She Dominates the Immortal Realm with Her HP Bar-Chapter 62

◎Like Master, Like Flame◎

As it turned out, the human-shaped Soul-Snuffing Flame had been right beside them all along.

At this realization, Yan Luoyue and Ling Shuanghun completely withdrew their attention from the flame and instead turned their astonished gazes toward Wu Manshuang.

Under the bright, curious stares of his friends, Wu Manshuang’s cheeks warmed, and he instinctively reached to pull up the hood of his cloak—only to grasp at empty air.

It was then that he remembered: just a few days prior, Yan Luoyue had replaced his old attire.

Using the newly acquired left-spiral demon shell, she had meticulously extracted its fibers, weaving and refining them into a fresh set of garments.

Not only had she crafted a replacement set of close-fitting innerwear and silver-threaded gloves for Wu Manshuang, but she had also fashioned a stunning, pale silver robe for the young serpent, complete with a matching gilded mask.

As the saying goes, clothes make the man—and indeed, this proved true.

When draped in his black cloak, Wu Manshuang exuded an aura of mystery and danger, as if he might at any moment draw a hidden dagger from the shadows and strike with lethal precision.

But now, clad in the resplendent silver robe, the attention of onlookers was inevitably drawn to his face.

At this moment, Yan Luoyue couldn’t help but steal a few extra glances at him.

In the past, Wu Manshuang had always concealed most of his features beneath the shadow of his hood, causing others to overlook the delicate, refined contours of his features.

By Yan Luoyue’s aesthetic standards, Wu Manshuang’s appearance was one that grew more captivating the longer one looked.

Some children are adorable in their youth but lose their charm as they grow older, often due to their faces rounding out, cheeks widening, and eyes appearing smaller in proportion.

But Wu Manshuang would never face such an issue.

His bone structure was exquisite—his jawline tapered sharply, carrying a hint of severity rather than softness.

Such features on a young man might typically seem overly sharp or intense, but Wu Manshuang’s calm and reserved demeanor perfectly balanced this edge.

Whenever he sat lost in thought by a window, his delicate features framed by the snow and white plum blossoms outside, the atmosphere would instantly heighten, as if he were an ice-and-snow fairy-tale prince stepped right out of a story.

…But when he blushed to the tips of his ears, as he did now, and raised a hand to shield half his face from Yan Luoyue and Ling Shuanghun’s gazes, he reverted to being nothing more than an adorably flustered little snake.

Yan Luoyue pressed eagerly, "Manshuang, how did you do this?"

Wu Manshuang struggled to explain: "My toxicity is rather… complex. Just like how I suppress it, I can adjust the ratios of certain poisons—"

Though ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌‌​​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌‌​​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌‌​​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​​​​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​‌‌​​‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​‍his explanation was rough, Yan Luoyue grasped it immediately.

"So you can control the mixture and determine the effects of different toxins?"

Wu Manshuang glanced at her cautiously. "You could say that."

"Then could you develop more specialized toxins?"

Her imagination running wild, Yan Luoyue pointed at Ling Shuanghun beside her and suggested excitedly:

"For example, a toxin that makes all his hair fall out instantly upon contact?"

Ling Shuanghun’s eyes widened in horror. "The three of us are sworn siblings! Yan Luoyue, why are you inciting Wu Manshuang to harm me like this?"

Ignoring him, Yan Luoyue cheerfully counted off on her fingers in front of Wu Manshuang.

"I’ve been meaning to say—your explosive toxin is too loud. We could switch to other effects! Like a painless sedative, a neurotoxin that causes paralysis, or even a special poison that makes people falsely believe they’re pregnant just by meeting your gaze—"

As her suggestions grew increasingly absurd, poor Wu Manshuang’s expression grew dazed. Taking pity, Ling Shuanghun forcibly dragged Yan Luoyue away from the table.

"Enough, enough! Yan Luoyue, don’t say another word!"

Wu Manshuang was the type to take every word at face value. If he actually developed toxins for hair removal or false pregnancy…

"—Then I’d craft special storage boxes and market them as depilatory cream," Yan Luoyue declared solemnly. "Trust me, painless hair removal would sell like hotcakes."

