In a room cloaked in darkness, three figures busied themselves with quiet, eerie focus.One was sharpening a weapon, the rhythmic scrape of metal against stone filling the air.Another pyed idly with a collection of puppets, their lifeless faces gleaming faintly under the dim light.The third sat silently, writing on aged parchment, the scratching of a quill the only sign of movement.

  Suddenly, the heavy doors creaked open.

  All three halted at once, their heads turning in perfect synchronization toward the newcomer who stepped into the gloom.

  A woman's voice, pyful yet utterly chilling in its tone, broke the stillness first.

  “Oh? Why have you come? Have you finished fixing the tears in reality over at Mount Lin?”She sounded teasing—but none were tempted by her charms.

  The man sharpening his bde spoke next, his tone blunt.“Or is there new information?”

  The third, the one who had been writing, said nothing. He merely watched, quill hovering, waiting for the answer.

  The newcomer exhaled, his breath forming mist in the cold, stagnant air.

  “I sensed an eldritch power rising in the east while patching the rifts at Mount Lin," he said. "And not just once—multiple times within a single month.”

  The room fell into heavy silence, each figure processing the words with grim seriousness.

  The one with the quill finally spoke, voice calm but edged with skepticism.

  “I have not sensed any distortion of reality these past weeks. Are you certain it was not just a phantom of your imagination?”

  “No," the newcomer said firmly. "I am certain.And I believe… we must prepare for a long journey.My instincts warn me: the real damage to reality has not yet begun.When it does, it will slow us down greatly.”

  Another long pause.

  The darkness pressed against the walls like a living thing, whispering unseen.

  Without further argument, each figure quietly returned to their pce.The bde continued to be sharpened.The puppets danced once more between delicate fingers.The quill resumed its steady writing, now tinged with a new sense of urgency.

  None spoke their names.Not yet.

  For what stirred in the east was still hidden in the shadows, and to name themselves now would be premature.

  The time would come.And when it did, the world would tremble.

  After the weapons for Elder Xian were completed, Elder Xian decided to test them immediately.

  First, the compound bow—he fired a simple, regur arrow.

  The shot flew straight, slicing through the air with almost unnatural precision.

  Next, he tried a Qi-infused arrow.This was where the real difference revealed itself.The draw of the bowstring, the transfer of Qi—everything was smooth, seamless, as if the bow itself understood and amplified his will.

  A rare, satisfied smile flickered across Elder Xian's face.‘After all the chaos tely, at least this bow is perfect,’ he thought.

  Then, he moved on to test the new bone knife.

  It fit perfectly into his grip, as if molded just for his hand.He swung it once, then again—short, sharp arcs slicing the air.

  Swish... swosh... slitsss...

  Each movement was precise, each cut dangerously clean.

  "Han Ye," Elder Xian called out, unable to hide his amazement, "this weapon you made... it is truly remarkable... and..."He trailed off, unsure how to express the unfamiliar warmth of gratitude that welled up inside him.

  "And what, Elder?" Han Ye asked, his eyes shining expectantly.

  Elder Xian opened his mouth, about to speak, when—

  Elder Ji stepped into the cave, having apparently been listening outside the entire time.

  His eyes swept across the scene—the wide-eyed Lan Ji, the slightly pale Xun Lian, the cheerful Han Ye, and finally resting on Elder Xian, who was still holding the gleaming weapons.

  Elder Ji's expression was unreadable as he slowly crossed his arms.

  A heavy silence settled over the cave once again.

  "Han Ye... could you make a weapon for me too?" Elder Ji asked, somewhat shyly after seeing the weapons Elder Xian was testing.Deep inside, Elder Ji was thinking, ‘Hey, I should’ve been the first to get a new weapon!’

  "Tch, your weapon is still perfectly fine, why do you want a new one?" Elder Xian said with a sharp, unimpressed gre.

  "Hey! As an elder of the Archer Sect, I have the right to wield a high-quality weapon!" Elder Ji snapped back, puffing his chest with mock seriousness. "How else am I supposed to properly defend the sect?"

  Han Ye tilted his head slightly, looking at Elder Ji’s current weapon—a rather well-maintained bow that radiated steady Qi.

  "Hmm... your bow is still quite strong, Elder Ji," Han Ye said innocently. "But if you really want, I can make you something better. Although..."He paused dramatically, eyes glinting mischievously, "I'll need you to gather the materials yourself, just like Elder Xian did."

