Even though the man was likely her fellow cultivator, Song Wanníng did not let her guard down. No one could be sure he was telling the truth in a realm where appearances were often a weapon. She had to stay alert, keeping every sense sharp as they moved through the darkening landscape.
They passed through the heavy stone city gate, then navigated a steep slope covered in dense forest where the leaves blocked out the fading light. Finally, they stopped at a farmhouse courtyard tucked away in a hollow. The place was long abandoned, overrun with tall, yellowed weeds that choked the path, and the wooden buildings looked ready to collapse at any moment under the weight of the rotting thatch.
The man walked into the center of the courtyard, his boots crunching on dried stalks. He moved a heavy stone water jar from the center, the ceramic base grinding against the dirt. A moment later, a hidden mechanism clicked, and a dark passageway appeared in the earth. He did not spare Song Wanníng a glance, just went straight down into the shadows. After a brief pause to check for traps with her divine sense, she followed him silently.
Below the surface, the passage led to a damp tunnel filled with rusted torture instruments and a familiar, blood-stained rack. The white-haired man, however, was nowhere to be seen. The chains hung empty, swaying slightly in the draft they had created.
"Damn it, it was fake after all!" The man smashed a nearby wooden table in anger, sending splinters flying into the dark corners. He kicked over a bucket of dirty water, leaving ruins behind, but the destruction could not vent the fury boiling inside him. He had been completely tricked. "That person planned from the start to make us fight each other, and I did not notice! I was a fool!"
The more he thought about the deception, the angrier he got, thick veins bulging across his forehead. Song Wanníng scanned the stone floor, her eyes adjusting to the dim light. Iron nails that had been broken free from the captive's flesh littered the ground, and dried blood still stained the serrated edges of the torture tools. The man had not left long; the scent of copper still hung in the stagnant air.
"Not chasing him?" She raised an eyebrow, curious about his sudden resignation.
"That guy moves too fast now that he is free. We can't catch him on foot," the man said, gradually calming his breathing, though his gaze remained sharp and dark. He still could not believe he had been so easily deceived by a prisoner. "Sorry, because of my stupidity, I almost got you hurt. Good thing you are fine, or you would have been caught in his scheme and I would never have forgiven myself."
"I hope you can forgive me," he continued, turning to face her fully. "I am Song Jing, and it is really a pleasure to meet you despite these circumstances." He smiled, extending his hand toward her.
Song Wanníng lowered her eyes to his palm but didn't move.
He seemed to remember her earlier caution, quickly withdrew his hand, and scratched the back of his head. "I really am sorry about all this," he apologized again. A faint blush appeared on his face, either from embarrassment at his mistake or shyness in her presence.
She studied his expression for a long moment, looking for any sign of a lingering system influence, then she allowed a small smile to touch her lips. "No worries, intruders are always cunning. We have to be careful with every step we take. Since no one is here now, let us head out of this hole." She turned and left the tunnel, her boots clicking on the stone steps.
Song Jing followed closely, his gaze full of admiration as he watched her. "I didn't expect you, Song Daoyou, to have advanced to Dixian so soon after ascending. Your speed really makes me envious. I have been here much longer and only recently hit the peak of the realm. You truly are someone chosen by the Heavenly Dao."
He praised her with a bright smile, then abruptly changed his tone to something more serious. "The intruder is still at large. What is your plan for the next few days?"
Song Wanníng thought for a moment, her fingers brushing the hilt of her sword. "The intruder has to be eliminated before he can regroup with others. We can't let him get away. Do you know which direction he might have gone? Should we split up to cover more ground?" She suggested dividing the search, a subtle glint of testing in her eyes.
Song Jing shook his head quickly, frowning at the suggestion. "That guy's strength is not what it seems. If he was faking his weakness, we might not be able to defeat him alone. If we split up, whoever runs into him will be in significant danger. It is better if we stick together. We can watch each other's backs." He finished speaking and stood there, waiting for Song Wanníng's reply without forcing her hand.
"Alright, that works," she agreed. She did not refuse his company, but she carefully studied Song Jing as they walked. Was this a genuine coincidence, or was there more to him than he was letting on? She masked the sharpness in her gaze with a neutral expression. Intruders are always cunning, and that much was true for both sides of this conflict. Who knew if he was genuine, or if this entire encounter was another layer of a trap?
Song Wanníng stayed alert, following Song Jing as they began to track the intruder's trail through the woods. Song Jing sketched a quick portrait of the white-haired man on a piece of parchment, describing his sharp features and the unique scars on his arms in detail. She studied the drawing, her mind stirring with recognition. She secretly sent a mental image of the portrait to Mo Yang Xiānzūn through their established link.
Then she continued following Song Jing in the search. Along the way, he occasionally chatted with her about life in the Immortal Realm. It seemed to Song Wanníng, whether rightly or wrongly, that he was probing her background and her sect connections. Her suspicion deepened with every question, her internal vigilance increasing even as she answered with vague generalities.
About ten days later, they had grown quite familiar as they traveled together. Mo Yang Xiānzūn had not replied to her message, and she had no idea what he was up to or if the transmission had even reached him. The intruder was still nowhere to be found, but Song Jing's behavior had shifted. He had started calling her "Wanníng" constantly, dropping the formal titles.
His gaze toward her had also grown strange, subtly filled with a heavy admiration that made her skin crawl. Even Xiao Jin noticed the shift, shouting in her sea of consciousness to be careful, warning that this guy had obvious designs on her.
Seeing Song Jing's flushed ears and the way he kept sneaking glances at her profile when he thought she was not looking made Song Wanníng a little irritated. She hid the feeling, pretending not to notice his lingering stares.
One day, they finally found a lead in a small village. Someone had seen a white-haired man matching the description in nearby Fanyin City.
"Let us go to Fanyin City!" Song Jing's eyes lit up with a clear direction. He led Song Wanníng toward the golden-roofed city visible on the horizon.
Fanyin City was the domain of Buddhist cultivators, and the air around it was filled with the low, constant hum of sacred chants. It was said that these chants could purify evil and distractions from one's heart, drawing many pilgrims and troubled souls to cleanse their spirits. From a distance, she could already sense the subtle, rhythmic waves of Fanyin's power vibrating through the ground.
Even before reaching the gates, her Primordial Soul stirred uneasily, reacting to the external pressure of the chants. She quickly suppressed the sensation, using her internal energy to stabilize her core, and followed Song Jing into the city.
The streets were sparsely populated, and the people they did see appeared detached and indifferent. Their eyes were vacant, almost lifeless, as they wandered aimlessly through the plazas, seemingly without any purpose or destination. she immediately sensed something was off; the city's Fanyin energy was clearly abnormal, lacking the warmth of true enlightenment. It didn't affect her directly, thanks to the countless merits she had gathered that shielded her soul from unwanted influence.
"What is going on? My sea of consciousness feels off!" Song Jing stumbled shortly after they passed the inner gate. He looked dizzy, his hand reaching out to the wall for support as he struggled to stand.
Song Wanníng grabbed his arm to steady him. "Be careful! This Fanyin energy is dangerous to those without a strong soul defense. You should block your hearing with spiritual energy; it might help dampen the effect."
He followed her advice immediately, pressing his hands to his temples as he circulated his power. It helped. At least he could stand steadily now, though his face remained pale. Looking at the silent, shuffling people around him, Song Jing's heart skipped a beat. "I can't shake the feeling these people are not right. Don't they look like—"
"Corpses?" Song Wanníng finished for him, a cold glint in her eyes as she watched a woman pass them without blinking.