The wasteland behind Hundred Forging Peak was still choked with swirling dust.
BOOM.
Another savage collision.
Mo Fan and Wu Mang crashed into each other like two bulls that had completely lost their minds, neither one willing to give ground.
But somewhere in the middle of it, the hearty exhilaration evaporated.
Both of them felt it at the same time—a sudden chill crawling up their limbs...
A cold draft across their backs as though someone had stripped them bare and thrown them into a blizzard.
The unmistakable sensation of being dead-locked in the sights of something at the very top of the food chain.
Wu Mang, still half-lost in the fever of combat, hadn't caught up yet.
He wiped mud and sweat from his face, gasping heavily, and frowned.
"Youngest Junior Brother, what kind of wicked secret technique did you just use? Why did it suddenly get cold—"
Before his voice even faded.
From directly behind his mountain-wide back, a gloomy voice drifted out. Quiet. Unhurried. Completely devoid of warmth.
"Eldest Senior Brother. Having fun?"
"Care to spar with me instead?"
Wu Mang's entire body locked up like a statue.
He didn't even dare to turn his neck.
The battle-madness drained from his face in an instant, replaced by pure, undiluted terror.
Mo Fan, peering around Wu Mang's massive frame, caught a glimpse of Senior Sister Li Banxia hovering above them...
Looking down at the two of them with a gaze that flickered with something distinctly dangerous.
Gulp.
Mo Fan swallowed hard.
Terrified, his foot slipped, and he nearly pitched headfirst into the bottomless abandoned mine pit yawning open beside him.
A short while later, in what remained of the once-peaceful courtyard...
Two grown men—combined weight somewhere in the hundreds of pounds—stood pressed against the wall with the posture of schoolchildren being punished.
Wu Mang had his head down, radiating the specific energy of someone who knew they'd done something wrong and had accepted their fate.
Mo Fan stood beside him, his expression blank with existential despair...
Hands glued to the seams of his pants, not even daring to breathe too loudly.
Across from them. Three female cultivators sat at the stone table that had somehow survived the carnage, comfortably sipping the spirit tea Li Banxia had just brewed.
During the course of his wall-standing sentence, Mo Fan cautiously lifted his eyes—and made brief, deeply awkward eye contact with Shen Qiu sitting at the table.
That single glance sent both of their internal monologues into a spiral.
Mo Fan's heart lurched.
Oh no. Did she find out I broke into Sunset Peak last night?! Is this an intervention?! Did she bring reinforcements to hold me accountable?!
Across the table, Shen Qiu was suffering her own private crisis.
She was so mortified her toes were curling tight enough to dig a hole through the stone floor to live in.
After overhearing Huang Yun's plans last night, she'd panicked and gone straight to Senior Sister Liang Rou...
Asking for leave to sneak down the mountain and warn him.
She hadn't expected Liang Rou to turn out to be old acquaintances with Li Banxia of Hundred Forging Peak.
And she certainly hadn't expected Liang Rou to light up with gossip-fueled excitement and personally escort her here!
Now, with the whole thing ballooned into a massive production, Shen Qiu's head was still spinning.
She couldn't bring herself to look at Mo Fan for more than a second.
Meanwhile, Wu Mang was receiving his sentence.
"Are you sick?! Is your skull packed with iron ore scraps?!"
Li Banxia slammed her palm on the table and pointed directly at his nose.
"Xiaoqi just finished recovering! You're a dignified Foundation Establishment cultivator...
And you're out here dragging him into full-contact brawls every day?! Do you think his bones are made of steel?!"
She naturally assumed this was Wu Mang's doing—that the combat-obsessed muscle-brain had once again forced his junior brother into a spar.
She had no idea Mo Fan had actively provoked today's fierce battle.
Wu Mang stood there absorbing the verbal beating in silence, wronged beyond words.
He turned and shot Mo Fan the most profoundly aggrieved look imaginable.
But Mo Fan ruthlessly let his Eldest Senior Brother silently carry the entire weight of the blame without a flicker of remorse.
At the far edge of the stone table, the noble Senior Sister Liang Rou sat with her teacup raised...
Watching the whole spectacle unfold with the unconcealable, deeply satisfied smile of a woman who had come for exactly this kind of entertainment.
After a full quarter of an hour, Li Banxia finally ran out of steam and remembered she'd actually come here for a reason.
She cleared her throat to cover her embarrassment, smoothed her expression, and shot a meaningful look at Shen Qiu...
A silent signal to go talk to Mo Fan alone.
Then she grabbed Wu Mang by the collar and hauled him out of the courtyard to continue his "physical persuasion" elsewhere.
Liang Rou, reading the room perfectly, rose from her seat and announced she was going to appreciate the "unique" scenic desolation of Hundred Forging Peak...
And wandered off at a tactful distance.
In the corner of the courtyard, gradually only Mo Fan and Shen Qiu remained.
The air between them thickened.
Ten full seconds of oppressive silence passed.
Then, with an almost uncanny synchronization, both of them raised their heads and spoke at the exact same moment.
"Miss Shen, I'm sorry—"
"Watch out for someone called Huang Yun—"
Both voices landed at once. Both cut off at once.
They stared at each other.
The silence that followed was the specific, bizarrely awkward kind where even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
But in the middle of that awkward stare, sudden realization dawned in Mo Fan's heart.
Ah.
