Within just a few heartbeats, at the outer borders of Qinghe City, three streaks of golden light slammed into the earth with a ground-shaking thud. They were the Elders of the Holy Light Sect, early-stage Soul Transformation practitioners carrying soul-purifying swords upon their backs. Their faces were etched with a majestic fury, as if they were the peerless enforcers of heavenly law.

  "Devil Gu Fengyan! Halt right there!" roared one elder with long white hair, his hands weaving the blinding seals of the Demon-Vanishing Light. "You have harmed our disciples and tarnished the dignity of the Holy Light Sect! Today, the soil of Qinghe shall become the grave for your filthy soul!"

  Zhi Xuan landed calmly atop the branch of a withered pine tree, only a few paces before the three elders. He gazed at them with a hollow expression, as if the figures before him were nothing more than pebbles obstructing his path.

  "Dignity?" Zhi Xuan’s voice sounded like the scraping of a blade against ice. "You speak of dignity amidst the greed of seeking spiritual stones for my head? What a sickening irony."

  "I will not mince words; you are merely at the early stage and are not yet worthy of speaking to me," Zhi Xuan hissed, continuing his speech with a surge of pure killing intent intended to intimidate. "If you persist in chasing me and dreaming of my capture, then do not blame me if I truly tear down your sect before you even have the chance to flee."

  The white-haired elder, known as Elder Qingyang, exploded into a laughter filled with contempt. "Arrogant! You are but a cornered beast trying to bluff a dragon! With the Formation of the Three Eternal Lights, your devilish body will be melted into ash!"

  The other two elders immediately took their positions, forming a triangle that locked the space around the pine tree where Zhi Xuan stood. Golden spiritual essence radiated from their bodies, weaving together in the air to form sharp nets of light capable of shredding a mortal body into grains of dust.

  Zhi Xuan remained motionless, his left hand still hidden beneath the wide sleeve of his robe. "Ruo Xianxue," he whispered internally, "do you feel it? This stench of hypocrisy is far more foul than the corpses in the Forest of Eternal Death. But still, I do not wish to kill them. This pattern... it is possible they carry that curse mark again."

  "They are merely donkeys wearing tiger skins," Ruo Xianxue replied, her voice laced with deep-seated hatred. "But you are right, Zhi Xuan. Orthodox sects like this often plant seals upon their elders. If you destroy their Divine Wheels, their inner essence will explode and attach a karmic stain that won't fade for a hundred years."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, observing the golden radiance beginning to harden around him. "Then, I shall give them something far more terrifying than death."

  Zhi Xuan moved his left hand, pulling the Ruthless Heavenly Banner from the depths of his soul. The grey silk fabric fluttered wildly, spewing a cold haze that instantly extinguished the warmth of the Elders' golden light. The sky above the Qinghe border suddenly surged; grey clouds swirled into a vortex that swallowed the sunlight.

  Without him needing to leap, the shadows beneath the three Elders' feet elongated unnaturally. From within the darkness of the earth, a massive hand of black steel skin thrust upward, gripping Elder Qingyang’s ankle with a strength capable of crushing mountains.

  "What?! What dark power is this?!" Elder Qingyang screamed. He tried to slam his soul-purifying sword downward, but the blade bounced off as if hitting the wall of the heavens.

  A giant physique emerged fully from the shadows—Northern Yama. The puppet stood with hollow grey eyes, radiating a Soul Transformation aura far denser and more oppressive than that of the three Elders. Its presence caused the Formation of the Three Eternal Lights to crack before it could be fully activated.

  "This... the body of a Soul Transformation expert?! How can a Devil control a corpse with a cultivation level this high?!" The other elder turned pale, his body trembling as he realized they were not facing a single man, but an irrational entity of death.

  Zhi Xuan floated down from the tree branch, landing atop the motionless head of Northern Yama. His robes billowed, and the slaughter pattern on his forehead now glowed with a haunting, deep purple radiance.