Ling Shuanghun: "…"

Speechless, he could only pull out his brush and bamboo slips to begin composing Yan Luoyue’s biography.

He had a premonition: this friend—no, both of these friends—would one day become renowned across the land.

Having witnessed the marvel of Wu Manshuang, the self-operating human-shaped Soul-Snuffing Flame, Yan Luoyue finally withdrew her gaze, satisfied.

Now, she needed to settle the flame properly.

Since the Soul-Snuffing Flame had been gifted to her by another, it would take time to establish the same seamless rapport she shared with Fenfen.

Yan Luoyue arranged a few of Mr. Jiang’s woven grass toys and small broken baskets around the flame—Fenfen’s favorite playthings.

But the Soul-Snuffing Flame remained aloof, pulsing indifferently without so much as a glance at the offerings.

Well, it seemed this flame had loftier tastes.

After several more unsuccessful attempts to win its favor, Yan Luoyue conceded.

Between a refiner and a mystical flame, there was also the matter of fate.

If this Soul-Snuffing Flame continued to be uncooperative, Yan Luoyue would have no choice but to sell it off.

With a silent sigh in her heart, Yan Luoyue prepared to stow the flame away.

However, just as her fingers, wrapped in spiritual energy, were about to touch the flame, the pixiu grass braid at her waist suddenly trembled.

"...Fenfen?"

Yan Luoyue was puzzled as she cradled the little pink flame in her palm. "What's wrong? Take your time."

After years of partnership, she could easily interpret the emotions conveyed by the pink flame.

Fenfen's spiritual awareness was still in its infancy, much like a newborn child.

It neither embellished its words nor made requests subtly—its communications with Yan Luoyue were always blunt and straightforward.

Like now, when Fenfen directly transmitted one clear desire—"Hungry!"

"What do you want to eat?" Yan Luoyue had an inkling but found it hard to believe.

She tentatively pointed at the reddish-brown Soul-Snuffing Flame on the table. "This?"

Mistaking her question for permission, Fenfen's emotions instantly turned cheerful and eager.

"..."

For a moment, Yan Luoyue's expression was indescribable.

She plucked Fenfen's true form from the grass braid.

Years had passed, yet the pink flame remained tiny—only growing from the size of a fingernail to that of a peach blossom, though its hues had become even more dreamlike and vibrant.

In contrast, the Soul-Snuffing Flame beside it had a pale core as thick as a thumb, and the flame itself was as large as a fist.

The disparity in size was staggering.

After sensing Fenfen's intentions, Yan Luoyue felt like she was watching a teacup poodle fearlessly charging at a Tibetan mastiff.

But no matter how foolish the teacup poodle was—ahem, no matter how innocent and adorable the little pup was—it was still her own flame.

Meanwhile, the mastiff was just a gift, something to use when needed and sell for profit later.

So of course, Yan Luoyue was going to play favorites!

Holding the Soul-Snuffing Flame in place with one hand, she lifted Fenfen with a fingertip, intending to let it get a taste of the larger flame's power—much like a parent letting a curious child briefly touch hot water to teach them it’s not to be trifled with.

Yet, the moment Fenfen got within reach, it lunged at the Soul-Snuffing Flame like a starving beast.

It resembled a child who had gone without food for ten days, gleefully throwing itself into a granary, ready to devour even the walls.

Fenfen moved so swiftly and fiercely that Yan Luoyue couldn’t pull it back in time.

In that instant, she shut her eyes in dismay, her emotions as tangled as a parent watching their toddler gleefully imitate Peppa Pig by jumping into a mud puddle.

But what happened next completely defied her expectations.

The pink flame didn’t come scrambling back for help.

Instead, a slight indentation formed on its smooth outer edge, like a tiny mouth, and it swallowed the Soul-Snuffing Flame whole!

Yan Luoyue’s breath hitched.

She watched as the once-mighty Soul-Snuffing Flame was sucked into a thin, noodle-like strand before vanishing entirely into Fenfen’s core.

Yan Luoyue: "!!!"

