"Why… why did you do this? Did you really think I was lying to you?" Tie Zhu murmured, his voice hollow. His world had collapsed.
Everything he believed in—his childhood sweetheart, his wife—was a lie. All his sincerity, all his devotion… fed to the dogs.
"Woo, I was wrong! I don't dare anymore!" Xiao Mei sobbed as she dropped to her knees. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she begged, "Brother Tie Zhu, save me! I really don't want to die!"
The leader of the Black Wind Bandits stood quietly nearby, shaking his head with a sigh.
"I once had a childhood sweetheart too," he said, his tone surprisingly gentle. "We promised to get married, to build a life together, to grow old side by side. I swore I would make something of myself—earn enough honor to give her the wedding she deserved. One with music, bright banners, a procession through the village… something worthy of the stories we were told as children."
His voice turned bitter.
"But I never earned the scholar's medal. I was just a poor teacher in a forgotten village school, scratching by on copper coins and dreams."
The memory grew darker.
"Eventually, the wedding got postponed. She said she needed more time. So I waited, foolish and loyal, thinking love was enough. Until one day, a kind-hearted man pulled me aside and opened my eyes."
The bandit's face twisted into a mask of rage.
"She had already changed her heart. She was fooling around with the young master of the Su family behind my back."
He clenched his fists.
"I rushed over to confront her… only to catch them in the act, tangled together in her home."
His voice shook as the pain returned to the surface.
"The Su brat flew into a rage when he saw me. He had his men hold me down… and then made me watch as they continued, right there, in front of me."
His bloodshot eyes gleamed with hate.
"I'll never forget it. Her face buried in his lap, moaning like a whore while I was pinned to the ground like trash."
He turned and jabbed a finger hard against Tie Zhu's forehead, his expression full of twisted satisfaction.
"See for yourself—this is the woman you swore to give happiness to for the rest of her life!"
Tie Zhu didn't respond. He stood still, his eyes blank and unfocused. His spirit had crumbled; he was a walking corpse.
Xiao Mei, still weeping and trembling, didn't even have time to scream.
With a flash of cold steel, the horse bandit's heavy saber came down, cleaving her head cleanly from her shoulders. Blood sprayed across her limp body in a grotesque display of irony.
The villagers around them were frozen in fear, silent like cicadas in winter, too afraid to even breathe.
Far away on a mountaintop, two figures watched everything unfold.
Hong Qianye crossed his arms, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Interesting," he murmured. "I like this scene."
Ye Junlin frowned slightly. Something about the leader of the Black Wind Bandits didn't sit right with him. This man wasn't just a brutal mountain thug—there was something deeper, something darker at play.
The bandit leader, meanwhile, had finished his tale and wiped the smile off his face. His tone became cold.
"Enough playing around. It's time to get down to business."
He raised two fingers and pointed directly at Tie Zhu.
Immediately, Tie Zhu's eyes rolled back. He collapsed to the ground unconscious.
"According to our agreement, I won't kill you," the leader said with a sneer. "But the others? Hahaha…"
A violent surge of energy erupted from his body. His pupils turned blood-red as he turned his gaze toward the hundreds of kneeling villagers, all trembling in terror.
A sick grin spread across his face.
"Move back! The captain's about to use his technique!"
The surrounding bandits all retreated at once, their expressions solemn.
They knew what was coming next.
It was feeding time.
Shhhhh—
A dense array of crimson threads burst forth from the leader's chest like living bloodstained tendrils. They slithered across the air and stabbed into the villagers one by one, piercing their hearts as if seeking their very souls.
Man, woman, and child—none were spared.
Their bodies shriveled up like deflated bags of skin. Their essence and blood drained in waves, pouring toward the bandit leader like a crimson tide.
"Yes, yes! That's it!" he howled with excitement. "Once I finish absorbing everything, I'll finally break through from the Qi Refinement stage to Foundation Establishment!"
The villagers screamed.
"Help us! Don't kill me!"
"Mom, I'm scared!"
