Everything had returned to normal in the Zhu family house.

  Dao Jun was deep in discussion with his soul body. Every time they spoke, sparks popped inside the mental space, signifying significant progress.

  With his poor talent and lowly background, the only advantage Dao Jun had in the world of immortality was his modern knowledge. However, in a world where gods and buddhas existed, the scientific theories he had learned were rendered nearly useless. Thus, apart from his knowledge, Dao Jun relied heavily on his modern perception of the world and life.

  After studying for nine years under compulsory education, he had learned one crucial thing.

  If someone had a poor memory, no matter how much they studied for an exam, the results would always be disappointing. So, when he began his cultivation, the first goal he set for himself was to find a way to attain a permanent memory—a photographic memory and beyond.

  After years of effort and countless experiments, he managed to find an entry point into his own Sea of Consciousness while still being a Qi Refining cultivator. From then on, his ability to learn improved by leaps and bounds. He mastered the arts of drawing talismans, refining pills, forging weapons, and setting up formations. Among the hundreds of Immortal Arts, these four were the most recognized in supporting a cultivator’s journey, providing both financial gain and status to open many opportunities.

  In the present, Dao Jun had the ability to record everything he encountered and store it within his soul—whether it was something he actively perceived or anything that happened around him. The most useful function was that he could replay his own actions, preventing himself from making the same mistakes while learning.

  This was why the mind space was filled with graceful air currents and colorful lights that appeared out of nowhere. Every passing second meant either the complete modification of a spell soul or the birth of a new idea that opened new possibilities.

  The moon hung silently in the night sky. The villagers had already closed their doors and rested their weary bodies on their beds. Time passed unnoticed.

  It was more than two hours past midnight when Dao Jun's eyes suddenly snapped open. Just now, his heart had started racing for no apparent reason. An ordinary person might have brushed it off, blaming it on poor health. But for Dao Jun, a master of the Divination Arts, every bad premonition signified a real and imminent threat—to his life and to his path toward immortality.

  Dao Jun placed his right palm on his chest, feeling his heart pounding like an enraged boar trying to break free from its ribcage. Even before he could calculate the cause and effect of this bad omen, his face had already grown pale, and his back was drenched in sweat.

  The danger was real, and it was near!

  Without hesitation, Dao Jun pinched his fingers together and performed a divination about his near future. In his vision, he saw a group of men heading toward his location. Though he couldn’t see their exact numbers, he deduced that his freedom—and possibly his life—was in danger. Just as he tried to probe deeper into his enemies’ identities, a blinding light engulfed his vision.

  Dao Jun coughed up a mouthful of blood.

  He was stunned, frozen in place.

  “How can this be?!” He had never even considered this possibility. “There are people in this world who can compete with me in divination? And to think they managed to cover their tracks for this long—long enough to get this close to me?”

  “Ridiculous. Ridiculous! Isn’t this supposed to be a world of martial arts? Why are there people practicing divination to such a degree? Where is the suppression caused by the inferior spiritual energy?”

  After venting his frustration, Dao Jun took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. He began another round of divination—but this time, not on his enemies, but on himself.

  Divination was tied to karmic connections, which had their own causes and effects. Since his enemies could protect themselves, Dao Jun sought a solution from his own side.

  With the help of his soul body, he used soul energy at the Second Level as the source and performed a divination spell on himself. Invisible soul energy flowed from his seven orifices, gathering above his head and transforming into a floating eyeball. However, this eyeball exuded an eerie, evil aura—its very appearance was enough to bring nightmares to ordinary people.

  This was a demonic method.

  The vertical pupil of the evil eyeball moved erratically for a moment before suddenly stopping and staring directly at Dao Jun from above. Then, a blood-red light illuminated his body.

  Under the crimson glow, hidden patterns began to emerge. Soon, Dao Jun’s entire body was covered in black markings, oozing dark smoke.

  His figure was now completely shrouded in darkness.

  At last, he received his answer. The evil eyeball's pupil resumed its erratic movements before disappearing, taking the black smoke with it. Dao Jun reappeared on his bed, still sitting cross-legged.

  His eyes reflected complex emotions. He had already suspected the reason for this, but that didn’t make the truth any easier to accept.

  The soul body also looked solemn but soon relaxed its expression. It shook its head and spoke.

