The next morning, as the first light touched the rooftops of Zhuyun Town, Lin Rui's newly-dubbed "Mortal Anomaly Investigation Squad" quietly assembled.
After a brief meeting, they went their separate ways. The plan was to investigate individually during the morning hours before resuming their usual routines in the afternoon—Lin Rui to his alchemy, Baobao to his recipes, Xu Yu to his studies, and Youyan to her work with Lin Yueyao on the ceremonial formations.
That evening, they reconvened in Lin Rui's small courtyard to share what they had found.
Lin Baobao spoke first, his usually cheerful face taut with seriousness. "I confirmed four or five new cases of 'mortal anomalies' in the market, on top of the ones we knew. Everyone who fell ill had contact with a few strangers, outsiders by their accents. People say they're acting suspiciously—creeping deep into the bamboo forest, showing an unnatural interest in old trees and strange rocks."
"I spoke with the old etiquette instructor at the Lin family school," Xu Yu said next. "He told me heretical arts like the 'Blood Oath False-Pact' thrive in places thick with yin energy, or at ley line nodes. With the upcoming Bamboo-Whisper Prayer Festival, the volatile mix of mortal desires and swirling energies makes it easier to provoke a response from… certain entities."
He produced a talisman from his robes, its paper covered in dense script. "The instructor gave me this. It details simple methods for disrupting such rituals—using items with strong yang energy, for example. It's a specially made evil-warding talisman. He said it might be useful."
"I inspected the abandoned altar," Qu Youyan added, her voice cool. "It's been swept clean. Too clean for a place that's meant to be derelict. I found traces of fresh animal blood in the cracks of the stones—not much, likely from something small."
She opened her palm, revealing fragments of a charred bamboo slip. "And this. The markings are nearly identical to the 'False-Pact Runes' in Xu Yu's book. They have a faint, peculiar scent, like 'Soul-Guiding Grass.' I also sensed a weak formation fluctuating beneath the altar, as if power is being secretly gathered there."
"Shopkeeper Wang at Hundred Herbs Hall confirmed it," Lin Rui said last, his voice low. "Outsiders have been asking for forbidden components. 'Blood Ganoderma,' 'Soul-Guiding Grass'..."
The pieces clicked into place. The strangers. The sick townsfolk. The unnaturally clean altar and its hidden formation. The forbidden herbs. It all pointed to one, horrifying conclusion.
Lin Rui voiced it, a chill in his tone. "They're planning to use that altar. On the day of the Bamboo-Whisper Prayer Festival, they're going to perform a large-scale 'Mortal Spirit-Pact' ritual."
The gravity of the situation settled upon them. This was far beyond the capabilities of a few low-level cultivators.
After some discussion, Xu Yu took up a brush and compiled all their findings—clues, speculations, and a rubbing of the charred 'False-Pact Runes'—onto two detailed scrolls. One was dispatched to the Zhuyun Town branch of the Celestial Law Division. The other, using the subtle connection Lin Rui had established with Feng Baiye, was delivered to the Xuanfa Hall.
Their hope was that these official bodies would intervene and prevent the impending crisis.
Three days passed. Nothing happened.
Zhuyun Town remained oblivious, humming with festive preparation. Their reports had vanished without a trace, like stones dropped into a vast sea. At the Celestial Law Division, the foreman in charge had supposedly "caught a chill" and was "recuperating behind closed doors." The Xuanfa Hall was, as ever, an enigma, offering only silence.
In the courtyard, Lin Baobao stomped his foot in frustration.
"Useless! What kind of efficiency is this? They just don't want to deal with it! Are they waiting for people to start dying before they finally do something?"
"The Celestial Law Division has always been bogged down by process," Xu Yu said gravely. "This involves heretical arts; they'll need time to verify the claims. As for Xuanfa Hall... their ways are not for us to guess."
Qu Youyan's gaze was cold. "We don't have time. The Bamboo-Whisper Prayer Festival is tomorrow."
The fourth day arrived, and with it, the festival.
Morning sun pierced the thin mist, casting its light on the bluestone streets of Zhuyun Town. Stalls already lined the roads, their wares on full display: bamboo carvings, woven crafts, and wind chimes made from 'Azure Jade Bamboo' that tinkled melodiously in the breeze. The air was thick with the aroma of freshly cooked bamboo-tube rice, while folk artists played elegant bamboo flutes to rounds of applause. A joyous peace settled over the town.
The bamboo forest north of town was even more crowded.
The festival's main altar, a temporary structure, had been erected in a clearing at the edge of the bamboo sea. Built with pillars of massive azure jade bamboo and adorned with colorful silk ribbons and prayer-inscribed tablets, it was a grand sight. Green smoke curled from incense burners as devotees offered their prayers for favorable winds, gentle rains, and a bountiful bamboo harvest.
