Zhi Xuan stepped into the stall. The air inside was stifling, smelling of sour fermentation and spiritual tobacco smoke. Behind a dull beaded curtain, he saw several cultivators sitting at rickety wooden tables, speaking in hoarse voices. They all looked bedraggled, with auras carrying traces of danger and petty crime, a far cry from the grandeur of the Empire. This was a rat's nest that sold information.

  He chose a stool in the darkest corner, staying away from the pathetic red lantern. He sat quietly, his Ghost Veil tilted slightly downward. In front of him were two sturdy men with their backs to him, wearing beast-hide sarongs, appearing to be gambling with three other men at a table, their voices vaguely audible to Zhi Xuan.

  "The ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect, I bet that those blood corpses are still there," said one of the burly men with a thick beard, slapping the table several times to emphasize his wager. "The Hongmeng Empire takes no part in this, so it is certain there are only mad cultivators there who wish to kill."

  "Blood Corpses? Do not be a fool, Duan Mu," scolded one of the bald men in a whisper, his forehead wrinkling sharply. "The Heavenly Light Sect was a sacred place before its fall; those blood corpses are merely rumors."

  "Old Wei, you do not believe it? Then you must see this," said the man called Duan Mu, waving his hand as a tattered scroll appeared on the table, looking like writings from living witnesses of the Blood Corpses.

  "I obtained this tattered scroll from a decrepit old man; these are the writings of a human who once sought treasures there, Old Wei," Duan Mu continued, pushing the scroll to the center of the table, his eyes radiating a burning greed. "I am certain these Blood Corpses will not die if killed; they will keep coming back to life again and again."

  The bald man called Old Wei pulled the scroll toward him, channeling a bit of his spiritual essence. His previously dismissive face turned tense. He took a sharp breath and regained his composure, the sharp scent of iron piercing his nose from the scroll.

  "This... the scent of blood is thick," Old Wei whispered, his voice containing clear familiarity. He read the lines of ancient writing on the scroll, written by those who had perhaps already been swallowed by the sea of blood. "As long as blood continues to be spilled, there will never be an end. They rise again from blood, yet they are also killed by blood."

  "Nonsense! If they rise from blood, why are they also killed by blood?" exclaimed a thin man across the table, his tone full of doubt. He wore a patched robe and his eyes showed traces of lack of sleep, typical of a low-level cultivator living off illicit treasures.

  Duan Mu, with the thick beard, laughed hoarsely, a laugh full of hidden cruelty. "You do not understand my meaning? It is as if their souls are trapped there; they are refused departure. They are likely the remnants of the Elders and disciples of the Heavenly Light Sect who died in the disaster back then; perhaps the Heavens cursed them with lives that keep revolving amidst blood."

  "The ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect," Old Wei murmured, his sharp eyes weighing the tattered scroll. "That place was once an untouchable Sacred Land. It is said the Sect fell because it provoked the Heavens with forbidden secrets of immortality."

  "Exactly, Old Wei!" Duan Mu exclaimed excitedly, his voice filled with conviction. "That is why I bet that place is no longer an ordinary ruin, but a living slaughterhouse! Those Blood Corpses cannot leave the ruins, and every greedy cultivator who enters is their meal!"

  The thin man in the patched robe shuddered. "Then why do you dare to target a cursed place like that, Duan Mu? Do you want your soul bound to become one of those eternal yet trapped Blood Corpses?"

  Duan Mu grinned widely, brushing his thick beard; he grabbed the necks of the two men beside him and made all the men at the table lean in to listen to him. "You are a fool, Little Ling. I heard some whispers from merchants passing nearby; they said that behind the ruins of that sect, there lies Xuan-Huang Energy. The Yellow Energy created when Heaven and Earth were separated!"

  "Xuan-Huang Energy?" Old Wei whispered, his voice now containing a mixture of disbelief and deep fear. Even in his hoarse tone, there was a tremor at the weight of the majesty of that name.

  Xuan-Huang Energy, or the Yellow-Majesty Energy, was a legend rarely heard of in the mortal plains. It was energy that appeared in the early days of the universe, said to be the foundation for all creation, an essence of priceless value, worth more than even ten Immortal Artifacts.

