The underground hall of the Pill Guild reeked of cold sweat and lotus incense.
Hidden in the absolute darkness between the support beams, the slave Number Seventeen waited. His eyes were fixed on the target below: a stone table where several leaders of merchant families and magnates argued in panic, trying to form a coalition before rival clans devoured them alive.
Seventeen did not need a blade. Clutched tightly in his palm was a heavy black jade rune engraved with the strokes of a secret technique of the Vault of Ashes—a lethal courtesy from Madame Feng. The Qi in his Dantian coiled densely, ready to be injected all at once into the stone. He would hurl the runic matrix into the center of the table and vanish into the shadows before the detonation swept away the desperate leaders, their elite guards, and the last hope of those families.
Even if the explosion erased most of the mark's physical traces, the residual burn would leave irrefutable evidence linking the massacre directly to the upper ranks of the hegemonic sect.
He tensed his arm, ready to spring the trap.
But the throw never happened.
The air around Seventeen gained the weight of a mountain in the blink of an eye. The shadow where he was hidden solidified like cooling wax, locking every bone, muscle, and meridian of his body. He could not even blink. The rune in his hand lost its glow, and the flow of Qi that boiled to overload the stone was crushed and silenced in a fraction of a second by an implacable spiritual pressure.
Space distorted less than a step away from him.
Walking on empty air, a skeletal man emerged from the shadows. He wore frayed robes, exuding the heavy scent of raw ore from his closed-door cultivation deep within the Earth Spiritual Veins. It was Ancestor Lǐ, an old monster who had awakened from his isolation upon sensing the foundation of his merchant clan being crushed over the past few days.
"A skulking rat ready to drop its poison and flee," the Ancestor whispered. The sibilant voice echoed directly into the assassin's soul, making Seventeen's ears bleed. The Old Monster raised his wrinkled hand, and the black jade rune flew from the immobilized spy's palm straight into the thin fingers of the cultivator. "A matrix of the Vault of Ashes to finish the annihilation of my bloodline and blame the competition. But even rats have owners, and I will make your soul scream the name of yours."
The Ancestor extended his long index finger toward the assassin's forehead. The soul-searching technique glowed at the tip, ready to tear through Seventeen's memories and discover the true architect behind the end of his lineage.
Seventeen felt no fear. He simply touched the thread.
Far away, in a silent room, the Master pulled the karmic cord.
Before the Old Monster's finger could touch the assassin's skin, a gray and absolute energy descended through the invisible thread. There was no sound, flash, or explosion.
Seventeen's body simply unraveled.
The assassin's flesh, blood, bones, and soul turned into hollow dust and, in the next breath, the dust ceased to exist. The annihilation devoured even the air he occupied, creating a vacuum that popped the Ancestor's ears.
The Old Monster retreated half a step in the air, his wrinkled hand locking in the void. The Ancestor's asphyxiating aura instinctively withdrew into his own body, like cornered prey. He stared at the dark space where, one breath earlier, a Second Stage Immortal Establishment cultivator had existed
"What was that…?" the Ancestor murmured, his pupils constricted as his millennial mind searched for an answer among the forgotten myths of his youth. "His soul did not disperse—it was excised from reality. The Law of Destruction? That… that was not a legend?"
The Old Monster clenched his fists. The panic of having his clan destroyed evaporated, swallowed by a far greater terror. Whatever was playing with the board of this world was something beyond comprehension.
------
On the cedar terrace of the Autumn Wind Pavilion, the breeze carried the scent of orchids.
Zhì Yuǎn lowered his left hand, resting it on his knee. The karmic thread that connected him to the South had vanished into the void.
Beside him, Mò Yán observed the rifts of light on the star map. The glow that represented Number Seventeen's life had disappeared without leaving the slightest ripple. She crossed her soft arms under her breasts, a dangerous smile playing on her red lips.
"You erased him," she commented, her voice hoarse and satisfied. "Who was on the other side?"
"Someone with enough strength to freeze space with his mere presence," Zhì Yuǎn answered, taking a sip from his cup of bitter spiritual tea. The boiling water inside the porcelain reflected the darkness of his eyes. "An Ancestor. With our strength being so low, a direct confrontation would be suicide. We need to pull back the pieces before he finds us."
------
Far from the calm of the pavilion, the night sky above the Central Plains was being crushed.
There were no clouds. The auras of three existences at the Animic Ocean Stage had pushed the storm away, creating a dome of vacuum thousands of li high.
Kāng Wúfēng, with skin as white and calcified as ancient marble, radiated a fury that made the space around him crack in micro-fissures. Beside him, the colossal Guō Shénhàn stood with arms crossed, his dense aura like oxidized iron distorting the light of the stars.
"Someone is trying to erase my lineage!" Kāng Wúfēng's voice sounded like millstones grinding against each other. "The Vault of Ashes has gone too far. I will descend to the Eastern Domain and tear out the core of their Sect Master."
