She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 103

◎But Still... Snakes Really Can't... Just Can't!◎

Following the plan, Yin Wangyou pretended to know nothing and sent a paper crane to Wei Qingsi, pleading for help.

In the letter, Yin Wangyou did not specify her current location but asked Wei Qingsi to gather information about her elder brother.

Soon, Wei Qingsi sent back a paper crane in response.

Perhaps because the pursuers had repeatedly followed the paper cranes, raising too much suspicion, this time, the trackers from the Silver Light Arena did not appear. Yin Wangyou was able to read the letter undisturbed.

Yin Wangyou refused to even hold the letter in her palm.

She pinched a corner of the paper crane with visible disgust, holding her nose as she read Wei Qingsi’s reply.

By the time she reached the end, a cold smirk of "I knew it" crept onto her face.

“She says she has a safe hideout and wants us to hurry over and meet her there.”

Yin Wangyou shook the letter, her expression far from pleased.

There’s a saying: "The way your friend treats you reveals your place in their heart."

At this moment, Yin Wangyou saw things clearly—in Wei Qingsi’s eyes, she was probably just a persistent little fool, one who could conveniently transform into a self-delivering dessert takeout.

Yan Luoyue patted her shoulder in consolation, whispering a reminder:

“When we meet Wei Qingsi later... if you don’t know what to say, just cover your eyes or face. Let me handle the talking.”

Yin Wangyou understood—Yan Luoyue was worried she might slip up and was stepping in to cover for her. Grateful, she nodded in agreement.

Yan Luoyue’s gaze then shifted to the little nun.

“Jingxuan, you should... just say nothing. Recite scriptures silently.”

Otherwise, given the violent temper of this fierce nun, she might leap onto a chair after just a few words and send the traitorous friend to meet her ancestors.

With all preparations in place, Yan Luoyue smiled faintly:

“Since she’s so sincerely inviting us, let’s graciously deliver ourselves to her doorstep.”

As she spoke, she pulled out a floor-length black cloak from her storage pouch.

Yan Luoyue popped an Age-Increasing Pill into her mouth while smoothly draping the cloak over her shoulders with a practiced flourish.

From this moment on, she was no longer Yan Luoyue, the third disciple of Sulu Hall in the Guiyuan Sect—she was now the freelance artifact refiner, Yan Bixin!

Both Yin Wangyou and Shen Jingxuan were aware of this alias and merely glanced at her without comment.

Only Senior Brother Yuan Feiyu was taken aback. He had no idea his junior sister had a habit of disguises—and one that made her look so... utterly untrustworthy.

As a swordsman who had been repeatedly scammed out of his money, Yuan Feiyu’s bitter experience allowed him to detect a faint whiff of swindler from Yan Bixin’s aura.

“......”

The four of them split into two groups.

Yan Luoyue and the two girls would go openly to the meeting.

Yuan Feiyu would lurk in the shadows, a communication talisman pinned to his lapel, ready to provide backup at any moment.

Before long, the black-cloaked refiner, the violent little nun, and a plain-faced, exhausted-looking alchemist girl who reeked of shut-in energy arrived at the rendezvous point.

At first, the atmosphere was civil.

The safe house Wei Qingsi provided was simple but tidy, the air faintly scented with the soothing aroma of incense.

Wei Qingsi’s acting skills were clearly top-notch.

Despite having already sold Yin Wangyou out, she still managed to gaze at her with earnest concern, even reaching out to clasp her hands.

“Ah, Wangyou, of all people, why did this have to happen to you...”

Remembering Yan Luoyue’s earlier advice, Yin Wangyou let out a pained groan into her hands, subtly dodging Wei Qingsi’s touch.

Unfazed by the evasion, Wei Qingsi smoothly pivoted to pour tea for each of them.

“Have some hot tea to settle your nerves. Then we can discuss how to rescue Wangyou’s brother.”

The moment the tea touched her lips and Yan Luoyue saw the floating red [-99] indicator, she nearly laughed.

The combination of incense and tea formed a classic knockout drug—a trick that had appeared countless times in cultivation novels.

But if a trope became classic, it was because it worked.

