A hundred miles beyond the northern city of Luocheng, lies Wolong Ridge.
The ridge, narrow and serpentine, stretches across the plains like a slumbering dragon, exuding an oppressive and foreboding aura. A horse-drawn carriage raced over the uneven terrain, swiftly arriving at the foot of the ridge.
But beyond the main road, the path grew treacherous. The carriage jolted violently with each bump. Before long, it came to a halt. The driver's forehead was drenched in sweat.
Lü Mudui stepped down, gripping a jade-green bamboo staff. He instructed the driver to wait and gazed upon the ridge. As he gently rubbed three copper coins between his fingers, the looming shape of Wolong Ridge — like a dormant dragon — filled him with inexplicable dread, as though a pair of unseen, oppressive eyes were silently watching him. Even his fingers trembled as he clutched the coins.
"Could there be a celestial destiny hidden within Wolong Ridge?"
Taking a deep breath, Lü Mudui, clad in flowing white robes, bamboo staff in hand and straw sandals on his feet, ventured alone into the mountains.
He walked a long time along the rugged path. The air grew increasingly stifling, the pressure mounting with every step.
From the distant forest, a dark-skinned mountain dweller burst forth in terror, a bamboo basket strapped to his back. His face was twisted with panic.
Lü Mudui's eyes gleamed as he intercepted him.
"Run! There's a monster in the mountain—it devours humans!"
The villager, though simple and honest, paused to anxiously describe the eerie happenings deep within Wolong Ridge.
Lü Mudui's brows furrowed, his expression darkening with concern.
Seeing that his words did nothing to dissuade Lü Mudui, the villager turned and fled in fear, disappearing swiftly into the trees.
Once alone again, Lü Mudui exhaled slowly, tapped his bamboo staff against the earth, and continued his descent into the ridge's depths.
Strange roars echoed faintly from the dark hollows of Wolong Ridge, startling flocks of birds into flight.
At last, he arrived at the place described by the villager—an eerie, terrifying scene.
The trees had vanished, replaced by a massive crater.
Staring into it, Lü Mudui's eyes widened in disbelief. The reflected glow of the pit shimmered in his pupils. Around its rim lay a faintly glowing, translucent blue shell, iridescent like the surface of an egg.
From this "shell" emanated the oppressive force he had felt.
His body trembled.
Celestial destiny!
This was the very omen that Young Lord Lu had spoken of—it had truly appeared!
Lü Mudui stepped forward, struggling to contain the turbulence within his heart.
He approached the pale blue "shell."
It was semi-transparent. Pressing his eyes against it, he could vaguely discern a magnificent, towering gate to an underground palace hidden within.
A celestial secret realm—without doubt.
Young Lord Lu had not lied.
Flushed with excitement, Lü Mudui pressed his face even closer to the shell, desperate to glimpse the mysteries inside.
Suddenly—
On the opposite side of the shell, a dark shadow surged forward.
A ghastly, pallid eyeball slammed against the other side, staring directly into Lü Mudui's eye.
A chill shot up from his heels to the crown of his head.
In that instant, a terrifying pressure burst forth from within the shell.
Buzz.
The air rippled, brushing against his body.
He coughed blood.
Crimson stained his white robe. Gripping his bamboo staff, he staggered back, his face twisted in horror.
As he suspected—this "shell" was the celestial destiny's protective barrier. Without the "Heaven and Earth Qi Token" mentioned by Young Lord Lu, entry was impossible.
Even through fear, joy surged in Lü Mudui's heart.
The celestial destiny was real!
He laughed madly before turning and fleeing with wild enthusiasm.
The world would tremble from this revelation.
By the shores of Beiluo Lake, the somber tension gradually eased.
Mo Liuqi lay unconscious, bloodied and prostrate.
The Grand Diviner's wide sleeves fluttered in the wind, his back soaked in cold sweat.
That assassin—his skill was undeniable. The Grand Diviner had nearly fallen prey to him.
"Master, how shall we deal with this assassin?"
From his wheelchair, Lu Fan smiled faintly as he looked at the Grand Diviner.
After all, it was the Grand Diviner who had been targeted and frightened. The decision rightfully belonged to him.
The Grand Diviner composed himself and returned the smile.
"You subdued the assassin, all thanks to you, Ping'an. Do as you wish."
Shrewd as ever, the Grand Diviner clearly saw that Lu Fan had taken an interest in this killer.
Lu Fan nodded.
"Uncle Luo, throw him in the dungeon. I'll interrogate him myself later."
Luo Yue, still shaken, quickly saluted and replied, "Yes, sir."
He then ordered the soldiers to bind Mo Liuqi tightly.
As they tied him up, a cheap, roughly crafted hairpin fell from Mo Liuqi's waist.
Lu Fan gestured, and the pin flew into his hand.
It bore two crudely carved characters: "A-Zhu."
Lu Fan raised a brow and glanced at the unconscious Mo Liuqi.
The group gathered themselves and headed toward the Lu residence.
Though the crisis had passed, the mood remained somber.
Within the Lu household, Jing Yue sat idly on a stone bench, balancing a vertical sword with a single finger, ensuring it did not tip or fall.
In the center of the courtyard, Mo Tianyu lay half-buried, disheveled and bloodstained, lips cracked, eyelids twitching with exhaustion.
"Don't sleep now. Sleep, and you may never wake again. If you die, the Young Lord will come after me."
Jing Yue glanced at Mo Tianyu's exposed head.
"To think you were once the foremost disciple of the Confucian sect. Look at you now—what a disgrace."
"Why the need for such pretense? Be like me—low-key, humble, and alive. Isn't that enough?"
"When you can't win, run. If you can't run, beg. So long as you live, the future holds hope."
"You got lucky. The City Lord begged for your life. The last one who tried to show off in front of the Young Lord—his corpse grew cold before the night was over. Tsk, tsk…"
Jing Yue rambled on while toying with his sword.
Mo Tianyu's face flushed with anger.
"S...shut…" he weakly protested.
"You want me to shut up? You should've said so earlier! How was I supposed to know?"
Jing Yue twirled his sword, utterly shameless.
Mo Tianyu nearly choked in frustration.
Even in this wretched state, fate had sent him a babbling tormentor.
Was Young Lord Lu a devil?
Suddenly—
Just as Jing Yue was about to continue his lecture, he sheathed his sword and stood upright.
Outside the courtyard, footsteps rustled.
Lu Fan appeared in his wheelchair, the white-haired Grand Diviner in tow, followed by Lu Changkong.
Their group entered the courtyard.
At once, they spotted the pitiful Mo Tianyu, buried up to his neck.
"Young Lord!"
Jing Yue beamed ingratiatingly.
"This fellow's not dead. Nearly died several times, but under my benevolent care, he found the will to live. He is, truly, a miracle of life."
Lu Fan cast him a glance.
For a man once revered as a sword sect grandmaster, Jing Yue had no trace of dignity left.
The Grand Diviner looked upon his wayward disciple, stroked his beard, and shook his head with a complicated expression.
"This foolish disciple has troubled you, Ping'an."
Lu Fan smiled.
"It's no trouble—just a casual effort."
A faint azure aura swirled around Lu Fan.
His mastery of spiritual pressure had grown ever more refined.
He directed the pressure into the ground.
Boom!
With a soft thud, Mo Tianyu's body was forced upward, flung into the sky.
"Jing Yue, catch him."
Lu Fan withdrew the pressure, speaking calmly.
Jing Yue leapt instantly, lightness skill carrying him aloft.
As autumn leaves scattered in the air, he caught the falling Mo Tianyu and gently landed in the courtyard.