Deep in the woods of Little Ink Mountain, a man dressed as a woodcutter wound through trees of every size. His brow was knotted and bark‑like, his eyes dull with hardship. A bundle of firewood rode his back; an axe hung in one calloused hand. Anyone who saw him would assume a heavy‑burdened family waited at home, that his life was nothing but grind and worry. In truth, the woodcutter was Li Yuan, wearing a disguise granted by his Mortal World Transformation. He spent nearly every day refining the skill. He studied bones and flesh, memorizing the tiny ways people differed, striving to become the person he copied. A trace of dissonance lingered, yes. He lacked the original man’s memories and reflexes, but the disguise was solid enough to fool anyone. Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by novel{f}ire.net It was late July. The mountain stood lush and riotous. Li Yuan tilted his head, watching birds wheel overhead, choosing suitable pairs of eyes. By the next day, he’d picked out fifteen. With a susurrus of wings, his scouts took flight. Li Yuan sat beside a spring, fished out a plain wheat bun, and ate it with cold mountain water. This time he decided to play it safe. After sending his fifteen eyes to the outskirts of Gemhill County, he ordered every bird to look down at its own talons and simply use its ears. The birds were only conduits; in truth, it was little different from standing there himself. Through that living network he listened, layers of sound rolling in like overlapping tides. The Emperor and the Lotus Cult were acting strangely, and right now they were tangling with the Five Elements Alliance. Hidden in the dark, Li Yuan could eavesdrop at leisure. Two days later, deep in the mountains, he suddenly frowned. A familiar voice crackled through the noise. It was bright with pride and excitement. The owner was his father-in-law, Zhu Ban. More gasps followed, then hurried footsteps. “Vice Cult Leader,” Zhu Ban said. “No need for formality, Master Zhu,” a stranger replied. “You’ve absorbed the Great Zhou Treasury’s secrets and made them work. From today on you outrank me. I may have to salute you.” “Don’t forget our bargain,” Zhu Ban answered, voice hard. “I want Qing Hancheng eliminated.” “Of course,” the man said, almost smiling. Steel rang. Then came the clatter of many feet. The place was filling up. Curiosity got the better of Li Yuan; he let one bird climb above the treetops and glide toward the voices. Half an incense‑stick later, he was greeted by the sight of a hidden hollow fed by a clear spring, packed with forges, bellows, and anvils. More than a thousand smiths stood at rigid attention, hammers in hand, eyes blazing with reverence for the gray‑robed man at their head, Zhu Ban. Beside him, swathed in black, stood Peng Guang, vice leader of the Black Lotus Cult. A decade had passed and his strength was still stuck near fourth rank. Opposite them waited 20 fifth ranks. They were a mix of cultists, imperial agents, and recent high‑fliers from every corner of the land. Even Zhao Chunxin was among them. One by one they lifted the weapons set out by Zhu Ban and probed them with their shadow blood. After a while, one man bowed deeply. “Master Zhu, my thanks.” Another turned to a comrade. “What a blade. This will boost my power no end.” A third, half‑awed, half‑incredulous, began, “Master Zhu forged 20 different spirit artifacts at once. The drain on his mind must—” Peng Guang cut him off with a brisk wave. “Enough. Do you think you can fathom Master Zhu’s craft?” The 20 fifth ranks leapt away. The weapons wouldn’t be ready until they’d hung for ten months in a place teeming with human breath. Fortunately, the great war wasn’t due until then anyway. Zhao Chunxin cradled a red‑hot executioner’s blade, delight shining on her face. She could feel the power inside it; with this blade, her own strength would leap forward. When the others had gone, Peng Guang’s concern finally showed. “Master Zhu, are you all right?” Zhu Ban stroked his beard, pride undimmed. “Once, no. But since I grasped the true way of forging, spirit iron is no different from common steel. If I wish to make it, I make it.” “And fourth rank weapons?” Peng Guang asked. Peng Guang blinked, then broke into unrestrained joy. “Want it? Of course I want it!” He paused, sobering. “But first, the Emperor has summoned you. He said that if you succeeded, you were to be brought before him. The cult leader sent me ahead to await the outcome.” “The Emperor?” Zhu Ban frowned. “What does he want with me?” “Must be good news. Gather your things; I’ll escort you.” Even as he spoke, Peng Guang’s unease grew. He lifted his head, scanning the sky. Clouds drifted, and among them a lone wild bird wheeled. At once his gaze locked on it. The bird looked ordinary enough, yet it had been circling overhead for far too long. But the bird was crafty. It soared high, drifting farther and farther out. It was already six kilometers away; Peng Guang’s reach couldn’t possibly swat it from here. He had half a mind to give chase, then shuddered, remembering the incident that occurred during last month’s imperial ritual. The scene had left every powerhouse present grave and silent; when he’d gone back to investigate, the scorch in the air, the lingering blade qi, was still there days later. That kind of terrifying power shook him to the core. “What’s wrong?” Zhu Ban asked. “Nothing,” Peng Guang said quickly. “Let me take you to His Majesty.” As for the bird, well, who cared now? Even bird hunting depended on the owner. Peng Guang could vaporize the creature, sure, but its master looked quite capable of vaporizing him. Better report the anomaly and keep breathing. “Hmm…” Li Yuan listened on with an amused smile. It was a pleasant surprise indeed. With scientific curiosity and a gambler’s boldness, he made the bird dip lower and lower, circling right above Peng Guang’s head. A Lotus Cult disciple shouted, “Vice Cult Leader, that bird’s not right. It must be the work of an undying husk!” Another disciple yanked something from his belt, muttering, “Spying over our heads? Let me—” “Stand down!” Peng Guang barked, glaring. The disciple blinked in confusion. “That bird is fine,” Peng Guang insisted. Far off, Li Yuan chuckled. “So flashing a bit of muscle last month did earn me a few perks. ” He sent two more birds swooping in. Three of them hovered in formation over Peng Guang’s head. Peng Guang’s jaw clenched. Even Zhu Ban noticed now. “Those three birds are definitely a problem.” “Relax, Master Zhu. It’s no problem at all,” Peng Guang said with a brittle laugh. One bird promptly settled on his shoulder, strutting, craning its neck to spy every step the Lotus Cult disciples took. Peng Guang swallowed, color flushing up his face. Intolerable! This was absolutely intolerable! “Heh heh! Don’t worry, Master Zhu. It’s just an old acquaintance. An old acquaintance, that’s all.” His smile looked painted on. Zhu Ban merely nodded.