Playing the fool, Yan Luoyue downed the tea in one gulp and nodded imperceptibly.

Next, Shen Jingxuan and then Yin Wangyou drank their cups.

As an alchemist, Yin Wangyou couldn’t feign ignorance too blatantly.

The moment the tea entered her mouth, her eyes widened in shock. “Qingsi, you—!”

Wei Qingsi sighed. “As expected of Wangyou. You noticed right away.”

The woman’s nerves were steel—even when confronted by her friend, she remained unruffled, offering a composed smile.

“But the drug takes effect upon ingestion. It’s too late for you to react now.”

Wei Qingsi’s cold gaze swept over the three of them.

Only when they slumped weakly in their chairs, limbs limp and devoid of strength, did Wei Qingsi finally relax her shoulders slightly.

It seemed even she wasn’t entirely calm about pulling this off alone.

With the pretense shattered, Wei Qingsi discarded her “caring friend” mask.

She first sauntered over to Yan Bixin, smiling ambiguously.

“I’ve heard Wangyou speak of a remarkably capable friend... Surely that must be you, Master Yan, the one who’s sold over 1,500 secret formula patents in recent years?”

Yan Bixin replied coldly, voice rasping, “I dare not accept the title of ‘Master.’”

Wei Qingsi chuckled dismissively. “No need for modesty, Master Yan.”

As she spoke, her fingers tugged at the edge of Yan Bixin’s cloak.

“Many have wondered about Master Yan’s true appearance. Who’d have thought I’d be the one to see it first... Let’s take a look—AHHHH! WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!”

Hearing the familiar scream, Yan Bixin closed her eyes serenely.

At this moment, her two eyes were positioned—one on her chin, the other on her cheek. A grotesquely drawn “mouth” sat squarely in the middle of her nose.

That’s right—the Face-Rearranging Fruit had made its triumphant return!

Even with just the scrambled features, she already looked like a ghoul. But Yan Bixin had also pulled a horrifying face—

No wonder Wei Qingsi recoiled in terror, her hands trembling uncontrollably.

Yan Bixin let out a cynical, rasping laugh. “With such a lofty reputation, if I were handsome, why would I hide my face?”

The sight of her sneering was enough to test the limits of human tolerance.

After a brief pause, Wei Qingsi wordlessly tugged the hood back over Yan Bixin’s head.

Then, as if nothing had happened, she turned toward Yin Wangyou with a sinister smile.

Her eyebrows were finely arched, and the upward tilt of her eyes gave her a shrewd, calculating appearance. The slightest hint of impatience in her expression magnified her irritation to its fullest extent.

This was not the look one gave a friend—it was the look reserved for an obstacle.

Yin Wangyou’s already chilled heart now felt as if it had been plunged into icy water.

For the first time, she realized that this so-called "friend’s" true intentions had been laid bare all along.

Wei Qingsi smiled. "Wangyou, you truly are a talented girl. But tell me, does your artificer friend know that it was his request for you to study the Thousand-Faced Demon that led you to this predicament?"

Yin Wangyou replied stiffly, "No matter who provided the opportunity, I would have pursued what interested me."

Wei Qingsi sighed. "That’s true enough. Wangyou, you’ve always been stubborn to a fault. I warned you to abandon this research, yet you refused to listen."

Yin ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​​‌‍Wangyou clenched her jaw silently, her gaze burning with fury as it swept over the woman before her.

"Even if I’ve mapped out the demonic lineage, what of it? Why hunt me down? Why drag my brother into this—unless… unless your Silverlight Arena is covering up secrets for those monsters?"

At this question, Wei Qingsi’s eyes widened slightly, as if caught off guard.

Then, with a smug tilt of her head, she laughed.

"So quick to piece it together… Wangyou, it seems you’re merely naive, not stupid."

Yin Wangyou pressed, "Where is my brother? Is he in your hands? What have you done to him?"

Wei Qingsi idly toyed with her nails.

"Don’t worry. As long as you cooperate and tell me who else knows about your findings, your brother will be just fine."

Pausing, she lifted her gaze and added airily,

"First, we can rule out your brother—ah, I had such a pleasant chat with him. Rest assured, Yin Baishen knows nothing at all."