  “Five hundred years crossing rivers and climbing mountains, only to return to the sea. All achievements are illusions. Nothing is permanent in this world. The waves of time roll forward—whether I follow them or not, I have no other choice. Fellow Taoist, put down your burdens and let go of your obsessions.”

  Hearing those words, Dao Jun clenched his fists so tightly that blood began to seep from his palms. In the end, he sighed and muttered, “I’m sorry, me. I’ve become too obsessed with my achievements. This is my foundation. This is my proof of existence. I can’t help but feel reluctant to part with it.”

  Dao Jun closed his eyes for a brief moment before reopening them. His previously conflicted emotions had vanished, as if they had never existed in the first place. Instead, his usually calm gaze turned slightly cold.

  Then, he stood up from his bed. His eyes locked onto a certain direction, and a flicker of murderous intent flashed through them.

  “Even in a new world, this truth remains the same.” Dao Jun murmured to himself, his voice slow and tinged with helplessness.

  “In a world of the extraordinary, personal power holds more weight than virtue. This is not human nature—it is the nature of the world itself. You cannot change it, nor should you try.” The soul body replied.

  Dao Jun spread his arms to the side, and using his soul power, he slowly undressed himself.

  His robe, a finely crafted garment imbued with various effects beyond mere protection, was placed neatly on the bed, followed by his inner garment and the rest of his clothing. Now, he stood bare, staring at the neatly arranged attire before shifting his gaze to the jade ring on his finger.

  This ring, once his storage ring, was now nothing more than a useless trinket. Yet, it held memories—fragments of his past life in the world of immortality. And now, he had to let it go.

  Dao Jun placed the jade ring atop the folded clothes, alongside his boots. Now, he was a man with nothing—only his body remained. Yet, under the cover of his soul power, the cold night wind could not touch his skin.

  With a wave of his hand, a new set of ordinary clothes flew toward him. As if guided by invisible fairies, they draped themselves over his body, fitting him perfectly.

  For the second time, Dao Jun looked at the only objects that tied him to the world he had left behind. Then, slowly, he closed his eyes and turned away.

  …

  More than one kilometer from Zhuzi Village, a group of masked men dressed in all-black suits, fully covering themselves from head to toe, moved swiftly under the moonlight. Their figures resembled ghostly shadows, flickering across the landscape.

  At superhuman speed, they maneuvered through the natural terrain with ease until they reached their destination—a high ground overlooking Zhuzi Village.

  At the forefront, the group’s captain retrieved a compass from his waist and flipped it open. The needle pointed straight at the village below, steady and precise, its tip locked onto the Zhu family house.

  Raising his hand, the captain signaled his men to spread out and surround the village, preventing their target from escaping.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  With practiced efficiency, the group moved to their designated positions, strategically taking spots around the village. Their movements were silent, their steps light, as though they were mere phantoms in the night.

  Then, in unison, they each pulled out a small flag hidden within their clothes and poured their energy into it.

  An invisible wave rippled outward.

  The individual waves from each member connected, forming a seamless, unseen barrier that enclosed the Zhu family house.

  The captain, now standing in front of the house, glanced down at the compass once more. The needle still pointed in the same direction, but now, its tip glowed with a hazy light.

  A silent gesture.

  The team advanced.

  Closing in like a tightening noose, they moved toward the guest room where Dao Jun was supposed to be.

  One of them kicked the door open and immediately threw in smoke bombs and poison needles. Another entered through the window, ensuring the target had no chance of escape.

  But the room was empty.

  The man who entered from the window landed lightly on the frame, scanning the smoke-filled room with keen eyes. His vision, enhanced beyond normal human capabilities, was unaffected by the smoke. He could see everything clearly.

  Yet, there was no one inside.

  The captain stepped into the room, his eyes flicking left and right, analyzing the emptiness before turning his attention back to the compass. The needle still pointed at the bed, where a neatly folded set of clothes and a pair of boots lay undisturbed.

  Without hesitation, he waved his hand.

  A subordinate behind him pulled out a wooden tube from his waist and tossed it toward the bed.

  The moment the tube neared the clothes, it emitted a bright light and exploded mid-air.

  Yet, there was no sound.

  No smoke.

  As the light faded, the wooden bed was reduced to splinters. The clothes and boots suffered the same fate.

  The only thing that remained intact was the jade ring, which had been flung a short distance away by the force of the explosion.