  "I did not come to take your worthless lives," Zhi Xuan said, his voice echoing like thunder in a valley. "Northern Yama, give them a small understanding of the meaning of fear."

  Northern Yama roared soundlessly. A mental shockwave exploded from its form, sweeping through the entire area within a radius of one li. The two elders on the left and right were blown back like dry leaves, the Divine Wheels inside their bodies vibrating so violently they nearly cracked. They spat out fresh blood—not from physical injury, but because their minds were struck by pure Nirvana Intent—a fear of nothingness that transcended death itself.

  Elder Qingyang, still in Northern Yama’s grasp, stared at Zhi Xuan with eyes filled with pure horror. All the pride and majesty of the Holy Light Sect he so boasted of shattered into pieces in an instant.

  "Take this message to your Sect Leader and even the Heavenly Sword faction," Zhi Xuan said as he leaned down, staring directly into Elder Qingyang’s eyes. "Gu Fengyan does not seek war with ants, but if those ants continue to crawl upon my robes, I will ensure the sun never rises over your lands again."

  Zhi Xuan flicked his finger, and Northern Yama released its grip, then struck Elder Qingyang’s chest with a palm coated in grey essence. The old man shot backward, smashing through rows of pine trees until they were splinters, finally falling unconscious with his meridians completely sealed.

  Zhi Xuan waved his hand, and Northern Yama returned into the Ruthless Heavenly Banner. Silence returned, leaving only the whistling wind and the moans of the two elders still trying to gather the fragments of their consciousness.

  "Zhi Xuan, you are too soft," Ruo Xianxue grumbled. "You should have broken a leg or two so they would truly remember."

  "Fear planted in the soul lasts longer than wounds on the body," Zhi Xuan replied flatly. He no longer looked back. With a single step, he shot into the sky, piercing through the black clouds toward the west.

  He knew this skirmish was but a ripple of the storms to come. The Holy Light Sect would not remain silent, but at least now they knew the Devil they hunted possessed a shadow army capable of toppling the heavenly laws they exalted.

  "Dammit, I've become a bit soft," Zhi Xuan hissed, exhaling slowly and shaking his head slightly in mid-air. "However, I truly could not bear it if I ran into someone like Zhao Wu, who brings that kind of catastrophe."

  Zhi Xuan spurred his essence, letting his body glide like silver lightning cleaving through a sea of clouds. Below him, the expanse of forests and mountains of the Southern Region shrank into blurred green lines. Though he had delivered a warning that crushed the Elders' spirits, his own mind felt no victory. Instead, there was a cold void—a realization that the more he tried to distance himself from the vortex of blood, the stronger fate pulled him back into the heart of the storm.

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  "You speak of the Zhao Wu catastrophe as if it were the only shackle in this world," Ruo Xianxue’s voice broke the mental silence, her tone now more slithering, like a snake coiling around the pillars of the soul. "But look at yourself, Zhi Xuan. You flee from one curse, yet you are weaving your own web of karma with the seeds of fear you sowed in Qinghe. You think they will stop because they are afraid? No. In humans, fear often turns into an even greater madness."

  "Then the Southern Region must end here," Zhi Xuan countered coldly, his sapphire eyes fixed on the vast South. "Yao Gu is vast; I will find a way to other regions."

  "The Southern Region has become a pool of blood too shallow for my steps," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice swallowed by the roar of the wind at high altitude. "If I stay here, I will only become a whetstone for hypocrites thirsty for false fame."

  Ruo Xianxue laughed lowly, a sound that vibrated through the depths of Zhi Xuan’s soul. "The Central Region, or where? Wherever you go, you carry that scent of Nirvana, Zhi Xuan. You cannot run from the devilish image you created yourself. However, I agree... this pool is indeed too dirty."

  "I am not running; I am weaving and utilizing, not 'becoming'," Zhi Xuan concluded calmly. "Besides, I already shook Yao Gu two hundred years ago. This is just a small beginning to place my footprints upon this Sacred Plain."