The words carried both a mockery of mercy and a veiled threat. Yin Wangyou bit down on her lip hard.

"…"

Taking a deep breath, she insisted, "Tell me where my brother is first."

"You first answer my questions."

"No." Yin Wangyou refused to yield. "Prove my brother’s safety first. Tell me where he is!"

The back-and-forth dragged on until Wei Qingsi finally lost patience.

"Your brother—no one but you would ever care about him, understand?"

With a cold sneer, she spat out an address, then stepped forward, grabbing Yin Wangyou by the hair.

"There. Your wish is granted. Now—talk!"

Inside Yan Luoyue’s black cloak, a communication talisman flickered faintly.

It was confirmation that the Guiyuan Sect disciples had received the signal and were moving to rescue Yin Baishen.

Yin Baishen was neither significant in status nor formidable in cultivation.

Thus, his guards would be mere underlings—easily dealt with by the Guiyuan Sect’s elite.

Yan Luoyue relaxed imperceptibly and gave Yin Wangyou a subtle nod.

Though Yin Wangyou felt a surge of relief, she maintained a hesitant facade.

After a moment of silence, the alchemist murmured, "And… what of the two friends who came with me…?"

"…"

Wei Qingsi, provoked by Yin Wangyou’s repeated stalling, finally erupted in cold laughter.

She flung Yin Wangyou back into the chair, her sharp eyes glinting with menace.

"See, Wangyou, I’ve been speaking to you kindly, indulging your demands—perhaps giving you the illusion that I’m still your warm, friendly, good old friend."

She paced slowly, sizing up Yan Luoyue and Shen Jingxuan before stopping decisively in front of the cloaked artificer.

Wei Qingsi’s smile darkened.

"So, Wangyou, you still cling to hope, thinking you can stall me with the same old tricks. How disappointing. Truly. But to shatter your delusions, I suppose I’ll have to—"

Before she finished, a sharp, crystalline ice spike materialized in her hand.

The spike radiated a bone-chilling aura, its translucent surface tainted by a thick, coppery scent of blood.

This was no ordinary ice—it was a meticulously crafted weapon: the Profound Yin Spike.

Without hesitation, Wei Qingsi drove the spike toward Yan Luoyue’s heart with full force.

Her words, dripping with mockery, followed a beat later, as if to twist the knife deeper.

"—I’ll have to do something to wake you up. Properly. Wake. You. Up—?"

Her voice faltered unnaturally on the last words.

The sensation under her palm felt… odd.

She’d stabbed plenty of hearts before, but never had she encountered one so unyielding that it vibrated her hand numb.

Wei Qingsi glanced down. The spike’s tip hadn’t pierced through.

Wei Qingsi: "…"

Realizing the cloak might be a powerful artifact, she calmly yanked it aside.

Ignoring Yan Luoyue’s comically mismatched features, she raised the spike again—

—and slammed it down with twelvefold spiritual energy!

"…"

Once again, nothing happened.

Not only was Yan Luoyue unharmed, but the recoil nearly sprained Wei Qingsi’s wrist.

This… was beyond absurd.

For the first time, Wei Qingsi’s confidence wavered.

She looked up sharply—only to meet Yan Luoyue’s wildly asymmetrical eyes.

Then, Yan Luoyue blinked at her. Cheerfully.

Wei Qingsi: "…"

A cold dread seeped into her chest. The situation had spiraled out of her control.

Yet, in a final, desperate struggle, she refused to let go of the Profound Yin Spike.

Her knuckles whitened from the grip, her face flushing red with exertion.

She stabbed. Again. And again. And again—

"…Stop poking me."

On the fifth attempt, Yan Luoyue finally sighed, unable to bear it any longer.

She leaned back sympathetically.

"Honestly, at this point, anyone watching would think you’re not trying to kill me, but struggling to pierce a milk tea lid with a paper straw."

Wei Qingsi: "…"

With another sigh, Yan Luoyue sat up briskly—no trace of the supposed paralysis left.

The moment her limbs moved freely, Wei Qingsi knew something was terribly wrong.

