At this moment, only three or four ragged mortals trailed behind that fellow student.
Their eyes were hollow, clouded with fear and despair. Whatever faith they once had in the "Immortal" protecting them had long since crumbled.
Wen Shan had assumed that the sight of him, with such a large group of mortals in tow, would provoke the student into attacking without hesitation—believing Wen Shan to be a demonic cultivator preying upon innocents. He had even prepared himself for a clash.
But instead…
The student merely lifted his head, his gaze empty and numb. He looked at Wen Shan once, then lowered his eyes, shoulders sagging, and turned silently away. With the few survivors behind him, he slipped into a side street and vanished beyond the ruins.
Wen Shan blinked in surprise, then realization struck.
That man… had lost his Dao heart.
The crushing defeat earlier had shattered his pride into dust. Perhaps in his mind, even if he wrested these mortals away, he would still fail to protect them. If that was the case—why struggle? Why keep fighting a battle already lost?
Watching the figure recede into desolation, Wen Shan felt a twinge of emotion, but he quickly pushed it aside.
He still bore the responsibility of escorting the fifty-odd mortals at his back. Bringing them safely to the mansion he controlled would be no simple task—one misstep could ruin everything.
Fortune, however, seemed to favor him. Whether by luck or design, he encountered no more cultivators along the way.
Instead, as he passed a burning home wreathed in flames, faint cries reached his ears.
"Help… help us! Is anyone there…?"
Turning his head, Wen Shan saw several mortals trapped within the inferno. The only exit was sealed off by fallen beams, and death by fire loomed close at hand.
He did not hesitate. Leading his group forward, he approached.
The trapped mortals brightened upon seeing him—only for hope to sour into dread as they felt the suffocating blood and ghostly qi rolling off his body.
"D-demon!" one man cried in terror.
Wen Shan ignored them. Instead, he stepped toward the flames and exhaled softly.
Whoosh—
A gust of icy wind erupted, forcing the roaring blaze aside and opening a narrow passage.
"Want to live? Follow me."
His command was sharp, brooking no argument.
"Yes, yes…"
The mortals scrambled out, tumbling over one another in panic, daring not to breathe too loudly as they joined Wen Shan's swelling ranks.
Without realizing it, Wen Shan now led more than sixty people.
By his calculation, if he returned them safely to the Soul-Banner Mansion, only ten more rescues would be needed to fulfill his master's assignment.
But just as he was about to reach the mansion with his flock, his heart sank.
Unseen until now, several figures loitered outside.
Clad in varied demonic sect garb, they lingered around the mansion, pointing and murmuring as though weighing their chances.
Wen Shan immediately understood. They, too, had sensed mortals hidden within. But they also recognized this was no ordinary mansion, which was why they hesitated instead of barging in.
A headache clenched at him.
Ever since donning his disguise, Wen Shan had carefully avoided extended contact with other demonic cultivators. Deceiving one man was easy. But a group? If even a single one grew suspicious, his ruse could crumble instantly.
What to do? Abandon the thirty mortals inside?
But abandoning them meant forfeiting his Soul Banner.
And without the banner, he could no longer flaunt the authority of the Grand Dao Demonic Sect.
After a brief struggle, Wen Shan chose the risky path.
He strode openly toward the loitering cultivators, his entourage of mortals shuffling nervously behind.
When he was barely ten paces away, he halted abruptly. His voice cracked like a whip:
"What do you think you're doing with my senior brother's Soul Banner?"
The cultivators jolted in surprise, heads snapping toward him. Their eyes immediately gleamed with greedy hunger at the sight of the crowd behind him.
"These mortals," Wen Shan continued coldly, before they could speak, "were gathered by me with great effort. They are to be delivered to the Valley of Blood Feast for the entrance trial. If you dare lay a hand on them, and displease the Valley Master… you will answer for it."
The effect was immediate.
The Grand Dao Demonic Sect's name weighed heavily on them. For disciples of lesser sects, its authority was absolute.
Two cultivators of weaker cultivation paled at once. They clasped their fists, muttered apologies, and retreated in haste.
But three remained.
At their head stood a burly man with a coarse, rugged face. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he scanned Wen Shan.
"If you truly are a disciple of the Holy Sect, we would not dare to disobey," he said slowly. "But tell me—why would the Holy Sect send someone at only the third layer of Qi Refining? Not even a formal disciple, yet entrusted with gathering mortals on behalf of the Valley Master?"
Wen Shan's expression hardened.
"My senior brother was delayed. He sent me ahead and entrusted me with this Soul Banner to defend myself. If you doubt me…" His voice grew sharp as a blade. "You may test its power for yourself."
At once, the mansion behind him trembled.
From within, dozens of uniformed guards materialized, their eyes vacant, their movements mechanical. They were newly-forged souls drawn from the ruined city—weak, yet a few already radiated the faint spiritual pressure of the first Qi Refining layer.
The burly man's pupils contracted.
A gaunt companion could not restrain his gasp. "A banner… that cultivates souls on its own? That's unquestionably a relic of the Holy Sect! Senior brother, he might truly be one of them—we should…"
But the leader remained unconvinced. His eyes burned into Wen Shan, probing for weakness.
Inside, Wen Shan's heart tightened. He was bluffing—his disguise could pass for a disciple of the Holy Sect, but he lacked the strength to match. If it came to a fight, these mid-stage Qi Refining cultivators would overwhelm him.
Tension coiled, the air thick with imminent violence.
Then, from among the mortals, a crisp female voice rang out.
"If you don't believe him, then wait! When his senior brother arrives, none of you will escape!"
The burly man's head snapped toward the voice. A mortal woman stood there, unarmed. Rage twisted his face.
"A mere mortal dares speak!?"
He flicked his wrist, sending a scarlet whip of energy lashing toward her.
Wen Shan reacted instantly, summoning the banner's guardians. Several soulless guards interposed themselves, intercepting the strike. But the blow shredded their forms into mist, dispersing them with a hiss.
Wen Shan's glare darkened. "So—you mean to act against me?"
The burly man faltered, unease flickering. Instead of answering Wen Shan, he fixed his gaze on the woman.
"What you said—was it true? Does he really have a senior brother?"
The woman was none other than the young lady Wen Shan had saved earlier.
Her face was calm, defiant. She sneered. "Why ask me? You wouldn't believe me anyway. But since you lack the courage to kill us and silence us, why not stay and see for yourself? Perhaps his senior brother will arrive soon—and you can greet him in person."
The burly man's face darkened, shifting between doubt and dread. His instincts screamed at him to cut them down—but he dared not.
Not if Wen Shan truly belonged to the Holy Sect.
And yet…
What if Wen Shan was lying?
Inside that mansion were dozens of mortals. If they could be taken, they would yield immense value—for cultivation, for trade, for power.
But was it worth it?
To risk offending the Grand Dao Demonic Sect for such spoils… was it truly worth it?