  Zhi Xuan focused his mind, letting the Heavenly Samsara Wheel rotate slowly within his consciousness, absorbing spiritual essence from the thin air to recover from the fatigue of summoning Northern Yama. He gazed far toward the northwest, where the towering mountains looked like rows of dragon teeth acting as a barrier separating the Southern Region from the vastness of the Western Region.

  "Becoming a mortal to cross regions," Zhi Xuan muttered coldly, weighing his options. "If Xing Luo once had formation boundaries for every Continent, then Yao Gu surely has regional formations separating each area here. If not, the Southern Region couldn't possibly be this isolated."

  Zhi Xuan slowed his flight, letting his body float among the cold wisps of water vapor. He realized that in the Yao Gu Plain, each region was not separated merely by a distance of thousands of li, but by invisible walls made of woven natural laws and ancient formations left by ancient rulers.

  "I need information regarding this crossing," Zhi Xuan said. "I do not know the exact boundary between the Southern and Western Regions."

  Zhi Xuan let his body hover for a moment in the silence of the sky, his sharp eyes fixed on the horizon where the orange of twilight began to mix with the deep dark of night. Beneath his feet, the landscape of the Southern Region looked like an endless green tapestry, but he knew that somewhere ahead lay the Sky Veil that separated this remote land from the grandeur of the outside world.

  "I hope the seeds I left behind will one day be able to leave this secluded land," Zhi Xuan murmured, exhaling softly as the small faces of Mo Chen, Li Chen, as well as Yun Che and Yun Xi, appeared in his mind.

  Zhi Xuan shot toward the regional boundary. As the distance was shortened by the speed of a mid-stage Soul Transformation expert, in a time no longer than a few sticks of incense, the sky had darkened completely as the mountains serving as the regional divider appeared close yet still far.

  Zhi Xuan held back his essence, letting his body float silently above the cooling clouds. Below, the sight of the Southern Border City—known as South Gate City—stretched out like a field of jewels spilled upon black velvet. This city was not like the stuffy and squalid Qinghe; it was for those who wished to challenge fate by crossing regional borders.

  The roar of massive flying ships powered by spiritual stones sounded like the hum of bees from the heights. Lights from tall pavilions and watchtowers radiated strongly, creating a glow sufficient to illuminate the night sky. Here was the place where mortal and cultivation laws merged in the interests of trade and long-distance travel.

  Zhi Xuan looked at South Gate City with an unreadable expression. There, amidst the intoxicating flicker of lights, he felt a much more complex vortex of energy. It wasn't just pure spiritual essence, but the scent of greed, ambition, and the dust of travel from all corners gathering as one. This city was a dragon's mouth ready to swallow anyone who let their guard down, yet it was also the only gap to escape the cage of the Southern Region.

  "South Gate City," Zhi Xuan whispered, his voice muffled by the sigh of the night wind. "A place where identity can be bought, and a life can be traded for a travel permit."

  He landed on a silent hill directly overlooking the city walls that towered a hundred chi high. With a fluid motion, he donned the Ghost Hood once more. But this time, he did something deeper.

  He suppressed his Divine Wheel to its lowest point, wrapping his Soul Transformation aura in a layer of bland, mortal essence. In the eyes of ordinary practitioners, he was now merely a First Ember realm wanderer who had just begun his steps on the path of cultivation—a figure too weak to be suspected, yet enough not to be bothered by street thugs.

  "You lower your dignity to the dust, Zhi Xuan," Ruo Xianxue scoffed. "From a shadow lord to a First Ember insect? Truly a hilarious sight."

  "A tiger walking among a flock of sheep must fold its claws if it does not wish to ruin the hunt," Zhi Xuan replied coldly while stepping down the hill. "I need access to a Cross-Region Ferry, and that ship will not accept a passenger carrying a scent of slaughter as great as mine."