She instantly retreated over a dozen steps, her back pressing against the door panel. At the same time, her wrist flicked, and a crimson silk ribbon shot from her sleeve straight toward Yin Wangyou.

Wei Qingsi’s reaction was undeniably swift.

Yet, someone moved even faster and more decisively than her.

Before the edge of the silk ribbon could reach Yin Wangyou, a cold, gleaming longsword had already pierced through the door panel, silently hovering at Wei Qingsi’s throat.

The sword’s aura had already nicked Wei Qingsi’s skin the moment it made contact.

And the icy glow emanating from the blade coiled around her wound like a tangible force, ready to surge an inch, a foot—or even sever her head entirely—should she make the slightest move.

The voice of Yuan Feiyu, laced with a hint of arrogance, sounded unusually reliable at this moment.

"Drop your artifact," Yuan Feiyu said coldly, "and then get out here."

With a slight exertion of force, the door panel shattered into splinters no longer than an inch.

Wood shavings scattered like snowflakes, covering Wei Qingsi from head to toe, while not a single speck landed on Yuan Feiyu’s sleeves.

With his sword still pressed against Wei Qingsi’s neck, a flash of golden light flickered in his hand.

The next second, the "Cosmic Bullseye Ring" generously provided by Yan Luoyue had Wei Qingsi bound tightly from head to toe.

Grabbing the back of Wei Qingsi’s robe, Yuan Feiyu sealed her spiritual energy and prepared to hand her over to the proper authorities.

The ever-reliable Yuan Feiyu nodded at the trio and added while activating his communication stone,

"Little Yin, your brother has already been rescued."

Wei Qingsi turned her head in shock and resentment, murmuring, "You… who are you?"

Yuan Feiyu declared sternly, "Yuan Feiyu of the Sword Peak, Guiyuan Sect!"

After a brief pause, he emphasized without hesitation, "Yuan—as in ‘Great Yuan’!"

Yan Luoyue: "…"

Seriously, Yuan Feiyu, just how obsessed are you with size?!

Yin Wangyou swallowed an antidote herself and handed another to Shen Jingxuan before striding toward Wei Qingsi with tightly pressed lips.

Their eyes met for only a fleeting moment before Wei Qingsi abruptly turned her head away, refusing to meet Yin Wangyou’s gaze.

Through gritted teeth, Yin Wangyou demanded, "I know I’m not the most delicate or clever girl. But even if you never considered me a friend… why would you work for the Silverlight Arena and aid demons?"

"…Aid demons?"

Wei Qingsi savored the words for a moment before suddenly breaking into an eerie smile.

"Today, you’ve caught me by sheer luck, so you can stand there and call me a ‘demon’s lackey’ with such ease. But one day, when all of you are under the rule of the demon race… who’s to say I’m the lackey, and not the one standing above you?"

Yin Wangyou stared at her in disbelief, for a moment almost convinced Wei Qingsi had lost her mind.

Wei Qingsi chuckled darkly. "Enjoy it while it lasts, Wangyou. Enjoy these last peaceful days in the cultivation world…"

Before she could finish, demonic energy surged from Wei Qingsi’s body, growing thicker by the second.

Yan Luoyue sensed the danger and lunged forward instantly.

Her reaction was lightning-fast—her palm even pressed against Wei Qingsi’s forehead.

But it still wasn’t enough to stop Wei Qingsi from inflating like a balloon and exploding into a gruesome firework of blood and gore.

"…Damn it!" Yan Luoyue clenched her fist and smacked her palm in frustration.

Yuan Feiyu looked stunned. "I definitely sealed her spiritual energy…"

Yan Luoyue shook her head grimly. "No, Yuan Feiyu, this wasn’t your fault."

The moment she touched Wei Qingsi’s forehead, Yan Luoyue had sensed it—the force that triggered the self-destruction wasn’t spiritual energy at all, but something else lurking in her meridians.

And this energy, this sensation…

Yan Luoyue rubbed her fingers together, her expression darkening.

This was her first encounter with this strange power.

Yet, it felt unnervingly familiar—like facing a natural enemy.

As if, in some unfathomable way… she and the master of this power had been locked in opposition for millennia.

