There were no markers for mountains, rivers, plants, trees, pools, or peaks in the image. Only chaos. Aside from their exact positions, the identities and auras of the three white pieces were impossible to discern.
They were like three lonely, frigid stars embedded in the void.
Pei Ling nodded with satisfaction. Knowing their positions was enough for him!
"There are still two days until the day I'm supposed to meet those four."
"I'll look for these three pieces first..."
"The most important thing now isn't to hurry to Jianmu, but to make sure the nine of us can survive..."
With that thought, he rose, intending to set out.
But just as he stepped out of the grand formation he'd set up, he suddenly sensed something was wrong. He whipped around—and saw a Black-robed Figure sitting cross-legged in the formation. His expression was calm, his aura restrained, and he was unmistakably Pei Ling himself!
Pei Ling's face remained composed as he reached for the Nine Souls Blade on his back, but in the next instant, his hand grasped empty air.
At that moment, the figure sitting on the ground, identical to him in every way, raised his head slightly. His gaze was as calm as still water as he looked over.
Every expression and movement of this figure matched his own, without the slightest difference!
Pei Ling's heart sank. His fate had been stolen!
But... when had it happened?
In a valley encircled by mountain peaks.
Starlight spilled over a stone table. Beside it, an immortal in white robes, whiter than snow, scattered leaves of jade-green.
On the chessboard before him, black pieces were scattered like stars, while white pieces were few—only nine.
One white piece occupied the center point, five clustered around it as if guarding it, and the