The enormous boulder he'd been carrying since he spotted her lifted all at once.
So she didn't come to confront me. She came to deliver a message! She actually... worried about whether I'd live or die?
Shen Qiu, for her part, looked genuinely puzzled, her cool eyes full of confusion.
"Apologize for what?"
"Uh..."
Terrified of accidentally revealing his Sunset Peak break-in, Mo Fan's brain kicked into overdrive.
He scrambled for cover and landed on the most transparently flimsy excuse he could manage.
He forced a dry laugh and scratched the back of his mud-caked head.
"Ha... I just meant—Hundred Forging Peak is such a wreck. And then I went and made it worse fighting so messily with Eldest Senior Brother...
Now there's nowhere decent to even sit. Terrible hospitality. Really sorry about that."
It was a terrible excuse. Shen Qiu looked faintly suspicious.
But she had more pressing things on her mind, and let it go.
"Stop talking nonsense."
Her expression shifted to something instantly serious.
She told him everything—Huang Yun's schemes, exactly as she'd overheard them last night, without leaving anything out.
By the end, the unconcealable worry in her eyes was impossible to miss.
"For the next while... maybe find an excuse to leave the mountain? Lay low somewhere?"
"That Huang Yun—he's a playboy, yes, but he's a genuine Mid-Stage Foundation Establishment cultivator. I'm afraid he won't come at you openly."
"What if he strikes from the shadows, leaving you with internal injuries that won't heal properly..."
Shen Qiu bit her lower lip, her tone growing increasingly anxious.
"You have no spiritual energy to protect your body. If your physical foundation is ruined, even your path of a body cultivator will be severed."
Listening to these heartfelt warnings from Shen Qiu.
Mo Fan looked at the genuine worry in her eyes, and an indescribable warm current moved through his heart.
"Miss Shen."
He let the awkward smile drop. His eyes became completely solemn and earnest.
He met her gaze and gave a slight bow.
"Thank you for your worry. Truly. But please rest assured—I know my own limits. I believe Senior Brother Huang Yun... is not that kind of person."
He said it with a straight face.
Internally, he was laughing.
Are you kidding? Run away?
He wasn't the Lu Xiaoqi who'd been chased down by wild wolves anymore.
If he dares to come looking for trouble... I'll show him exactly what real pain looks like.
But to Shen Qiu, that calm, composed, almost "impervious" attitude read as exactly one thing...
A classic display of a man suffering just to save face!
"Y-Y-You!"
Seeing that this broken stone was actually so unappreciative of her good intentions...
Shen Qiu was so angry her pretty face flushed red, her chest rising and falling sharply.
"You're impossible! Fine! I don't care what happens to you! Hmph!"
Her goodwill had been thrown back in her face.
The Ice Queen's pride, held in check for as long as it could manage, finally snapped.
She stamped her foot, turned on her heel, and walked away without looking back.
"Ah—Miss Shen—"
Mo Fan reached out a hand, then let it fall powerlessly.
He stood there, rubbing his nose, smiling bitterly like an idiot at nothing.
What was he supposed to do—chase after her and shout loudly: Don't worry about me, girl, I'm actually a hidden Necromancer who already solo-killed a Foundation Establishment old monster?
He was still standing there with that helpless smile when a wave of delicate fragrance drifted over.
"My, my. Young people these days really have no sense of romance."
Liang Rou had walked gracefully to his side without him noticing...
The satisfied glow of someone who had just watched an extremely entertaining drama still lingering on her face.
Mo Fan straightened immediately and gave a proper, deep bow.
"Thank you for taking care of Miss Shen all this way, Senior Sister Liang. I'm grateful for your trouble."
Liang Rou was still riding the pleasant afterglow of the whole spectacle.
It took her a moment to collect herself and reassemble her composed, noble-lady bearing.
"Think nothing of it."
She looked at Mo Fan, and her gaze gradually settled into something more profound.
"Junior Sister Shen came with good intentions. She made a real effort to warn you.
But the cruelty of the cultivation world is ultimately something you'll have to face on your own."
"As for the rest—you're on your own. Good luck."
She paused, then tilted her head slightly and lowered her voice.
"I will only mention one thing."
"That Huang Yun has a Mid-Grade Wood Spirit Root."
"And he's exceptionally adept with swift swords. He's already reached minor mastery in the Main Peak's sword techniques."
"Wood-attribute cultivation methods produce endless vitality—they are the best at prolonged combat and wars of attrition."
Mo Fan felt something chill inside him.
This intelligence was invaluable.
For a figure of Liang Rou's standing to give him this kind of detailed briefing—it wasn't just a favor to Shen Qiu.
It was a genuine act of grace toward him.
He set aside every trace of frivolity and pretense.
Mo Fan stepped back and bowed again—deeply, meticulously, without any of the casual deflection he usually hid behind.
When he raised his head again, the eyes looking out from beneath the shadow of his brow carried a cold, abyssal gleam...
The kind that came from somewhere very deep, and very dark. Deep enough that even Liang Rou felt a faint, involuntary chill.
"I am grateful for Senior Sister's guidance."
His voice was calm. Flat as still water.
But underneath it, something coiled like unyielding thunder waiting to break.
"However, please rest assured, Senior Sister."
"The disciples of Hundred Forging Peak..."
"Are not clay to be kneaded by anyone's hands."