"Somebody, please—save us!"
"Aaaaah! It's a monster! A demon!"
The night air was filled with the wailing of the dying and the stench of blood.
"There's definitely something wrong here," Ye Junlin muttered, his eyes flashing with cold light.
Judging by the evil phenomena reported throughout the Wei Kingdom in recent years, this massacre was no coincidence. Someone had deliberately orchestrated this.
The leader of the Black Wind Bandits, strong as he appeared, couldn't be the mastermind. He was likely just another pawn—someone bewitched and exploited.
Hong Qianye narrowed his eyes. His expression turned grim.
"This technique…" he whispered. "It's far too familiar."
He knew this method. He had seen it before—used by an old friend from long ago.
"But that's impossible," he muttered. "That person… he died two hundred years ago. Hunted down and killed by the major sects of the Central Region."
Still, unease gnawed at his chest.
That man had once been his equal. A monster in human skin who spread chaos wherever he walked.
Ye Junlin, catching the flicker of emotion in Hong Qianye's eyes, asked, "You recognize that technique?"
Hong Qianye quickly regained his composure and shook his head. "I don't know it."
"...Heh."
Ye Junlin chuckled, unconvinced, but chose not to press further.
With a flicker of light, his figure vanished without a trace.
In the next instant, Ye Junlin appeared soundlessly beside the leader of the Black Wind Bandits. He gently patted the man's shoulder, letting out a sigh.
"Little brother," he said, voice calm but laced with disappointment. "It's one thing to seek revenge, but indiscriminate slaughter? That's your true sin."
The bandit leader had been immersed in his grotesque ritual, his face flushed with excitement—until he suddenly felt a presence beside him. He turned his head and snapped in rage, "Who the hell are you, trying to get on this horse—"
Boom!
A burst of spiritual force exploded from Ye Junlin's palm.
Crack. Crack.
The bandit leader's legs buckled as if the bones inside had turned to sand. He collapsed to his knees with a shriek of agony.
"Aaaargh!"
His cultivation technique was instantly interrupted, the ominous glow around the altar vanishing. The surviving villagers, still trembling from the ritual, stared wide-eyed at the silver-haired figure who had appeared out of nowhere.
"Captain?!"
The surrounding Black Wind Bandits were paralyzed with disbelief. Their invincible leader was kneeling like a beggar, crushed in a single strike by this silver-haired youth.
It was as if a celestial being had descended upon the mortal world.
Ye Junlin's expression remained flat. "Tell me," he said, voice cold, "where did you learn this twisted technique?"
Chen Shouye's face contorted with despair. He understood in that moment—he'd kicked a hornet's nest. A cultivator like this... he never stood a chance.
Under the unbearable pressure, he spilled everything.
After discovering his wife's affair, he had confronted the young master of the Su Family. But the Su clan's power ran deep. With a few whispered words, they ruined Chen Shouye's reputation, leaving him unable to survive in his hometown.
Disgraced and desperate, he had fled—only to be picked up by a group of strange cultivators cloaked in black. They had taught him a forbidden art... on one condition:
To grow stronger, he had to consume the blood and essence of others without restraint.
The more he killed, the faster he advanced.
Madness took root. Chen Shouye became a murderer, driven by both rage and an addict's hunger for power. He returned and slaughtered the adulterous couple in cold blood. But the act drew attention. Loose cultivators from the Wei Kingdom chased him down. Fleeing for his life, he vanished into the wilderness—and reemerged as the infamous leader of the Black Wind Bandits.
Ye Junlin narrowed his eyes. "So there is an organization behind this."
He muttered, half to himself, "Spreading techniques like this, asking only for blood in return… it's like a cultivation pyramid scheme."
Then he turned his head, voice light but tinged with weight. "Little Hong. What do you make of this?"
A crimson-robed figure slowly descended from the sky, his movement like drifting petals. The villagers gasped.
What... what a stunning beauty!
She looked like an immortal goddess from a painting—untouched by dust, aloof and divine.