  Without needing further orders, another subordinate stepped forward.

  Retrieving a small package from his body, he threw it at the jade ring. The package dissolved mid-air, releasing a liquid that coated the ring.

  A second later, cracks began to spread across the jade surface.

  Then, with a soft shattering sound, the ring crumbled into dust.

  The captain checked the compass once more.

  This time, the needle moved—shifting from the original location and pointing in a new direction. However, the hazy glow at its tip had disappeared.

  Without speaking, the captain turned and exited the ruined room.

  “Captain, there are five Warriors and six ordinary people in this house.” One of his men sent a silent message through a secret transmission.

  “There will be no clues left behind,” the captain replied, his voice emotionless.

  He stepped forward toward the main door. But before he could take another step—

  Boom!

  An explosion erupted.

  Then another.

  And another.

  A total of five explosions shook the house.

  The captain turned just in time to see a man rushing toward him.

  “Report, Captain! The bodies of the five Warriors exploded, heavily injuring five of our men.”

  The captain stared at him, his gaze cold and devoid of emotion.

  “How bad?”

  The reporting soldier hesitated before answering, “Their lives aren’t at risk, but they can no longer continue the mission.”

  “One man will escort them back,” the captain ordered before continuing his steps.

  As he exited the front door, the member responsible for maintaining the formation was already waiting for him. Judging by his silent demeanor, he had likely realized that their mission had failed.

  Hearing the five explosions just now only confirmed it.

  “Let’s go,” the captain said, his voice carrying a slight shift in tone when speaking to this one team member.

  Previously, there had been fifteen of them.

  Now, with five injured and one escorting them back, only nine remained.

  They resumed their pursuit, following the compass’s guidance.

  Dao Jun was fleeing with all his might.

  He was even using his spiritual power, despite knowing how difficult it would be to replenish. He was at risk of losing his cultivation realm altogether—but he had no choice.

  His divination had shown it clearly: no matter what he did, he would lose.

  It wasn’t just because he was seriously injured or because his physical foundation had been crippled. His Qi Refining cultivation was only at the middle stage, and using spiritual power would consume his already fragile foundation. On top of that, his soul techniques, even after modifying them, were still immature.

  The only way to survive was to run—run as far as he could.

  Through his divination, he had discovered the reason his enemies could track him so accurately: the spiritual power within his body, his Qi Refining cultivation, and the items he had brought from the world of immortality.

  Now that he had abandoned his possessions, only the spiritual power in his body remained.

  Without hesitation, Dao Jun burned through his remaining cultivation—using it to accelerate his escape and, at the same time, abolishing it completely.

  As he ran, he felt the master-slave brand in his soul shifting.

  His preparations for his pursuers had been triggered.

  Yet, he did not slow down.

  The premonition of death still loomed over him, undiminished.

  That meant the true threat—the main force that could defeat him—was still at full strength.

  Dao Jun knew that his pursuers were still able to track him because of the conflicting nature of his spiritual power. The higher-grade spiritual energy within him clashed against the inferior spiritual energy of this world, creating a contrast that made him stand out.

  The world and everything in it were connected by karmic ties and causal interactions—even when they never directly met. This world was filled with inferior spiritual energy, and when it encountered a higher-quality force, it instinctively sought to assimilate and neutralize the contradiction. This very principle allowed his enemies to track him, even from afar.

  After running at full speed for a long period, Dao Jun realized that escaping wasn’t working.

  No matter how far he fled, his pursuers remained on his tail.

  Even if he completely abolished his cultivation, the mastermind behind them remained a complete unknown. Their capabilities were beyond what he could determine in his current state.

  Running would only buy him time—but not change the inevitable.

  As for why he was being hunted? That question no longer mattered.

  No one would bother explaining themselves when wealth and power were within their reach.

  Dao Jun came from a world where the Great Dao was ever-present, where spiritual energy flourished, and wondrous techniques were as abundant as bamboo shoots after a heavy rain.

  That wealth of knowledge alone was enough to make him a target.

  Even if that wasn’t the reason, being captured in his current state would spell disaster.

  At best, he would be used as an experimental subject—his body and soul dissected for study.

  His mind was still clear. He would rather destroy himself than fall into their hands.

  Dao Jun halted his movements.

  Instead of continuing to flee, he searched for a place to rest and plan his next move.

