Zhi Xuan exhaled a long breath. The noise from the small street festival echoed faintly, contrasting with the horror that had just occurred in that narrow alley. He gazed at the youth, Lin Mu, who now trembled before him, not out of fear of the thugs, but because of the aura Zhi Xuan had unintentionally released.

  "Lin Mu," Zhi Xuan repeated coldly, his tone indifferent. He sharpened his divine sense and scrutinized the youth's cultivation. "Divine Wheel. Your Divine Wheel is quite sturdy."

  Lin Mu started, his shock surpassing his fear. A cultivator was able to see the details of his Divine Wheel with just a fleeting glance. That meant the figure before him was a cultivator whose fluctuations were beyond the ordinary Transformation realm. He immediately lowered his head further, clutching the ancient wooden box tightly.

  "Senior praises me too much," Lin Mu replied, his voice still trembling but full of respect. "I have only reached the early layer of the Divine Wheel; it is not worthy of being called sturdy."

  Zhi Xuan snorted softly, a thin smirk appearing at the corner of his lips. He stepped forward, his feet channeled with spiritual essence moving silently over the dirty cobblestones. His cold aura, now tempered by twenty-eight slaughter seals, felt piercing against the skin. Lin Mu was forced to take a step back as the cold bit deep into his bones.

  "Why were you being chased by that fertilizer?" Zhi Xuan asked, stopping just before Lin Mu could stumble from fear, and with a wave of his hand, he created a small shield behind the boy. "What is the content of that box?"

  Lin Mu swallowed hard and looked up slowly, his gaze filled with struggle. For a low-realm cultivator in the Zhao State, revealing a secret he had staked his life on was a foolish act, but he knew he had no choice. In the presence of someone who could kill a Blood Transformation cultivator with a single strike, he could not lie.

  "This is... the remains of an inheritance," Lin Mu whispered, clutching the box even tighter. "A small key. A key that can open the entrance to a Family Tomb. The Shi Clan, who manages a prominent auction house in the Zhao State, found clues about the Tomb but failed to find the key. This key has been passed down in my family, but I did not realize its value."

  Lin Mu explained that he was an orphaned youth working as a cleaner at the Shi Clan auction house. By chance, he had overheard the conversation of the Shi Clan Elders and realized the small wooden box he possessed was the Black Dragon Key. The Shi Clan pursued him, caring nothing for his life, wanting only the key.

  Zhi Xuan raised an eyebrow. A tomb. A place he had just left and sworn not to enter again anytime soon because it was so dangerous. It felt as if he were truly defying destiny.

  "The Black Dragon Key," Zhi Xuan murmured. He channeled his divine sense, no longer caring about Lin Mu’s Divine Wheel, but focusing instead on the ancient wooden box. The runes on the surface of the box immediately vibrated before his mental strength. The box did not contain a key; rather, it was hiding the key. "When does the auction house managed by the Shi Clan open?"

  Lin Mu was slightly surprised by Zhi Xuan’s shift in focus. Instead of being interested in the key itself, this senior who looked like a Devil was asking about the Shi Clan.

  "The Shi Clan auction house holds its main auction once every three months, Senior," Lin Mu replied quickly. "However, smaller auctions are held every night. Tonight is the first night of the minor auction for Spirit Artifacts. They will display several failed Heavenly Artifacts and common Spiritual Herbs."

  Zhi Xuan’s sapphire eyes narrowed. A minor auction at night. Failed Heavenly Artifacts and common herbs. Such a place was a den of information and, more importantly, a place that might hold the residual Laws and failed artifacts needed by Ruo Xianxue.

  "I am not interested in the Black Dragon Key, nor the mortal tomb of a vanished clan," Zhi Xuan replied coldly, his tone returning to one of disdain. "However, I am interested in the Shi Clan and their auction."

