In Mu Feng's Room
Mu Feng sat quietly on the sofa and took out the Spirit Essences he had received from his grandfather, placing them neatly on the table. Each crystal bottle radiated a faint but dense aura—pure energy refined from demon souls.
Then, he reached beneath his shirt and pulled out the pendant.
His gaze was calm.
"Absorb them."
The moment his command fell, the Little Loach stirred.
A faint azure glow flickered from the pendant as the Little Loach—already eager—responded instantly. One by one, the five Servant-level Spirit Essences vanished, devoured without resistance. Not a single trace of energy leaked out; everything was absorbed perfectly.
A second later, the pendant trembled lightly.
It almost felt like… a satisfied burp.
Mu Feng couldn't help but smile faintly.
He immediately sat cross-legged and entered meditation, wanting to test the effect of the Little Loach's enhancement firsthand.
Mana surged.
Stars within his spiritual world brightened far more vividly than before. His Stardust rotated smoothly, greedily drawing in energy, while an unfamiliar warmth spread through his soul—steady, nourishing, and continuous.
The entire night passed in silence.
When Mu Feng finally opened his eyes, dawn light was already filtering through the window.
He exhaled slowly, satisfaction clear in his expression.
"So it really works…"
Based on his careful assessment, the Little Loach increased his cultivation efficiency by nearly seventy percent. Not only that—it also passively nourishes his Stardust, reinforcing its stability and purity even when he wasn't actively cultivating.
If his calculations were correct…
With this enhancement alone, he could reach the Intermediate Tier within two years—
and that was for both of his elements.
Mu Feng clenched his fist lightly.
With the Totem Vessel, his talent, and his grandfather's backing—
The foundation of his rise had truly been laid.
The next morning, after breakfast, Mu Feng received a call from Fang Ning.
"Come to my room."
Mu Feng didn't delay.
After knocking, he entered.
Inside the room, Fang Ning sat calmly on the sofa, a teacup in his hand, steam rising gently from its surface. His expression was relaxed—almost casual.
Seated opposite him was Mu He.
Mu Feng's eyes narrowed slightly, but he maintained a neutral expression.
"Xiao Feng," Fang Ning said calmly, gesturing beside him.
"Come. Sit here."
Mu Feng obeyed and took the seat next to his grandfather.
The moment he sat down, Mu He turned his head toward Fang Ning, brows slightly furrowed.
"Now that Xiao Feng has arrived, Elder," Mu He said respectfully,
"may I ask what you wanted to discuss with me?"
Before Fang Ning could reply—
"Wait a minute."
Fang Ning's voice dropped, sharp and absolute.
He flicked his fingers lightly.
In an instant—
Mu He's body froze solid.
His eyes widened in shock. He tried to move—his fingers, his neck, even his lips—but his body no longer responded to his will. Only his eyes could still move, panic rapidly surfacing within them.
Fang Ning set his teacup down slowly.
Then he turned to Mu Feng.
"I've isolated this room," Fang Ning said calmly.
"No sound can escape. No external perception can reach us."
He glanced back at Mu He, whose breathing had grown ragged.
"I've also bound his body completely. He cannot move."
A faint smile curved Fang Ning's lips.
"But he can still hear."
"And he can still answer questions."
Fang Ning leaned back, his gaze cold and absolute.
"Go ahead, Xiao Feng."
"Ask him whatever you wish."
"Okay, Grandpa," Mu Feng said calmly.
Then he turned to Mu He.
"Uncle He," Mu Feng said evenly, his tone devoid of warmth,
"let's not waste time. I'll ask you directly."
He leaned forward slightly.
"Are you a member of the Black Vatican?"
The moment the words left his mouth, Mu He's pupils shrank violently.
"N–No!" Mu He blurted out, panic seeping into his voice.
"Of course not! Why would I associate myself with those rats crawling in the gutter?"
Mu Feng didn't react.
His expression remained cold, unreadable.
"Lying is a dangerous habit, Mu He," Mu Feng said quietly.
"Sometimes… it costs lives."
He met Mu He's gaze directly, his eyes sharp and unyielding.
"I'll ask you again."
"Are you a member of the Black Vatican?"
Mu He's breathing grew uneven. His eyes flickered toward Fang Ning for a fraction of a second—then back to Mu Feng.
"…Y–Yes," he said hoarsely.
"I am."
Mu Feng nodded faintly.
"See? That wasn't difficult."
He didn't pause.
"Next question. What is your rank?"
"And is Mu Yuang also a member of the Black Vatican?"
Mu He swallowed hard.
"Yes," he said quickly.
"Mu Yuang is also a member."
