Ye Qingwan's fingers still rested on the scar on my left cheek, her fingertips slightly cool. She said nothing, and neither did I move.
The sound of a wild cat leaping over a broken wall had barely faded when I suddenly sensed a faint tremor somewhere inside me—the imprint lodged within Yan Jiuxiao's Sea of Consciousness, one of the three strands of Heaven-Slaying Origin, was fluctuating violently.
He had awakened.
Not from unconsciousness, but dragged alive from the memories he had buried himself.
I opened my eyes and looked toward the edge of the shadows deep within the kiln cave. A shattered stone shard there reflected the last trace of the setting sun, faintly hot. Just like Yan Jiuxiao's Divine Soul at this moment, scorched by that wisp of pale golden origin and forced to reveal truths hidden for years.
"He won't make it out of that door," I said.
Ye Qingwan withdrew her hand and stepped back half a pace. The medicine pestle still lay across her knees as her knuckles lightly tapped its wooden handle. It was one of her habitual little movements, something she did unconsciously whenever her thoughts churned.
She did not ask who "he" was, nor did she press me about which door I meant. She merely looked at me, her gaze heavier than before.
I knew what she was thinking.
Last night, in the bloody battle at the ruined temple, I had used the Pseudo-Primordial Body to withstand the assassins head-on. Today, in this abandoned kiln, I had used a wisp of origin to pry open the city lord's defenses. Between the two lay not only time, but laws of power beyond ordinary people's reach.
And that power belonged to no known cultivation system.
She did not understand it, nor should she.
But I could feel that she had begun to suspect—I was not simply a Young Master with Wasted Meridians, nor some genius who had awakened by chance. I had a purpose. Step by step, I was pushing everyone into a certain position.
Including her.
Wind poured in through the cave entrance, stirring the ends of her hair and lifting a corner of her Black Cloak. She suddenly asked in a low voice, "What did you make him see?"
I did not answer.
Neither did she ask again.
Because at that very moment, a burst of urgent hoofbeats came from the direction of Northern Wasteland City, drawing closer before abruptly stopping. Then came the dull clash of iron armor and chaotic footsteps, as though troops were being urgently mobilized under military orders.
Someone was ordering the city sealed.
No, not the city—the Black Market.
I closed my eyes, extending my thoughts along that strand of origin, as though I could see it with my own eyes—
Yan Jiuxiao sat astride his horse, cold sweat soaking his inner robes, his face pale as paper. He stood at the entrance to the Black Market, three hundred city guards arrayed behind him in waiting. His right hand gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles had turned white, while a faint point of golden light appeared in his left palm, like a dying ember refusing to go out.
He suddenly raised his head, his voice hoarse but resolute. "Pass down the order. Immediately seal every shop bearing the mark of a Blood Talisman! Anyone possessing dark-patterned waist tokens or using Red Sand to forge artifacts is to be arrested without exception!"
The personal guard hesitated. "My lord, this will implicate the seven great merchant associations... If this is mishandled, the Merchant Alliance will—"
"I said, seal them!" He whirled around, his eyes bloodshot. "Go now! Anyone who disobeys will be treated as a traitor colluding with the enemy!"
The moment the order was given, the entire Black Market exploded into chaos.
Curses, sobs, and the sounds of doors being smashed blended together. One shop specializing in yin materials had just tried to close its doors and flee when iron chains locked its doorframe. Two guards burst straight inside and dragged out a man with a blood lotus embroidered on his cuff. Struggling, he roared, "Have you lost your minds? I had an agreement with Young Master Ji!"
Before his words could fall, an iron clamp had already seized his neck, and he was dragged away.
At another Gambling House, a secret underground chamber was preparing to burn its ledgers. The flames had only just risen when the roof came crashing down. Several black-clad enforcers leaped inside, the tokens in their hands engraved with the crest of the City Lord's Manor.
The entire underground order of Northern Wasteland City was turned upside down within half an hour.
And all of it stemmed from the collapse of one man's heart.
I opened my eyes, and the corner of my lips lifted almost imperceptibly.
Ye Qingwan noticed, but said nothing. She merely lowered her head to look at the faint golden gleam clinging to the opening of her Treasure Pouch, then gently brushed it away.
Perhaps she did not understand why I was so certain Yan Jiuxiao would act.
Because I had not tampered with his memories.
