Memory Tampering, Yan Jiuxiao's Defection Begins

Ye Qingwan's fingers still rested on the scar on my left cheek, her fingertips cool. She didn't speak, and I didn't move.

The sound of a stray cat leaping over the broken wall in the distance had barely faded when I suddenly felt a slight tremor somewhere within me—it was the imprint of one of the three strands of Heaven-Slaying Origin, lodged within Yan Jiuxiao's Sea of Consciousness, fluctuating violently.

He had woken up.

Not from a coma, but dragged out from the memories he had buried himself.

I opened my eyes, my gaze falling on the edge of the shadows deep within the cave dwelling. There lay a shattered stone shard, reflecting the last sliver of the setting sun, emitting a faint warmth. It was like Yan Jiuxiao's Divine Soul at this moment, being seared by that faint golden Origin, forcing out the truth hidden for many years.

"He can't get out of that door," I said.

Ye Qingwan withdrew her hand and took half a step back, the medicine pestle still resting across her knees. Her knuckles tapped lightly against the wooden handle. It was a habitual small gesture she made unconsciously whenever her thoughts churned.

She didn't ask who "he" was, nor did she press about which door. She simply looked at me, her eyes deeper than before.

I knew what she was thinking.

Last night's bloody battle in the ruined temple, where I withstood the assassin with my Pseudo-Primordial Body; today's confrontation in the ruined kiln, where I used a wisp of Origin to pry open the City Lord's defenses. Between these two events lay not just time, but rules of power inaccessible to ordinary people.

And this power did not belong to any known cultivation system.

She didn't understand, and she shouldn't have to.

But I could feel that she was beginning to suspect—I wasn't just a young master with Wasted Meridians, nor a prodigy who awakened by chance. I had a purpose, pushing everyone into a certain position step by step.

Including her.

Wind gusted in from the cave entrance, ruffling the ends of her hair and lifting a corner of her Black Cloak. She suddenly said in a low voice, "What did you let him see?"

I didn't answer.

She didn't ask again.

Because at that very moment, hurried hoofbeats echoed from the direction of Northern Wasteland City, approaching rapidly before abruptly stopping. This was followed by the muffled clang of armor and chaotic footsteps, like an urgent military mobilization.

Someone was ordering the city sealed.

No, not the city, but the black market.

I closed my eyes, my thoughts extending along that wisp of Origin, as if I could see it with my own eyes—

Yan Jiuxiao sat on his horse, cold sweat soaking through his inner robe, his face as pale as paper. He stood at the entrance of the black market, three hundred city guards arrayed behind him, awaiting orders. His right hand gripped the reins tightly, his knuckles white. In his left palm, a faint golden light flickered, like a dying ember.

He suddenly looked up, his voice hoarse but resolute, "Pass down the order: immediately seal all shops bearing blood-red talismans! Anyone holding a dark-patterned waist token or using Red Sand for refining is to be apprehended!"

His personal guard hesitated, "My lord, this involves the seven major guilds... If handled improperly, the Merchant Alliance will—"

"I said, seal it!" He turned abruptly, his eyes bloodshot, "Go now! Those who disobey will be treated as collaborators!"

The moment the order was given, the entire black market erupted.

Shouts, cries, and the sound of smashing doors mingled into a cacophony. A shop specializing in Yin materials, about to close and flee, had its door chained shut. Two guards broke in directly and dragged out a man with a blood lotus embroidered on his cuff. The man struggled and roared, "Are you crazy? I had an appointment with Young Master Ji!"

Before he finished speaking, his neck was clamped in an iron grip, and he was dragged away.

Elsewhere, in a gambling house, the underground secret room was preparing to burn its ledgers. As the flames ignited, the roof suddenly collapsed, and several black-clad enforcers leaped down, their tokens bearing the City Lord's Manor insignia.

The entire underground order of Northern Wasteland City was turned upside down within half an hour.

And all of this stemmed from the collapse of one person's inner world.

I opened my eyes, a barely perceptible smile touching my lips.

Ye Qingwan noticed, but she said nothing, merely looking down at the speck of golden light clinging to the opening of her treasure pouch and gently brushing it away.

She might not understand why I was so certain Yan Jiuxiao would act.

Because I hadn't tampered with his memories.

