"Boom—!"
A deafening explosion erupted without warning above Qingyun Lane. Immediately afterward, the protective formation covering the entire lane—the barrier its tenants usually regarded as a shield of safety—shuddered violently like rippling water.
Chen Ping was in his study, brush poised as he drew a Calm Mind Talisman. His wrist jerked, and the cinnabar ink on the tip of his brush dragged a glaring red streak across the talisman paper.
Ruined.
The sheet, worth three Fragmented Spirit Stones, and all the Spiritual Power he had spent on it, had gone to waste.
Ordinarily, Chen Ping would have been heartbroken over such a loss. But his normally placid eyes suddenly narrowed.
He moved with lightning speed. His left hand darted into his sleeve and clamped onto the mechanism; with his right, he swept the brush and Spirit Ink from the desk into a drawer. At the same time, he lowered his body and slid like a wildcat into the blind spot beside the window.
Observe through the crack.
Chen Ping held his breath. His Breath-Concealing Disguise Technique operated at full power, blending him into the shadowed corner until even his heartbeat slowed to the hibernating tortoise's pace of barely a dozen beats per minute.
By now, Qingyun Lane was in utter chaos.
A crimson bird of fire, its wings spanning a zhang, hovered above the once-tranquil lane. A young female cultivator stood proudly upon its back, dressed in a blazing red skirt, a golden-threaded whip wrapped around her waist.
She looked about eighteen or nineteen, and was strikingly beautiful. Yet between her brows lay an arrogance and Killing Intent that treated all living things as weeds.
Behind her stood four family enforcers in matching blue outfits. Every one of them had a deep, formidable aura, and all were experts at the