Dawn hadn't fully broken.
The fog filling the valley was a dull blue-gray, heavy and low, as if it had weight.
Dongfang Qingluan had been crouched at the center of the teleportation array for half an hour already. Seventy-two cloth flags woven with star-patterns were arranged in a precise Earth-Fiend sequence at his hands. Each time he planted one into the soil, a fresh sheen of sweat appeared on his brow—not from exhaustion, but from the stares.
Too many eyes.
Jiang Mucheng stood beside him with a compass cradled in his palms, acutely aware of the sharpest gazes pressing in like needles.
Ghost Elder sat ten meters away on a slab of bluestone, eyes closed. Yet his chilling divine sense never loosened its grip on a single fluctuation of the array.
The two cultivators of Golden Armor Sect—one tall, one short—stood at the northeast corner with arms folded, eyes cold and evaluative, as if inspecting merchandise.
Worst of all was the Thunder Hall brute.
He sat cross-legged barely three meters from the array's edge, faint lightning coursing around him, posture screaming a single message:
Try anything—and I'll kill you on the spot.
"Li position, south by seven degrees. Depth—three inches, two tenths," Dongfang Qingluan murmured, lips barely moving.
Jiang stepped sideways, subtly blocking a line of sight, and adjusted the flag's angle. As his sleeve fell, his fingertip brushed the base of the flagpole—
A rune no larger than a grain of rice etched itself silently into the wood.
The two of them moved like dancers who'd practiced the routine a thousand times.
But some things couldn't be hidden forever.
"Stop."
Ghost Elder's eyes snapped open.
They were sunken deep in folds of skin, yet terrifyingly bright. He rose, bone staff tapping the ground as he approached. A withered finger pointed at the flag Jiang had just planted.
"The spiritual fluctuation of that flag," he said slowly. "It's wrong."
The air tightened instantly.
Jiang lifted his head, confusion appearing at exactly the right depth.
"Senior, I don't follow. Star-pattern cloth is exclusive to Star Pavilion. Its fluctuations naturally differ from common array flags—"
"I will inspect it," Ghost Elder said. His hand reached forward.
"Ghost Elder."
Dongfang Qingluan straightened abruptly. His face was pale, but his voice remained steady.
"The Stabilization Formation is extremely sensitive during construction. External interference risks triggering spatial ripples." He paused, letting his gaze sweep the valley.
"This place is less than a hundred meters across. If spatial turbulence erupts, Qi Refinement cultivators will die instantly. Even Foundation Establishment may not escape unscathed."
He spoke slowly.
Each word landed like a hammer.
Ghost Elder's hand froze midair.
At that moment, the tall cultivator of Golden Armor Sect chuckled lightly.
"Ghost Elder, none of us truly understands formations. Since all core materials are still in our hands, why not let them finish first?"
His smile carried no warmth.
"After all—monks can run, temples can't."
That reminder struck home.
Soulwood.
Refined Gold Stone.
Thunder Essence Crystal.
All three key materials were firmly controlled by the three factions. Jiang Mucheng's group had nothing but auxiliary tools.
Ghost Elder slowly withdrew his hand.
"Boy," he said, locking eyes with Jiang, each word deliberate.
"Don't let me catch you with evidence."
"I wouldn't dare," Jiang bowed.
His back was soaked.
Too close.
But surviving this test only confirmed his judgment—
They feared array backlash.
They feared each other.
And suspicion was the largest opening of all.
Dongfang Qingluan resumed.
As the sun climbed, the final flag was planted. In that instant, all seventy-two flags fluttered without wind. A low hum rose as a translucent dome lifted from the ground, sealing the teleportation array within.
The previously twisted spatial ripples smoothed out—visibly.
"It's done," Wang Duobao whispered despite himself.
Greed flashed in Ghost Elder's eyes.
He gestured. A disciple stepped forward with a wooden box. When the lid opened, a pitch-black piece of wood lay inside—its surface etched with patterns resembling countless screaming faces.
Soulwood.
Jiang took the box and crouched at the southeastern crack of the array. He applied a special softening solution, drop by drop. The wood hissed softly, gradually becoming pliable.
At least eight gazes burned into his hands.
Lin Tianying's was the worst.
He stood three meters behind Ghost Elder, malice practically dripping from his stare. Jiang could almost hear the thought:
Once the array is finished, I'll kill you first.
The All-Beings Resonance Art activated quietly.
Jiang shut out distractions. Soften. Shape. Fit. Embed. Inscribe matching runes.
Smooth. Precise.
An incense stick later, the crack was sealed.
"Refined Gold Stone," Jiang said, looking up.
The short Golden Armor cultivator tossed over a cloth bag. Inside were thumb-sized golden stones, heavy and gleaming.
Jiang dripped three drops of Illusion Dew onto them.
The stones flared with rainbow light. Their spiritual output jumped noticeably.
"Illusion Dew?" the Thunder Hall cultivator narrowed his eyes. "You're spending big."
"Life is worth more than materials," Jiang replied calmly.
The restoration of array runes drained the mind. Ancient symbols had to be reconstructed one by one. Jiang worked slowly, checking each line's energy flow with the Resonance Art.
By noon, seventy percent was done.
He paused. "Seniors, the remaining runes will take two more hours. Perhaps a short rest?"
They agreed.
Back at their side, Jiang drank water and whispered, "The Thunder Essence Crystal has a problem."
"Problem?" Lu Hanshan frowned.
"Too pure," Jiang said. "Natural Thunder Essence always carries impurities. That one didn't. Brother Lin—does Thunder Hall have a Ninefold Thunder Refinement art?"
Lin Hanshan's face darkened. "Yes. Used for refining natal treasures. Or—"
He stopped. "—for Thunder Detonation Arrays."
A chill ran through them.
"Tracking mark or self-destruction," Jiang said quickly. "If we teleport, we're either followed… or blown apart mid-transit."
"Then what?" Wang Duobao whispered urgently.
"We finish," Jiang said. "Or we die now."
Plans were set in seconds.
When work resumed, Jiang finally asked for the Thunder Essence Crystal.
The Thunder Hall cultivator produced a fist-sized violet crystal. Lightning writhed inside like living veins.
A masterpiece.
And deep within it, Jiang heard something else—
A foreign fluctuation.
A tracking imprint.
He placed it into the array core.
As he carved the final linkage rune—
"Something at the north wall!" Nangong Feiyue shouted.
Flames erupted.
In the same instant, Illusion Powder scattered silently. Space warped for three heartbeats.
Jiang's jade flute tip pierced the crystal's interior, carving a disruption rune beside the imprint. Blood welled from his finger, sealing the core bloodline contract.
Three breaths.
Done.
Moments later, the array activated—
—and detonated.
Chaos.
Accusations.
But no proof.
Only suspicion devouring suspicion.
And in the aftermath, as everyone argued—
Jiang Mucheng alone felt it.
Deep within the array.
Something ancient had stirred.
Not alive.
But watching.
Tongue of the Licking Dao
The most brilliant trap isn't one others fail to see.
It's one they see—and still believe in.
Because the trap isn't built on lies,
but buried beneath the truth itself.