At the designated hour, Lin Yueyao ascended the altar. She wore the moon-white uniform of an inner-hall disciple, embroidered with a delicate dark bamboo-leaf pattern, and was escorted by several solemn-faced family deacons. Today, she represented the Lin family as the main officiant. A single azure jade bamboo hairpin held her hair in a high bun, and her beautiful face was tinged with gravity—a reflection, perhaps, of the approaching 'Azure Tea Ancestor Worship Ceremony' and the family's increasingly complex internal politics.
Below the altar, representatives from the Zhao, Yin, and Wang families had gathered in their respective sections. They exchanged nods, the atmosphere still amicable. Wang Ruohan stood among the Wang family delegation, his new, royal-blue brocade robe making him appear even more handsome. His gaze, however, kept drifting to the edge of the crowd, searching. When his eyes finally met something—or someone—in the distance, an indescribable complexity flashed across his face.
When the auspicious moment arrived, a low-level clerk from the Celestial Law Division announced the start of the ceremony.
The sound of bamboo flutes rose once more, their tune more ancient and solemn than the music in the market. Lin Yueyao stepped forward gracefully and took three specially made 'wind-prayer incense' sticks from a deacon. After lighting them, she placed them respectfully into the main burner. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she sprinkled a handful of 'azure bamboo incense powder'—a blend of tender 'Cloud-Mist Spirit Sprout' leaves and crushed azure jade bamboo—into a bronze basin. A clean, unique fragrance filled the air, refreshing the minds of all who inhaled it.
Her cool voice rang out across the altar. "May the Celestial Dao show mercy. May the wind spirits grant their protection. Bless our Zhuyun with favorable winds, gentle rains, a lush bamboo harvest, and peace for all people!"
The crowd roared in approval. Several agile Lin family disciples then carried up a massive kite, woven from bamboo into the lifelike shape of an azure bird. Lin Yueyao took one of the colorful silk strings, and together with the other family representatives, they released the 'Azure Bird Kite' into the sky amid the sound of drums and music, carrying the wishes of the entire town aloft.
As cheers erupted, the festive atmosphere reached its peak.
But behind this facade of joyous celebration, Lin Rui, Lin Baobao, Xu Yu, and Qu Youyan had no heart for the spectacle. They had already slipped away from the crowd, following a little-known hunter's path on the western edge of the forest. Moss-covered and hidden, it led them deep into the sea of bamboo.
Their target was the forgotten ancient altar. Every face was etched with a grim vigilance, a stark contrast to the festival's cheer.
"Judging by the sound, the official ceremony has started," Lin Baobao whispered, his ears twitching.
Xu Yu tightened the strap of his book bag. "If something goes wrong, at least we can signal for help."
Qu Youyan pointed toward a darker patch of forest ahead. "Through those black-joint bamboos. We should be close. Watch your step. The earth-qi here feels… wrong."
Lin Rui took a deep breath, the damp air thick with the smell of soil and decay. He nodded, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's. "Stay alert. Stick to the plan. We stop them today, no matter what."
Deep in the bamboo forest, the mist was thicker, the light dimmer. The silence was broken only by the rustle of leaves and their own deliberately quiet footsteps.
Thanks to Qu Youyan's meticulous map and Lin Baobao's hound-like tracking of the residual strange odors, the group bypassed several suspicious areas that seemed to have been tampered with. They finally reached a high, bamboo-covered slope. From there, several dozen yards below, they had a clear view of the abandoned altar nestled among a grove of twisted, ancient bamboo.
The sight that greeted them made all four gasp.
The abandoned altar was even more sinister than Qu Youyan remembered.
In its center stood a figure draped in a wide, black robe, a ferocious bronze beast mask hiding his face. This was the "Pact-Initiator." His hands were raised high, his voice a strange, droning chant that was neither song nor roar. His robe was embroidered with writhing, dark-red runes that pulsed with a malevolent energy so palpable it could stop a man's heart.
Scattered around him stood a dozen mortals. Their faces were a mask of fanatical vacancy, their eyes hollow as if their very souls had been scooped out. Lin Baobao even recognized one: "Madman Qi," the beggar he'd seen foaming at the mouth in the market.
The ritual was already underway.
One by one, as if pulled by invisible strings, the mortals stepped onto the altar. Guided by the Pact-Initiator, each picked up a gleaming dagger carved from some kind of beast bone and, without hesitation, sliced open their own wrist. Crimson blood gushed into a man-high stone basin at the heart of the altar.