Hong Qianye landed with composed elegance, though his heart roiled beneath the surface.
This pattern... this method of blood-fueled cultivation… it was exactly like his.
Could he still be alive?
"I don't know, Master," Hong Qianye replied, voice soft.
Ye Junlin gave a thoughtful nod, then without warning, placed his hand atop Chen Shouye's head.
Soul search.
"Aghhh…" Chen Shouye's eyes rolled back as a horrid scream tore from his throat. He convulsed, every nerve on fire. His brain felt like it was being peeled open.
Faintly, Ye Junlin glimpsed flickering images—hooded figures in black, surrounding Chen Shouye. One of them extended a hand, pressing it against Chen's forehead as if branding his mind with forbidden knowledge.
Then... darkness.
The vision shattered.
Bang.
Chen Shouye collapsed lifelessly, his body twitching once before going still.
"Let's go," Ye Junlin said coolly.
Snap.
Hong Qianye raised two fingers and snapped.
Flames erupted instantly across the field. Every Black Wind Bandit was engulfed. Screams echoed through the night as the fire devoured them whole, eyes bulging in terror before turning to ash.
The villagers stood in stunned silence.
"Y-You…" Ye Junlin frowned, glancing at the smoldering field.
"Did I do something wrong, Master?" Hong Qianye tilted his head, wearing a confused expression. "Surely, bandits deserve death."
Ye Junlin coughed awkwardly. "Cough… yes, yes, very well done."
A faint smirk of pride tugged at the corners of Hong Qianye's lips. It had been too long since he'd indulged in a massacre. He rather missed the feeling.
Then someone in the crowd raised a trembling voice.
"Fairy descended from the heavens! She eradicated evil, upheld justice! Peach Blossom Village will forever honor the fairy's grace!"
"Thank you, Fairy!"
"Thank you, immortal beauty!"
More villagers knelt in reverence, praising him with tearful gratitude.
Fairy?!
Hong Qianye's eye twitched. His beautiful face turned stormy. He clenched his hand, fire qi already gathering in his palm.
Just one flick, and these stupid mortals would be ash.
But before he could move—
A large, familiar hand gently clasped his wrist.
Ye Junlin smiled.
"My dear disciple… do they deserve to die too?"
That smile… shameless and insufferable.
Hong Qianye's entire body trembled with restraint. He wanted to burn them. He wanted to burn him.
But he couldn't.
"...Master, you misunderstand," he forced out, voice tight. "I was merely… waving goodbye."
"That's good." Ye Junlin looked pleased.
Then, the two of them left in cheers.
Hong Qianye's face was not angry, and she had already insulted Ye Junlin's eighteen
generations of ancestors in her heart.
…
…
In the grand imperial hall.
Emperor Wei sat atop the dragon throne, his dragon robe flowing with solemn majesty. His aged face was tight with worry, his brows furrowed into a deep "川" character as he stared at the memorial scroll in his hand.
All civil and military officials stood silently with their heads lowered. The atmosphere was heavy and oppressive, as if the very air carried the weight of grief.
"Haah…"
After a long silence, the Emperor let out a helpless sigh.
He tossed the memorial aside, rubbed his temples, and spoke bitterly.
"If this continues… our great dynasty will collapse beneath the feet of these evil spirits."
The figures on that scroll were horrifying.
The Wei Dynasty had once boasted a population of eight billion. In recent years, it had plummeted by more than three billion, and the trend showed no signs of slowing. Panic and unrest now gripped the land, and even the court was powerless.
"Your Majesty, we still have the Xuantian Sect behind us," one minister ventured cautiously. "Surely the Immortal Masters there will not turn a blind eye…"
"Xuantian Sect…" Emperor Wei shook his head with a bitter smile.
Years ago, the Xuantian Sect had indeed sent an investigation team to Wei Kingdom. But not long after their arrival, they vanished without a trace. Since then, the situation only worsened, and the sect remained silent.
Could such a sect still be relied upon?
Just then—
"Father! Father!"
A clear, silver-bell-like voice rang out through the court.
