Long Shenyin looked as if she had been waiting for him long enough to grow bored.
The first hint of sunlight touched the edge of the spearhead. It did not shine brightly. It swallowed the light, turning it dull and heavy.
Yan Shouhe's gaze sharpened.
Long Shenyin's gaze did not.
To her, he was already measured.
And dismissed.
Her lips moved.
"Trash."
Yan Shouhe's eyes narrowed.
He had been insulted many times in his life. Young geniuses insulted him before learning what a saber felt like inside their ribs. Elders insulted him while bargaining because they thought age gave them protection. Qin Family cultivators insulted him behind his back because they resented needing him.
But this woman did not sound like she was trying to anger him.
She sounded like she was identifying something.
His saber slid free.
The blade gave a low metallic hum, and the mist near his feet trembled.
"A mere Origin Core relying on weapons will always be weaker," Yan Shouhe said.
Long Shenyin's eyebrow lifted slightly.
"Is that what you tell yourself before dying?"
Yan Shouhe's aura erupted.
Perfection Origin Core pressure spread through the alley, climbed the courtyard walls, and rolled across the nearby roofs. Tiles rattled. Dew burst into fine mist. Several birds sleeping beneath the eaves fled in panic, wings beating against the dim sky.
In rooms across the inn, hidden observers opened their eyes.
On a roof two streets away, a Wen Family scout froze.
In a wine house attic, a Night Ledger informant lowered his cup.
Behind a half-closed window, a Huo Family smelting disciple felt the change in pressure and whispered, "Iron River Saber?"
Yan Shouhe did not care who noticed.
His Origin Qi surged into the River-Ending Saber, turning the blade's edge iron-grey. The air behind him distorted, and a broad river of saber light formed across the alley. It was not water, but it moved like water—thick, heavy, layered in currents. Each wave carried a cutting force wrapped in crushing pressure.
This was the essence of his fame.
The Iron River Nine Returns did not rely on a single explosive strike. It buried opponents beneath repeated force. The first wave broke footing. The second broke rhythm. The third entered the weapon. The later waves grew heavier, folding back on themselves until the enemy's guard collapsed from accumulated pressure.
Against equal-realm cultivators, it was suffocating.
Against ordinary 9th layer Origin Core cultivators, it was overwhelming.
Yan Shouhe stepped forward and swung.
"Iron River Nine Returns!"
The saber river descended.
For an instant, the alley vanished beneath iron-colored light.
The inn's eastern wall groaned. The formation line beneath the stones cracked from the pressure before the attack even landed. The saber light rushed toward Long Shenyin like a flood released from a broken dam, wave after wave folding into one another, each one heavier than the last.
Long Shenyin moved.
She did not retreat.
She did not raise her aura to match his.
She did not even shift her feet properly.
The Black Sun Tyrant Spear slid down from her shoulder into her right hand.
Then she thrust once.
No technique name.
No roar.
No visible strain.
The spear entered the saber river at its center.
The moment the spearhead touched the iron-colored light, the entire alley seemed to stop breathing.
Then the saber river split.
Not scattered.
Split.
As if a mountain spike had been driven through a rushing current, the iron waves tore apart around the spearhead. The first layer broke. The second folded. The third shattered inward. The fourth and fifth waves tried to return, but the spear's momentum crushed through their rhythm before they could gather.
Yan Shouhe's expression changed.
The force reached his saber.
Clang!
The River-Ending Saber trembled so violently that the sound pierced the ears of everyone within several streets. Yan Shouhe's arms shook. His palms split. The impact passed through the blade into his wrists, through his meridians, into his dantian.
For the first time in twenty years, Yan Shouhe felt his perfected Origin Qi stumble.
Not weaken.
Stumble.
His eyes bulged.
Impossible.
The word rose in his mind, but he had no time to speak it.
The spear continued forward.
It pierced through the broken saber light, struck the flat of his blade, forced it aside, and entered his chest.
There was no resistance.
The spearhead came out through his back.
The alley went silent.
All the pressure vanished at once.
The iron river disappeared like smoke in a storm.
Yan Shouhe stood frozen with both hands still gripping his saber. His mouth opened, but only blood came out at first. It ran down his chin and dripped onto the spear shaft.
His eyes lowered slowly.
The Black Sun Tyrant Spear had gone straight through his heart.
One move.
The famous Iron River Saber, the Perfection Origin Core expert who had looked down on 9th layer cultivators as unfinished blades, had not survived a single thrust.
He looked up at Long Shenyin.
His lips trembled.
"What… rank… is that spear?"
Long Shenyin sneered.
"Higher than your life."
She twisted her wrist.
The spear shook.
Yan Shouhe's corpse flew from the shaft and crashed into the side of the alley, striking the wall hard enough to crack the brick. His saber fell from his hand and clattered across the stones, spinning once before coming to rest in a puddle of dew and blood.