My—Soul—Snuffing—Flame—!

After devouring the entire flame, Fenfen let out a soft "pfft," like a satisfied child patting its belly after a hearty meal.

Even more astonishing was that despite consuming an entire Soul-Snuffing Flame, Fenfen’s size hadn’t changed at all—only its colors grew more dazzling and lively.

For the first time in years, Yan Luoyue solemnly called Fenfen by its full name.

"Luo. Ying. Bin. Fen!"

The happily bouncing pink flame froze instantly.

After a second of stillness, it flopped onto the table, playing dead.

Realizing this tactic wouldn’t work, Fenfen rolled over and then flung itself at Yan Luoyue’s hand, nuzzling her fingers like a spoiled kitten.

"..."

Yan Luoyue pinched Fenfen between her fingers, holding it up like a scruffed cat, and brought it to Ling Shuanghun.

"Xiao Ling, look at this..."

Ling Shuanghun’s expression was equally stunned.

As a witness, he had seen Fenfen voraciously chomp down the Soul-Snuffing Flame.

After a discreet glance at Yan Luoyue, he murmured to himself, "This is practically a case of the pot calling the kettle black... Or perhaps, like master, like flame?"

Yan Luoyue scowled. "...I’m right here. I can hear you."

"Ahem, my apologies. I’ll whisper next time."

Ling Shuanghun straightened his face and studied "Luo Ying Bin Fen" with feigned seriousness.

Circling the pink flame, he exchanged thoughts with Yan Luoyue.

"From what I know, heavenly flames are independent and don’t merge. There are rare cases of stronger flames extinguishing weaker ones, but yours... It wasn’t extinguishing. It was more like devouring."

Following his gaze, Yan Luoyue looked down at Fenfen in her palm.

Even after devouring a Soul-Snuffing Flame worth an entire flying vessel, Falling Petals in Flurries showed no signs of abnormality.

It neither displayed any indication of evolving nor appeared to suffer from indigestion.

Aside from conveying even more joy to Yan Luoyue, the little pink flame behaved as if it had merely nibbled on a light snack.

Yan Luoyue hesitated before asking, "In your memory, is there no similar record? Not even something remotely close?"

"I truly haven’t heard of tales where different spirit flames devour one another. But if we loosen the criteria slightly, there is one legend that, upon closer reflection, seems like an inverted version of this phenomenon."

"Go on."

Ling Shuanghun glanced at the little pink flame, watching as it rolled around happily in Yan Luoyue’s palm, and a faint amusement flickered in his eyes.

"Take this story with a grain of salt—don’t treat it too seriously."

"Just tell it already."

"Very well." Ling Shuanghun’s voice grew solemn. "It is said that among the three divine treasures born alongside heaven and earth, the Crow’s Cry Flame gave birth to all spirit flames in existence, making it the progenitor of all fire."

...

On the day the grand assembly officially commenced, every single refiner within the Thousand Refinements Pavilion had gathered.

Among these refiners, some held invitations to the Thousand Refinements Assembly provided by their sects, others carried unupgraded passes from the Hundred Refinements Assembly, a few had managed to sneak in by tagging along with a legitimate invite, and some had even encountered scalpers outside the venue, purchasing entry permits at exorbitant prices...

The origins of these invitations hinted at the diverse backgrounds and affiliations of the refiners present.

Yet at this moment, regardless of where their invitations came from or what emblem adorned their chests, all refiners stood together in the grand plaza of the Thousand Refinements Pavilion.

At the far end of the plaza stood a high platform, its floor draped in radiant clouds and its curtains woven from celestial brocade. Only six individuals sat upon it, each a renowned master refiner whose name commanded respect across the land.

Three of them wore robes of similar design, their sleeves and hems embroidered with the symbols of "Refining, Alchemy, Formations, Swords, and Talismans"—unmistakable marks of the Hongtong Palace.

The remaining three consisted of a middle-aged man wrapped in thick furs, his complexion sallow and demeanor listless; a nun seated atop a lotus throne, draped in monastic robes, her hands holding a string of 108 prayer beads; and lastly, a figure with snow-white hair cascading to the ground, crimson eyes as intense as blood, and lips curled in a languid, amiable smile—none other than Ji Qinghong.