The basin churned with a viscous, ink-like liquid that bubbled with black gas. A thick, nauseating stench of blood and rot hung in the air, so potent it reached them even dozens of yards away.
Lin Baobao clutched his nose, his stomach churning. "Ugh… that's worse than a dead loach in a sewer."
With every drop of blood, the black energy in the basin grew denser. The Pact-Initiator's chant climbed higher, more piercing. He would use the bone dagger to scoop a writhing black "mark" from the basin and, with lightning speed, strike it onto the forehead of the mortal who had just offered their blood.
The moment the mark hit, the mortal would tremble violently, their eyes bulging with a bizarre mix of agony and ecstasy. A wave of tyrannical power, far beyond that of a normal human, would erupt from their body, strong enough to rustle the surrounding bamboo leaves. But in the same instant, their faces would turn paper-white, as if their life force had been siphoned away.
"This spiritual energy… it's so foul," Qu Youyan whispered, her brow furrowed. "Heretical. The complete opposite of the pure energy at the festival. This place is suffused with an aura of death and plunder."
Lin Rui's gaze, however, was locked on the bronze-masked figure. He noticed that with each "offering," a greedy red light glinted from behind the man's mask. The runes on his robe glowed brighter, as if feeding.
"The core of the ritual is that basin," Lin Rui whispered, his mind racing. "And the Pact-Initiator himself. We have to interrupt him or destroy it." He scanned the terrain, mapping the positions of the "mortal spirit-pact bearers," searching for an opening.
But just as his eyes flickered, ready to give the signal—
The Pact-Initiator's head whipped around, as if he had eyes in the back of his skull. Two cold, sinister points of light shot from behind the mask, pinning them to their hiding spot on the slope.
"Jie-jie-jie…" A sharp cackle, like a night owl's shriek, echoed from the mask. "A few little bugs, daring to spy on my 'gifting' ceremony? Since you're here, you can be the first offering for them!"
He swung his arm.
Instantly, the eyes of the dozen newly empowered mortals turned blood-red. Low, bestial growls rumbled in their throats. The raw power they had just obtained erupted as they launched themselves forward, the very ground cracking beneath their charge.
"ROAR—!"
Like a pack of enraged beasts, the mind-controlled puppets surged toward the squad's hiding place, a wave of suffocating pressure rolling ahead of them.
In that critical instant, Qu Youyan reacted fastest.
With a flick of her wrist, several glowing formation flags shot out, landing with precision around them.
"Azure Bamboo Bewildering Formation, activate!" she cried. Light flared from the flags, connecting into a shimmering web. The surrounding bamboo shadows blurred and distorted, creating a disorienting maze that momentarily trapped the first few charging mortals.
She didn't stop. Her hands formed a new seal, and yellowish-brown energy surged from her. "[Kun-Yuan · Earthen Barrier]!"
Thick earthen walls erupted from the ground, buying them a precious second to breathe.
Xu Yu was already moving. He pulled several yellow talismans from his robes, chanting as he channeled spiritual energy into them.
"Take this!" He threw an [Earth-Binding Stone Golem Talisman]. The ground trembled, and three hulking figures of mud and gravel staggered to their feet. They immediately drew the attention of two puppets, who roared and charged. Xu Yu didn't waste the opening, casting a [Slowing Talisman] followed by an [Entangling Talisman]. With a flash of yellow light, the feet of several puppets were suddenly mired, their movements sluggish as illusory green vines wrapped around their ankles.
Lin Baobao took a deep breath and began rummaging frantically through the [Hundred-Flavors Pouch] at his waist. "You lot, neither human nor ghost, have a taste of my power!" He grabbed a fistful of colorful powder—a custom blend of 'Ghost-Repelling Chili Powder' and 'Hundred-Year Aged Vinegar Essence' he called 'Life-Reaping Soul-Scattering Powder'—and flung it at the face of a burly puppet leading the charge.
"Achoo! Cough, cough!" Choking on the powder, the man staggered back, tears and snot streaming down his face as he clawed at his eyes, his attack completely broken.
Confidence surging, Baobao pulled out a sticky, yellowish block of 'Thousand-Year Malt Candy' and hurled it with all his might, catching another puppet square in the eyes. "AARGH!" Blinded, the puppet flailed wildly, accidentally knocking over a companion.
Lin Rui, meanwhile, moved like a swift dart through a stormy sea. He relied on the hard-won combat instincts of his past life and the agility granted by his [Azurewood Heart Chant], weaving between the puppets with inches to spare. Their strength was immense, their speed unnatural, but their movements were stiff, uncoordinated—nothing more than brute force.