A frown creased Yan Luoyue’s brow as a rising tide of foreboding washed over her.

For the first time, she found herself resenting how slowly time seemed to pass for her.

…

In the demon-fighting arena, Dui Choumian swung his curved blade, reaping the lives of one demon after another.

Ever since the attendant had warned him to be mindful of his poisons, Dui Choumian had switched to toxins that merely incapacitated the demons rather than killing them outright.

This meant he had to finish them off with a second strike—more tedious, but no more difficult.

The curved blade at his waist was forged of silver.

Its arc was more pronounced than the straight blades of the Central Plains, its edge thinner, and the cold aura it exuded was sharper, more sinister.

Adorned with turquoise and large amber stones on the hilt, the blade was as beautiful and deadly as its owner—elegant, yet radiating a lethality as swift as a viper’s strike.

Soon, the arena was littered with demon corpses, all felled by Dui Choumian’s hand.

Yet, he remained as composed as ever.

Not a drop of sweat beaded his forehead, and even his bare, jade-like feet remained pristine, untouched by blood.

Wu Manshuang watched coldly as attendants emerged from the arena’s side doors, dragging away the demon carcasses.

Before long, freshly brewed blood wine was served to the spectators as a reward.

Wu Manshuang received a cup as well.

The icy blood wine slid down his throat, but a heavy gloom settled in his chest regardless.

As for the restless spiritual energy infused in the wine, Dui Choumian shattered it with a toxin of annihilating potency before expelling it from his body with a grimace.

Later, Wu Manshuang headed backstage, passing the swordsman Bu Ye along the way.

For days now, Wu Manshuang had been keeping an eye on Bu Ye, occasionally crossing paths with him in the back corridors.

Once, seizing an opportune moment, he approached Bu Ye under the guise of Dui Choumian.

With a sly smile, Dui Choumian dropped a veiled hint:

"Still earning five hundred spirit stones this time?"

The frugal swordsman from the countryside replied with a single syllable: "Hmph."

Unfazed, Dui Choumian drawled, his tone deliberate, "Spirit stones are nice, but… how many more times can you earn them like this?"

Bu Ye froze, then stomped off in a huff without so much as a backward glance.

Wu Manshuang: "…"

So, did the guy get the hint or not?

After that, Wu Manshuang tried dropping a few more subtle clues.

But judging by Bu Ye’s reactions, he seemed to take them all as taunts.

…Well, some things were just left to fate.

After numerous visits to the underground arena, Wu Manshuang had memorized every face in the crowd.

Some spectators were regulars at the underground arena, drinking blood wine six out of seven days a week. Wu Manshuang suspected these people were on the verge of bursting a blood vessel.

Others came less frequently, but still visited at least once every ten days.

What weighed most heavily on Wu Manshuang’s mind was this—he had never seen a spectator who only visited the underground arena once.

Without exception, they would return in the following days, sitting high on the platforms, eagerly awaiting that cup of blood wine.

Recalling the new faces he had seen that day, Wu Manshuang opened his door and slipped back into his room.

Generally, after returning, Wu Manshuang would do two things.

The first was to sketch the spectators’ faces he had observed and record them on a jade slip.

The second was…

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something entirely expected and politely nodded at it.

Yes, ever since that day he made contact with Senior Brother Kang Bashui, Wu Manshuang had returned each time to find one of Bashui’s tentacles standing on his desk, greeting him.

Since a tentacle was essentially a hand, the gesture could be interpreted as a wave.

But at the same time, the tentacle was also part of the brain, so the motion could equally be seen as a nod.

There was another possibility—that the tentacle might be a hectocotylus… No, no, Wu Manshuang trusted Senior Brother Kang’s integrity.

Unless all seven of his remaining tentacles were severed, he wouldn’t resort to such depravity, right?

Sensing Wu Manshuang’s return, Kang Bashui’s voice emerged from the small cube attached to the tiny tentacle.

“Junior Brother Wu, you’re back.”

“Senior Brother Kang,” Wu Manshuang responded immediately.

Though his expression remained unchanged, he sighed deeply in his heart.

If Wu Manshuang had Yan Luoyue’s literary flair, he would have written an unofficial history titled Has Senior Brother Kang Bashui Sliced Off Another Tentacle Today?

