One Week Later

After returning to the sect, Xu Mo received permission from Sect Master Bai Xu to assist the families of disciples who had lost their lives during the expedition to the secret realm. However, he made one condition—his name and identity were to remain anonymous. He requested that the sect take credit, stating simply that it was a form of sect-sponsored support.

The first thing Xu Mo did afterward was discreetly distribute his savings—stored in his inventory—to several "children of destiny."

Playing it smart, he cleverly blended spiritual stones with the budget officially allocated to them by the sect. This made it easier for them to accept the funds without suspicion. Not long after, the familiar system prompt appeared before him—the one he hadn't seen in what felt like ages.

[Ding! Daughter of Destiny Jin Meiyu has been Successfully Bound!! Invested: 10 Mid Grade Spiritual Stones Reward: 20 Mid Grade Spiritual Stones.]

[Ding! Daughter of Destiny Xue Lingxi has been Successfully Bound!! Invested: 1 Mid Grade Spiritual Stone Reward: 2 Mid Grade Spiritual Stones.]

[Ding! Daughter of Destiny Mei Xueyin has been Successfully Bound!! Invested: 50 Low Grade Spiritual Stones Reward: 1 Mid Grade Spiritual Stone.]

"Wu Ming, is the report I asked you to prepare ready?" Xu Mo asked, eyes calm and steady.

Wu Ming stepped forward, silent as always. His appearance was forgettable to most—coarse, ash-grey robes hung loosely over a lean frame, the edges frayed from travel and work. Pale yet healthy, he looked more like someone who lived under fog and moonlight than the sun.

His dull black hair was tied into a lazy bun, strands of brown at the tips—not from age, but from neglect. Yet his eyes were the most distinct: not sharp, not naïve, but still—dark and unreadable. They were like a void—tranquil, watchful. Few could ever guess what he was thinking. He bore the posture of a servant long used to silence, but there was a quiet grace to every movement he made, as if each step aligned naturally with the Dao.

A thin scar cut across his left brow—jagged and visible, though not deep. When asked about it, he only smiled faintly and said nothing. Wu Ming was a man who spoke little, worked hard, and remained in the background. But for those with sharp instincts, it was clear—his silence wasn't from fear. It was a choice. A form of control.

"Yes, Young Master. It is ready," Wu Ming said, handing over a scroll.

Xu Mo glanced at him briefly before unrolling the parchment. His expression darkened slightly as he read through the names and numbers.

"So many lost…" he muttered under his breath.

A total of 150 disciples had entered the secret realm. Of them, only forty returned unharmed and improved. The rest—gone. Some perished within, their bodies unrecoverable. Others returned with severe injuries, only to succumb days later. It weighed heavily on Xu Mo. Each name was recorded in the scroll, along with portraits and information about their origins—details painstakingly gathered by Wu Ming.

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His residence had been relocated recently and was now situated not far from the Saintess, Jin Meiyu. Despite the proximity, their encounters were rare. A new workroom had been constructed according to his preferences—a quiet space where he could focus without disturbance.

Xu Mo rubbed his temples, mind weary. How could he properly compensate the families of 110 fallen disciples? Many had left behind loved ones who depended on them entirely—some were even the sole breadwinners.

"Wu Ming," he said at last, "take these ten Mid Grade Spiritual Stones and convert them into mortal currency. After that, go to the families. Tell them what happened. Present them with four options."

Wu Ming nodded, eyes lowered in attention.

"First," Xu Mo began, "they can receive financial support from the sect until they find another stable income—or until the children are old enough to earn on their own."

"Second, they can apply for work as servants within the sect. They'll be provided housing, food, and pay—and if they show potential, they may even be allowed to cultivate."

"Third, if they're not struggling financially, offer them a talisman from the Talisman Hall. It should be engraved with a formation that sends an emergency signal directly to the sect—usable only once. In the event of a life-threatening danger, or if a cultivator is attempting to force them into something against their will, they can activate it. After that, however, the sect bears no further obligation."

"And the last option?"

"They can refuse everything. If so, our people will leave and not interfere further."

"Have you memorized all that?" Xu Mo asked, watching him carefully.

"Yes, Young Master."

"Good. Repeat everything to the Sect Master, and tell them to adjust anything they feel necessary. They've led the sect longer than I've been part of it—I'm still learning. Now go."

Wu Ming bowed and left without another word. Xu Mo returned to the scattered reports across his wooden table, the chaos oddly comforting. He liked this—helping from behind the scenes.

Later that evening…

"I read through the plan you gave to Wu Ming," Bai Xu said with a satisfied nod. "Everything checks out. You've covered nearly every loophole—smart. Of course, if anyone tried to exploit it, we could crush them with brute force, but it's better to think ahead."

They sat around the dining table: Xu Mo, Sect Master Bai Xu, Head Elder Long Bai, Jin Meiyu, and a newly arrived guest—Lan Yuehai, whom Xu Mo had just been introduced to.

Bai Xu had called it a "meeting," but the relaxed atmosphere made it feel more like a family dinner.

Head Elder Long Bai was busy stuffing his cheeks with rice, the grains falling comically from his mouth as he tried to keep up with the conversation.

"Master," Jin Meiyu said, politely setting some boiled vegetables on her plate, "Can you fill me in on what's been happening? I've just come out of seclusion."

"You've broken through to the Ninth Level of Foundation Building. That's impressive," Bai Xu replied, clearly pleased. He glanced at Xu Mo briefly, noting that the True Successor was still in the peak of Qi Condensation.

"Yes, Master," Jin Meiyu responded humbly.

She gave Xu Mo a sidelong glance. He seemed completely unfazed, eating calmly, his expression placid. Her aunt, Lan Yuehai, gave her a subtle shake of the head—no reaction. Xu Mo was utterly indifferent to Jin Meiyu's rapid progress.

But Xu Mo could feel their eyes on him. He simply didn't care. He was patient. His true strength—now deep within the middle stages of Foundation Building—remained hidden.

"Young man," Lan Yuehai said teasingly, "aren't you the least bit jealous? The Sect Master heaps praise on the Saintess, while the True Successor lags behind. Doesn't that threaten your position?"

Her tone was playful—like an adult teasing a child for fun.

Xu Mo looked up and offered a faint smile.

"Senior, why should I feel jealous?" he asked calmly. "The sect growing stronger is something I'm always happy to see. You should understand that better than most, no?"

He emphasized the last part with a knowing glance.

After all, now that he had reached the first stage in the Dao of Silence, he could detect even the subtlest spiritual fluctuations—even hidden surveillance. His QuietHeart told him everything.

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