When his gaze swept lightly over the crowd, the assembled refiners bowed their heads in unison like wheat stalks bending before the wind, none daring to meet his eyes.

Though the ceremony had yet to begin, most attendees had already arrived.

Yan Luoyue pricked up her ears, catching snippets of hushed conversations from the crowd.

"Remarkable—six master refiners in total, and three of them are from Hongtong Palace. It seems the authority over this Thousand Refinements Assembly will fall into their hands."

"Don’t be so sure. Master Song of the Snowy Peaks and Master Canhe of the Fan Yin Temple are one thing, but the Guiyuan Sect sent... him."

"—He’s looking this way, lower your head!"

Even as someone forcibly pressed his head down, a naive young refiner couldn’t help but mutter in confusion:

"I find Master Ji’s demeanor quite amiable and his appearance distinguished. Why does everyone fear him so much?"

His words sent ripples through the surrounding crowd, like a stone tossed into a still lake.

"Prudent risk avoidance... avoidance! Since when does a refiner’s caution count as fear?"

"You clearly don’t understand. Go ask your elders—just mention his name. Oh, and make sure they’ve just taken a sip of tea when you do."

"Don’t doom the boy! He’s still young. Do you want him confined to the Reflection Cliff for life?"

After a flurry of murmurs, someone finally offered a coherent explanation.

"Other master refiners may look down upon us, but as long as we remain respectful and unobtrusive, they won’t spare us a second glance."

"But the Demon Venerable is different. He follows the Path of Ruthlessness—to him, we’re all the same. Hah, even more egalitarian than the Buddhists!"

The young refiner remained puzzled. "Is that... bad?"

"Bad? You call that good? Let me put it this way: To you, sunshine might be good and blizzards bad—but to him, whether he bathes you in sunlight, buries you in snow, or strikes you down with heavenly lightning, it’s all just part of nature’s cycle."

"Your life or death holds no more significance to him than melting snowflakes. And the worst part? You never know why he might suddenly take an interest in you."

This chapt𝙚r is updated by freeωebnovēl.c૦m.

Is it a blessing to draw the attention of a supreme being?

Perhaps.

But isn’t it precisely because a wildflower caught a passerby’s eye that it’s plucked and toyed with?

Yan Luoyue had only been idly listening to gossip to pass the time.

She hadn’t expected the discussion to take such a thrilling turn.

In the rumors circulating among the crowd, Ji Qinghong was practically portrayed as the cultivation world’s version of "you-know-who."

His terrifying image grew increasingly akin to the indescribable horror of Cthulhu.

Listening to this, Yan Luoyue felt a sweatdrop form on her forehead. She pressed her fingers to her temples and glanced toward the stage in confusion, only to meet Ji Qinghong’s cheerful smile as he raised his teacup in her direction.

…Wait, was he listening in right now?

The gossip around her continued unabated.

"I’ve met other cultivators who practice the Path of Emotionless Dao, but none of them are like him."

"Who knows how he cultivated it? In all the world, he’s the only one with such a unique version of the Emotionless Dao," someone whispered. "Three thousand years ago, that incident… wasn’t it said that he—"

"Shut up! Do you have a death wish?"

For some reason, the conversation had stumbled upon a forbidden topic. The surrounding cultivators quickly backed away, leaving a conspicuous, bald-patch-like vacuum around the speaker.

The one who had spoken out of turn now wore an expression of sheer terror.

Yan Luoyue looked toward the stage again and saw Ji Qinghong idly playing with his snow-white hair, attempting to braid a small strand of it himself.

"……"

Whether he had heard or not, it seemed he had no intention of pursuing the matter.

After this brief but tense disturbance, the nearby cultivators fell into a much quieter state. About the time it takes to burn an incense stick later, the opening ceremony of the Thousand Refinements Assembly finally began.

It was through this assembly that Yan Luoyue learned that even in the cultivation world, there were bureaucratic formalities and tedious, elaborate rituals.