Otherwise, it would be a disservice to all the effort he had expended these past days.

—After all, once detached, a tentacle would lose vitality in about an hour.

So, Kang Bashui didn’t bother with retrieval, leaving the disposal entirely to Wu Manshuang.

Given Wu Manshuang’s nature, he preferred not to use poison on close acquaintances unless absolutely necessary.

Even if it was just a disposable piece of his senior brother’s body.

At first, Wu Manshuang resorted to burning the tentacles.

But then he discovered… once cooked, the smell, the color, the sizzling oil bursting in the flames—how could it be so mouthwatering?!

In that moment, it was impossible not to think of famous dishes like stir-fried squid in spicy sauce, grilled octopus tentacles, or takoyaki.

Wu Manshuang: “……”

Even so… snakes shouldn’t—really shouldn’t!

With great resolve, Wu Manshuang held firm to his principles and reduced the octopus limb to ashes amid the tantalizing aroma.

The next day, having learned his lesson, he didn’t burn the tentacle but buried it in a flowerpot on his windowsill.

Truth be told, as he covered the tentacle with soil, Wu Manshuang’s mind wandered.

He recalled Senior Sister Chang Lili’s tree of swaying octopus limbs and the undying sparkle in her eyes.

“……”

It was best not to do things that might earn him Chang Lili’s undying camaraderie.

Finally, on the third day, Wu Manshuang resorted to dissolving Senior Brother Kang’s tentacle with poison.

This time, peace was restored—no more disturbances, just smooth sailing.

Shaking off these turbulent memories, Wu Manshuang cleared his throat and relayed the intelligence he had gathered that day to Kang Bashui.

After detailing the situation, he paused and emphasized, “I suspect the arena is about to make its move.”

Kang Bashui immediately asked, “Against you?”

“No, against Bu Ye.” Wu Manshuang added, “They might have chosen Bu Ye as Dui Choumian’s prey.”

Just as bandits in the mortal world would present a severed head as a pledge of loyalty, the fifth disciple of the Zhan Yunxiao Sword Division might be the “tribute” Dui Choumian needed to offer.

Kang Bashui trusted this information implicitly.

He assured Wu Manshuang that he would arrange for someone to contact Bu Ye immediately.

Even as an undercover agent, they couldn’t allow a disciple from one righteous sect to kill another—that would torment both sides.

After a brief pause, Kang Bashui—with his remaining eight brilliant brains—zeroed in on the crux of the matter.

“Has Bu Ye ever drunk that blood wine?”

“No.” Wu Manshuang had observed carefully and was certain. “The arena probably considers it a waste to give prey such a drink.”

This was fortunate—Bu Ye had narrowly escaped a dire fate.

On the other end of the communication, Kang Bashui sighed in relief before sharing his own updates.

According to him, the Guiyuan Sect had taken Wu Manshuang’s reports very seriously and had begun covertly investigating the Silverlight Arena.

However, within the sect’s jurisdiction, the arena had hidden itself remarkably well.

For instance, in Tianyuan City, if not for Wu Manshuang’s confirmation, they wouldn’t have even known a demonic stronghold existed here.

Even now, the disciples conducting secret searches in Tianyuan City had yet to locate where the Silverlight Arena was breeding these demonic creatures.

As Kang Bashui put it, the disciples had scoured the city over a dozen times, practically scraping the earth thin.

It was baffling—these creatures couldn’t just materialize out of thin air, could they?

At this point, even the usually composed Kang Bashui grew exasperated:

“Are they making daily trips to the demon realm’s seal, capturing fresh prey on demand?!”

Wu Manshuang nearly laughed. “That’s unlikely—well, actually, it’s possible.”

“Huh? Why do you say that, Junior Brother Wu?”

Wu Manshuang recalled something and adjusted his tone.

He murmured two words: “Nesting Den.”

—Back when he and Yan Luoyue were young, they had separately entered a demonic Nesting Den.

There, they had a reunion (one that Wu Manshuang would never forget).

Inside that Nesting Den, they encountered the Illusionary Shaking Tree and discovered a silver beast-head ring.

