A month later.
Earth Lotus Island.
The sea breeze on this island always carried an indescribable, fishy sweetness, faintly mingled with wisps of demonic qi.
When it brushed against one's face, it felt like a layer of cold, damp silk, leaving one uncomfortable all over.
Wang Shisan instinctively drew his Dark Iron Dharma Robe tighter around himself. The newly embroidered Demon Lotus Pattern Emblem on its cuff was exquisite and conspicuous.
This robe was standard equipment for the Demon Lotus Sect's Foundation Establishment cultivators, many times better than the one he had worn on Black Sand Island all those years ago.
Beside him, Tie Erleng, the Iron Blade Society's second-in-command, had his head lowered, intent on polishing the low-grade Spirit Blade issued by the Demonic Cult.
As he polished it, the blade gleamed with a cold, eerie light, reflecting the rolling expanse of black halls behind them.
"Five or six years ago, we were fighting to the death out at sea. Who could have imagined we'd be walking side by side on Earth Lotus Island today?"
Wang Shisan suddenly broke the silence with a sigh of reflection.
At his words, Tie Erleng gave a derisive chuckle, a trace of complicated emotion in his eyes.
"If Deputy Sect Master Qing hadn't issued that decree back then and folded us battered remnants into the sect, never mind reaching Foundation Establishment-we might not even have lived this long."
He paused, then continued through voice transmission, "This place is... much livelier than the rumors said."
Wang Shisan followed his gaze and happened to see a party of cultivators in brocade robes flying swiftly along the mountain path.
The young man leading them wore a piece of warm jade at his waist, carved with an intricate character for "Qing."
The party surrounded several dharma artifact