"Senior Brother Luo, that was absolutely breathless! You barely lifted a finger, and the Deng brothers were on the ground. Did you see the look on Ma Jinghuan's face? Even the elites are terrified of you now."
Gu Shi's voice buzzed in the air like an over-caffeinated insect, his excitement piercing the quiet of the mountain path. Luo Zhen walked beside him, his expression an impenetrable mask of calm. He offered no verbal response, letting the younger disciple's adulation wash over him.
Suddenly, Luo Zhen's stride faltered. His features tightened, a microscopic flinch that vanished as quickly as it had appeared.
"Senior Brother?" Gu Shi paused, looking concerned.
"It's nothing," Luo Zhen said, his face smoothing back into indifference. He resumed walking, his pace steady.
They reached the residential mountain range shortly after. With a curt nod of dismissal to Gu Shi, Luo Zhen retreated into his own cave dwelling and sealed the heavy stone door behind him. The silence was immediate and welcome.
He moved to the center of the room and sank onto a meditation cushion, crossing his legs in a fluid motion. He closed his eyes, turning his senses inward, letting his consciousness drift down into the dark, labyrinthine networks of his own body.
It didn't take long to find the anomaly.
Scattered across his skeletal structure were clusters of a viscous, silver-grey energy. They clung to his bones like stubborn oil stains, pulsating with a faint, eerie light. This was the residue of the Corpse Pearl.
The pearl had contained two distinct forces: a lethal necrotic poison and a potent, bone-strengthening essence. Luo Zhen had already refined the poison, converting it into his signature Poison Rakshasa Seal and the Dark Green Poison Mist. But this secondary energy—the body-tempering essence—remained stubbornly undigested.
The hitch in his step on the walk home had been a warning. When he had unleashed the Thunder Flood Dragon Break earlier that day, the surge of his own Demonic Energy had grazed these silver pockets, causing a jarring resonance in his marrow.
It wasn't harmful, strictly speaking. In fact, the residue was passively reinforcing his bone density. But to a perfectionist like Luo Zhen, it felt like a fishbone lodged in his throat—a foreign contaminant that didn't belong.
He opened his internal interface.
"System," he subvocalized, his mental voice heavy. "Run a diagnostic. What is this silver-grey residue?"
The mechanical, genderless voice of the System echoed in his mind. "Analysis: The energy structure within the Corpse Pearl is highly complex. While it possesses properties for tempering the physical vessel, passive absorption is inefficient. Specific methodology is required for total integration."
Luo Zhen frowned. "I thought I instructed you to facilitate the absorption already."
"Correction," the System replied. "The initial extraction was successful. However, this energy is cohesive; it seeks to bind. Even after being broken down, the particles have naturally coagulated and reattached to your skeletal structure."
The System paused, almost sounding defensive. "Technically, the host has absorbed it. It is currently reinforcing your calcium structures. Is this not the desired outcome?"
Luo Zhen remained silent, his annoyance simmering.
"There are levels to absorption," he said finally. "I don't want a coating. I want integration. I need this energy dissolved and merged with my blood and muscles, not sitting on top of my bones like rust. Do you have a solution?"
"Query acknowledged. Solution found: High probability of success through external agitation. You require a high-grade Body Tempering cultivation technique. Activating such a technique will metabolize the residue, forcing it to dissolve and fuse with your cellular structure."
"A technique?" Luo Zhen raised an eyebrow. "That's it?"
"Affirmative. The laws of cultivation dictate that energy forms interact through mutual reinforcement and restriction. This specific necrotic essence is highly susceptible to the active circulation of a Yang-based physical art. However, a warning: the technique must be of significant quality. The generic options in the System Mall are insufficient for your current power level."
Luo Zhen had been mentally reaching for the System Mall button, but he stopped. The System was right. The marketplace hadn't updated in ages; he had outgrown its inventory. He was a predator in a pool of minnows.
He exhaled a long breath, standing up and dusting off his robes. If the System couldn't provide, the Sect would have to.
The destination was the Mission Hall.
In the Turning Blade Gate, nothing was free. Whether one sought a library scroll on body tempering or a rare alchemical ingredient, the currency was always the same: Contribution Points. And the only way to amass points quickly was to bleed for the Sect.
When Luo Zhen arrived, the hall was a cacophony of shouting and bartering. The massive cavern was packed with outer sect disciples, though Luo Zhen recognized none of them. The feeling was mutual; he moved through the crowd like a ghost, unnoticed.
These were the worker bees. They hadn't attended the orientation meeting—likely too busy grinding out low-level tasks to care about sect politics or the posturing of elites like Ma Jinghuan.
Luo Zhen approached the massive stone wall that dominated the far end of the hall. It was plastered with parchment notices, each glowing with a faint magical residue indicating its active status.
His eyes scanned the clutter of requests—gathering herbs, hunting minor beasts, escort duties—until his gaze locked onto a notice near the top. The crimson ink seemed to throb against the paper.