Since the Nesting Den only housed demonic plants with no traces of other creatures, no one had paid it much mind.

But now, looking back, Wu Manshuang sensed something deeply unsettling about it.

For instance, what if the Silverlight Arena had known about this Nesting Den? What if Wu Chunhui had been deliberately sent to serve the Illusionary Shaking Tree as a demonic puppet?

Or perhaps the arena had initially used the Nesting Den to breed demonic creatures but abandoned it after the Illusionary Shaking Tree blocked the exit?

Or maybe…

What if the Silverlight Arena controlled more than just this one Nesting Den?

Wu Manshuang briefly recounted the incident and urged Kang Bashui to watch for signs of other Nesting Dens.

“…Understood,” Kang Bashui replied.

Hearing this, the tentacle segment on the table nodded at Wu Manshuang with a solemn and profound demeanor.

Wu Manshuang: "…"

He wasn’t sure how he managed to perceive solemnity and profundity from a mere tentacle segment.

Perhaps it was because this particular tentacle had a brain.

Kang Bashui reassured Wu Manshuang, "Rest assured, Junior Brother Wu, I’ll report the situation immediately and have our junior disciples investigate the traces of the nest-dwellers—meanwhile, I’ll also ask the masters of the Fan Yin Temple to keep an eye out."

At these words, Wu Manshuang’s brows relaxed slightly, a faint hint of pleasant surprise crossing his expression.

"The Fan Yin Temple is involved in this too?"

Even though he knew major factions would eventually join the effort, the speed still exceeded his expectations.

Kang Bashui’s hearty laughter echoed from the small cube:

"Indeed! And with just one more piece of evidence, even the Snow Region will step in!"

The two sect brothers conversed harmoniously, and by some unspoken understanding, neither brought up whether the Hongtong Palace would intervene.

Kang Bashui informed Wu Manshuang that regarding the Silver Light Arena, they hadn’t communicated directly with the Hongtong Palace.

Instead, the Guiyuan Sect had discreetly mobilized their stationed disciples in the Hongtong Palace’s jurisdiction to conduct covert investigations.

At this point, Kang Bashui couldn’t help but remark, "Junior Brother Wu, do you really think the Silver Light Arena could be…"

"Shh." Wu Manshuang immediately cut him off. "Senior Brother Bashui, words alone aren’t proof."

—As for tangible evidence, wasn’t he investigating it right now under the guise of "Dui Choumian"?

After exchanging a few more words, sensing Kang Bashui was about to end the communication, Wu Manshuang suddenly called out to him.

"Wait, Senior Brother Bashui…"

"What is it?"

Wu Manshuang didn’t hesitate long before asking the question.

Only as the words left his lips did he realize how naturally longing had intertwined with his breath.

"Do you have any news of Luoyue?"

Kang Bashui immediately understood. "Ah, right! Junior Brother Wu, you’ve never been apart from Junior Sister Yan for this long since joining the sect, have you?"

"True," Wu Manshuang smiled faintly. "We’ve always been together."

Kang Bashui reassured him, "From what I know, Junior Sister Yan is doing fine… though she did refuse when Junior Brother Yuan suggested she go undercover at the Silver Light Arena for a sting operation."

"So Junior Brother Yuan went instead. No harm done."

Hearing this, Wu Manshuang stiffened slightly, his palm pressing against the table as if he might rise to his feet.

"Why did Luoyue refuse? What happened?"

This kind of decision… didn’t sound like Yan Luoyue at all.

Kang Bashui replied casually, "No idea. Junior Sister Yan mentioned she’s been practicing the 'Turtle Retreat Technique' lately, so she can’t show her face."

Curious, he added, "Junior Brother Wu, do turtle clans really have something like a 'Turtle Retreat Technique'?"

Wu Manshuang: "…"

He held his breath, defied his conscience, and declared firmly, "They do."

As Kang Bashui marveled at this revelation, Wu Manshuang’s brows slowly furrowed.

—Of course, turtle clans had no such thing as a "Turtle Retreat Technique."

The claim was blatant nonsense, the kind only Yan Luoyue could spin.

But for her to make such a decision… just what had she discovered?