  Zhi Xuan glanced at the wooden box Lin Mu clutched. "If you hold the key, they will not let you live long, even if you manage to flee the Zhao State. They will send Consciousness realm cultivators to hunt you to the corners of the Plains."

  Lin Mu, who had briefly felt relieved, was now shrouded in cold fear again. He knew Zhi Xuan was not lying. The Shi Clan was a power in the Zhao State, and they would not allow a secret of that magnitude to leak.

  "I... I do not know what to do," Lin Mu stumbled, confusion and despair clear in his eyes. He was a weak Divine Wheel cultivator; he could not face the pursuit of an Ancient Clan.

  Suddenly, Ruo Xianxue interrupted from within Zhi Xuan’s Sea of Consciousness with a subtle tone. "He carries the Dragon bloodline. Look at both sides of his head. There are faint marks where his horns were cleanly severed. The marks are covered by an illusion seal; look closely."

  Zhi Xuan, hearing Ruo Xianxue's whisper, started. Dragon bloodline? He frowned and refocused his eyes on Lin Mu’s head. Through his sharp eyes blessed with Primordial aura, he saw the fading illusion. On the left and right sides of Lin Mu’s forehead were smooth scars, as if two small horns had been precisely cut and then covered with high-level illusion runes.

  Zhi Xuan snorted coldly. That was cruelty. Dragon bloodline was a priceless treasure, yet Lin Mu had to seal it to disguise himself as a weak mortal, or even change his name. He realized the box and the Black Dragon Key were far more important than he had initially thought.

  "I am not interested in the tomb," Zhi Xuan repeated, but his voice softened slightly, clouded by deep contemplation. "However, I need information about the Zhao State, and perhaps some herbs from the Shi Clan auction. And you, Lin Mu, carry a problem that could be your destruction."

  Zhi Xuan stepped closer. He reached out his hand, his hardened palm now decorated with a suppressed aura of destruction. He did not try to take the box but instead touched Lin Mu’s shoulder.

  "Follow me," Zhi Xuan commanded, his voice carrying an authority that could not be refused, a command dictated by Fate. "I will use you as a guide to explore the Zhao State. In return, I will guarantee your safety from the Shi Clan—as long as you are with me."

  Lin Mu looked up, his eyes widening. Following a Devil who could destroy a Blood Transformation cultivator with a single punch? It was madness. But on the other hand, it was his only hope for survival. The cold aura from the jade in Zhi Xuan’s hair emitted a strange contradiction. A Devil shrouded in purity.

  "I... I am willing, Senior," Lin Mu replied, bowing deeply as a cold relief washed over his body. The Black Dragon Key box now felt slightly lighter.

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  Zhi Xuan smirked thinly, a cold and calculating smile. "Good. Now, take me to the place that sells the most expensive and potent wine. I need to wash away the lingering disgusting taste of that filthy blood from earlier."

  He stepped out of the narrow alley, his black robe fluttering. Lin Mu, who had now tied his destiny to the Black-Haired Devil, followed behind, clutching the ancient wooden box tightly. The street lanterns welcomed them, and Zhi Xuan, the Devil of the Ancient Wasteland, officially entered the heart of the Zhao State civilization.

  Lin Mu, who suddenly felt lifted from the mud of despair, nodded quickly. He led Zhi Xuan through the busy cobblestone streets, avoiding the crowds immersed in the small nightly celebrations. He chose a path that was fast and full of twists, far from the greedy gaze of street cultivator divine senses.

  They arrived at a tall, dull jade tower hidden behind a row of spice shops. At the entrance, a majestic bronze dragon carving watched the visitors. This was the Seven Clouds Pavilion, the place where the best spiritual wine in the Zhao State was served.

  "The Seven Clouds Pavilion," Lin Mu whispered, his voice full of respect. "Their Qilin Blood Dew is said to be made from the juice of spirit fruits that only grow on the peaks of the Seventh Heaven mountains. The price is astronomical, and it is only visited by cultivators of the Consciousness Transformation realm and above."

