Ye Kaishan's eyes lingered on the crimson talisman, its surface faintly throbbed with restrained life force, twisted by sinister intent.
His expression hardened as he studied the dark runes carved across it."These… were made by slaughtering countless people just to refine them," he muttered under his breath.
His gaze drifted toward the bustling crowd, their excited chatter filling the air.
They're hiding among them, he thought grimly, fingers curling around the talisman as if to crush it.
"Uhm… Fellow cultivators, may I trouble you for a moment?"
A soft, clear voice interrupted their thoughts. Both turned instinctively to see a young woman standing behind them, smiling with practiced politeness.
Song Yan frowned, impatience flashing in her eyes. "What is it?" she asked curtly. There was no time for small talk—not when the Corpse Devouring Sect was clearly plotting something.
"Do you have any business with us?" Ye Kaishan asked, his tone calm but guarded.
"Oh! Forgive me," the woman said with a graceful bow. "I am an inner disciple of Yaochi. My senior sister sent me to find you—she wishes to meet you."
"Your senior sister?" Song Yan's brows knitted.
"Yes," the woman replied with a smile. "My senior sister, Hong Lian. You must have seen her." As she spoke, she gestured toward the high-wing platform, where Hong Lian and Lian Yu were seated.
Song Yan's eyes widened slightly as realization struck. Hong Lian! She exhaled sharply. Damn it, how could I forget about her?
She saw my face that day. Because of cultivation, I pushed it out of my mind
"…But what should I do now? I can't simply refuse this invitation."Song Yan's thoughts tangled for a moment, uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
Ye Kaishan's gaze drifted to the woman in white on the high wing platform—her long dress and pure hair gleamed faintly in the morning light, her expression proud yet serene. "Why are they inviting us? Do you know her?" he murmured.
"It's… a long story," Song Yan whispered back. "Yes, I know her. You'll find out when we meet."
With a faint sigh, Song Yan nodded.
"Lead the way."
They followed the woman through the crowded martial grounds toward the high-wing pavilion, where prominent figures from various sects and noble families had gathered.
meanwhile--the Martial ground
At the heart of the martial grounds stood a towering jade statue, radiant beneath the morning sun.
A white lotus mark adorned its forehead. Draped in flowing robes that hinted at feminine grace,
the statue held a lotus in one hand, her tranquil gaze radiating authority and divine calm.It was the statue of the Master of Yaochi Holy Land—the Empress of Yaochi herself.
The vast grounds teemed with people. Elders of major sects and the heads of Heavenreach's branch families occupied the upper seats, while waves of cultivators filled the rest.
Vendors had long since fallen silent as the murmurs of expectation rippled through the air.
in a shadowed corner beyond the bustling crowd, Yan Feixue stood silently, her face cold and sharp as a blade. Before her knelt the same woman who had earlier collided with Song Yan.
"What did you say?" Yan Feixue's tone was low, her words slicing through the air. "You lost the talisman?"
The woman trembled, her head bowed, sweat pouring down her face.
"Do you understand the consequences if someone recognizes it?" Yan Feixue's voice grew icy, her eyes narrowing until they gleamed like shards of frost.
"I–I know!" the woman stammered, panic twisting her words. "I'll find it, I swear!"
Yan Feixue closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling a slow sigh. When she opened them again, a killing intent colder than winter flickered within.
The air trembled. The woman's soul shuddered as a surge of invisible power pressed down upon her.
"Wait—please! I—"
The plea broke into a wet gasp. Blood streamed from the woman's eyes, ears, and mouth as she collapsed, lifeless, onto the ground.
The space beside her tore open—a ripple of distortion bursting outward as a figure stepped through the rift.
Clang.
In less than a breath, steel flashed. A head flew into the air, spinning once before hitting the ground with a dull thud. The body of a man fell beside it, motionless.
Yan Feixue's expression hardened. "You are—"
The masked woman removed her veil slowly, her voice calm yet laced with venom. "You didn't recognize me? I am the leader of the Shadow Moon Sect."
Yan Feixue's gaze flickered.
"It was my subordinate's mistake," the masked woman said, her tone flat. "So the punishment is mine to deliver. I'll overlook this once. But next time, if you touch my people—" Her eyes narrowed. "I won't remain silent."
Yan Feixue's killing aura dimmed slightly. "It was indeed my oversight," she said coldly. "But now that we've lost a talisman, how do we proceed with the plan?"
Without a word, the masked leader tossed her a blood-red talisman wreathed in faint soul energy.
Yan Feixue caught it, her gaze deepening. "This… where did you get it? Did you recover it?"
The masked woman shook her head. "No. Too many died in our last massacre. The Corpse Devouring Sect made a few spares."
Yan Feixue's lips curved faintly. "I see."
"The formations are already laid across the martial grounds," the masked woman continued, glancing toward the sea of excited cultivators beyond the wall. "Will they also enter with us?"
Yan Feixue nodded slightly, her eyes glinting with cold light. "Yes. If we wish to reach the core of the Celestial Sky Realm without unnecessary risk, we'll need to use them."