He hesitated, then added,
"As for my rank… I'm just a Grey Priest."
The moment those words fell—
Mu Feng moved.
His fist slammed into Mu He's face.
Crack.
Blood sprayed from Mu He's nose as his head snapped sideways. Though his body was bound and unable to fall, pain still tore through him mercilessly.
Mu Feng grabbed Mu He by the hair and yanked his head back, forcing him to look straight into his eyes.
"I already warned you," Mu Feng said coldly.
"Did you not understand?"
Blood dripped down Mu He's face as his eyes trembled in terror.
"Don't make this difficult for either of us," Mu Feng continued, his voice low and dangerous.
"I don't enjoy repeating myself."
His grip tightened.
"Now tell me the truth."
"What is your real rank?"
"…I am the leader of Blue Deacons," Mu He said at last, his voice trembling.
The words hung in the air like a death sentence.
Mu Feng loosened his grip slightly—but only slightly.
"Who do you serve?" he asked coldly.
Mu He swallowed hard.
"S–Salan."
Mu Feng's eyes flickered for the briefest instant.
"Salan…" he repeated softly.
Then his gaze sharpened again.
"How long have you been a member of the Black Vatican?"
Mu He closed his eyes, as if resignation had finally overtaken him.
"Twenty years."
The room fell silent.
Even Fang Ning's expression darkened.
Mu Feng stared at Mu He, his voice steady but carrying an unmistakable weight.
"You've been stationed here… as a Black Vatican member…"
He leaned closer.
"For twenty years?"
Mu He opened his eyes again, fear and despair mixing together.
"…Yes."
"So," Mu Feng said quietly, his voice flat,
"what is your mission?"
Mu He fell silent.
Seconds stretched.
Finally, he shook his head weakly.
"I… I don't have a mission."
Mu Feng stared at him.
Then he smiled.
A cold, humorless curve of the lips.
"You've been stationed here for twenty years," Mu Feng said slowly.
"You have a subordinate operating under your roof."
"You serve Salan as the leader ofBlue Deacons."
He leaned forward slightly.
"And you're telling me you've been doing nothing all this time?"
His eyes hardened.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
Mu Feng straightened.
"I'll ask you one last time."
"What is your mission?"
Mu He's jaw clenched. His breathing grew ragged.
"I won't tell you," he said hoarsely.
Mu Feng sighed.
Genuinely tired.
He lifted a hand and pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, massaging it slowly—as if restraining his own patience.
"I really didn't want to do this," he murmured.
Then he moved.
Mu Feng grabbed Mu He by the hair and slammed his head down onto the coffee table.
Bang.
Again.
Bang.
Again.
The sound was dull and wet.
Blood splattered across the polished surface as Mu He's body convulsed helplessly, bound by Fang Ning's curse. His face was unrecognizable now—nose broken, lips split, blood streaming down his chin.
Mu Feng finally stopped.
Mu He hung there, panting violently, each breath dragging pain through his body. Blood dripped steadily from his face onto the floor below.
Mu Feng leaned in close, his voice calm—almost gentle.
"You don't get to choose whether you speak," he said softly.
"You only get to choose how much it hurts before you do."
He released Mu He's hair and straightened.
"Now," Mu Feng continued coldly,
"we're going to try this again."
"What is your mission?"
"My mission… was to monitor Bo City," Mu He said hoarsely.
Despite his face being soaked in blood, his eyes shone with a terrifying devotion—fanatical, unshaken.
"So that my Master's plan could be executed perfectly," he continued, a twisted sense of pride creeping into his voice.
Mu Feng stared at him coldly.
"What is Salan's plan?" he asked.
Mu He laughed weakly, blood bubbling at the corner of his lips.
"I won't tell you," he said firmly.
"Even if you kill me. Telling you this much was already my bottom line."
Mu Feng shook his head slowly.
"Don't misunderstand," he said calmly.
"I'm not going to kill you."
Mu He frowned slightly.
"I'll hand you over—along with your son—to the Magic Court," Mu Feng continued evenly.
"I'll report both of you as confirmed Black Vatican members."
His gaze sharpened.
"And I can guarantee you this—their methods are at least a hundred times more painful than mine."
At the mention of the Magic Court, Mu He's fanatic composure finally cracked.
His body trembled violently.
"No…" he muttered. "Not the Magic Court…"
Mu Feng tilted his head slightly.
"What's wrong?" he asked. "Afraid?"
Mu He clenched his teeth.
"I don't have a son," he snapped suddenly.
"So don't talk nonsense."
Mu Feng smiled faintly.
"You know exactly who I'm talking about," he said.