The long-winded prelude to the opening ceremony nearly lulled her to sleep.

Glancing to her left, she saw Wu Manshuang. The little snake, experiencing such "official" proceedings for the first time, was already dazed, his eyes beneath the white veil spinning like mosquito coils.

If anyone took advantage of his adorable appearance to yank off his hood and step on the trailing hem of his cloak, the poor green snake would be caught completely off guard—likely tumbling head over heels.

Suppressing a chuckle, Yan Luoyue mischievously allowed this scenario to continue unchecked.

To her right, Ling Shuanghun was scribbling furiously with his brush. Yan Luoyue leaned closer and poked the white crane’s ribs with a "you-know-what-I-mean" level of force.

Ling Shuanghun: "……"

After smoothing out the fabric under his arm, he shot Yan Luoyue a reproachful glare.

—Oh, of course, he understood.

Three seconds later, the crane demon passed her a hastily scribbled note.

Unfolding it, Yan Luoyue was thoroughly pleased.

On the note, Ling Shuanghun had summarized the substantive content of the opening ceremony.

First, every session of the Hundred Refinements Assembly or Thousand Refinements Assembly functioned somewhat like an academic exchange platform.

Here, refiners could freely trade, take qualification exams, learn from others’ experiences, and showcase their latest discoveries.

Of course, distinguishing truth from falsehood and separating the wheat from the chaff depended entirely on a refiner’s own expertise.

Yan Luoyue thought of the refiners’ academic hub—"Ren Tian Tang"—and couldn’t help but laugh wryly.

Second, whenever the assembly was held, the organizers would arrange a large-scale, no-barrier examination.

Though called an exam, it was more like solving lantern riddles during a temple fair.

As long as one passed the entry-level test, prizes were practically guaranteed for everyone. The higher the ranking, the rarer the rewards.

But this year’s exam was different.

Those who passed wouldn’t just receive the assembly’s prepared gifts—they would also obtain a command arrow.

Then, in the interest of fairness and to avoid competing with ordinary refiners, disciples from major sects wouldn’t participate in the competition.

Having already been tested within their sects, they had been given command arrows in advance.

Reading this, Yan Luoyue nodded to herself: the repeatedly mentioned command arrows were likely the same as the one Ji Qinghong had given her earlier.

According to him, this arrow was an admission ticket.

The command arrow itself was non-transferable.

In other words, if another refiner was willing to pay a hefty price for it, the arrow alone represented a small fortune.

Finally, the speaker mentioned the Crow’s Cry Flame.

The moment this term was uttered so casually, nearly every refiner in the room held their breath.

—Here it was, the long-rumored news they had all been waiting for!

Even Yan Luoyue, who had been drowsy moments ago, felt her spirits lift.

She perked up her ears, eager to catch any clues about the Crow’s Cry Flame.

Yet what followed made her frown sharply.

"……"

Yan Luoyue abruptly looked up, scanning the speaker on stage.

The man wore a standard sect uniform, its hem embroidered with five motifs: "Refining, Pills, Formations, Swords, and Talismans"—clearly marking him as a disciple of the Hongtong Palace.

What he had just said was: "The Crow’s Cry Flame once split into several fragments, with one of them hidden within a secret realm. Now, Hongtong Palace possesses the map to this realm. Once the finest talents are selected, the realm will be opened."

As for the selection method? Naturally, it would be the top performers who obtained the command arrows.

It should be noted that this Hundred Refinements Assembly was primarily organized by the Hongtong Palace.

From the presiding grandmasters to the overseeing disciples, the majority of the event's official personnel were affiliated with Hongtong Palace.

Such arrangements clearly demonstrated Hongtong Palace's confidence and their unwavering determination to succeed.

...But if that were the case, then what about the fragment of the map currently in Yan Luoyue's possession?

Her thoughts drifted slightly as she recalled the two merged pieces of the map.

Both the map and the invitation Ji Qinghong had given her were artifacts combining craftsmanship and formations.

However, Yan Luoyue could perceive the layers of Ji Qinghong's challenge.