Mission: The Tianwang Purge
Target: The Bandit Lords of Tianwang Stronghold
Classification: Three-Star Elite
Bounty: 300 Contribution Points per Chieftain. Bonus multiplier for total annihilation.
Briefing: The Tianwang Stronghold has forgotten its place. These bandits have insulted the honor of the Turning Blade Gate. Retribution must be absolute.
Luo Zhen felt a spark of interest. The payout was lucrative.
However, something was off. A crowd of disciples stood before the wall, staring at this specific notice with a mixture of desire and trepidation. Yet, nobody moved to take it.
Elite missions were scarce resources. Usually, disciples would fight tooth and nail for a one-star task. For a three-star mission to sit untouched implied one of two things: either the target was suicidal to attempt, or there was a political reason to avoid it.
Are the bandits that dangerous? Luo Zhen mused. If so, their fear is my gain.
He didn't hesitate. He stepped through the hesitation of the crowd, pulled his identity plaque from his sash, and slammed it against the parchment.
A ripple of light consumed the paper. The notice vanished.
Luo Zhen pocketed his plaque, satisfied. He wasn't worried about the danger. The rules of the Outer Sect were rigid: even a five-star mission wouldn't exceed King-level difficulty. Anything reaching the Emperor realm was restricted to the Inner Sect. At worst, he'd be facing a few peak King-level thugs. For the current Luo Zhen, that wasn't a fight; it was a warm-up.
But as the light faded, the hall went dead silent.
Luo Zhen turned to find dozens of eyes staring at him in horror.
"You..." A senior disciple near him gaped. "You actually took the Tianwang mission?"
Luo Zhen adjusted his cuffs. "Is there a problem?"
"A problem? It's a catastrophe!" the disciple hissed, looking over his shoulder. "Do you have a death wish?"
"I can handle a few bandits," Luo Zhen said dryly, waving his plaque.
"It's not about the bandits! We could have formed a raid group and wiped them out yesterday," the disciple whispered frantically. "We didn't take it because that mission was claimed."
"Claimed?" Luo Zhen frowned. "It was on the board."
"It was verbally claimed by Wang Lili!" the disciple said, the name dropping from his lips like a curse. "He announced that the Tianwang bounty was his personal property. Anyone who touches it is declaring war on him."
"Wang Lili?" Luo Zhen searched his memory. "Never heard of him. And I certainly didn't see him here."
"He's... preparing. Putting on his face," the disciple explained, looking nervous.
"His face?"
Before Luo Zhen could ask for clarification, a voice cut through the air from the entrance. It was a voice that grated on the nerves—high-pitched, affected, and dripping with forced delicacy.
"Oh, heavens above, the sun is simply criminal today! I slathered on three layers of jade-pearl sunscreen, and I still feel like I'm baking!"
Luo Zhen turned.
Three figures strutted into the hall. The two flanking men were forgettable thugs, but the figure in the center was an assault on the senses.
It was a man, broad-shouldered and tall, with a prominent Adam's apple and a jawline covered in a thick, coarse layer of black stubble. But overlaying this masculine frame was a chaotic explosion of cosmetics. His face was caked in white powder so thick it looked like drywall, and his lips were painted a glistening, blood-red crimson.
He walked with an exaggerated sway of his hips, his hands fluttering in delicate, rehearsed gestures, fingers curled like orchids.
The cognitive dissonance was staggering. The beard. The lipstick. The hulking frame. The mincing gait.
"What in the world..." Luo Zhen muttered, genuinely taken aback. He had seen demons, monsters, and horrors, but this was a different kind of shock.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea. Fear was palpable in the room.
"You're finished," the disciple next to Luo Zhen whispered, backing away. "That's Wang Lili. The Crimson Lip Tyrant."
Wang Lili sashayed to the quest board, halted, and then let out a shriek that shattered glass.
"Aaaah! Who did this? Which unwashed peasant stole my mission?!"
He spun around, hands on his hips, his chest heaving. He grabbed the collar of a trembling novice. "Speak! Was it you?"
"No! No, Sister Lili, I swear!" the novice squeaked.
"Then who?!"
The novice pointed a shaking finger at Luo Zhen. "Him! It was him! We all saw it!"
Wang Lili's head snapped toward Luo Zhen. The heavy mascara around his eyes seemed to vibrate with rage.
Luo Zhen sighed internally. He hated drama.
Wang Lili marched over, his two lackeys trailing behind like hyenas. He stopped inches from Luo Zhen, radiating the scent of cheap perfume and stale sweat.
"You blind, ignorant little thing," Wang Lili spat, his voice dropping an octave into a growl before shooting back up. "You dare touch this Old Lady's property? You must have eaten the heart of a bear and the gall of a leopard for breakfast!"
