"…Bring… here." Xu Mo's voice was strained as he clutched his back, blood soaking through his robes and dripping onto the ground. A searing pain pulsed through him in waves, but he remained steady. Pain was an old companion—one he'd learned to tolerate. But this kind of wound… this was different. The pain wasn't just sharp; it was deep, unfamiliar. He had long grown numb to the headaches that visited him every month, but this was the first time in years that he had bled from an actual injury.

Those who had been ready to act hesitated, freezing mid-step when they realized Xu Mo—despite being the one wounded—was demanding to handle the matter himself. Intrigue filled the air. Spectators, both allies and enemies, held their breath as the drama unfolded.

Meanwhile, not far away, Long Chen stood tall amidst the fading remnants of his Thunder Tribulation. He had successfully broken through to the Golden Core Realm. The pure lightning-forged Qi had compressed into a solid core—an eighth-grade core, radiant and dense. It was a miraculous feat, one that would be the envy of countless cultivators.

Above them, the dark clouds dispersed slowly, but Long Chen remained still, stabilizing his cultivation. His aura surged in chaotic bursts as he absorbed the lingering divine thunder. Yet, time wasn't on his side. The others weren't going to wait patiently for him to consolidate his realm. No, they had already made their decision.

They would strike now—before this monster had a chance to grow into something truly unstoppable.

"A nineteen-year-old… already in the Golden Core Realm?" someone whispered, their tone trembling with fear and greed. "Judging by the pressure… at least a sixth-grade core, maybe higher."

The plan was simple: ambush Long Chen while he was still vulnerable. And if they succeeded, they'd not only eliminate a future threat but also confirm the grade of his core—an invaluable piece of information.

"ATTACK!!" a voice roared.

No one cared who gave the command. Like rabid dogs unleashed, cultivators surged forward in a frenzied stampede, their killing intent unrestrained.

But just as they crossed the five-kilometer mark—

"HALT!"

They froze.

A wave of spiritual pressure descended upon them as a group of cultivators in familiar robes appeared, forming a protective wall in front of Long Chen. At their lead was Shui Qingyi.

"He will be a disciple of the Verdant Sky Hall from this moment on," she declared firmly. "Please… show us some face, and let him go."

As the highest authority present from the sect maintaining this secret realm, her words held weight.

Back near the center of the chaos, Xu Mo finally realized who had stabbed him.

Mei Xueyin.

"…But… why?" Xu Mo's voice was hoarse, not from rage but exhaustion. Still, the hoarseness gave it an edge that made those around him flinch. Wei Rong immediately dropped to his knees beside him.

"Xu Mo, please," Wei Rong begged. "Forgive her. There must be a misunderstanding!"

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It was shameful, yes—begging the victim on behalf of the perpetrator—but Wei Rong was torn. Mei Xueyin had her reasons. He just… didn't know what they were.

"Why?" Xu Mo repeated, his tone devoid of emotion.

He met Mei Xueyin's eyes—bloodshot, trembling, confused. Her face twisted in a storm of conflicting emotions: sadness, guilt, anger… and something else.

"…Because you tried to kill me," she said at last, teeth clenched so hard it looked like her jaw would snap. Yet her eyes betrayed her words. Tears welled, on the verge of falling.

Xu Mo narrowed his gaze. Something was off. There was a misunderstanding here—he could feel it in her aura, in the tremble of her voice.

Gasps erupted around them.

The onlookers, unable to compete with even Foundation Establishment cultivators, had gathered to watch the real drama unfold. They cared little for danger. Gossip and spectacle were far more appealing.

From a distance, Xue Lingxi observed the scene quietly. Her eyes sharpened.

She remembered this Xu Mo—an arrogant tyrant. She had hoped he'd changed after her rebirth. But perhaps he hadn't changed at all—only learned to hide his nature better.

Still… she wasn't some naïve girl anymore. In her past life, she had committed her fair share of sins. Regret or not, she had walked a blood-stained path. In this life, she would tread it again—only this time, with fewer illusions.

"Can someone explain what's going on?" asked Jin Meiyu, arms crossed. She didn't understand the complex relationship between Xu Mo, Wei Rong, and Mei Xueyin. All she saw was the same cold, calculating man who had once disrespected her. Now that he was wounded and vulnerable, part of her wanted payback.

The crowd shifted its gaze from speaker to speaker like a flock of curious pigeons.

Xu Mo remained silent. Blood continued to seep from his back, but he made no move to take healing pills.

He couldn't. Su Wenqing was nearby. She knew the ring on his finger was a fake storage ring. If he produced pills out of nowhere, suspicions would arise. He needed to be careful.

"Here, Master, let me help you," said a sharp-eyed disciple who had once stirred trouble in Wei Rong's team. Now, he had rebranded himself as a loyal follower, addressing Xu Mo with unearned reverence.

"Master?" The title hung heavy in the air.

Xu Mo gave him a sidelong glance. This kind of person was dangerous—a snake hidden in the sleeves, waiting for warmth only to bite later. Once Xu Mo lost favor, he'd betray him without hesitation.

Still, for now, he was useful.

The disciple produced a bandage and some cotton. Xu Mo laid on his stomach as the man carefully tore away the blood-soaked section of his robes, revealing the deep stab wound.

Gasps echoed again. The wound had reached deep—his spinal bone was faintly visible.

The disciple borrowed water from someone and poured it over the gash. Blood and grime washed away, revealing torn flesh. He then used wet cloth to clean what water alone couldn't remove. Xu Mo's body trembled slightly, but his strong physique and spiritual energy had already begun to act. The internal bleeding slowed. Veins near the wound pulsed, healing gradually.

It would take him at least a day or two before he could move properly again, but it was better than lying crippled for weeks like a mortal.

Pain still surged when muscles near the wound contracted. Any sudden movement would cause agony.

Suddenly—

"What?!" Wei Rong yelled.

Xu Mo blinked.

"Xu Mo, how could you?" Wei Rong's voice cracked. "We trusted you! And this is how you repay us?"

His tone was exaggerated, theatrical almost. But Xu Mo couldn't care less. He was growing sleepy. Perhaps the dulling pain was lulling him into a strange calm.

The sharp-eyed disciple pressed a thick cotton sheet onto the wound, then wrapped it tightly in place after two or three circulations around Xu Mo's waist.

"Xu Mo, please say it was just a big misunderstanding," Wei Rong pleaded again, stepping closer.

"Stay back," the disciple barked, standing guard in front of Xu Mo. "My master has just been bandaged."

Xu Mo looked at the disciple thoughtfully. He did admire smart people. Perhaps it wouldn't be too bad to keep this one around—just not too close. He couldn't be trusted with sect matters; he'd grow arrogant and start bossing others around. Better to limit his responsibilities to personal errands. That way, Xu Mo could keep an eye on him.

"Stand back," Xu Mo said finally, his voice calm but firm. "And… don't call me 'Master.' It feels uncomfortable. You can address me as 'Senior' or 'True Successor' if you want to be formal."

He pushed himself up using his sword, the blade stuck into the earth like a crutch. One hand gripped the hilt tightly as he steadied himself on shaky legs.

The pain flared, but he stood.

And that, in itself, was enough to silence everyone.

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