  Now that he had put some distance between himself and his pursuers, he had a brief window to take action. Before completely destroying his Qi Refining cultivation, he needed to make one final move.

  Right now, he was like an empty shell.

  His spiritual energy was the only thing keeping his body from collapsing entirely, nourishing it along with his soul power.

  But once he fully abolished his cultivation, the consequences would be very dire for him.

  Dao Jun lifted his head, gazing at the lonely moon through the gaps in the tree branches above him.

  Despite the leaves filtering its glow, the moonlight still reached the ground.

  For a moment, his thoughts wandered.

  He felt pity for the moon.

  “You are the only light in the vast darkness, yet even that radiance is not your own. Still, you shine tirelessly, casting your pale glow upon the earth. But when the sun rises, all who once relied on you will forget your existence, as if you were never there."

  His voice carried no clear emotion.

  Was he mocking the moon—or himself?

  Dao Jun lowered his gaze and sat cross-legged on the ground. His hands came together in a seal, fingers forming a sacred gesture. The remaining emotions within him no longer mattered at this point—only his survival did.

  Then, in a solemn tone, he whispered a prayer.

  "I sacrifice the sword for the heavens."

  Deep within Dao Jun’s dantian lay three treasures—artifacts he had personally refined and continuously nurtured with his natal fire.

  Before being teleported to this world, these treasures had been of the highest quality. But the damage inflicted by the purple poison had severely degraded them, lowering their rank to low-grade Second Level artifacts.

  Unlike his discarded clothes and boots that were outside his body, these items still retained traces of their original high-grade materials.

  The first treasure to be sacrificed was a sword.

  Its blade was brown, aged, and worn by time appearing like an ancient relic that had never once been drawn.

  This sword was named Old Age.

  From the moment of its creation, Dao Jun had never wielded it in battle. Instead, he had cultivated it in accordance with a secret technique known as Hidden Sword Refining Life.

  The technique’s principle was simple: the wielder would never unsheathe the sword until their final moment. If they held onto it until death, they would have the chance to open the path of immortality gaining a second chance.

  But if circumstances demanded it, they could sacrifice all their efforts in an instant to escape certain death.

  The brown sword let out a sorrowful hum as it was consumed by Dao Jun’s soul energy.

  It did not mourn its own destruction.

  It mourned the pathetic fate of its master.

  Under the guidance of Dao Jun’s divination spell, the essence of Old Age transformed into a thin, black incense stick floating in front of him.

  The incense stood tall and unwavering.

  At its tip, a green flame flickered to life, releasing a wisp of white smoke into the night air.

  "I sacrifice the seal for the earth."

  The second item was a wooden seal.

  Its base was rectangular, and a dragon coiled around a pearl atop its surface.

  This treasure was named Price.

  It had served as the core of Dao Jun’s formations, his primary tool for protection.

  The cultivation method behind it followed a simple truth: every action had a price.

  For every sacrifice made, the seal would only grow stronger.

  The seal hummed and sold itself as the price for its master’s survival.

  As before, the seal was consumed, and its essence formed the second incense beside the first.

  "I use the bamboo to open the path to the mysteries."

  The third and final item was a simple bamboo slip—plain and unadorned.

  This slip, named One, was the tool Dao Jun used for his divination techniques.

  It enhanced his calculations and provided passive protection against divination attempts from others.

  Its meaning was clear.

  There is only one life.

  If you failed, everything ended.

  You would be forgotten, and the world would move on.

  The slip let out a clear sound and accepted its fate. It had meddled too many times with destiny, and now, it would embrace its ending gracefully.

  Among the three treasures, only this jade slip had awakened a trace of spirituality, and with its final act, it sent its last thought directly into Dao Jun’s mind.

  Unlike its previous communications—where it could only convey emotions through faint fluctuations—this time, its final words took form in a childish voice.

  "Life and death. You either live or die. Now, I die so that you may live, Master."

  Though he had severed all emotions at this moment, his eyes were still turning red. No matter how much he suppressed his feelings, he could not silence them completely.

  To prevent the ritual from being disrupted, the soul body stepped forward in his place. With a quiet, knowing voice, it offered a final farewell to the bamboo slip.

  "Thank you for your sacrifice… and farewell."

  Then, in a voice barely above a whisper—but laced with profound hatred and killing intent—Dao Jun spoke his final request.

  "Show me the mastermind."