She hadn’t forgotten the little blue flowers blooming in Yan Buzhi’s spiritual sea. Though she had painstakingly uprooted them all the last time, it was better to check again, just in case.

Yin Qingle moved swiftly. The moment their foreheads touched, her consciousness disconnected from the outside world.

Her body went limp, her awareness slipping away, leaving her unable to see the expression on Yan Bizhi’s face.

The composed cultivator, who had seemed so in control mere moments ago, transformed in an instant. He tightened his arms around the girl in his embrace, pressing his lips to the corners of her eyes, licking away the tears that had welled up. With tender care, he kissed her cheeks, the corners of her lips, his fingertips tracing her form as he undid the sash at her waist, as if desperate to memorize every inch of her.

Like a hypocritical miser, he played the part of a refined gentleman in public, only daring to retreat into the shadows when alone, greedily clutching his most treasured possession, caressing it over and over without end.

Within the depths of Yan Buzhi’s spiritual sea, Yin Qingle steadied her mind, lifting the hem of her blue dress as she stepped toward the expanse of dark, inky waters.

As she drew near, her brows lifted in surprise, a delighted smile spreading across her face. The once-monochrome black sea had taken on new hues, and a sliver of light peeked through the horizon.

Could this be my doing? Yin Qingle covered her mouth, her excitement growing.

A cultivator’s spiritual sea was both a sanctuary protecting their consciousness and a reflection of their Dao heart. Yin Qingle remembered that Chang Andao’s Dao name was Xiao Yaoyou (Free and Unfettered Wandering), and the book had described his spiritual sea as a vast scroll of heaven and earth, where a peng transformed into a roc and soared across the endless skies. She wondered what this lifeless black sea of Yan Buzhi’s would become in the future.

If she had known a single kiss would have such an effect, she wouldn’t have stopped so soon. She should have kissed him until he bloomed like a withered tree revived by spring.

Her gaze shifted, and there, on the sandy shore, she spotted the familiar little blue flowers again.

Her earlier joy deflated. With a sigh, she rolled up her sleeves and marched toward the shore, crouching down to begin uprooting the weeds. She had no idea how these flowers had infiltrated Yan Buzhi’s spiritual sea, nor did she know how to eradicate them completely. For now, all she could do was pull out as many as possible.

The task went smoothly. Before long, only a few scattered blue flowers remained. Yin Qingle’s spirit was exhausted, but she straightened up with a satisfied breath, striding confidently toward the last little flower.

She reached out, pinching the stem between her fingers. However, before she could pull, the petals suddenly twisted, morphing into vine-like tendrils that lashed out, swiftly coiling around her wrist.

Yin Qingle let out a sharp cry, but before she could flee, the tendrils yanked her downward, dragging her out of the spiritual sea in an instant and plunging her into an abyss she had never seen before.

She saw a sea of flowers—vast stretches of deep blue spreading endlessly through the void. Above the floral expanse, something hovered, its form so immense she couldn’t grasp its entirety, only the very edges of it.

A mass of flesh, blooming with flowers, writhing, impossible to describe in words.

A thing that did not belong to this world.

“You—”

A sound not born from vocal cords.

The flesh twisted, mimicking human speech: “You—where—did you go?”

“Where—did you all—go—?”

“I couldn’t find you—”

“—worried about—you.”

Yin Qingle finally snapped out of her trembling state. She scrambled up from the ground in a panic, turning to flee without a second thought. Like that thing, she didn’t belong to this plane of existence. If it could drag her consciousness here, she could run away from it.

The oppressive aura behind her grew stronger. Vines adorned with beautiful, delicate flowers shot forward, trying to seize her hands and feet, intent on dragging her back into the endless abyss. Yin Qingle didn’t look back. She just kept running, convinced she could escape this nightmarish place.

Finally, the sounds behind her faded. As Yin Qingle broke free from the void and returned to Yan Buzhi’s consciousness, she only caught a whisper carried away by the wind.

“Mi…ne—”

Half-asleep, she seemed to see herself—a young girl lying peacefully in bed. A white-robed cultivator sat by her side, a faint smile on his lips. It should have been a sweet scene, but she felt as though her soul had been violently ripped from her body, separated by an invisible barrier, unable to merge back in.

Suddenly, the phone on the bedside table lit up.

Lines of text popped up, appearing before Yin Qingle’s eyes.

[Warning—]

[Foreign entity detected again.]

[Warning: Foreign entity detected again. Scanning in progress. Be alert for secondary intrusion.]

[Advice: Remember your identity. Remember your existence. Do not be influenced by the other foreign entity.]

At the break of dawn, Qiao Rui knocked on the door. She had changed into a maiden’s attire, looking much younger than before.

In one hand, she held a food box; in the other, a bamboo basket. Behind her stood two cultivators. “That young lady is a mortal, so she should eat on time. I took the liberty of bringing some food.”

She then gestured to the two behind her, “These are the two people the lady requested. Madam asked me to bring them along.”

Inside the room, Yin Qingle had already changed out of her wedding robes and into a blue cultivator’s gown. She lay weakly on the bed, her heart still pounding from fright.

She was clutching Yan Buzhi’s hand, trembling as she described her dream. “…I was so scared. I really thought I was going to be completely devoured by it. My body didn’t react at all?”

When she saw Qiao Rui enter, she immediately fell silent, forcing a smile. “Miss Qiao! Brother Chang and Sister Wen!”