Lǐ Jìngzhī floated a few steps away, silent. The "Bone Counter" kept his fan closed, eyes half-lidded. Hidden in the sleeve of his yellow robe was the black jade rune he had confiscated from Seventeen. Ancestor Lǐ's mind still replayed the absurdity he had just witnessed.
He opened his mouth, hesitating to reveal to the other two that the Vault of Ashes was being framed by an unnamable entity.
But before Lǐ could utter a single word, the firmament above them boiled.
The strong cold winds of the night sky were swallowed by a heat that would turn an Early Nascent Soul cultivator to ashes. Flakes of ash began to fall, and a rift of blue fire tore through space. Two figures emerged from the flames, walking with the arrogant slowness of those who had long forgotten the meaning of haste.
They were Cāng Míng and Cāng Jì, the two Ancestors of the Vault of Ashes. Their eyes carried the indifference of hermits irritated at having their meditation interrupted.
Kāng and Guō invoked their domains at the same instant. The pressure in the air became lethal.
"Old ghosts crying over gold," Cāng Míng sighed, his voice dry and uninterested, dismissive of the hostile auras of the merchants. He looked downward toward the plane. "The current Patriarch called us because he sensed three fossils stirring. This is lamentable. We are far too close to ascension to waste time on the politics of the mortal world."
"Politics?!" Guō Shénhàn roared, his iron fists glowing red-hot. "Your sect is massacring our descendants! You dare deny the carnage of your dogs?"
Cāng Jì shrugged, his face shrouded by the shadows of the ash hood.
"It may be the work of our current generation. It may not be. We do not know and we do not care," the Ancestor of the Vault answered, his voice loaded with pure disdain. A sect existed to seek the Dao; those who spilled blood for wealth were nothing more than ants. "The ambitions of juniors must be resolved by the hands of juniors. If they are crushing your foundations, it is because your heirs are weak."
Kāng Wúfēng's eyes shone with killing intent, ready to attack.
"But know this," Cāng Míng interrupted, the blue fire aura suddenly expanding, heavy and asphyxiating, locking the movements of Kāng and Guō. "We will not allow Ancestors to descend from their pedestals to annihilate children simply because they cannot handle a loss. Return to your cultivation. If any of the three of you interferes in the disputes of the younger generation, we will descend to tear the roots of your clans from this plane."
Silence reigned amid the strong winds. It was a dry warning. The Ancestors of the Vault did not claim authorship of the attacks, yet they demanded absolute neutrality from the others.
Guō Shénhàn clenched his iron teeth, preparing to ignite a heaven-shaking battle right then and there.
"We accept."
The thin voice echoed. Ancestor Kāng and Ancestor Guō turned their heads, incredulous, staring at Lǐ Jìngzhī.
The Bone Counter took a step forward, bowing slightly in a gesture of servile courtesy. Lǐ's face was the image of conformist pragmatism.
"What are you saying, Lǐ?!" Guō growled.
"I am saying it is not worth losing our chance at immortality over spiritual stones or descendants we barely know," Lǐ answered in a mild tone, but his eyes focused directly on the Ancestors of the Vault. "We will not descend. We will not interfere with the pieces on the board. But in exchange, we demand that the domains of our houses and the direct lineage residing within them be declared untouchable. As for the rest…"
Cāng Míng and Cāng Jì exchanged a glance. The agreement was advantageous. If the roots of their clans were not wiped out, Kāng and Guō would have no reason to act suicidally.
"So be it. Remain out of sight, old fossils," Cāng Jì agreed, turning his back. In the blink of an eye, the two Ancestors of the Vault disappeared into the blue fire, leaving only smoke in the cold air.
As soon as the pressure vanished, Guō Shénhàn turned to Lǐ Jìngzhī, disgust twisting his rough face.
"Absolute coward," Guō spat into the empty air, the words loaded with venom. "Are you afraid of death, Bone Counter? Did you sell our honor and the blood we have already shed to save your own skin?"
"Your merchant clan is a disgrace to the Dao," Kāng Wúfēng added with a chilling coldness, turning his back. "Do not seek me for anything else, Lǐ Jìngzhī."
The two departed in opposite directions, tearing through the sky like flaming meteors, returning to their respective seclusions.
Lǐ Jìngzhī remained alone high above the world.
The cold wind whipped at his yellow robe. Without haste, the old bureaucrat opened the centipede-bone fan, covering the lower half of his face. Behind the fan, his lips curved into a sick and terrifying smile.
Coward… Honor…, Ancestor Lǐ thought, the image of a soul being obliterated from existence burning in his mind. You two are proud and ignorant sacks of flesh. And those idiots from the Vault of Ashes are even worse.
In their arrogance, the Vault of Ashes had blindfolded their own eyes and turned their backs on an entity capable of wielding the Law of Destruction.
Lǐ gave a low laugh, muffled by the wind. He had not only saved his central lineage from the fury of that hidden monster, but had also secured a front-row seat to watch a Hegemony be devoured.