A young girl burst in from outside. She looked about thirteen years old, her skin delicate and pale, her features already blooming into breathtaking beauty.
"Ling'er? What are you doing here?" Emperor Wei blinked in confusion.
This was his beloved youngest daughter. Had anyone else stormed into court like this, he'd have ordered their immediate execution. But this was Ling'er.
The little princess held up a letter, beaming with joy.
"Father, it's from Second Brother! He sent a letter!"
"The Second Prince?"
The ministers stirred, their expressions shifting with surprise.
Years ago, the second prince had been chosen by a master of Xuantian Sect and taken into the sect as a disciple — a rare and prestigious honor. Everyone in court knew of it.
After all, Immortal Sects valued talent above all else. No amount of noble blood or political power could gain one entrance if the aptitude wasn't there. Even princes were no exception.
That was why, when the Second Prince was accepted, Emperor Wei had declared amnesty across the entire kingdom and held a week-long celebration.
But in the years since, the boy had become consumed by cultivation and rarely sent word home.
Now, suddenly, a letter arrived.
"Quick! Let me see!"
Emperor Wei took the scroll from his daughter's hands and eagerly unraveled it.
As his eyes swept across the words, his face lit up. He suddenly slammed the armrest with joy and burst into laughter.
"Hahahaha! Wonderful!"
The ministers were startled.
"Your Majesty, what news does the letter bring?"
With eyes gleaming, Emperor Wei rose from his throne and declared:
"My son says that Xuantian Sect has taken the recent phenomena in Wei Kingdom very seriously. This time… they may send none other than the Master of Misty Peak himself!"
A stunned silence.
Then—
"Ye Junlin?!"
The name spread through the hall like wildfire.
Even the most ordinary ministers had heard the rumors.
It was said that Ye Junlin had crushed the Wind-Thunder sect single-handedly — a cultivator in the Nascent Soul Realm, one whose power could move mountains and reverse rivers.
In the eyes of mortals, such a being might as well be an Immortal.
And now… he was coming to save them?
The court erupted in excitement.
Even Emperor Wei's usually heavy expression was full of light. For the first time in years, he felt true hope.
"Ling'er," he said, lifting his daughter into his arms, "our Wei Kingdom… is saved."
"Ehehe~"
The little princess giggled sweetly, her eyes curved into crescents as she hugged her father's neck.
Suddenly—
A guard burst into the hall in a panic.
"Your Majesty! Two immortals have descended outside the palace!"
"It must be the Immortal Master from Xuantian Sect!"
Emperor Wei's eyes lit up. "Quick! Dear ministers, come with me to greet them!"
Outside the palace, beneath the clear sky, auspicious clouds bloomed in brilliant colors, rippling with divine radiance. Under countless stunned gazes, two figures slowly descended atop a radiant glow, alighting upon the palace square like divine beings.
Ye Junlin stood with his hands behind his back, silver hair fluttering, looking incomparably proud.
"Little Hong," he said with a smug grin, "don't you think this entrance makes your teacher look incredibly cool?"
He was clearly enjoying himself, deliberately putting on a dramatic show to flush out hidden enemies.
Hong Qianye shot him a disdainful side glance.
Childish, he thought.
But on the surface, his tone was calm and polite.
"Master is wise. This disciple naturally agrees."
Within the palace, Emperor Wei rushed out with his civil and military officials, leading them to kneel in unison.
"Welcome, Immortal Masters!"
In the eyes of mortals, cultivators who could destroy mountains and stir the seas were no different from true immortals, untouchable by the laws of the mundane world.
Emperor Wei gazed carefully at the silver-haired youth in front of him. The description in the second prince's letter had matched perfectly: long silver hair, ethereal presence — this was undoubtedly Peak Master Ye.
Then his gaze shifted to Hong Qianye, and his heart shuddered.
Even though he had three thousand concubines in the harem, none could compare to the stunning figure standing beside Ye Junlin.
