Zhao Rui had walked the cultivation path long enough to recognize names that carried weight. The True Monarch Grotto and its patriarch, Hua Yang Zhenjun, loomed like tectonic plates in the realm's power structure.
Hua Yang—a titan second only to the Four Peaks' sovereigns. Centuries honing his Dao at the Threshold of Tribulation Transcendence. While lacking the innate genius to breach the Mahayana Stage, his ascension was considered inevitable, a ticking celestial clock.
Having faced Shi Hu's Tribulation-level fury, Zhao Rui knew the chasm between realms. Without the combined might of Yellow Springs' spirits fueling the Raksha's Bow, he'd have been dust beneath the wraith king's tread. Now, with only Dun Che beside him and Hua Yang's shadow stretching across this conflict…
"Prudence serves," Zhao Rui conceded, though the words tasted of ash.
Dun Che's snort rattled teacups. "Prudence? Let me snap that pissant Three Lives Abbot's neck! Who cares about some True Monarch's—"
The courtyard exploded.
Three Shi disciples crashed through paper screens, bloodied and limp.
A figure descended on qi-forged gusts—Daoist Tianqi of Three Lives Temple, his face a cartographer's nightmare: upturned nostrils framing yellowed buckteeth, beady eyes glinting beneath a crooked Taoist bun.
"Tianqi!" Shi Shen surged up, veins bulging at temples. "You dare assault our kin?"
The Daoist flicked invisible dust from azure sleeves. "Mice obstructing the path. Be grateful I spared their—"
Dun Che moved.
Air compressed like a thunderclap. The 300-pound fox demon crossed thirty paces in the space between Tianqi's blinks. His fist—a meteorite sheathed in orange fur—connected with a wet crunch.
Tianqi's nasal bridge imploded. He skidded across polished teak, trailing crimson.
"You—" Blood bubbled between split lips.
Dun Che's boot pinned his chest. "Who's the mouse now, eh?"
Zhao Rui sipped tea, observing Tianqi's qi pathways through lowered lashes. Outsourced Meridian stage at best. Pathetic for Three Lives' vanguard.
"Y-you…" Tianqi's remaining eye rolled wildly, finally registering Dun Che's suppressed aura. "C-Celestial Severing Stage?! Impossible! A beast like you—"
The boot descended. Ribs snapped like kindling.
"Apologize," Zhao Rui said mildly.
"I-I beg pardon! Mercy, venerable ones! This lowly worm—"
Dun Che's claws flexed. "Mercy's for rabbits. Let me peel his core out!"
"Enough." Zhao Rui set down his cup. The click froze the room. "Return to your abbot. Inform him the Jade Mine remains with Shi Clan. Should Three Lives Temple stir again…"
He flicked a tea leaf. It embedded itself in Tianqi's forehead, quivering.
"…We'll plant his spine as a boundary marker."
The Daoist's escape resembled a comet—if comets trailed urine and whimpers.
Yun Fang's laughter rang clear as temple bells. "His face when Dun Che struck! Like a stomped persimmon!"
Shi Shen massaged his brow. "This… complicates matters. Three Lives won't swallow this humiliation."
Zhao Rui watched Tianqi's receding speck. "Let them chew. Hua Yang won't move openly—not with the Heavenly Sword Sect eyeing his territories."
"You gamble with lives, Zhao Rui."
"All cultivation is gamble." He met the elder's glare. "But tell me—why does a True Monarch covet mortal-mined jade?"
Silence thickened.
Yun Fang traced the rim of her cup. "The Sky-Crystal veins… they're not natural. Workers reported… visions. A woman's voice in the deep shafts. Singing."
Dun Che's ears twitched. "Ghost?"
"Something older." She produced a palm-sized ore chunk. Veined within the jade pulsed a crimson thread—alive.
Zhao Rui's fingertips brushed the stone. The God-Sealing Tome in his spatial pouch thrummed.
Blood of the Earth Mother.
Hua Yang's motives crystallized. This wasn't mere resource plunder.
Somewhere beneath Yunnan's mountains slept a Primordial Spirit—and Three Lives Temple meant to harvest it.