  Elder Ji blinked, caught off guard. "Gather materials?!"He looked at Elder Xian, who just shrugged and took another zy sip of his alcohol, clearly enjoying the scene.

  "Don't look at me," Elder Xian said smugly. "Han Ye made me work for it too."

  Lan Ji, who was still processing the entire atmosphere, leaned closer to Xun Lian and whispered, "Is it just me, or does it feel like Elder Ji's pride is about to take a massive hit?"

  Xun Lian simply sighed, nodding silently.

  Meanwhile, Elder Ji straightened his back with dramatic resolve."Fine! Tell me what you need, Han Ye. I will get it—no matter how difficult!"

  Han Ye grinned mischievously."Alright! I'll write a list. But be warned, Elder Ji..." he added, handing over a small parchment, "I might have added a few... special materials just for you."

  Elder Ji took the parchment—and the moment he read the first few lines, his face turned pale.

  After Elder Xian tested his new weapons, Elder Ji, feeling envious, shyly asked Han Ye to forge a weapon for him as well. With a small mischievous grin, Han Ye agreed and handed over a list written in neat, yet terrifying handwriting.

  The list wasn't simple: it asked for a piece of Abyssal Iron tempered by dragon fire, five stalks of Whispering Wind Bamboo cut during a thunderstorm, a drop of Bloodroot Essence gathered at midnight, two bundles of Void Spider Silk, a shard of Crystallized Moonlight, and a beast core of at least Tier 6, preferably aligned with wind or darkness elements. Reading through it, Elder Ji almost dropped the paper from shock.

  Seeing Elder Ji hesitate, Elder Xian sent a Qi transmission, advising him that if Han Ye accompanied them, somehow the materials would end up being free. Although reluctant, Elder Ji accepted, and thus Han Ye, Lan Ji, and Xun Lian eagerly followed him to the marketpce, curious about what would unfold.

  Upon arriving at the bustling market they had visited just days prior, they were greeted by an unbelievable sight: an enormous statue of Han Ye, crafted with divine craftsmanship, stood tall like the revered figure of a saint. Worshippers were gathered around, chanting and offering incense.

  Lan Ji blinked rapidly and muttered, "I'm pretty sure there was no statue here a few days ago."

  "Same," Xun Lian replied, equally baffled.

  Elder Ji’s fingers twitched, almost summoning his weapon instinctively out of habit. But before he could act, one of the worshippers spotted their group — more precisely, spotted Han Ye.

  "Look! It's our God!" shouted the devotee excitedly, pointing directly at them.

  Instantly, the worshippers ceased their prayers and rushed toward the group, all intending to prostrate themselves. Han Ye quickly raised a hand to stop them, speaking in a calm, almost fatherly tone.

  "There’s no need to kneel. I came here only to purchase some materials. Does anyone have the items from the list I prepared?" he said, his voice steady and commanding yet warm, completely different from his usual mischievous demeanor.

  The worshippers gasped, amazed by his sudden 180-degree transformation into a dignified figure. After a brief, stunned silence, one of the traders stepped forward — a stocky man with bright eyes.

  "I have everything you seek!" the man excimed, his voice trembling with excitement. "But… I would like something in return."

  "Oh? And what would that be?" Han Ye asked kindly.

  "I… I would like a talisman from you, my Lord!" the merchant stammered.

  Han Ye smiled slightly and asked, "What is your name?"

  "M-my name is Wei Muyang, my Lord!" the man responded, almost kneeling again in reverence.

  Without hesitation, Han Ye reached into the air and, with a casual twist of his hand, tore open a shimmering pocket of space. The onlookers gasped in awe. From within, he retrieved a piece of Bck Void Crystal. Swiftly, Han Ye shaped and polished it down to the size of a golf ball, then meticulously carved Wei Muyang’s name onto its surface with delicate precision.

  He handed the finished talisman to the ecstatic merchant. Wei Muyang immediately bowed deeply (almost fainting in gratitude) and handed over the required materials, providing even more than necessary.

  "If My Lord ever wishes to visit Chang Yi City, the Wei family would be honored to host you!" Wei Muyang cried out, tears glistening in his eyes.

  Again, Han Ye gently prevented him from kneeling.