This… this must be the most beautiful being in the world…
Of course, he didn't dare harbor even the slightest improper thoughts — this "woman" was clearly a fairy beyond mortal reach.
Even gazing for too long felt like blasphemy.
"Ahem."
Ye Junlin cleared his throat, his voice imbued with spiritual power, echoing like thunder throughout the palace.
"I am Ye Junlin of Misty Peak. I've come to solve the crisis plaguing the Wei Kingdom. You may rest easy."
"On behalf of all my people, I thank the Immortal!" Emperor Wei shouted excitedly, eyes glistening.
The ministers bowed deeply, all trembling with reverence. They had never dared imagine that such a divine figure would come in person.
"Rise," Ye Junlin said lightly.
With a simple wave of his hand, an invisible force spread across the square, gently lifting everyone off the ground.
"If there is anything the Immortal requires, please speak freely," Emperor Wei said respectfully.
"Prepare a place for me and my disciple to stay," Ye Junlin replied lazily.
"Of course! This way, please!"
As Emperor Wei led the way, he couldn't help sneaking another glance at Hong Qianye.
So this fairy-like being is the disciple of the Supreme Immortal…
Behind him, the little princess peeked out from her father's robe and stared wide-eyed at Hong Qianye's flawless features.
This big sister is so beautiful… I hope I grow up to be just like her…
From beginning to end, Hong Qianye's expression remained icy cold. He didn't even glance at the emperor or his ministers.
In his eyes, Emperor Wei, the court, and even the entire Wei Kingdom were all the same—ants.
He hadn't come to help.
He came to find out who was bold enough to stir up such chaos in this land.
Jingtai Palace
The residence was magnificent, warm in winter and cool in summer — constructed with enormous resources over many years. Emperor Wei used to relax here on his leisure days, but now he had gifted it to Ye Junlin and his disciple.
"Withdraw. I have things to discuss with my disciple."
"It is my honor to serve the Immortal," Emperor Wei said, bowing deeply before respectfully taking his leave.
Creak—
Ye Junlin plopped into a reclining chair carved from thousand-year-old nanmu wood. He casually plucked grapes from the fruit plate and tossed them into his mouth, savoring them with exaggerated delight.
The dignified immortal who just inspired an entire kingdom?
Gone.
In his place: a man-shaped slacker who had clearly made eating grapes his life's mission.
Hong Qianye turned away, visibly disgusted.
This was… the most undisciplined, disgraceful Soul Formation cultivator he had ever seen.
Every other cultivator at this level would be sitting cross-legged, refining their essence, meditating deeply, sensing the Dao...
But this guy?
This guy was soaking his feet.
"How does someone this lazy and unserious break into the Soul Formation Realm?" he thought bitterly.
Hmph. It doesn't matter. With the way I'm progressing, I'll surpass him soon enough. And when that day comes…
If Ye Junlin heard what he was thinking, he'd probably burst out laughing like a goose.
Cultivate? Who cultivates?
His realm went up when he met stronger people.
His techniques leveled up while he was sleeping.
Even his weapon trained itself.
You call this "lazy"?
Lying flat in style is its own kind of effort!
At that moment, Ye Junlin slipped off his cloud-patterned boots. A wooden basin of steaming water had appeared under his feet. He sank into it with a relaxed sigh.
"Ahhh… that's the stuff."
Just as Hong Qianye was about to turn away in complete contempt—
A voice drifted into his ears:
"Little Hong, come wash your master's feet."
Hong Qianye froze.
He thought he misheard.
A vein popped on his forehead.
"…What did you just say?"
His tone dropped several degrees.
I was the mighty leader of the Flame Demon Cult, revered across kingdoms!
And you… you want me to wash your feet!?
Have you no shame?!
Ye Junlin raised an eyebrow.
"Where are you going? Come here."
"Why?" Hong Qianye glared at him, face dark.
Ye Junlin sighed with false sorrow.
"A teacher for one day, a father for life. Isn't that enough?"
Then he added, deadpan—
"Be good, son. Come wash Daddy's feet."