  He walked toward the city gate guarded by rows of soldiers in bronze armor. Unlike Qinghe, the guards here had sharp eyes and trained instincts. Above the gate was a large, blue-glowing mirror—an artifact capable of detecting forbidden energy fluctuations or low-level disguises.

  Zhi Xuan stepped calmly under the mirror's gaze. The blue light swept over his body, but due to the mental isolation techniques of a Soul Transformation expert and his understanding of shadows, the mirror did not react. To the artifact, Zhi Xuan was just ordinary flesh and blood with a tiny, dim spark of soul fire.

  "Enter! Pay two silver pieces for a three-day residency permit!" shouted the gate guard without looking at Zhi Xuan's face.

  Zhi Xuan handed over his coins and stepped inside. Instantly, the hustle and bustle of South Gate City assaulted his senses. The streets here were paved with smooth black jade, wide enough for three horse carriages to pass simultaneously. On the roadsides, various spiritual weapon shops, alchemy pavilions, and auction houses stood magnificently.

  Zhi Xuan’s footsteps led him toward a three-story tea house called the West Wind Pavilion. This place was the heart of information for cross-region travelers. He chose a table in the darkest corner, ordering a cup of bitter tea. Around him, the clinking of cups and low murmurs from cross-region practitioners filled the room.

  At the center table, a group of armed merchants was debating the increase in spiritual stone taxes on the air routes, while in another corner, a one-eyed man seemed to be whispering a secret to his companion. Zhi Xuan sipped his tea, letting the bitter liquid wet his tongue, while his hearing spread like a spider's web, catching every scrap of information scattered about.

  "Well, so that is the price of that herbal fruit," said a man in silver robes to his friend, his face calm. "The Western Region is truly fertile when it comes to herbs and growth. Thus, I can gain more treasures if you go there."

  "Fertile herbs?" his friend replied while pouring wine into his cup. "Isn't that because of the Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf? Their Elders have cultivation in the Sacred Passage realm; how could that not make the Western Region prosperous?"

  The tea cup in Zhi Xuan’s hand froze for a moment, creating a thin steam that danced in front of his Ghost Hood. That name—Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf—was not just a string of words to his inner ear. It was the echo of a guqin melody that had once washed over the cracks in his soul two hundred years ago, and again a few years back when a face with mournful eyes gazed at him full of longing on the banks of the Dragon Lotus City river.

  Zhi Xuan went rigid and clenched his jaw, muttering internally. "The Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf is in the Western Region?"

  Zhi Xuan fell silent, his fingers holding the teacup trembling slightly—a rarity for a cultivator of his realm. The name was not just a great faction; it was one that had been resonating in a corner of his Sea of Consciousness all this time.

  "West..." Zhi Xuan whispered almost inaudibly, his voice muffled by the Ghost Hood. "Clear water, it seems, flows back to its source in the Western Region."

  The image of Ye Xishui—her mournful eyes that seemed to hold all the world's sorrow, the scent of peach blossoms clinging to her robes, and how those slender fingers had clutched his black-and-white fabric in desperation—manifested vividly once more. That woman's two-hundred-year wait was not a hollow obsession; it was a curse of longing that was now providing him with a path.

  "That girl's obsession has caused my karma to form a knot with just a single thought of her," Zhi Xuan murmured coldly, exhaling softly. "Clear water that is far too pure."

  Zhi Xuan placed his teacup back on the table with an agonizingly slow movement, as if even a slight pressure would cause the fate between his fingers to shatter. The clink of porcelain against the wooden table in the West Wind Pavilion seemed to trigger an echo of Ye Xishui's conversation at the Dragon Lotus City river, spinning wildly in his memory.

  "Sacred Pavilion Heavenly Leaf in the Western Region," Zhi Xuan murmured to his inner ear, letting his cold spiritual essence suppress the strange turbulence that had arisen. "Clear water truly never drifted far. She is like a clear, fragile river in my eyes."