"Mu Bai."
The color drained from Mu He's face.
His eyes widened in pure shock.
"…You—!"
Mu Feng leaned forward, his voice lowering.
"So let's make a deal."
Mu He's breathing grew shallow.
"You work for me," Mu Feng said calmly.
"You tell me Salan's plan—everything you know."
He paused deliberately, letting the words sink in.
"In exchange… no one will ever know that Mu Bai is related to you."
Mu He's eyes trembled.
Mu Feng continued, voice steady and precise.
"Not only that—I'll protect him."
"I'll guide him."
Then, the final blow:
"I'll even help him reach the Super Tier."
Silence engulfed the room.
Mu He stared at Mu Feng, his fanatic devotion warring violently with something far more human—fear, hope, desperation.
"Now tell me," Mu Feng said coldly, fixing Mu He with an unblinking stare.
"What is Salan's plan?"
Mu He swallowed, his throat bobbing.
"Salan intends to destroy Bo City," he said slowly.
"And seize the Underground Holy Spring."
Mu Feng's brows knit slightly.
"Why?" he asked.
"What benefit does destroying a small city bring her?"
Mu He's bloodied lips curved faintly.
"She wants to announce her return," he said.
"And she has chosen China as her debut ground."
Mu Feng's eyes sharpened.
"Why Bo City?"
"Because it's weak," Mu He replied without hesitation.
"It has only one High-Level Mage. It's surrounded by a massive wolf demon colony. Reinforcements would take too long to arrive."
He looked up, fanatic certainty burning in his gaze.
"It's the perfect place to spread terror."
Mu Feng absorbed the information silently.
"Explain the Underground Holy Spring," he said.
Mu He nodded.
"It's a sacred cultivation site," he explained.
"Every year, the best student of Bo City is allowed to cultivate there. One week inside is worth several months of cultivation outside—especially for Beginner Mages."
Mu Feng's eyes narrowed.
"And its purpose for Salan?"
"It's one of the main components," Mu He said grimly,
"for inducing a large-scale demon riot."
Mu Feng's voice dropped.
"How?"
Mu He shook his head.
"I don't know. That level of detail is only known to the Master and the Head Priest."
Mu Feng tapped his finger lightly against the table.
"Then why attack first and steal the Holy Spring afterward?" he asked.
"Shouldn't she secure it beforehand?"
Mu He hesitated—then answered.
"Bo City is only a test," he said quietly.
"A proving ground for her formula."
His voice lowered.
"Her real target… lies elsewhere."
The room fell silent.
Mu Feng leaned back slowly, eyes cold and calculating.
"Is that all you know?" Mu Feng asked calmly.
"Y–Yes," Mu He answered quickly.
Mu Feng's gaze darkened.
"Are you sure?"
His voice dropped, carrying unmistakable threat.
Mu He's breathing turned ragged.
"Yes," he said hurriedly.
"The Master only reveals information in fragments. She never shares the full plan in advance."
Mu Feng studied him for a long moment.
Then he nodded.
"Alright. I believe you."
Mu He froze, uncertain.
Mu Feng continued, his tone shifting.
"So here's my proposal."
He leaned forward slightly.
"You'll work for me—undercover."
Mu He's eyes widened.
"What?"
"How?"
"And more importantly—how does this benefit me?"
"You only need to pass information to me," Mu Feng said evenly.
"Nothing more."
Mu He shook his head violently.
"No. If the Master ever finds out, she'll kill me."
Mu Feng smiled faintly.
"Don't worry," he said.
"No one will know."
He met Mu He's eyes directly.
"Only my grandfather and I will know that the information came from you. Your name will never be leaked. I guarantee it."
Mu He hesitated, fear and calculation warring within him.
"And the benefits?" Mu He asked hoarsely.
Mu Feng's voice turned cold—but precise.
"Mu Bai."
Mu He's pupils contracted.
"I will ensure his protection," Mu Feng continued.
"I will personally support his growth. With my resources, becoming a Super Mage will not be a dream for him."
Mu He's breathing shook.
"And if you're ever exposed," Mu Feng added calmly,
"we'll make sure the narrative is rewritten."
Mu He looked up slowly.
"You'll be remembered not as a traitor—but as a man who volunteered as a spy to protect his homeland."
Mu Feng's gaze sharpened.
"That reputation may even benefit Mu Bai in the future."
Silence filled the room.
Mu He closed his eyes, trembling.
This was no longer a choice between loyalty and betrayal—
It was a choice between certain death
and controlled survival.
Mu Feng waited.
Patient.
Unmoving.
"Decide," he said quietly.