  Zhi Xuan merely snorted, his eyes sweeping over the dense aura emitted by the pavilion. This place was full of powerful rats radiating an arrogance different from street thugs.

  "Good," Zhi Xuan replied. He stepped inside without hesitation. The thick bronze door opened with a low jingle, revealing a luxurious interior shrouded in a soothing spiritual mist.

  Inside, dozens of cultivators sat at jade tables, discussing in low voices, their auras fluctuating with oppressive power. Zhi Xuan’s arrival, with his black robe and red silk contrasting against the cold jade aura in his hair, immediately drew attention.

  Zhi Xuan ignored the searching gazes. He chose a table in the corner, far from the crowd, beside a window overlooking the night sky. Lin Mu, who now felt like a mouse brought into a tiger’s den, sat across from Zhi Xuan, clutching the ancient wooden box tightly.

  "Qilin Blood Dew," Zhi Xuan commanded a waiter who appeared to be trembling from the pressure of their aura. He then glanced at Lin Mu. "And you, order the spirit essence purifying tea. Calm your Divine Wheel."

  The waiter, a mortal trained to serve powerful cultivators, immediately bowed and hurried away, trembling slightly but efficiently. He had felt an unusual aura from Zhi Xuan—a cold confusion hidden behind a calm exterior. At the Seven Clouds Pavilion, high-level cultivators were common, but there was something about Zhi Xuan that felt more ancient and dangerous.

  Lin Mu nodded slightly, letting a cold relief wash over him. Zhi Xuan’s command for the spirit essence purifying tea was an unexpected touch of kindness, a contrast to the senior's cold aura. He digested every detail of the pavilion, trying to carve it into his mind, an experience he had never imagined.

  "Tell me more about the Shi Clan," Zhi Xuan ordered, his voice low and full of calculation. He did not look at Lin Mu but stared out the window at the sea of shimmering lanterns in the Zhao State. "Why has your family held that key for generations?"

  Lin Mu leaned forward, his voice lowering to a whisper, though he knew no one dared approach Zhi Xuan’s table. "The Shi Clan, Senior, is a remnant clan from the previous Empire. They collect treasures and artifacts, but what they truly desire is the wealth of the past."

  "The Black Dragon Key is not just an ordinary Family Tomb key. That tomb is the final resting place of the Black Dragon Clan Lord, one of the ruling clans destroyed during the era of chaos. The key was passed down in my family because we were loyal servants responsible for guarding that secret, changing our names and lineage to hide it from the Shi Clan and other greedy clans."

  "The Shi Clan believes that within the Tomb lie priceless treasures, cultivation inheritances, and most importantly, the Dragon Blood Essence that can purify their thinning bloodline. They pursue me, not for the Tomb, but to revive the glory of the Shi Clan with the Dragon bloodline sealed within that Tomb."

  Zhi Xuan snorted, his sapphire eyes flashing. Dragon Blood Essence. No wonder Ruo Xianxue felt that bloodline in Lin Mu’s body. The Shi Clan was not just looking for treasure; they were looking for a way to change their destiny by utilizing another Ancient Bloodline.

  "And you, as a guardian, are not just an ordinary one," Zhi Xuan murmured, his voice cold and carrying a heavy weight. He now gazed at Lin Mu with greater attention. "I can see your suffering through the horns you hide."

  Lin Mu, who had just felt safe, was so shocked that his body stiffened. The greatest secret of his life, the severed Dragon bloodline, was visible to this senior. Even Five Element cultivators could not pierce this illusion; how could the senior before him do so? Lin Mu felt cold sweat on his forehead.

  Ruo Xianxue murmured casually from the Sea of Consciousness. "Ha, Golden Dragon horns, rare. Severing a bloodline is a vile act; it weakens one's Dao. The Shi Clan must be cruel rats."