I had merely made that wisp of origin into a fuse, igniting the conscience and fear he had desperately suppressed.
He knew those transactions existed, and he knew how severe the consequences would be. Yet in the past, he had chosen to turn a blind eye, using schemes for power and evasions to whitewash a false peace. But now, he had "seen" himself handing over the Jade Slip with his own hands and heard every word of his own quiet promise.
That shame and terror were sharper than any punishment.
He had to do something to prove that he was still "innocent."
So he struck with ruthless force, leaving no room for retreat.
This was not betrayal of the Blood Demon Sect. It was self-preservation.
The storm had already risen.
All that remained was to wait for the wind to turn completely.
Sure enough, less than an hour later, fresh commotion arrived.
Before the City Lord's Manor, footsteps packed together and armor clanged. A group of attendants in Purple Gold Python Pattern Robes surrounded someone as they charged straight through the main gate, brimming with menace. Even the guards did not dare stop them.
It was Ji Hantian.
He stormed all the way into the main hall, fury nearly impossible to contain as he raised his voice to a shrill pitch. "Yan Jiuxiao! Have you gone mad? What happened to the cooperation we agreed upon? What is going on at the Black Market? Every person I placed there has been detained!"
The candle flames in the hall flickered.
Yan Jiuxiao sat in the seat of honor, his back straight as his fingers slowly brushed over the dark green Jade Slip beside him. He did not respond at once. Instead, he raised his left hand and stared at the lingering golden light in his palm for a long while.
Then he slowly rose.
One step, then another, until he stood before Ji Hantian.
"Cooperation?" he sneered. "You call colluding with the demonic path cooperation?"
Ji Hantian's face changed. "What do you mean? The agreement between us—"
"Agreement?" Yan Jiuxiao suddenly raised his hand and viciously slapped him across the face.
The crisp crack echoed throughout the entire hall.
Ji Hantian's head snapped to the side, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. He glared at Yan Jiuxiao in disbelief, rage nearly bursting from his eyes.
"You dare hit me? Do you know whose man I am?!"
Yan Jiuxiao's face remained expressionless, but his voice was cold as ice. "From today onward, all who collude with the demonic path are enemies of this city—death."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the row of captives kneeling outside the hall, among whom were Ji Hantian's trusted subordinates.
"These people will be publicly beheaded at noon tomorrow as a warning to all."
Ji Hantian finally realized that something was wrong.
This man was no longer the fence-sitter who could be controlled and exploited.
He had changed.
He had become unfamiliar—and dangerous.
Ji Hantian stared fixedly into Yan Jiuxiao's eyes, then suddenly noticed the flash of golden light in his palm. It was neither a fluctuation of Spiritual Power nor the reflection of a magical artifact, but an aura he had never encountered before.
Pure, yet carrying a pressure that made one deeply uneasy.
His heart skipped a beat, and he vaguely sensed that someone else stood behind this upheaval.
But he had no time to think further.
Two iron-armored guards had already stepped forward and seized his arms. "Young Master Ji, please leave."
"You insolent fools!" he struggled and roared. "I am the Direct Grandchild of a Ji Clan elder! You, a mere city lord, dare—"
"Take him away." Yan Jiuxiao flicked his sleeve and turned around, no longer sparing him a glance.
Ji Hantian was forcibly dragged out of the manor gates, his figure disappearing at the end of the street.
The hall returned to silence.
Yan Jiuxiao stood alone before the window, gazing at the westering sunlight. The point of golden light in his palm flickered faintly, as though responding to some invisible connection.
He muttered to himself, "This game of chess... is becoming more and more interesting."
Meanwhile, in the kiln cave in the wilderness, I slowly exhaled a breath of turbid air. The three strands of origin circulated steadily within my body, without the slightest ripple.
Ye Qingwan rose and walked to the cave entrance, looking toward Northern Wasteland City. Dust and smoke billowed there, and the alarm bells had yet to cease.
She turned back to look at me and suddenly asked, "Will you let him keep going like this?"
I did not answer.
She did not wait for one either. She merely tightened her grip on the medicine pestle, her voice softening slightly. "Among those he killed today, some were innocent."
I closed my eyes and leaned back against the stone wall.
The wind swept grains of sand against the broken tiles atop the kiln, producing faint, scattered sounds.
In the distance, a crow landed on the broken wall. It tilted its head toward the city, then flapped its wings and flew away.
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