  Meanwhile, throughout the entire exchange, Elder Ji’s sharp eyes scanned the marketpce with increasing unease. What he saw horrified him: the entire market had become filled with lunatic devotees worshipping Han Ye like a living deity.

  ‘How... how did it come to this?!’ Elder Ji thought in panic. ‘This must be reported to the Deputy Sect Master immediately!’

  He had expected a quiet trip — but it seemed, wherever Han Ye went, chaos inevitably followed.

  As they prepared to leave the market, the waves of worshippers reluctantly parted, making way for Han Ye and his companions. Elder Ji felt sweat gathering at his temples. His instincts screamed at him to leave this pce as soon as possible.

  Just as Han Ye lifted his foot to step forward, a sudden commotion erupted from among the crowd.

  One of the worshippers — a tall cultivator with frenzied eyes and erratic Qi flow — broke through the group. Without warning, he plunged his own hand into his chest with a sickening, wet crack, ripping apart flesh and bone.

  The sound echoed grotesquely through the square, silencing even the winds.

  In a horrifying dispy, the man tore his still-beating heart from his ribcage, his blood spraying wildly across the stone tiles. Gasping, he knelt before Han Ye, raising the dripping organ above his head like a sacred offering.

  "For you, my Lord! Accept this humble heart as proof of my eternal devotion!" the man cried out, his voice trembling between pain and euphoria.

  The onlookers froze in shock — even the other fanatical worshippers seemed stunned by the sheer extremity of the act.

  Blood pooled rapidly around the man's knees, staining the base of the Han Ye statue in a gruesome red halo. His body shuddered violently, on the verge of colpsing, yet he kept holding the heart aloft with fanatical determination.

  Han Ye’s expression darkened slightly, his brows furrowing — not out of horror, but irritation at the sheer uselessness of the act. With a wave of his hand, he enveloped the gory offering and the dying man within a sphere of bck Qi. In an instant, both the heart and the body disintegrated into nothingness, leaving not even a trace behind.

  "How pointless," Han Ye said, his voice ft and disappointed, a sharp contrast to the calm warmth he had shown earlier. "If you truly wish to be useful, then live. Grow stronger. Serve with your actions — not with meaningless sacrifices."

  The square fell into a fearful, trembling silence. No one dared to move or speak.

  Lan Ji and Xun Lian stood frozen, their faces pale. Elder Ji, meanwhile, clenched his fists so tightly that his nails dug into his palms, trying to keep his composure.

  'This... This is no longer a marketpce. This is a cult,' Elder Ji thought grimly. 'If the Deputy Sect Master doesn't act soon...'

  Han Ye sighed heavily, as if the entire scene bored him. With a flick of his sleeve, he turned to Elder Ji and said casually, "Let’s go. I’ve got what I need."

  And so, with every step they took, the worshippers bowed deeply — not daring to raise their heads — until Han Ye and his companions disappeared beyond the market gates, leaving behind the scent of blood and the chilling whisper of fanatical prayers.

  One of the lunatic worshippers, a man with wild eyes and a tattered robe, fell to his knees the moment Han Ye spoke. Trembling with what seemed like divine inspiration, he scrambled to pull out an old, worn book from within his clothes. With frantic energy, he began scribbling down every word Han Ye had just said, his hands barely able to keep up as he wrote feverishly, like a man possessed.

  "If you truly wish to be useful, then live. Grow stronger. Serve with your actions — not with meaningless sacrifices," he muttered as he etched the words into the yellowing pages. His handwriting was uneven, desperate, but filled with an almost religious fervor. Each stroke of ink was accompanied by gasping breaths, as if he feared forgetting even a single sylble from Han Ye’s decration.

  The other worshippers began to gather around him, peeking over his shoulder, their eyes wide with awe. Some began repeating Han Ye's words in whispers, like a prayer passed from ear to ear. The man writing took no notice of them; he continued, tears of gratitude streaming down his cheeks. To him, this was not mere ink on paper — it was scripture, and Han Ye’s words were now holy doctrine.

  By the time Han Ye turned to leave with Elder Ji and the others, the tattered book was already being cradled like a sacred relic. A few whispered, "This shall be our guide, the First Teachings of Our Lord Han Ye," without realizing how absurd it sounded. Han Ye, however, didn’t even gnce back — as far as he was concerned, the whole event was nothing but another series of small, useless distractions.