Now a first-stage Mystic Art Enlightenment cultivator, the faint wisp of 'Azurewood Vitality' in his body wasn't enough for powerful spells, but it had made his perception of life force exceptionally keen.
As he dodged and weaved, he focused this sense and soon found it. Tied to each puppet's wrist by a scarlet thread was a small tube carved from 'Yin-Sinking Bamboo.' The thread pulsed with the same malevolent energy as the Pact-Initiator. This had to be the weak point.
His eyes narrowed. Spotting an opening, he ducked under a swinging arm and, with a flick of his wrist, snapped the red string on a puppet's wrist.
SNAP!
The string broke.
"AAAAHH—!" The man shrieked, a blood-curdling sound. The violent power in his body deflated like a popped balloon. The red light in his eyes died, and he collapsed, twitching uncontrollably.
"It works!" Lin Rui shouted to Xu Yu. "The signal! Now! If this drags on, we're dead!"
"Got it!" Xu Yu pulled a 'Cloud-Piercing Signal Arrow' from his robes—a common distress signal in Zhuyun Town designed to burst into a unique azure firework. He lit the fuse. With a piercing whistle, a streak of azure light shot skyward and exploded with a bang, forming a large character for 'HELP' against the misty grey sky.
But at the main altar, the festival was at its peak.
Lin Yueyao and the other family representatives were releasing a cascade of small, prayer-bearing sky lanterns. The heavens were a dazzling chaos of color and light. The whistle of the signal arrow and the azure cry for help were swallowed by the cacophony. Even if someone caught a glimpse, they would likely dismiss it as just another family adding to the festivities.
Among the Wang family crowd, Wang Ting smacked his lips, admiring the display. "Ruohan, look at these fireworks," he said, turning habitually to share the moment. "Almost as good as the ones at the Green-Weave City Hundred-Crafts Expo, right? You were just a kid then, you insisted on—" He trailed off. Wang Ruohan was gone.
Wang Ting frowned, scanning the nearby disciples, then the other family sections. No sign of him.
"Where'd that brat run off to?" he muttered, a flicker of unease in his heart.
Back at the abandoned altar, the Pact-Initiator's rage was boiling over. Seeing his "gifts" being dismantled by low-level brats with such crude tricks was an unbearable insult.
"Useless! A pack of useless trash!" he roared, his patience shattered. He would deal with them himself.
His black robe billowed as he snatched a handful of foul-smelling black powder from a shriveled leather pouch at his waist and flung it into the center of the fray.
WHOOSH—!
The black powder dispersed, becoming a pale-yellow mist that spread rapidly through the wind. Lin Baobao caught the first mouthful. Dizziness hit him instantly, his legs turning to jelly.
"Ugh... what is this stuff... it stinks... head's spinning..."
Lin Rui felt a tightness in his chest. The [Azurewood Vitality] in his body circulated on its own, managing to dispel some of the poison, but his spiritual energy flow became noticeably sluggish.
"Hold your breath! It's poison!" Lin Rui shouted, waving a sleeve to fan the mist away while keeping his eyes locked on the Pact-Initiator.
The man's cultivation was already at the initial stage of Heart Incantation, his movements bizarre and unpredictable. He flickered through the bamboo forest like a ghost, his steps so light they didn't stir a single leaf. A foot-long, deathly-white bone spike had appeared in his hand, its tip glowing with a faint green light—clearly coated in a deadly toxin.
"Be careful!" Qu Youyan cried, a moment too late.
The Pact-Initiator teleported behind Lin Baobao. Dizzy and disoriented, Baobao was a helpless target.
In a flash, Qu Youyan gritted her teeth and shoved him aside, but she couldn't evade the attack completely herself.
SCHLICK!
The bone spike tore through her uniform, carving a deep gash in her left shoulder, down to the bone. Blood bloomed across the dark fabric.
"Ugh!" Qu Youyan let out a muffled grunt, her face turning chalk-white. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead, but she remained standing.
"Youyan!" Lin Rui and Xu Yu cried out in unison.
Xu Yu had already exhausted his last few protection talismans in the earlier chaos. Now, he could only watch in anguish, brandishing a common short sword as he tried to block the remaining puppets.
The Pact-Initiator let out a triumphant shriek. "Jie-jie, overestimating your strength, little girl! Who's next?" His eyes landed on Lin Rui. He seemed to sense the unique, vibrant vitality radiating from him—the perfect nourishment for his heretical arts.
With another flicker, he appeared less than three feet from Lin Rui. The poisoned spike, trailing a cold, sinister wind, stabbed for his heart.