Luo Zhen's expression went cold. He wasn't one to suffer fools, regardless of how brightly painted they were.
"Two things," Luo Zhen said, his voice level. "One, I didn't know you had 'licked' this mission to claim it. Two, if you want it that badly, I can transfer it back to you."
Luo Zhen wasn't afraid, but he was pragmatic. Entangling himself with this circus act felt like a waste of time. He just wanted the points.
But Wang Lili misread the pragmatism for submission.
"Nonsense! Of course you'll give it back!" Wang Lili shrieked, spittle flying from his rouge-stained lips. "But that's just the start. You've insulted my dignity! You think you can just hand it back and walk away?"
"What do you want?" Luo Zhen asked, his patience thinning.
Wang Lili smirked, a grotesque expression that cracked his powdered foundation. He pointed a manicured finger at the ground, between his spread legs.
"Crawl," Wang Lili commanded. "Go through my legs. Do that, and this Old Lady might forgive your insolence."
"Yeah! Crawl for Sister Lili!" one of the lackeys jeered.
Something inside Luo Zhen snapped. It wasn't a loud snap, but the quiet, dangerous click of a safety being disengaged.
He didn't speak. He just flicked his wrist.
BOOM!
The air in the hall depressurized instantly as three massive, spectral shapes erupted from Luo Zhen's palm. They were dragons formed of pure lightning, their bodies crackling with blue-white voltage. They roared, a sound that vibrated in the teeth of everyone present, and slammed into Wang Lili and his henchmen.
There was no contest. The force of the Thunder Flood Dragons lifted the three men off their feet and blasted them backward. They flew through the air, crashing through the open doors of the Mission Hall and skidding across the dirt courtyard outside.
Luo Zhen dusted off his hands and walked out, stepping into the sunlight.
On the ground, Wang Lili was groaning, his wig askew, his makeup smeared into a terrifying abstract painting. He looked up at Luo Zhen, his eyes filled with disbelief.
"You... you hit me?" Wang Lili gasped, clutching his chest. "Do you know who I am? Do you know who my Godfather is?!"
"I don't care if your Godfather is the Emperor of Heaven," Luo Zhen said.
He raised his hand again. Moisture in the air condensed rapidly, freezing and sharpening into a ten-meter-long blade of solid water. With a casual motion, he brought it down.
Wang Lili shrieked and threw up a defensive artifact—a golden shield.
CRASH.
The water blade hit the shield with the weight of a collapsing building. The artifact held, but the kinetic energy had nowhere to go. It transferred directly into Wang Lili's body.
He convulsed, vomiting a spray of blood that mixed vividly with his red lipstick.
Luo Zhen didn't stop. He blurred, vanishing from his spot and reappearing directly in front of the fallen tyrant.
Wang Lili scrambled backward, terror finally piercing his narcissism. "What... stay back! My Godfather—"
Luo Zhen reached into the air and grasped a spear made of crackling lightning. He leveled the tip at Wang Lili's throat, the electricity sizzling against the man's bobbing Adam's apple.
"You mentioned your Godfather," Luo Zhen said softly, tilting his head. "You said he wouldn't let me off. Is he here now?"
Wang Lili trembled violently. The arrogance had evaporated, leaving only a pathetic, shivering mess.
"No, no! Misunderstanding! Big brother, it was a joke!" Wang Lili waved his hands frantically. "I was possessed! My brain wasn't working! The mission is yours! I have eyes but failed to see Mount Tai! Please!"
He puckered his lips, trying to look cute and pitiful, a gesture that made Luo Zhen's stomach turn.
"Spare me! I'm just a delicate flower!"
Luo Zhen looked down at the bearded, bleeding man with cold disgust.
"If the Sect didn't forbid killing disciples," Luo Zhen whispered, the lightning spear humming dangerously, "you would already be cooling on the ground. Not because of the mission. But because you demanded I crawl."
He dissipated the spear. The lightning vanished into thin air.
"Get out of my sight."
"Yes! Yes! Thank you, big brother!"
Wang Lili scrambled up and ran, his lackeys limping behind him. He didn't look back until he was well clear of the mountain range.
Once he was safe, hidden in the shadows of a distant grove, Wang Lili stopped. He wiped the blood from his mouth, his trembling ceasing instantly. The fear in his eyes was replaced by a look of pure, venomous hatred.
"Sister Lili... are we just going to take that?" one lackey wheezed.
"Take it?" Wang Lili hissed, his voice dropping the affected falsetto entirely. "I'm going to destroy him. Find out everything about him. Name, rank, background."
"On it."
Moments later, the lackey returned with a jade slip.
"He's a nobody, Sister. A recruit. Entered the sect less than a month ago."
Wang Lili crushed a sapling next to him with a bare hand.
"A rookie?" he screamed, his face twisting. "A rookie dared to humiliate me? Find out where he sleeps. If I don't cripple that boy, my name isn't Wang!"