I had merely used that wisp of Origin as a catalyst, igniting the conscience and fear he desperately suppressed.

He knew those transactions existed, and he knew how severe the consequences were. But in the past, he chose to turn a blind eye, using schemes and prevarication to maintain a facade of peace. But now, he had "seen" the scene of himself personally handing over the Jade Slip, and heard every word he had whispered in promise.

That shame and panic were sharper than any torture.

He had to do something to prove he was still "innocent."

Therefore, he struck ruthlessly, leaving no room for maneuver.

This was not a betrayal of the Blood Demon Sect, but his own self-salvation.

The storm had already begun to brew.

Now, all that remained was to wait for the wind to shift completely.

As expected, less than an hour later, new developments emerged.

In front of the City Lord's Manor, footsteps were dense, and armor clanked. A procession of attendants in Purple Gold Python Pattern Robes surrounded a figure, storming straight through the main gate with such imposing presence that even the guards dared not stop them.

It was Ji Hantian.

He charged into the main hall, his anger almost uncontrollable, his voice raised extremely high, "Yan Jiuxiao! What madness is this? What happened to our cooperation? What's going on with the black market? All the people I arranged have been detained!"

The candlelight in the hall flickered.

Yan Jiuxiao sat in the main seat, his back straight, his fingers slowly stroking the dark green Jade Slip on the edge of the table. He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he raised his left hand, staring at the faint golden light that had yet to dissipate in his palm, watching it for a long time.

Then, he slowly stood up.

One step, two steps, he walked up to Ji Hantian.

"Cooperation?" he sneered, "You call colluding with the Demonic Dao cooperation?"

Ji Hantian's expression changed: "What do you mean? Our agreement—"

"Agreement?" Yan Jiuxiao suddenly raised his hand and slapped him hard across the face.

With a sharp "snap," the sound echoed throughout the grand hall.

Ji Hantian was struck so hard his head turned, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He stared at Yan Jiuxiao in disbelief, rage practically spewing from his eyes.

"You dare hit me? Do you know who I am?!"

Yan Jiuxiao's expression was blank, but his voice was like ice: "From this day forward, anyone colluding with the Demonic Dao is an enemy of this city—and will die."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over a line of kneeling captives outside the hall, among them Ji Hantian's confidants.

"These people will be publicly beheaded at noon tomorrow."

Ji Hantian finally realized something was wrong.

This person was no longer the spineless opportunist he could manipulate.

He had changed.

He had become unfamiliar, and dangerous.

He stared intently into Yan Jiuxiao's eyes and suddenly noticed a flash of golden light across his palm—it wasn't a spiritual power fluctuation, nor the reflection of a magic treasure, but a presence he had never encountered before.

Pure, yet carrying an unsettling sense of pressure.

His heart skipped a beat, and he had a vague feeling that behind this upheaval, there was someone else pulling the strings.

But he didn't have time to ponder.

Two armored guards stepped forward and grabbed his arms: "Young Master Ji, please leave."

"How dare you!" he struggled and roared, "I am the direct grandchild of a Ji Family Elder! You, a mere City Lord, dare—"

"Take him away." Yan Jiuxiao waved his sleeve and turned, not looking at him again.

Ji Hantian was forcibly dragged out of the manor, his figure disappearing at the end of the street.

Silence returned to the hall.

Yan Jiuxiao stood alone by the window, watching the setting sun. The golden light in his palm flickered slightly, as if responding to some invisible connection.

He murmured to himself, "This game... is getting more and more interesting."

Meanwhile, in a cave in the wilderness, I slowly exhaled a breath of stale air. Three strands of Origin flowed smoothly within my body, undisturbed.

Ye Qingwan stood up and walked to the cave entrance, looking in the direction of Northern Wasteland City. Dust billowed there, and the alarm bells had not stopped.

She turned back to look at me and suddenly asked, "Will you let him continue down this path?"

I didn't answer.

She didn't wait for an answer, merely tightened her grip on the Medicine Pestle, her voice softening slightly: "Among the people he killed today, some were innocent."

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the stone wall.

The wind whipped sand against the worn tiles of the cave roof, creating a fine, rustling sound.

In the distance, a crow landed on a broken wall, tilted its head towards the city, and then flew away with a flap of its wings.