Along the way, Sikong Ran tried repeatedly and anxiously to persuade He Zhongyi to turn back.
"He Zhongyi, this man's strength far surpasses ours—this is far too dangerous!"
He Zhongyi's expression wavered. He knew the peril, yet the object he pursued meant too much to him.
"Young master, please go back! I must see this through!"
Seeing He Zhongyi's obstinance, Sikong Ran stomped his foot in frustration. But in the end, he couldn't bring himself to let him face it alone.
Hidden in the trees, Gu Qingli's unease deepened. That shadowy figure was far too suspicious. If he were truly He Zhongyi's friend, there would be no need to lure him so far into such a desolate place—it felt more like a setup for murder.
He Zhongyi, too, had long sensed something was amiss. Yet he could not turn back. That black crescent-shaped jade meant everything to him—for hanging around his neck was an identical one, entrusted to him by the City Lord upon his coming of age. It was the only clue he had to the mystery of his origins.
At last, the shadow came to a halt beneath a towering old tree. A shrill, sinister laugh escaped his lips as he reached up and removed the bamboo hat from his head, revealing a pale, withered face.
He appeared to be around fifty, yet his murky eyes were those of a man long past his prime—cold, slitted like a serpent's, glinting with venomous malice.
He gazed at He Zhongyi, who had followed close behind, his expression filled with cruel triumph.
"Young man," he sneered, "now will you listen?"
Though unease prickled at him, He Zhongyi still clasped his fists in a respectful salute. Behind him, Sikong Ran remained silent, his handsome face grave, eyes wary as they locked onto the cloaked figure.
The black-robed man opened his palm, revealing the black crescent-shaped jade nestled within. "Boy, if you truly are his descendant, then you should possess the other half of this jade."
His gaze swept over He Zhongyi with a barely restrained fervor—madness simmering just beneath the surface.
"Who was he? What's your connection to him? And how did you find me?" He Zhongyi asked urgently, a thousand questions churning in his heart.
Hidden above in the canopy, Gu Qingli frowned slightly. She couldn't gauge the man's full strength—which only meant his power exceeded hers. Yet the pressure from his soul was not unbearable; she surmised he was likely at the early stages of the King rank. And with no green ring on his finger, he was likely not a Spirit Illusionist.
Sikong Ran added from the side, "He Zhongyi, don't trust this man. I can tell he's up to no good." His vigilance sharpened as he glared at the cloaked figure.
"He Zhongyi," the old man intoned, his voice laced with mystery and temptation, "you must long to know your true origins. I, on the other hand, know them with perfect clarity."
There was a seductive pull to his words, as if the truth were within arm's reach—if only He Zhongyi would offer up what he carried.
He Zhongyi's heart wavered violently. He had no way of knowing what this black jade truly was, yet he couldn't resist the temptation. Emotion overpowered reason—his longing to know his family, his past, consumed him.
"The black jade is here."
He reached up and drew a black cord from around his neck. Hanging from it was the very same jade, identical in every way to the one in the black-robed man's hand.
"So it was on you all along. Heaven smiles upon me—ha ha ha!"
With a crazed burst of laughter, the black-cloaked figure's aura erupted. Blue battle energy surged into the air, coalescing into a massive spectral hand that lunged toward He Zhongyi's neck.
He Zhongyi and Sikong Ran's expressions changed drastically—neither had expected the man to strike without warning.
They moved at once, channeling a surge of green battle force and spiritual power. The twin forces twined into a brilliant pillar of light, hurtling toward the incoming blue hand.
"Mere child's play. That jade belongs to me!"
With a twisted smile, the man clenched his fist in midair. A muffled boom resounded as the blue spectral hand crushed their combined energies—shattering the beam, scattering power and will alike into the wind.