Lin Rui's pupils contracted. He pushed his [Azurewood Heart Chant] to its limit, his Cloud Steps twisting sharply to avoid the fatal blow, but the spike still grazed his side, leaving a searing pain.
Just as the Pact-Initiator sneered, preparing to deliver the final strike to his "delicious" prey—
A figure descended from the sky, as cold as the winter moon, carrying an aura of bone-chilling frost. They moved like lightning, leaving only a faint, silvery afterimage as they landed between the two.
A clear voice, like an ice pearl striking a jade plate, rang out with absolute authority. "Audacious fiend! To perform such a heaven-defying art in our Zhuyun Town! Today, you will die."
The newcomer held a crystalline umbrella painted with a scene of plum blossoms in the snow, their posture aloof and elegant.
It was Wang Ruohan.
The Pact-Initiator staggered back, shocked by the sudden appearance and the sheer spiritual pressure rolling off this newcomer, which was even stronger than his own.
Wang Ruohan didn't spare Lin Rui a glance. His gaze was glacial as he spun the Frost-Rime Umbrella in his hand, an incantation flowing from his lips like pearls.
"By northern snow and winter plum, by proud bone and fragrant bloom, let a thousand points of ice take form, and scatter to the eight winds!"
As the words ended, his hands formed a series of elegant, rapid seals—the 'Snow-Condensing Seal,' the 'Flower-Scattering Finger.' The painting on the umbrella erupted in a brilliant, cold light. The plum blossoms seemed to come alive, greedily absorbing the moisture in the air and Wang Ruohan's own pure, ice-ascribed spiritual energy.
In an instant, hundreds, thousands of ice-crystal plum blossoms, each as thin as a cicada's wing and sharp as a razor, condensed from thin air.
"[Winter Plum's Blossom · Scattered Flowers]!"
With an elegant flick of his wrist, Wang Ruohan raised the Frost-Rime Umbrella. The blizzard of ice-crystal plum blossoms surged forward, guided by an unseen force. They whistled through the air, sweeping toward the Pact-Initiator and the few remaining puppets.
Wherever the ice blossoms passed, the temperature plummeted. A layer of white frost bloomed instantly on the bamboo leaves.
The Pact-Initiator let out a strange cry, recognizing the terrifying power of the attack. He retreated rapidly, throwing up a black bone shield to protect himself. The puppets, however, were not so lucky. They were engulfed by the avalanche of ice.
Puchi-puchi-puchi!
Their movements stiffened, a thick layer of rime encasing their bodies. In the blink of an eye, they were transformed into lifelike ice sculptures, their faces frozen in masks of agony and rage.
Even the Pact-Initiator was caught off guard. His bone shield was spiderwebbed with fine cuts, and a few blossoms slipped past his defense, drawing black blood from the wounds. The biting cold made him grit his teeth.
Wang Ruohan swept a cold glance over Lin Rui's group, his expression unchanging, as if they were no different from the frozen puppets.
Knowing he was outmatched, the Pact-Initiator let out a series of guttural, unintelligible sounds—some ancient, heretical curse.
"Void... space... guide... cross... escape... formless..."
His hands flew through a twisted, complex seal. The space around him began to ripple as a blurry rift tore open behind him.
A cold smirk touched Wang Ruohan's lips. "Trying to run?"
With a soft crack, a layer of translucent ice formed at his feet, only to shatter the next instant into countless fine crystals.
[Rippling Steps on Snow]!
His figure flashed, a silvery phantom shrinking the distance between them in an instant. He appeared before the Pact-Initiator so quickly he seemed to leave an afterimage hanging in the air.
Before a terrified whimper could escape the man's throat, the Frost-Rime Umbrella let out a soft clang. The ribs of the umbrella contracted, the canopy collapsing, transforming it in a heartbeat into a deadly blade that glinted with a bone-chilling light.
A flash of cold steel.
SQUELCH!
A head, still wearing its bronze mask, flew through the air in a spray of foul blood. It rolled to a stop on the ground. The headless, black-robed body swayed for a moment before collapsing with a thud. The spatial rift behind it vanished without a trace.
Lin Rui, Lin Baobao, Xu Yu, and Qu Youyan froze, their eyes wide with disbelief.
That... was it?
From the moment Wang Ruuhan appeared to the instant the heretic's head left his body, only a few breaths had passed.
This was the first time Lin Rui had witnessed the true power of the Wang family's prodigy up close. The gorgeous yet lethal techniques, the cultivation that far surpassed his peers, the effortless confidence in every move—it was a display of the profound foundation that only a core disciple from a great family could possess.
This was a true cultivator's battle. Compared to their own desperate brawl, it was the difference between heaven and earth.