  "Yes, Xuan-Huang Energy," Duan Mu repeated, his voice fading into a greedy hiss. "Even if it is only remnants, it is enough to forge one's cultivation to be invincible. The Heavenly Light Sect must have hidden the remnants of that energy in their foundation, and that is why the Heavens punished them with trapped immortality."

  "But how can you confirm those whispers, Duan Mu? Xuan-Huang Energy is a riddle of the Heavens," Old Wei cautioned, his thin hands tightly clutching the tattered scroll. His tense face was now filled with doubt.

  Duan Mu released the two men beside him, straightened his tense back, and took out a leather pouch from behind his hide sarong. The pouch looked worn and greasy, but it radiated a thick and pure aura of Spiritual Essence. He tossed the pouch onto the table, producing a melodious clinking sound from the Divine Jades within.

  "This pouch, I obtained it from a wanderer who managed to get out of the ruins," Duan Mu explained, his eyes radiating burning conviction. "That wanderer died three days after handing over this pouch. He did not die because of the Blood Corpses, but died of Dao exhaustion. Before breathing his last, he only said one word: Xuan."

  Silence immediately enveloped the gambling table. The word Xuan, added to the presence of Divine Jades in that pouch, was enough to convince even the most skeptical cultivator. That wanderer must have come into contact with the majestic energy that drained his Spiritual Essence until it was dry.

  "I do not believe it," replied the man called Little Ling, shaking his head in doubt. "If there truly was Xuan-Huang energy there, then why has the Hongmeng Empire never tried to take it?"

  "The Hongmeng Empire?" Duan Mu laughed cynically, a laugh as sharp as broken glass. He took back the leather pouch and tucked it back behind his sarong, Duan Mu's gaze full of greedy certainty. "The Heavens know, Little Ling. The Hongmeng Empire is not stupid. They know those Blood Corpses cannot be killed by mortal means. And they do not wish to lose face before the Ancient Zhu and Hua Clans."

  Old Wei, still holding the tattered scroll, exhaled a breath that sounded like the friction of rough stone. The wrinkles on his forehead deepened, showing serious consideration. He channeled a bit of spiritual essence into the scroll, letting the thick smell of blood fill his senses.

  "The ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect... it is a place that swallows the Dao," Old Wei murmured. He glanced at Duan Mu with eyes that were sharp and filled with calculation. "You want this old man to believe there truly is Xuan-Huang Energy there, while you know that place is a trap set by the Heavens?"

  "Trap or not, Old Wei, we are only talking about the remnants of Xuan-Huang Energy," Duan Mu replied, his tone fading back into a greedy hiss. He leaned forward, his eyes radiating a pleading light. "We are only gambling; we are not going. Even if I had the heart of a Demon, I would not set foot there."

  Old Wei took a long breath, his gaze shifting from the tattered scroll in his hand to the dull fermented wine glass in front of him. He sipped a bit of the sour liquid, as if seeking courage in its bitter taste.

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  "Then, if you know it is a trap of the Heavens, why are you so insistent on wagering on the weight of those Blood Corpses?" Old Wei asked, his voice now containing a hint of real exhaustion, as if the weight of the riddle was too heavy. "You do not plan to go, Duan Mu, but you want all of us here to bear your anxiety."

  Duan Mu laughed lowly, a laugh that this time was calmer and more calculating. He leaned his sturdy back against the wooden bench, staring at the pathetic red lantern in the corner.

  "I am just curious," Duan Mu replied with a bit of frustration in his tone, tapping his finger on the table. "I have never heard of someone returning from there alive, alive in soul and consciousness. They always end up as Blood Corpses; they never return whole in the slightest."

  "You only want us poor souls to bear your curiosity, Duan Mu," Little Ling said in a whiny voice, reaching for the dull wine glass in front of him. "You know we do not have a Daoist strong enough to scan a cursed place like that. Blood Corpses... even the name alone carries a lethal fishy stench."

  "Why do you not just go yourself, Duan Mu?" scolded one of the other thin men who had been silent until then, his eyes now watching Duan Mu closely. "With that pouch of Divine Jades, you could surely hire a cultivator brave enough to wager their Dao for Xuan-Huang Energy."

  Duan Mu merely snorted cynically, sneering with his thick lips. He crossed his sturdy arms in front of his chest, showing disapproval of the suggestion.