  Zhi Xuan ignored Ruo Xianxue's whisper, but his expression remained cold. He reached out and, with an unexpected motion, touched Lin Mu’s forehead. The touch was light, but his spiritual essence flowed, probing Lin Mu’s residual memories to seek out that cruelty. Lin Mu started, his face momentarily blank as his consciousness was overtaken.

  A piercing yet soothing cold sensation immediately filled Lin Mu’s sea of consciousness, like spring water sweeping away dust. He did not resist; he could not. Before Zhi Xuan’s refined spiritual power, Lin Mu’s weak defenses crumbled like thin paper.

  Zhi Xuan withdrew his hand in an instant, his expression now becoming extremely cold. What he saw was not a sad childhood memory, but the cruelty inflicted by the Shi Clan. Lin Mu was born with intact small black dragon horns; it was a sign of a very pure bloodline awakening.

  The Shi Clan, upon discovering this, forcibly sealed and severed those horns when Lin Mu was still an infant. They placed a high-level illusion so that Lin Mu would hide the horn marks and made him a cleaner who was easy to control, keeping the key close without making the outside world suspicious.

  "The Shi Clan," Zhi Xuan hissed, a cold killing intent flashing in his sapphire eyes. It was not anger, but disgust. Severing a Dragon bloodline was a crime that violated Natural Law and the Dao, an act that weakened someone's Dao for one's own gain. "Violating the will of a living being, acting like a Devil yet not being one, this is the act of a coward."

  Lin Mu, recovering from the brief spiritual invasion, looked at Zhi Xuan with tearful eyes. He did not need to ask; he knew the senior before him had seen everything. The shame, anger, and despair he had suppressed since childhood now rose to the surface.

  "I—I cannot restore it, Senior," Lin Mu whispered, his voice filled with pain. "My bloodline has been weakened. Even if I could regain the Black Dragon inheritance, I would never be able to reach my full cultivation potential."

  The waiter returned to their table, bringing deep red spiritual wine that looked like thick blood and a cup of spirit essence purifying tea. The waiter placed the items carefully and immediately retreated, not daring to disturb the tense atmosphere at the table.

  Zhi Xuan took the bronze wine cup. The aroma of blood filled the air, its pure and potent essence resonating with the Divine Cauldron in his sea of consciousness. He sipped it, and a strong sweetness mixed with burning spiritual power. The filthy taste from the thug’s blood earlier vanished instantly, replaced by a pleasant purification.

  "Royal Dragon," Zhi Xuan murmured, his tone cold and sharp. He set the bronze cup down on the table with a loud clack, making Lin Mu jump. "I did not expect the Golden Dragon bloodline to be found here."

  Lin Mu started. Golden Dragon? That was a bloodline level far beyond what he knew. He had always thought his bloodline was just that of an ordinary Black Dragon tasked with guarding the Tomb. But the Golden Dragon—that was the Ruling Clan of ancient times, whose bloodline was rumored to be extinct.

  Zhi Xuan allowed a gripping silence to crawl in, letting Lin Mu drown in the revelation that shook his Dao. Golden Dragon. A bloodline that even in the Primordial era was a revered entity, equal to the Phoenix and the Kun Peng.

  "The Black Dragon was merely a guarding branch," Zhi Xuan continued, his voice now calm again, but every word carried the weight of immeasurable Law. He sipped his wine as if calculating the price of destiny. The Snow Phoenix Jade in his hair emitted a brighter light, as if calming the turbulence in Zhi Xuan's body drawn to the ancient bloodline.

  "Your bloodline is a treasure sought by Heaven and Earth. The Shi Clan did not cut your horns out of fear; they did it to suppress the Destiny that would attract the attention of other clans, so they could harvest you when the time came," Zhi Xuan explained, piercing to the heart of the Shi Clan’s cruelty. "The scar on your forehead is not just a wound, but also a Seal made by an enemy who wants you to remain weak."