Xuan Cheng looked toward the disciple who had stumbled into the hall and frowned slightly. "What sort of conduct is this, rushing about in a panic?"
The disciple's surname was Zhou, and his given name was Huan. He had always been steady, which was why Xuan Cheng had sent him into the Profound Separation Realm to secure the mother substance. His sudden return from that realm today, coupled with such a loss of composure, surely meant something had gone wrong.
In the flash of a spark, Xuan Cheng had prepared himself. He said calmly, "You are a True Person, after all. You ought to possess a heart that remains unruffled."
Zhou Huan drew a deep breath, suppressed his panic, and bowed. "I lost my composure. Please forgive me, Martial Uncle."
Xuan Cheng nodded. "Speak. What could have made you so flustered?"
Zhou Huan raised his head, his face still somewhat pale. "Martial Uncle, Senior Brother Guan Xu... is dead."
Xuan Cheng's expression shifted slightly, but swiftly returned to normal.
Guan Xu had merely been a pawn he had casually placed, someone whose dreams he had used to conceal a contingency. If he was dead, so be it. A pity, certainly, but nothing he could not accept.
He merely asked mildly, "What of my five percent of the Dharmic Treasure's source essence?"
Zhou Huan lowered his head, his voice dropping. "Its whereabouts are unknown."
Xuan Cheng's gaze sharpened slightly, but he did not grow angry.
Walk by the river often enough, and your shoes were bound to get wet. Over the years, he had made plenty of enemies both within and outside the sect; being targeted was nothing unusual. Five percent of its source essence was precious, but it was only an avatar in the end. If it was lost, so