With her abilities, she could easily unravel the first layer of the puzzle.

As for the second layer, though she hadn't fully deciphered it, she could at least discern some of the conditions required to solve it.

But that map fragment was truly seamless—a masterpiece of flawless craftsmanship.

Had she not witnessed with her own eyes how the two fragments merged before her, or how the routes on the map shifted and transformed, Yan Luoyue might never have realized the map had been forged with such extraordinary skill.

Could such a masterfully crafted map possibly be a fake?

If this map wasn’t counterfeit, then what did that make the one Hongtong Palace claimed to possess?

Yan Luoyue rubbed the tip of her nose, musing to herself: Surely there couldn’t be two genuine maps, with two separate branches of the Crow’s Cry Flame emerging at the same time?

If that were true, the coincidence would be far too uncanny!

With the three major announcements concluded, the rest of the speech was filled with flowery but empty rhetoric.

Seasoned attendees, familiar with the proceedings, had already begun murmuring among themselves.

Unlike Yan Luoyue, who held an enigmatic map fragment and dared to set her sights on the Crow’s Cry Flame, the other craftsmen focused on more practical matters.

One quick-witted individual soon grasped why the entry tokens were unregistered:

"Did you hear what Hongtong Palace said? Disciples from major sects had already received tokens through internal evaluations... Heh, the fact that these tokens can be resold is clearly a money-making scheme."

"Hosting a Hundred Refinements Assembly isn’t cheap—they’ve got to recoup their expenses somehow."

Others, uninterested in such machinations, remained fixated on the Crow’s Cry Flame.

"There’s only one branch of the Crow’s Cry Flame... So who gets it in the end?"

A bystander cut in: "No need to wonder—it’ll obviously go to Hongtong Palace."

The map was provided by Hongtong Palace, the entry tokens were distributed under their authority, and a significant number of their disciples had already secured tokens without undergoing the standard evaluation.

Such blatant arrangements, made without even a pretense of fairness, left no doubt about their determination to claim the flame.

One disgruntled attendee muttered, "Then what’s the point of us working so hard? Just to hand them victory on a platter?"

"Not necessarily—didn’t the speaker mention earlier? Contributions within the secret realm will be individually recorded. The highest contributor receives the flame, while others can exchange their merits for time to study it."

It must be understood—the Crow’s Cry Flame was the progenitor of all flames.

Just as swordsmen could refine their techniques by observing sword intent, craftsmen and alchemists could gain profound insights by studying this legendary fire.

The opening ceremony had sent ripples through the crowd.

Though the main evaluation for all craftsmen had yet to begin, every attendee’s heart was already stirred.

After the ceremony, Yan Luoyue and her two companions didn’t return directly to their inn. Instead, they strolled along the main street.

For the past two days, the trio had secluded themselves in their rooms.

Apart from Yan Luoyue’s brief outing to the Silver Phoenix Tower to earn her fifth-tier badge, they had each been engrossed in their own research.

Their cozy inn suite had practically transformed into a study hall.

As a diligent chronicler, Ling Shuanghun even planned to map out the Hundred Refinements Assembly’s venue for posterity.

Now, the three of them huddled together, examining Ling Shuanghun’s rough sketches.

"Where should we go first?"

Yan Luoyue had a clear goal in mind: "Nintendo!"

Though in this world, "Nintendo" functioned more like an academic database—a platform for publishing research and innovative ideas—

Truth be told, this only made Yan Luoyue even more curious.

She intended to browse through Nintendo first, checking if any craftsmen had proposed concepts related to gaming devices.

If not, she planned to develop a Tetris machine in the coming days to test the market’s response.

...Ah, right. In this cultivation world, would calling the game "Tetris" leave people baffled?

In that case, perhaps she should—

Rubbing her chin, a mischievous grin suddenly flickered across Yan Luoyue’s face.

Sensing the stirrings of mischief, Ling Shuanghun eyed her warily.

"Yan Luoyue, what are you plotting? You’re not planning to pick a fight with Nintendo, are you?"

Yan Luoyue nearly choked. "No, no! You’re overthinking it!"