Long Shenyin looked down at it.
A low-grade weapon.
A lower-domain reputation.
A man who mistook a slightly higher cultivation layer for heaven.
Her expression returned to boredom.
She turned and walked back through the courtyard gate.
The gate closed behind her.
Only then did the hidden observers remember to breathe.
…
Qin Family Hall.
Lin Jiangheng's expression couldn't be worse. Nothing he thought was going, nothing that should be happening was going. Fortunately, his report had already been sent.
And Luo Zhenmu was coming.
At the thought of that name, Lu Jiangheng's spine straightened slightly.
Luo Zhenmu, inner deacon of Verdant Edge.
4th layer Sky Lord.
Two layers above Lu Jiangheng.
In Sky Lord realm, two layers were not a small gap. The further one climbed, the more each layer stretched apart. A 4th layer Sky Lord had a deeper connection to Sky Qi, a broader dantian elevation, and a soul that had already begun stabilizing its heavenly resonance. Compared to Lu Jiangheng, Luo Zhenmu was indeed in another class.
Once Senior Brother Luo arrived, the situation would change.
A mere Lower Domain city family could not ignore such a figure. Even Qin Wanshan would need to speak carefully. Long Shenyu's group could act arrogantly now because the true weight of Verdant Edge had not yet descended.
But until Luo Zhenmu arrived, Lu Jiangheng had to make sure he did not commit another mistake.
The unease in his chest refused to fade.
He stepped forward.
The motion drew every gaze in the hall.
Qin Roujian looked at him. "Envoy Lu?"
Lu Jiangheng did not immediately answer. He looked at the broken jade fragments on the table, then at the elders.
"Send someone who can survive long enough to see clearly."
The words were simple, but they struck the hall like a dropped blade.
One elder's eyes narrowed. "You want us to send a Sky Lord?"
The hall stirred.
Even Qin Roujian's gaze sharpened.
Lu Jiangheng's pride flared at once. His jaw tightened, and his voice turned cold.
"No. Not yet."
He could accept caution. He could not accept admitting that a Sky Lord had to be sent merely to examine an Origin Core woman.
Not after he had already been injured.
Not before Luo Zhenmu arrived.
He continued, "Send a half-step Sky Lord. Someone who has touched Sky Qi. Someone with enough heavenly resonance to force her to reveal whether she relies on the spear, a forbidden art, or hidden cultivation."
The elders exchanged glances.
A half-step Sky Lord was not a true Sky Lord. Everyone knew that. Such people had knocked on the gate and failed to pass through. Their dantians had risen, but not fully. Their souls had tasted heavenly resonance, but could not truly sustain it. They possessed traces of Sky Qi, yet could not command it as a full realm power.
But in a Lower Domain city, that was still terrifying.
Against a Perfection Origin Core, a half-step Sky Lord could usually decide the battle in one or two moves.
Qin Roujian said slowly, "A half-step Sky Lord is not a disposable probe."
"No one said disposable," Lu Jiangheng replied. "I said someone who can survive."
An elder's voice came from the side. "And if even he dies?"
The hall quieted again.
Lu Jiangheng looked toward the speaker.
For an instant, irritation rose in his eyes. Then it turned into something colder.
"If even he dies," he said, "then this group is no mere fluke a Noble Domain sect can ignore."
Those words carried more weight than the previous reports.
No one in the hall liked hearing them.
Because if Lu Jiangheng was right, this was no longer just a matter of Qin Family face, or a Heaven-rank sword, or a group of arrogant outsiders from Moonwatch. It meant the Qin Family had found something far more dangerous than a treasure wielder.
They had found people who should not exist in a place like River Ridge.
Qin Wanshan, who had remained silent until now, finally opened his eyes.
"Duanhai."
The name made several elders straighten.
Great Elder Qin Duanhai.
Among the elders of the Qin Family, Qin Duanhai was a figure whose name carried both respect and discomfort. Years ago, he had attempted to break into the Sky Lord realm. The Qin Family had prepared a courtyard array, nine bottles of Sky-Refining Pills, and three pieces of low-grade Sky Resonance Jade for him.
He failed.
Not completely. If he had failed completely, he would have died or fallen back into a crippled Origin Core state.
Instead, he survived between realms.
That was the crueler result.
His dantian had partially elevated. His soul carried a faint pressure of heavenly resonance. He could draw out a thread of Sky Qi, though every use strained his foundation. To Origin Core cultivators, he was a mountain. To true Sky Lords, he was a man standing below the gate, forever staring up at something he could not enter.
No one mocked him openly.
No one needed to.
The title itself was enough.
Half-step Sky Lord.
A failed step preserved as status.
A gray-robed elder rose from the right side of the hall. Qin Duanhai was tall but thin, with deep-set eyes and hair streaked with iron gray. His face was not ugly, but it carried the dryness of a man who had spent too many years enduring one private wound.
