Crimson River City was not built for mortals.
The towering walls shimmered with inscribed formation scripts. Floating platforms drifted between cloud-piercing pagodas. Even the guards wore spirit-forged armor and rode demonic beasts bred in the outer realms.
As Li Fan approached the city's massive jade gates, riding atop a steel-winged lion gifted by the clan, heads turned.
Most couldn't sense his cultivation. But some felt it.
A pressure—subtle, but primal. The sense that his presence disrupted the natural flow of Qi around them. Like gravity had bent slightly to make room for something… heavier.
Mu Qiu, walking beside the beast, glanced up.
"Don't provoke anyone yet."
Li Fan grunted. "No one's worth provoking yet."
At the gate, an attendant in golden robes stepped forward.
"Name and sect."
Mu Qiu stepped aside.
"Li Fan, representing the Li Clan of Thunder Mist Valley."
The attendant blinked. "Li… Fan?"
The name had already reached Crimson River. Rumors of a Qi-less cultivator who endured heavenly lightning had spread like wildfire.
Behind the attendant, several disciples dressed in midnight-blue robes whispered among themselves.
"He doesn't look like much."
"Third stage of Bone Refinement at best."
"Do you think the rumors were exaggerated?"
But one voice—clear, female, amused—cut through the crowd.
> "They weren't. I watched him fight."
A girl stepped forward from the gathered sects. Her silver robes marked her as Moon Sect. Her blade, sheathed in black glass, hummed faintly on her back.
Yue Xin.
Li Fan's gaze flicked to her—and paused.
Her eyes shimmered with moonlight. Not metaphorical moonlight. Actual, reflected lunar light danced across her pupils.
"You're him," she said, stepping closer. "The one who breaks cauldrons and dares Heaven to stop him."
Li Fan tilted his head. "And you're the spy who's been watching me."
Yue Xin smiled faintly. "So you did notice."
"Hard not to. You don't exactly blend in."
"I wasn't trying to. I was… curious."
Li Fan walked past her.
"Curiosity kills," he muttered.
Yue Xin turned, walking beside him. "Not if you kill it first."
They stepped through the city gates—side by side—as dozens of eyes followed their movements.
From atop a distant tower, a man in crimson scholar's robes sipped wine and frowned.
"That's the body cultivator?"
Another, with a feathered crown and narrow eyes, sneered. "Doesn't look like much."
The scholar nodded. "We'll test him soon. If he breaks under pressure, we kill him in the qualifiers."