The two cultivators behind Qiao Rui were none other than Wen and Chang. From the moment they entered the main gate of Zeyu City, they had been politely received. Though their cultivation levels appeared mediocre, both had concealed their true strength. They immediately realized the figures welcoming them weren’t real people but simulated puppets.

Chang Andao, displeased, declared they should leave and follow the lustful ghosts to find Ah Le. Wen Ruyue, however, had been investigating several spots in the city. She seemed to have discovered something but couldn’t quite put it into words. Anxious, she agreed with Chang Andao’s suggestion.

Just as they were about to leave, the puppets suddenly collapsed in unison. A barrier unfolded, and a mortal girl stepped out, bowing to them.

“You two, Madam requests your presence.”

And so, the two were led into the sacrificial hall—a place that bore no resemblance to the exterior of Zeyu City.

“Ah Le.” Chang Andao remained relatively composed. Seeing Yin Qingle, he even found the energy to joke. “This is a real ghostly place, full of filthy things. Nearly scared me to death. Huh? Why is Fellow Daoist Yan here too?”

Yin Qingle looked at Chang Andao, her emotions complicated.

She jumped off the bed, wanting to ask about the Immortal Lord Qingya. But with so many people around, she swallowed her words.

Qiao Rui set down the food box and lifted the bamboo basket:

“These are the items you requested.”

Nine Yin Wood.

The phone’s location was still active. Yin Qingle had already seen the message on her phone. To prevent any unforeseen changes, she had added all three of her companions to the [Marked] list.

Hearing Qiao Rui’s words, Yin Qingle quickly pulled Yan Buzhi over to take a look. Inside the bamboo basket lay a sinisterlooking wooden block carved into the shape of a demonic ghost. Yin Qingle hesitated for a long moment before finally mustering the courage to pick it up.

“This really doesn’t look like something edible or usable for alchemy…” she muttered, staring wide-eyed at the wooden demon carving.

“This thing…” Chang Andao seemed to sense something and turned to look as well. “I think I’ve seen it in my master’s illustrated manual… Why are you looking at me like that, Fellow Daoist Yan? It’s weird.”

At the mention of Qingya, Yan Buzhi’s eyes cooled slightly. He turned to face Chang Andao: “The revered Immortal Lord Qingya has long secluded herself in the Wuxiang Sword Sect, transcending worldly affairs. Would she really take an interest in such mundane objects?”

“That’s just baseless gossip spread by other cultivators to exaggerate things. My master isn’t as aloof as you think,” Chang Andao retorted, displeased. “Besides, she often travels around the cultivation world, seemingly searching for something. The last time she returned, she brought back a spiritual object called… Jade Orchid Branch.”

“What did you say?!” Yin Qingle’s eyes widened, her voice suddenly rising.

Chang Andao was startled. After a long pause, he stammered, “J-Jade Orchid Branch. That’s what my master called it. Have you heard of it too, Sister Ah Le?”

Yin Qingle’s head spun with excitement. She nearly leaped forward to grab Chang Andao’s hands, asking earnestly, “Can you introduce me to the revered Immortal Lord Qingya? I have urgent business with her.”

Mindful of the earlier testimony from the other cultivator, she suppressed her excitement and asked, “Do you know why Immortal Lord Qingya is searching for these things?”

“No idea.”

“After Immortal Lord Qingya took you as her disciple, did she ever contact the Xuanchi Sect?”

“No idea…”

“Brother Chang, how do you know nothing?!” Yin Qingle’s face darkened in exasperation.

Chang Andao scratched his head sheepishly. “Maybe my master sheltered me too much. Aside from cultivation, she never let me do anything else.”

“But it’s fine. I’ve already notified my master and reported the location of the sacrificial hall to her. If you have any questions, you can ask her directly when she arrives. My master might seem stern, but she’s actually very approachable,” Chang Andao said with a grin.

Unable to extract any more information, Yin Qingle could only agree reluctantly. She tugged at Yan Buzhi’s sleeve. “When she arrives, you should talk to her properly. Don’t just start a fight.”

Though she knew the worldview of Asking the Heavens differed greatly from her own understanding. Seeing Chang Andao’s character align so perfectly with the book also made it hard for her to believe his earlier claims.

Yan Buzhi lowered his gaze to meet hers and nodded in agreement. He took the wooden carving from Yin Qingle and stored it in his spatial pouch, his demeanor calm, giving no hint of how much importance he placed on the object.

He accepted the food box from Qiao Rui, thanked her politely, and opened it. His fingertips lightly brushed over the contents as he circulated his spiritual energy to inspect it, only then allowing the wariness in his eyes to fade. Smiling, he turned to Yin Qingle. “Are you hungry?”

“I am,” Yin Qingle admitted, somewhat embarrassed. “But we’re about to fight. Isn’t it inappropriate for me to eat now?”

“Not immediately. Madam mentioned yesterday that the ceremony doesn’t begin until midnight, so there’s still quite some time left,” Yan Buzhi corrected her.

Qiao Rui also smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry. Since none of you were discovered during the Hour of Yin, as long as you avoid the eyes and ears of the Xuanchi Sect, you’ll be fine. I’ll take my leave now, but if anything comes up, I’ll come find you.”

With that, she bowed her head in farewell and quietly departed.

Yin Qingle lowered her head, counting on her fingers for a long while before finally letting out an embarrassed, soft laugh. “I was just too nervous.”