Have you ever seen Yan Jiao City at the hour before dawn?

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Tonight, Lin Bei had a beautiful dream.

He dreamed that he was still in the Colorful Moon Pavilion, lying amidst crimson silk curtains with a gentle, tender maiden at his side. She helped him undress, piece by piece—one, two, three garments… Then, slowly, she sat atop him, and just as things were about to escalate...

She started slapping his face.

With each swing, her hand landed squarely on his cheek, again and again.

Smack, smack, smack...

“Huh? Hey? What’s going on?” Lin Bei flailed his arms, struggling in confusion before he finally snapped his eyes open.

Only then did he realize it wasn’t just a dream—something really was hitting him!

It was a half-page of golden paper, thin and delicate, yet somehow packed with enough force to make his face sting and burn.

“What on earth?” Lin Bei cried out, grabbing the half-page of golden script. He saw a shimmering light flicker across it, and scrawled in crooked handwriting was a name.

Lin Bei.

“Hmm?” Chu Liang, disturbed by the noise, pushed open the door from next door. He saw the golden paper in Lin Bei’s hand and said, “Isn’t that Instructor Song’s magical treasure?”

Lin Bei had seen Song Qingyi use this item just last night and immediately recognized it. Sitting up, puzzled, he asked, “Why would Instructor Song send this thing to me?”

Chu Liang met his gaze; a spark of understanding flickered in both their eyes. They spoke in unison:

“She’s in danger!” “She has a secret crush on me!”

…

A brief silence.

After a pause, Lin Bei said sheepishly, “How do you know she’s in danger…”

“Think about it. This is a defensive artifact given to her by the Hall of Virtue. Why would she send it out so easily?” Chu Liang reasoned. “She must be in trouble and unable to escape, forced to ask for help. And among the cultivators she knows near Yanjiao City, there’s only the two of us. That’s why she reached out.”

“Even so… If she’s in danger, why did she write my name instead of yours? That means I’m the one on her mind…” Lin Bei stubbornly insisted.

“Or maybe…” Chu Liang considered, “your name is easier to write.”

Looking at the crooked ‘Lin Bei’, it was clear Song Qingyi had written it in great haste, likely in a moment of dire peril.

“What should we do now?” Lin Bei quickly changed the subject, no longer dwelling on the previous point.

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Chu Liang’s mind was racing. He replied solemnly, “Song Qingyi is a true disciple of the Hall of Virtue and carries a magical artifact. For her to be trapped and unable to escape, the enemy might possess power at the fourth stage. Under the circumstances, we should split up. You return to Mount Shu for reinforcements, while I go and find Instructor Song to assess the situation.”

“You’re going?” Lin Bei frowned. “But if the enemy is as strong as you say, what good would it do for you to go alone?”

“I’m just going to check the situation. If there’s immediate danger, at least I can buy some time.” Chu Liang replied. “When you return to the mountain, go straight to Silver Sword Peak and find my master. Among the elders of Mount Shu, there’s no one more idle than her. If you find someone else, you might miss her and waste time. Only she is certain to still be asleep at this hour!”

His tone brimmed with confidence.

Lin Bei hesitated. If one person returned for help and the other went to find Song Qingyi, the one checking the situation would obviously face greater danger.

So he said, “Since it’s your master, why don’t you return for reinforcements while I go check on her?”

Chu Liang shook his head. “My cultivation is higher than yours; I’ll go.”

“Huh?” Lin Bei was taken aback. “Aren’t we both at the early stage of Divine Will Realm?”

Chu Liang said nothing more. He simply raised his hand and released a burst of energy, clearly much stronger than before.

“You’ve already reached the middle stage of Divine Will Realm?” Lin Bei exclaimed in surprise.

When he first met Chu Liang, the latter had just broken through to the Divine Will Realm. In fact, Lin Bei’s cultivation had been slightly superior.

How had only a few days passed, and Chu Liang had already advanced, while Lin Bei still had a long way to go?

If Chu Liang were a reclusive ascetic, it would be understandable. But for the past few days, they’d been together on assignments, eating, sleeping, and attending classes at the same times...

When did he even find time to cultivate?

Of course, Chu Liang couldn’t tell him about the giant doll doing manual labor for him—gaining days’ worth of progress in one night and breaking through just last night.

So he simply asked, in a mysterious tone, “Have you ever seen Yanjiao City at the hour of the tiger, just before dawn?”

“Huh?”

“Enough talking—let’s get moving,” Chu Liang waved his hand impatiently.

…

In a dark, dilapidated hut outside Yanjiao City.

Song Qingyi stood in a corner, her beautiful eyes full of terror and despair, unable to utter a sound.

A figure in black robes stood in the center, using ink tinged with blood to draw strange symbols. One after another, he lit black candles, their eerie flames casting sinister shadows.

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Not far from the doorway lay several freshly killed black roosters, their blood still warm.

“Heh heh, don’t be so impatient…” the black-robed man cackled as he continued his drawing.

“It’s rare to encounter a soul at the Divine Will Realm. If I can capture you into the Underworld Codex, it’ll more than make up for the losses I suffered as a Painted-Skin Ghost… No, it’ll be an absolute windfall.”

“If I use a crude method—killing you first and then extracting your living soul—I can preserve at most eighty percent of your divine spirit.”

“But if you’re patient and wait for me to finish preparing the Yin-Yang Soul-Capturing Array, then draw you into the Underworld Codex, your spirit will remain perfectly intact.”

Song Qingyi’s breath nearly stopped.

She knew the Underworld Codex was the most sinister artifact of the Netherlord Sect, used to seize souls and augment its master’s cultivation. Each soul drawn in would add a page to the codex, and the wielder’s power would grow.

But those captured souls would never enter the cycle of reincarnation, doomed to eternal torment within the Underworld Codex.

“And you’re a Confucian cultivator—I’ve never come across one before…”

“They say the souls of Confucians are the purest and most radiant, and if refined into ghosts, they can even walk in daylight.”

“You’re so beautiful. I could turn you into a charm demon, specializing in beguiling mortals… No, with your aura of scholarship, you’d make an excellent Painted Ghost—mysterious and formidable, or perhaps…”

“No… please, no…” Song Qingyi managed to force out a few words, struggling to break free.

But she had been pierced by a Soul-Nailing Spike; at her limit, she could barely move a finger, let alone escape her captor.

Despairing, she cast her gaze outside. Her last act of resistance had been to send out a message with the half-page of golden paper. But whether those two disciples of Mount Shu would understand her intent, or whether they had any means to rescue her, she did not know.

For now, however, the terrifying shadow was already closing in.

“Flesh, a shackle; souls, eternal in the underworld…”

The black-robed man raised his hand, pinched his fingers together, and lit the final black candle.

With the array completed, he slowly produced a tome of black jade.

“My precious, come and greet your newborn soul,” he whispered, his eyes glowing with a cold, wild light. His cackling laughter echoed through the hut:

“Kekekekekekekeke…”