  "Hire?" Duan Mu replied, his tone dismissive. "Those who dare to wager their Dao for Xuan-Huang Energy are not lowly rats who can be paid with a few Divine Jades. They have either already died at the hands of the Blood Corpses or are now in much more honorable places, enjoying their wealth. No one sane would enter that hell."

  Duan Mu suddenly stopped talking. His sharp and greedy eyes swept around the dim stall, as if searching for the insane figure he mentioned. His gaze stopped for a moment in the dark corner where Zhi Xuan sat. The Ghost Veil worn by Zhi Xuan made Duan Mu's vision unfocused; he only saw a bedraggled wandering figure in dark robes, unremarkable.

  Zhi Xuan, sitting in the dark corner, felt Duan Mu's sharp gaze sweep over him. The tattered Ghost Veil on his head, which should have made him invisible, actually drew the attention of the calculating burly man. He channeled a bit more essence into the Ghost Veil, ensuring his aura remained stable and inconspicuous.

  "Who is that man?" Duan Mu murmured, looking at Little Ling and gesturing with his chin to ask.

  Little Ling, following Duan Mu's gaze, glanced briefly toward Zhi Xuan. The figure only looked like a shadow absorbed by the darkness, a mortal wanderer who possessed no significant spiritual weight.

  "Who? Oh, probably just a lowly wanderer looking for cheap wine," Little Ling replied with an indifferent tone, returning to sip his wine. "Do not mind the mortal rats, Duan Mu."

  Duan Mu wrinkled his forehead. His greedy instincts felt tickled, as if something was wrong with the figure's lack of prominence. He saw the tattered dark robes, but the straight shoulders and calm sitting posture felt in contrast with the aura of darkness.

  "No. He... he is too calm," Duan Mu murmured, staring at Zhi Xuan suspiciously. He ignored Little Ling and spoke to Old Wei. "Old Wei, what do you see?"

  Old Wei, whose eyes were still fixed on the tattered scroll emitting the smell of thick blood, did not turn around. He merely snorted, the weight of his calm cultivation undisturbed by Zhi Xuan's presence.

  "I see nothing," Old Wei replied coldly. "A mortal wanderer buying information. Focus on our gamble, Duan Mu. Do not let the obsession with Xuan-Huang Energy erode your sanity."

  Duan Mu was not satisfied. He was about to rise to approach Zhi Xuan, but at that exact moment, a hoarse and calm voice broke the silence in that corner. The voice was not loud, but it contained a weight that made all the cultivators at the gambling table tense up.

  "The ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect," Zhi Xuan said, his voice muffled by the Ghost Veil, hoarse, like the friction of sand on a rock. "You sell that information?"

  Duan Mu was startled and quickly sat back down. He turned, his sharp eyes radiating a greedy alertness. He stared toward Zhi Xuan, but the Ghost Veil caused him to see only a vague shadow.

  "You!" Duan Mu exclaimed, his tone mixed with shock and anger. "Who are you, who dares to eavesdrop on our private conversation, you lowly rat?"

  Zhi Xuan ignored Duan Mu's anger. He rose slowly, his upright body radiating a calm aura. He stepped forward, his hand raised. In his palm, a small leather sack appeared. He tossed the sack onto the gambling table.

  The sound of dense and pure Divine Jades clinking immediately filled the silence of the stifling stall. The amount of Divine Jades inside was far more than Duan Mu had ever witnessed.

  "I am looking for information," Zhi Xuan replied, his tone direct. He did not wish to waste time. "If you sell information about the ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect, I will buy it."

  All the cultivators at the gambling table held their breath. They stared at the leather sack containing pure Divine Jades with wide eyes, overcome by uncontrollable greed. That amount was enough to bring wealth and allow them to live extravagantly without limits.

  Old Wei, who finally raised his head, narrowed his eyes. He glanced at the sack of Divine Jades, then stared at Zhi Xuan. His narrow and wise eyes tried to pierce through the disguise of the Ghost Veil.

  "A mere mortal wanderer would not carry so many pure Divine Jades," Old Wei murmured, his voice containing the weight of doubt. "And a mortal wanderer would not dare enter this nest with such transactional intent. You, a bloodthirsty Devil, are looking for a slaughterhouse."