She was just a small, adorable turtle. Neither a special rodent whose name started with "Mi," nor a large black-and-white bird from the Antarctic—so why would she ever think of challenging Nintendo?

Yan Luoyue pondered deeply before declaring, "I was just thinking—if I first named Tetris 'Rubik's Cube,' then named Rubik's Cube 'Gachapon,' then named Gachapon 'Blind Box,' and finally named Blind Box 'Tetris'... and then promoted all four inventions together, wouldn’t that be hilarious?"

"..."

"Though I don’t understand what you’re saying," Ling Shuanghun murmured, "it somehow feels like you’re describing something utterly diabolical."

...

In Nintendo’s exhibition hall, Yan Luoyue didn’t find any game console-related ideas.

The hall was built in a polygonal shape, with four or five display boards set up on each wall.

If refining artisans had some preliminary ideas but lacked guidance from their mentors, they could purchase a blank jade slip, inscribe their immature concepts onto it, and embed it into the display boards, waiting for others to provide feedback.

It was said that disputes often arose in Nintendo. The moment Yan Luoyue and her two companions entered, they witnessed one such argument.

Two apprentice-level refining artisans stood before a display board, each holding a jade slip and arguing fiercely.

Yan Luoyue paused to listen and realized they were debating a particular technique for quenching at the final stage of refining.

The two quarreled like fighting roosters, each convinced their own idea was the absolute truth.

Their voices grew louder. Yan Luoyue stepped forward to glance at their jade slips, then silently shook her head and walked away.

"I don’t understand refining—which one of them is right?"

After the trio had moved farther away, Ling Shuanghun asked curiously.

"Both are wrong," Yan Luoyue sighed and shook her head. "If anyone is bold enough to try either of those ideas, their refining furnace would explode so violently that even tadpoles would instantly find their mothers."

Ling Shuanghun chuckled and was about to make a witty remark when Wu Manshuang suddenly turned around with a grave expression.

"Someone is following us."

Yan Luoyue blinked. "A coincidence, surely?"

After all, Nintendo was a popular destination within the Hundred Refinements Assembly.

If someone had come here after the opening ceremony, just like them, it wouldn’t be strange.

Wu Manshuang shook his head seriously. "No. He’s been tailing us since we left the inn."

From the inn to the plaza, and then from the plaza to Nintendo—neither journey was short, yet the man had persistently lingered behind them, neither too close nor too far.

Wu Manshuang wouldn’t have mentioned it unless he was absolutely certain.

Yan Luoyue’s gaze darkened slightly as she subtly turned her body. "Who is it? What does he look like?"

Wu Manshuang described meticulously, "A man standing three zhang away, dressed in the uniform of the Assembly’s staff."

It was precisely this attire that made the man blend in seamlessly wherever he appeared.

Anyone who saw him would assume he was just an official maintaining order.

Ling Shuanghun pretended to examine a jade slip, turning around to get a clear look at the man.

With Wu Manshuang’s reminder, the historian with a photographic memory now recalled that he had indeed seen this man several times today.

Feeling slightly ashamed, Ling Shuanghun humbly asked, "Xiao Wu, how did you notice him?"

Among the three of them, he was the eldest and the most experienced—such matters should have been his responsibility to watch for.

To his surprise, Wu Manshuang looked even more embarrassed upon hearing the question.

He cautiously glanced at Yan Luoyue, his face flushing red, and whispered, "I... learned from experience."

Ling Shuanghun: "???"

Yan Luoyue: "..."

If she had been holding a cup of tea, Yan Luoyue would have spat it out on the spot.

What the hell did he mean by "learned from experience"?

Wu Manshuang might as well have outright admitted that, over the past few years, he had been stalking Yan Luoyue every few months, thus accumulating a wealth of firsthand knowledge.

"Don’t ask how Manshuang knows—just take it as practical expertise," Yan Luoyue replied weakly on his behalf.

Wu Manshuang silently lowered his head, looking even more remorseful.

He obediently apologized, "I’m sorry. I won’t do it again."

"—And I won’t let anyone else do it either."

