out.
I had not altered his memories.
I had merely used Heaven-Slaying Origin as a lure to gently lift one corner of that part buried in the deepest recesses of his Divine Soul—the part even he had not dared face.
This strand of Origin was not merely pure power. It carried fragments of Chaos laws. It would not harm one's meridians, yet it could touch the boundaries of spiritual consciousness. To ordinary people, it was a source of healing; to those with ghosts in their hearts, it was a demon-revealing mirror.
What he had done, whom he had deceived, and how long he had concealed it—it remembered all of it.
Ye Qingwan had watched silently the entire time.
At this moment, her fingers lightly rubbed the edge of the medicine pestle, a faint glimmer flashing through her eyes.
She understood medicine, and she understood people's hearts.
But she could not understand this power—it was unlike spiritual medicine, which could be analyzed; unlike talisman formations, which could be deduced; and unlike anything found in any cultivation system. It existed, yet had no form. It acted upon people, yet left no trace. And still, it could dig out memories buried deep within.
"What exactly do you want?" Yan Jiuxiao panted, supporting himself against the wall as he stood. His voice was hoarse. "Are you blackmailing me? Or... destroying me?"
"What I want is cooperation," I said. "Not an obedient puppet. You want to live, and you want to retain your authority, so stop playing both sides. The Blood Demon Sect is not targeting you as a person—it is targeting your position. If you keep standing with one foot in each boat, the next time you wake up, you may no longer be yourself."
He stared at me fixedly, beads of sweat continually rolling down his forehead.
I knew he was struggling.
On one side was the network of influence he had built over many years. On the other was the lifeline he had just tasted. He did not want to completely side with me, yet he feared that this bit of "medicine" in my hand might vanish at any moment.
"You can leave," I said. "Turn around and go back now, pretending none of this ever happened. But this strand of Origin has already taken root in your Sea of Consciousness. It will not disappear. The moment you harbor murderous intent, it will let you see with your own eyes the moment you intend to kill me—before it happens."
His pupils contracted.
"You... planted surveillance?" His voice tightened.
"It is a contract," I corrected. "You provide intelligence, and I keep you alive. If you betray me, the price will be the thing you are most unwilling to face. Fair."
He remained silent for a long time.
Only his heavy breathing remained in the kiln cave.
At last, he lowered his head to look at his palm. A faint trace of golden light still lingered there, like a mark left by sunlight, impossible to brush away.
"The map is real," he finally said. "I did not change a single word."
"I believe you," I said.
He gave a cold laugh and turned toward the outside.
When he reached the entrance, he paused without looking back.
"Ji Wuchen," he said quietly, "you are far more... terrifying than I imagined."
I did not answer.
He walked out, and his figure soon vanished into the twilight of the wilderness.
Silence returned to the kiln cave.
Ye Qingwan remained seated, the medicine pestle across her knees. She looked at me and suddenly asked, "Could that strand of Origin really only let him see memories?"
I looked at her.
Her gaze was clear, without fear—only curiosity.
"What do you think?" I asked in return.
She said nothing more, merely slowly tightening her Treasure Pouch. Her fingers casually brushed the edge of its opening—where a trace of golden light left over from last night still clung.
I returned to sit before the stone wall and closed my eyes to regulate my breathing.
The Heaven-Slaying Origin within me circulated steadily. Three strands had formed; I was only seven strands away from the Heaven-Slaying Dao Foundation. So long as I endured and refrained from making a move, the rate of accumulation would only grow faster.
Outside, the sky gradually darkened. Wind swept grains of sand against the broken tiles on the kiln roof, producing faint, fragmented sounds.
Ye Qingwan suddenly stood, walked over, and crouched before me, very close.
She reached out, her fingertips lightly touching the pale red scar on my left cheek.
I opened my eyes.
She looked at me, her voice very soft. "This injury... how did you get it?"
I did not answer.
She did not withdraw her hand either. She only stared at the mark, as though waiting for an answer.
In the distance, a wildcat leaped over a broken wall, its tail knocking down a fragment of stone that struck the ground with a soft sound.
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