Wu Feng's cold, hoarse voice—carrying the coiled chill and restless irritation of a viper—wound low through the cramped tent.
Outside, the wilderness was dead silent. Inside, a small oil lamp smothered beneath a light-blocking cloth cast a dim, murky glow.
San Niang was using the faint light to paint her nails. At his words, her hand paused. Her brow creased with displeasure.
"Thorny? What do you mean? That kid Lu Xiaoqi—aside from having brute strength, he just looks like a complete greenhorn to me."
"Haven't we slaughtered enough of these fat sheep fresh off the mountain over the years?"
"The kid isn't the problem."
Wu Feng irritably turned the black short blade between his fingers, the edge catching the dim light, reflecting the deep wariness in his eyes.
"It's the shadow trailing behind him. That black-clothed guard is too bizarre!"
"During the march today, I used the excuse of passing a water flask to probe that guy with my Qi a few times."
Wu Feng swallowed, dropping his voice even lower—as if afraid of alerting the ghost outside.
"And guess what? My spiritual energy went in and vanished. Like a mud ox entering the sea—without a single trace!"
"That guy doesn't possess a single shred of Blood Qi reaction or breathing rhythm that a living person should have! I even doubt if there is a living human hiding under that cloak at all!"
He looked up, eyes carrying the hard-earned caution of a veteran who'd survived by reading danger correctly.
"Walking by the river often, one's shoes will eventually get wet. This guard's background is completely unknown, and that makes my heart extremely unsettled."
"In our line of work, the smart move is to avoid unnecessary risk. Maybe... we pass on this one?"
"Pass?!"
Hearing that he wanted to back out, San Niang's voice jumped before she could stop it.
She caught herself and forced it back down, but the anxiety and frustration bled through regardless.
"Wu Feng, is your brain filled with water? We came out here this time, and our Evil Art... is just a few points away from being completely consummated!"
"This kid's Blood Qi is so incredibly vigorous—if we miss this fat sheep, when are we going to stumble across such a perfect prey again?"
"But—"
"No buts." San Niang grabbed his wrist, her eyes glittering with the gloomy light of greed and cold viciousness. "Wealth is sought in danger!"
Under San Niang's combination of pressure and temptation, the apprehension in Wu Feng's eyes was slowly swallowed by greed and cruelty.
He ground his teeth viciously, drove the black short blade into the dirt at his feet, and made his decision.
"Fine. We do it."
Wu Feng let out a cold snort. A poisonous plan crystallized in his mind instantly.
"But we absolutely cannot make a move out here in the wilderness. That guard's depth is unknown, and the wilderness is too exposed—too easy for things to go wrong."
"Tomorrow, once we're inside Linshui Village—we use the 'investigating the Evil Spirit' cover to find a way to separate the master from the servant."
"Once things get chaotic in the village, we move amidst the confusion. We take them both—and while we're at it, we swallow Fang Tong too."
Hearing this, a satisfied cold sneer finally hooked the corner of San Niang's mouth. In the dim lamplight, it looked extremely sinister and terrifying.
Through those whispered words, their true colors hidden beneath the "rogue cultivator" masks were completely laid bare.
These were no enthusiastic companions looking to form a temporary party.
They were a pair of professional Robber Cultivators who drifted between low-tier markets, used "long-distance bounty listings" as bait to lure targets out, murdered and looted them along the way, and finally handed in the mission to collect double the reward!
Meanwhile, in another tent.
Due to the distance limitation and the fact that Wu Feng and San Niang deliberately suppressed their whispers, Mo Fan's [Death Vision]—even pushed to its absolute limit—couldn't hear their poisonous plan clearly like a radio broadcast.
But he still managed to catch scattered fragments of key information from the faint sonic vibrations in the air.
That was enough.
Mo Fan slowly opened his eyes in the dark. Beneath his hood, an extremely cold arc hooked the corner of his mouth.
"Professional Robber Cultivators? Interesting."
He didn't move to act or alert the snakes in the grass right now.
In this cultivation world where killing intent lurked around every corner, you never knew how many backup plans the opponent had.
Waiting—letting them come to him when they were exhausted—was the better play. He'd see exactly what tricks these two venomous vipers could pull out once they entered the village.
Subsequently, Mo Fan's gaze drifted through the night, settling quietly on Fang Tong's tent in the middle.
In the grayish-white field of [Death Vision], Fang Tong's life-flame pulsed steadily. He appeared to be genuinely asleep.
But looking at that "honest guide" with his supposedly warm, worldly-wise face, Mo Fan kept an extra layer of caution in reserve.
"The real world outside the sect is exactly as complicated as I imagined; it's not that simple." He exhaled slowly in the dark.
Early the next morning. The morning dew had not yet dried.
All four—plus one silent skeletal bodyguard—gathered at the center of camp.
After the surging undercurrents of the night before, the morning felt exceptionally "harmonious," even unnervingly so.
"Brother Lu, sleep well?" Wu Feng sidled up with a broad smile, the cold venom from the night before completely gone from his eyes, replaced by the warm familiarity of an older brother.
San Niang also giggled coquettishly and held out a water skin. "Here, little brother—we're almost at the village. Wet your throat. There's a tough battle ahead."
Four people. Eight hundred agendas.
All smiles on the surface, hands already resting on their weapons underneath.
"Alright, everyone—pack up. Let's cover this last stretch."
Fang Tong, playing the part of team captain, efficiently stamped out the campfire and pointed toward the dense, fog-wrapped mountains ahead.
"Through those woods ahead is Linshui Village. Stay sharp, everyone!"
The group moved out.
As they drew closer to the edge of the map, the surrounding environment began to change in noticeable ways.
The relatively open wilderness trail gradually gave way to towering ancient trees. The forest grew denser and denser, canopy pressing down until it blotted out the sky—a massive black umbrella sealing the sunlight out entirely.
A cold, clinging damp mist seeped through the woods and refused to lift. It was so quiet that not a single bird call or insect chirp could be heard.
The fallen leaves underfoot had built up into a thick carpet that let out a teeth-grating crunch with every step. The entire atmosphere pressed down like a physical, eerie weight.
Wu Feng and San Niang instinctively drifted closer to Fang Tong, magical tools already gripped in hand.
Mo Fan also quietly communicated with Mo Yan, ready to respond to sudden emergencies at any time.
Around midday.
In oppressive silence, the group finally pushed through that deeply unsettling, fog-shrouded forest.
"We're here!" Fang Tong pointed ahead and let out a long breath.
The outline of Linshui Village finally emerged from the mist at the end of the woods.
Mo Fan raised his head, his gaze burning like a torch as he looked over.
Based on the bounty description—"Bizarre incidents occurring frequently at night, dozens of strong livestock drained of blood and turned into mummies"—he had originally expected to find a village ten times more wretched and dilapidated than the mortal settlements they'd passed on the road.
However.
When the scene before him completely cleared up, the reality was the exact opposite of his expectations!
What appeared before his eyes was not some vision of hell on earth.
Although the village was small—only a few dozen households built against the mountains beside a stream—the thatched-roof homes were repaired extremely neatly.
In several squarely cultivated spirit fields, farmers had rolled up their trouser legs and were working the soil with quiet diligence.
An old woman holding a basin of bright yellow cornmeal stood in a courtyard, calling "cluck cluck cluck" as she fed a cluster of plump, speckled hens.
Sunlight broke through the surrounding mist and happened to spill directly onto this little village, gilding everything in a warm golden layer.
Tranquil, peaceful, and full of life.
This was practically a picture scroll of a secluded, strife-free Xanadu!