As he spoke, Wu Manshuang began removing his gloves with great determination. "I’ll go shake his hand right now."

Yan Luoyue: "..."

Ling Shuanghun: "..."

No, Xiao Wu, wait! Explain yourself first!

Grabbing Wu Manshuang’s shoulder, Yan Luoyue reminded him, "According to the rules, private conflicts between cultivators are forbidden within the Hundred Refinements Assembly."

So, Wu Manshuang couldn’t just poison the man to death on the spot—nor could he deliver a soul-shaking handshake that would leave the target mentally shattered.

...Well, technically, it wasn’t entirely impossible.

But both methods would be too loud, too conspicuous.

Wu Manshuang nodded slowly in understanding.

"I see."

After some thought, Wu Manshuang smiled again and, turning the tables, reassured Yan Luoyue, "Don’t worry, I’ve already learned a bit from what you all taught me."

Then he added, "I have a new invention... I’d like to test it out."

"..."

At this point, refusing Wu Manshuang’s request to take action would have been downright unreasonable.

Yan Luoyue and Ling Shuanghun exchanged a glance, their eyes brimming with curiosity: Just what had Wu Manshuang learned during their last group practice?

Wait a minute… surely he hadn’t learned how to stage a scam, had he?

With three parts wariness, three parts anticipation, three parts eager rubbing of hands, and one part blind luck, Yan Luoyue agreed to Wu Manshuang’s proposal.

The three of them left the bustling area and turned onto a quieter, more secluded path.

As Yan Luoyue and the others walked down the narrow lane, the man in work uniform followed closely behind.

Just as he reached the midpoint of the path, he suddenly felt a tug on his clothes, as if someone had grabbed the hem from behind.

Turning around, the man was startled to find that one of the three he’d been tailing had somehow ended up behind him!

"!!!"

His initial shock quickly gave way to a hint of disdain.

Even if this boy had decent cultivation skills and could outmaneuver him, private fights were strictly forbidden within the Hundred Refinements Assembly.

So the smartest move wouldn’t have been to expose his presence at all.

"You’ve noticed me?" The man shook his head regretfully, speaking down to them.

"Honestly, you should’ve pretended not to see me. That way, as long as you knew my whereabouts, you wouldn’t have to worry about us sending others."

Kids these days—they didn’t understand the art of playing dumb to keep the peace.

Now that they’d called him out, he wouldn’t get off scot-free either.

The boy said nothing, merely tilting his head slightly upward.

Rumor had it this young man was blind, unable to see clearly.

Yet standing before him, the man inexplicably felt a creeping sense of dread.

—As if, behind that white veil, those supposedly sightless eyes were boring into him through pitch-dark pupils.

"You… what do you want?"

When he asked this, his voice carried a frailty he hadn’t even noticed himself.

The boy remained silent, only extending a cold hand to lightly grasp the man’s fingers.

The next moment, the man suddenly shrieked!

In the blink of an eye, every strand of hair on his body—his head, his brows, his lashes, even his nose hair—had all fallen out!

He had turned into something smoother than a hard-boiled egg—a completely bald man!

"As you can see, I didn’t engage in private combat with you."

The boy’s tone was even polite and humble.

There was something distinct about the way he enunciated his words, making his speech sound more earnest and respectful than most.

Yet the man didn’t dare believe this facade of courtesy.

The sudden loss of all his hair was proof enough, and the cold sweat now drenching his body only confirmed it—this young man radiated a danger as thick as blood, a silence as deep as death.

Wu Manshuang continued leisurely with the second half of his sentence:

"—We could assume that if, after reporting back, you suddenly collapsed and died after taking just seven steps… that wouldn’t count as me fighting you privately, since I wouldn’t have even seen you by then."

"..."

The man stumbled back three steps, trembling as he stared at the boy’s calm, composed face.

That face showed no expression, save for the slight downturn of his lips, betraying an inscrutable displeasure.

—And in truth, Wu Manshuang was indeed feeling a bit troubled at the moment.

He thought to himself: This won’t do.

After all, a hair-removal effect that takes everything, including eyebrows… would probably be hard to sell, right?