She held up a small ancient wooden token, dark and weathered. On one side, it bore the image of a graceful fairy surrounded by yin energy; on the other, a robed man radiating yang energy. The token trembled faintly in her hand, pulsing with mysterious power.
The woman's eyes narrowed. "That token's been reacting for a while," she said quietly.
Yan Feixue nodded. "Which means the second token is nearby."
"Good," the masked woman exhaled, folding her arms. "Once Yin Mo and Chi Ruo activate the formation, our people will complete their task. Then all that remains…"
Her gaze lifted toward the pavilion where several powerful auras stirred.
"…is to deal with the Soul Saints."
Yan Feixue's lips curled into a faint, chilling smile.
"There are seven of them," she said softly. "Once Heavenreach Citadel's outer connections are severed, the plan begins."
The woman's eyes glimmered with satisfaction. "Then," she whispered, "let the heavenreach citadel tremble."
On High Wing Platform
The high wing platform overlooked the vast martial grounds, bathed in the morning's faint golden glow.
Song Yan and Ye Kaishan followed the attendant girl in silence until they reached the elevated terrace where numerous prominent sect figures sat in solemn rows.
Hong Lian, dressed in white robes that shimmered faintly like burning silk, sat gracefully at the forefront.
Her expression was serene an ethereal presence that carried both warmth and authority. Beside her, Lian Yu reclined lazily in his chair, eyes half-lidded as though disinterested yet keenly aware of everything around him.
Sensing the approaching figures, Hong Lian turned her head slightly. Her sharp yet calm gaze swept over Song Yan and Ye Kaishan, who now stood respectfully before her. Both clasped their hands in greeting, their movements composed and measured.
The girl who had led them bowed and quietly excused herself, leaving the trio under the quiet murmur of the wind.
"You were that girl from the massacre in the outer district," Hong Lian said, her tone soft but steady. "I didn't have the chance to ask you about that incident earlier. That's why I called you here."
Song Yan lifted her gaze slightly, her eyes clear and tranquil. "As I told Senior Sister before," she replied politely,
"I was merely a wandering cultivator. I've only been in this city for less than five days. That day, when I saw two Saints clashing, I feared I'd be caught between them, so I fled."
So that incident... they had met back then, Ye Kaishan thought, glancing toward Hong Lian and Lian Yu.
Hong Lian's eyes remained calm and observant, but a faint light flickered within them as she turned toward the woman seated beside her.
The woman wore a light violet robe, her hair bound with a simple wooden pin. Her features were refined, and her crystal-clear eyes gleamed with quiet intelligence.
She studied Song Yan and Ye Kaishan intently, her spiritual sense brushing gently against them before she looked back at Hong Lian.
"There's falsehood in her words," the woman's voice echoed softly through telepathic transmission, "but I sense no malice. Her soul is pure—bright, without any trace of the vile aura carried by those from corpse-devouring sects.
As for that man… his aura is radiant—like a sun."
Hong Lian nodded faintly, concealing her thoughts behind a serene smile. Turning back to Song Yan, she spoke lightly, "Did you come here for the tournament?"
"Yes," Song Yan replied, her tone calm. "I came to participate."
Their conversation continued briefly, the atmosphere poised yet peaceful.
Meanwhile, Ye Kaishan's eyes wandered across the platform. Nearly every seated figure radiated immense cultivation pressure—each a powerhouse from a renowned sect or clan.
His gaze paused on a pair standing behind the violet-robed woman—a young man and woman who exuded a faint alchemical fragrance. Recognition flickered in his eyes.
They…
they're the same ones who won the alchemy competition that day. Li Huoyan, that was the name… I didn't expect to see them here, Ye Kaishan mused silently.
Below, on the martial grounds, the crowd was growing restless as the tournament prepared to begin.
"Who do you think will win this time?""Obviously me," one voice called out."Hahaha! Don't joke—you couldn't even beat your own shadow!" another retorted.
Laughter and chatter filled the air—until a sudden metallic clang broke through it.
Slank—Thud—
"What's happening?" several cultivators exclaimed as the air trembled faintly.
Up above, on the high wing platform, Hong Lian's voice cut through the sudden unease. "Song Yan, what do you think of joining Yaochi? I'm offering you the chance."
Her tone remained tranquil, yet her gaze was piercing. Though her cultivation is still shallow, Hong Lian thought, she withstood a Saint's soul pressure without fainting. That alone proves her talent.
"I—" Song Yan parted her lips, uncertainty flickering in her eyes. Why ask me this suddenly? Does she still suspect me? But even so… I must refuse.
Before she could speak, a thunderous vibration rippled through the air.
Slank—Thud—
Every cultivator looked upward.
A crimson transparent veil had spread across the entire Heavenreach Citadel, sealing the skies. Its faint pulse radiated a sinister, oppressive aura, as though the heavens themselves had been shrouded in blood.
"What is this…" Ye Kaishan muttered, his brows furrowing as he observed the vast formation with narrowed eyes.