  Zhi Xuan snorted softly. He knew the lie would not work before Old Wei, who had been tempered by the mortal world. He let Old Wei's gaze seep into him.

  "I do not care what you call me," Zhi Xuan replied coldly. He leaned forward slightly. "I am only looking for a path. If the ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect are a cursed place full of Blood Corpses, then that is the place I need. Do not waste my time, Senior. Sell the information. Everything you know about the Blood Corpses and the existence of Xuan-Huang Energy."

  Old Wei closed his eyes. He felt the weight released by Zhi Xuan, a weight that did not come from Imperial power, but from a hard resolve and a quiet thirst. That resolve was similar to what he felt from the tattered scroll in his hand—the desire to tread a path filled with destruction.

  He opened his eyes slowly. His narrow gaze shifted from Zhi Xuan to the leather sack containing pure Divine Jades. The greed in the eyes of Duan Mu and the others felt so strong it almost choked the air in the stall.

  "The price of this information," Old Wei began, his voice hoarse yet firm, "is far beyond Divine Jades, Master Wanderer. It is the price of the life you will wager, and the secrets that invite the wrath of the Heavens."

  Zhi Xuan smiled thinly behind the shadow of his veil. A silent laugh, just a cynical curve on his lips. "I only ask about the mortal price, Senior. The wrath of the Heavens is none of your business."

  Old Wei sighed, surrendering to the certainty radiated by Zhi Xuan. He knew that negotiating with someone who had already set foot on the Path of Slaughter was futile.

  "Fine," Old Wei decided. He reached for the tattered scroll he was holding, channeling Spiritual Essence. "That sack of Divine Jades belongs to us. And you will get what you seek. Duan Mu, give your information. Little Ling, guard the door. Do not let any rats eavesdrop."

  Duan Mu, his greed satisfied, immediately grabbed the sack of Divine Jades, clutching it tightly as if fearing it would vanish. He glanced at Zhi Xuan with a bit of respect and fear.

  "The ruins of the Heavenly Light Sect are located amidst the Tianluo Sacred Mountains," Duan Mu began, his voice now lower and more cautious. He leaned forward, his eyes radiating tension. "The Blood Corpses are the remnants of the Elders and disciples of the Heavenly Light Sect who died when the sect fell. Not from ordinary slaughter, but because they tried to use forbidden secrets of immortality. The Heavens punished them, trapping their souls between the blood and the soil of the ruins."

  Old Wei pushed the tattered scroll toward Zhi Xuan. "This scroll contains descriptions of the resurrection cycle of the Blood Corpses. They are eternal within the ruins. They rise from blood, and the only way to kill them is to drain all the blood around them, or with very pure Spiritual Essence. But even that only cripples them; it does not kill them permanently."

  Zhi Xuan took the scroll, his cold hand touching the tattered material smelling of fish. He felt the vibration of the Law trapped within it—a cursed cycle of life and death, exactly what he needed.

  "And the Xuan-Huang Energy?" Zhi Xuan pressed, his voice containing a piercing weight, ignoring the warnings about the difficulty of killing Blood Corpses.

  Duan Mu shuddered and took a sharp breath. "We only heard whispers, but the foundation of the Heavenly Light Sect was established atop a unique spiritual spring. They were suspected of trying to induce Xuan-Huang energy from that spring. If any remains, it must be hidden deep beneath the ruins, in a place where the rot of the Blood Corpses hasn't reached. You must reach the core of the ruins' foundation."

  Zhi Xuan clasped his hands, letting the tattered scroll be absorbed by his Sea of Consciousness. The information was enough. A location in the southern border, an eternal slaughterhouse, and ancient energy at the core foundation.

  "Fine," Zhi Xuan said, rising from his stool. The Ghost Veil on his head swung slightly, making him look like a tall shadow standing upright.

  At that moment, even Duan Mu and Old Wei felt choked and their eyes widened as they saw the great Sword strapped to Zhi Xuan's back, wrapped in white cloth, making them instantly recognize whom they were talking to behind that veiled face. They just froze, not moving as Zhi Xuan rose.

  "Shh," Zhi Xuan hissed calmly, raising a finger to his lips behind the veil, his hiss low without giving them a chance to speak. The Heavenly Sword on his back was hidden once more behind the perception aura of the Ghost Veil.