He cupped his hands toward Qin Wanshan.
"Patriarch."
Qin Wanshan looked at him. "Take a small squad. No family banners. No public movement."
Qin Duanhai understood immediately. "Observe first. Fight only if necessary."
Lu Jiangheng said, "Bring recording tools."
Qin Roujian added, "And formation tools. The inn may not be simple."
Qin Duanhai's eyes moved across the table, over the jade fragments, then toward Lu Jiangheng.
"What exactly am I confirming?"
Lu Jiangheng answered without hesitation.
"The spear woman. Her cultivation. Her reliance. Whether she is hiding a Sky Lord aura, borrowing the spear's force, or using a forbidden art with a time limit."
Qin Duanhai's expression did not change.
"And if she attacks?"
"Force her to reveal more."
The hall understood what that meant.
If Qin Duanhai could return, he returned.
If he could not, then his death would become information.
For a moment, Qin Duanhai was silent.
Then he laughed once.
It was a dry sound, without amusement.
"So I am finally useful."
No one answered.
Qin Wanshan frowned slightly. "Duanhai."
Qin Duanhai waved a hand.
"I know. The family needs eyes, not pride." His gaze shifted toward the doorway. "Prepare the Sky-Thread Mirror Disk, the Formation-Locking Compass, and a Blood-Echo Recording Jade. I will leave before midnight."
Lu Jiangheng looked at him for a long moment.
"Do not underestimate her."
Qin Duanhai's lips curled faintly.
That warning should have angered him.
Instead, it only made his eyes colder.
"I failed to become a Sky Lord," he said. "I did not fail to learn fear."
Then he turned and walked out of the hall.
No one stopped him.
Behind him, the elders remained quiet.
For the first time since the gate incident, the Qin Family was no longer thinking about how to recover face.
They were thinking about how much face they could afford to lose.
…
Shortly before midnight, clouds covered the moon.
River Ridge City did not sleep early, but the inner districts quieted after the night patrols changed. The lanterns outside merchant halls dimmed. Tavern noise dropped into murmurs. Even the rogue cultivators who liked boasting after wine lowered their voices when they passed near the direction of the Three Ridges Spirit Inn.
The inn stood as it had for several days.
Unaffected.
No guards lined the roof.
No banners warned visitors away.
Qin Duanhai arrived through the rear district with five men.
They were not juniors. Each one had been selected for restraint, not bravery. Two were late Origin Core cultivators trained in formation sensing. One carried the Sky-Thread Mirror Disk in both hands. Another carried the Formation-Locking Compass wrapped in dark cloth. The final man held the Blood-Echo Recording Jade against his chest as if it were a second heart.
None wore Qin Family robes.
None carried obvious Qin Family swords.
Their auras were restrained beneath gray cloaks marked with dust, making them look like night merchants moving contraband through the wrong alley.
But their eyes were too sharp for merchants.
Qin Duanhai stopped at the rear courtyard wall of the inn.
The wall was ordinary stone, slightly damp from night mist. Moss grew in a thin line between the lower bricks. A withered tree leaned from the other side, its branches casting broken shadows over the alley.
It looked harmless.
Qin Duanhai stared at it for several breaths.
One subordinate whispered, "Great Elder?"
Qin Duanhai did not move.
He could feel something wrong.
Not killing intent.
Not formation pressure.
Not the concealed aura of a waiting expert.
It was cleaner than that.
The area was too still.
Cultivators always disturbed the air around them. Even when hiding, they left tiny irregularities in Heaven and Earth energy. A breath, a heartbeat, the faint rubbing of Qi against meridians, the muted tremble of a talisman under strain—these things existed. They could be faint, but they existed.
Here, the silence felt arranged.
As if someone had taken the night and placed it neatly on a shelf.
Qin Duanhai raised two fingers.
"Disk."
The man behind him came forward and offered the Sky-Thread Mirror Disk.
It was a palm-sized bronze disk carved with fine green lines. The lines resembled a spiderweb caught in wind. When activated, it could spread invisible threads of sensing Qi through the air. It was not meant to attack. It was meant to touch formations, aura residues, hidden weapons, moving cultivators.
Qin Duanhai pressed two fingers to the center.
A thin glow spread across the disk.
The green lines lit one by one.
Then all of them bent.
Qin Duanhai's eyes narrowed.
The threads had not touched a wall.
They had not touched a formation.
They had touched pressure.
A pressure so condensed and quiet that the disk mistook it for empty space until it was already too late.
Crack.
A fine line split the bronze surface.
The subordinate holding the disk sucked in a cold breath.
Crack crack crack.
Three more lines spread outward.
Then the glow died.
Qin Duanhai's face changed.
He did not look at the disk.
He looked up.
Long Shenyin was standing on the wall above him.