While chaos brewed outside and onlookers marveled at a spontaneous street fight, Lin Mu sat at the heart of the storm, blissfully unaware of the city-wide disruptions his cultivation was causing.
And far below, in a hidden place beneath the floor of the Ember Hollow Hall, old formation plates began to glow with warning runes—the chanisms struggling to regulate the sheer force of one man’s cultivation.
While Lin Mu was busy causing damage to city infrastructure, ng Bai’s fight had just co to an end.
The crowd’s cheers gradually faded as the arrogant young man staggered to his feet, face flushed with a mix of sha and fury. His clothes were torn, his sword dented at the tip, and his followers—clearly lacking courage—stood awkwardly at a distance, hesitant to intervene or even help him up.
He threw ng Bai one last venomous glare, spitting blood to the side.
"You’ll pay for this, boy!" he shouted, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his wounded pride. "This city... this province won’t protect you forever!"
The onlookers rely watched, unimpressed.
That was the way of Ash Crown City—strength mattered, not words. A man who lost in public had already lost more than just the battle.
The young man limped away, his entourage scrambling to follow and shield him from further embarrassnt.
ng Bai adjusted his robes, breathing evenly, spear still humming faintly in his hand. He gave the gathered crowd a nod, trying not to look too pleased with himself.
A few claps were heard—light, almost mocking—but still claps nonetheless. He quickly sheathed his spear, stepping back to the corner of the square where Daoist Chu still sat at the tavern table, his expression unreadable.
Daoist Chu, however, wasn’t focused on the aftermath of the fight.
His immortal sense, sharp and controlled, extended toward the mouth of the narrow street that led to the small inn—the sa one where the Hooded Tracker was supposedly staying. His gaze didn’t shift, but a glint flickered in his eye.
There.
He saw it: a single cloaked figure slipping silently onto the street, their steps swift, posture purposeful. No hesitation. Just like he predicted. The commotion had worked.
Daoist Chu’s hand casually reached for his jade slip, sending a short pulse of spiritual intent.
ng Bai, already halfway to him, paused mid-step as he received the ssage. His eyes shifted toward the street—and there he saw it too: the retreating back of the cloaked figure. Daoist Chu gave him a small gesture with his eyes, no words needed.
Without another thought, they began to follow.
The tracker, seemingly unaware for a few seconds, continued walking briskly down the alley. But then, perhaps sensing the pressure of pursuit, the figure paused. A half-turn of the head was all it took before they broke into a sudden sprint—feet barely touching the ground before they launched into the air.
"Damn," ng Bai muttered.
Daoist Chu instantly soared into the sky, a streak of immortal light trailing behind him. ng Bai, though still at the Dao Shell realm and unable to fly unaided, wasn’t far behind. With a hiss of air and a flash of motion, the twin snakes—Xiao Yin and Xiao Yang—wrapped around his shoulders and under his arms, lifting him high like a kite.
It wasn’t elegant. It never was.
"I hate this part," ng Bai grumbled under his breath, legs flailing slightly in the air.
Ashy chirped from his shoulder, "You’ll get used to it, featherless chicken!"
"Not helping," ng Bai muttered as the wind rushed past his face. "And I’m not a chicken!"
They soared above the rooftops, quickly leaving the boundaries of Ash Crown City. The tracker, clearly fast, had a head start, but Daoist Chu’s cultivation base let him keep pace. After a kiloter of chase, the tracker suddenly spun in mid-air—one arm sweeping back as a wave of dark, arc-shaped projectiles erupted from his cloak.
Daoist Chu’s reaction was instant.
With a flick of his sleeve, a talisman burst into golden light, expanding into a broad shield-like formation in front of him. The dark arcs struck the barrier, sizzled, and shattered harmlessly.
From behind him, ng Bai was unbothered. The twin snakes hissed eagerly, opening their maws and swallowing the remaining dark arcs mid-air as if they were tasty snacks.
Xiao Yin licked her forked tongue, her white eyes shimring.
Ashy translated with amusent, "She says it’s tasty. Like bitter licorice with lightning."
ng Bai blinked. "That’s... oddly specific."
But he too noticed sothing peculiar.
The elent wasn’t just darkness—it was tainted, coiled with unnatural yin energy. Whatever techniques the tracker used were no common ones.
Ahead, the cloaked figure turned fully in the air, hovering as the swirling shadows of their hood deepened.
Now that they were closer, they could make out more details—but not many. The hood that covered the person’s face wasn’t just fabric. It was alive. A whirlpool of dark mist spiraled within the confines of the hood, completely obscuring any features beneath.
Daoist Chu narrowed his eyes.
"That’s... not an illusion," he said slowly. "That hood—no, that entire technique—it’s suppressing their identity entirely."
ng Bai frowned. "They’re using so kind of concealnt technique?"
"Not just that," Daoist Chu replied, now floating a few dozen ters away from the figure. "It’s an actual curse or veil technique. The shadows are made to swallow immortal sense and reflection. Even I can’t peer through it with my immortal sense."
The cloaked tracker remained silent.
For a heartbeat, the three parties hung in the air, unmoving. The silence stretched.
Daoist Chu finally raised his voice.
"We aren’t enemies," he said clearly. "We only want information. We co from the Xian Sword Sect. We heard you were looking into our missing elders. We have no quarrel with you."
The swirling shadows around the figure gave no response.
But after a mont, the person slowly raised a hand.
Daoist Chu tensed—was it another attack?
But the gesture was open-pald.
A signal.
Peace.
Daoist Chu exhaled.
The cloaked figure finally spoke, their voice hoarse and genderless, like whispers echoing down a long corridor.
"Then co," they said.
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