The air above the Han Family valley shimmered with sword intent. Threads of Spiritual Qi spiraled like dancing silver snakes, twisting and cracking the clouds.

The once quiet battlefield was a wreck of blood, burnt soil, and broken trees.

Under Wei Ji's distant control, Han Zukong slowly turned around, his expression still blank, his breath steady.

Behind him, the demonic cultivator became lifeless after being impaled through the head and stood frozen in death, the body swaying lightly as the wind brushed against it.

The metallic smell of blood lingered heavily. Then, cutting through the silence, came a commanding voice from the sky.

"Identify yourself!"

Han Zukong, pretending to be shocked, raised his head.

Above, a formation of seven figures stood in midair, their robes fluttering like banners of light. Each bore the mark of the Sword Shandian Sect—robes of silver-white trimmed with gold lightning patterns. Their swords floated beside them, gleaming faintly. The sheer pressure of their presence made the air hum.

Han Zukong cupped his fists and bowed deeply. "This disciple greets the elders and seniors of the Sword Shandian Sect. I am Han Zukong, of the Han Family."

The eyes of the cultivators narrowed. The one in front, a tall man with silver hair and sharp eyes like forged blades, looked down coldly. "Han Zukong? I am sure you were with outer disciple Yun Fang and Su Lie, were you not? Where are they?"

Han Zukong hesitated, his lips parting slightly. Inside his mind, Wei Ji observed through the control link, feeding him words, forming sentences carefully to fit the tone of truth.

"They… they have fallen in battle, seniors," Han Zukong said slowly. "The two seniors were investigating a strange poison lingering around the Han Family territory. They said they wanted to test my younger brother's spiritual talent before continuing. When they found that my younger brother had a High Class Talent, they became alert. They noticed traces of demonic Qi in the air. So they pretended to be poisoned to deceive the enemy."

The cultivators exchanged glances.

"Pretended?" one muttered.

Han Zukong nodded. "Yes. They even made me fake an illness so that the enemy would believe we were vulnerable. They wanted the enemy to reveal themselves. But they underestimated them. They thought the enemy was only between the fifth and ninth stage of Qi Infusion Realm. Who would have known…"

His voice trembled slightly as he looked back at the corpse behind him. "That the poison came from this demonic cultivator."

The leader's eyes hardened as he followed Han Zukong's gaze. "That demonic plant user was the one who killed them both?"

Han Zukong nodded. "Yes, elder. When they realized the trap, they fought. The two seniors used every ounce of the so-called Qi to protect me. They told me to run, to return to the Han Family and report to the Sword Shandian Sect for reinforcements. But before I escaped…"

His voice grew quieter. "My senior says that they needed to cast a sword technique on me. Something like… Sword Pelili… or something like that. I can't remember clearly. But it felt like they transferred part of their cultivation into my body to shield me and empower me."

The wind blew softly, carrying the sound of broken leaves. The cultivators stood in silence for a moment. Then the leader descended slowly, his boots touching the ground.

"So that is how you survived."

Han Zukong lowered his head, feigning sorrow. "I did not deserve their sacrifice."

The leader studied him, then turned to look around. "Their souls have already dispersed. The demonic Qi has faded. You may have spoken the truth." He lifted his gaze toward the horizon, eyes narrowing slightly. "Still, we will confirm it. There are traces of someone else's control here."

Han Zukong froze for a second, but Wei Ji, far away, quickly withdrew his spiritual thread, masking it behind the lingering Qi of the demonic plant user. The leader frowned, but said nothing further.

"Take the body," he ordered his disciples. "We'll return to the Han Family for now."

Han Zukong bowed again. "Yes, elder."

The cultivators lifted the corpse and vanished into streaks of sword light. Han Zukong followed, his body stiff and obedient under Wei Ji's control.

---

Meanwhile, back at the Han Family's west wing, the atmosphere was heavy with tension. The Vermilion Courtyard shimmered in sunlight, yet it was filled with strange, glowing flowers of every color. The air was thick with fragrance and faint spiritual energy. Standing among them was Lu Shaohua, her white robe fluttering softly as she murmured in confusion.

"Oh no… I covered the whole courtyard again…"

Beside her, the Wolf Chariot rested lazily on the grass, its tail swaying. "Warguwar… Warguwawar…" As if saying, you got carried away again, Mistress, in a low, rumbling voice.

Lu Shaohua sighed and pouted slightly. "Young Master Han Ji said I should practice these flower growth spells. But now, I can't stop it. I can't even remove them anymore."

As she tried to dispel the glowing petals, a warm male voice suddenly came from behind.

"Why remove them when they're so beautiful?"

Lu Shaohua turned. A man in a silver sword robe was standing near the gate. His hair was tied high, his posture tall and confident. His sharp eyes softened when he looked at her. It was the Sword Shandian Sect leader who had sensed the explosion earlier.

"Oh…" she said quietly. "You startled me."

He smiled faintly and stepped closer, his boots brushing against the grass. "Forgive me. I couldn't help but be drawn here. The Spiritual Qi in this courtyard is unlike anything I've seen. Are you the one who caused the explosion earlier?"

Lu Shaohua blinked. "Explosion? I didn't mean to. I was just practicing."

He chuckled softly. "So it was your spell that shook the mountain. Impressive."

She lowered her head, cheeks slightly pink. "I… didn't mean to."

His eyes lingered on her face. "Don't apologize. You have a remarkable gift." He took another step closer, lowering his voice. "Your beauty is like these flowers… impossible to look away from."

Lu Shaohua frowned slightly. "Please don't say that. I'm married."

He raised his brows. "Married?"

"Yes."

The leader tilted his head, smile faintly mocking. "Then your husband must be a lucky man. Tell me, where is he now? Surely, he wouldn't leave a beauty like you alone."

Lu Shaohua didn't answer. She turned away, brushing the petals of a glowing lily. "He's… not here. But he will return soon."

The leader smirked. "Then he won't mind if we talk for a while." He took another step forward.

The Wolf Chariot growled softly, its fur rising. "Wawargh!" As if warning him and ordering him to step back.

The leader laughed lightly. "A talking beast. How quaint." He ignored the creature and continued, his tone growing more daring. "You should not be afraid. I only wish to appreciate the view."

Lu Shaohua's hand clenched slightly. "Please, stop."

But he kept smiling, his eyes dark with arrogance. "Why hide your beauty behind modest words? The sect values talent. I could take you under our wing, you know. You could cultivate freely under my guidance. You wouldn't need to—"

"I said stop." Her voice was firm now.

He blinked. "What?"

Lu Shaohua turned around, her eyes calm but cold. "I am married, mister. Stop what you are doing."

For a moment, silence. The leader's smile faded. His face darkened, a flicker of anger flashing in his eyes.

"No one," he said slowly, "has ever spoken to me like that."

The Wolf Chariot stood up, growling louder, its eyes glowing faintly red. "Gaurr Gauuur!"

The leader's aura began to rise. The flowers around them trembled as if the air itself was afraid.

But before he could speak another word—

A voice echoed from the courtyard gate.

"Who goes there?"

The leader froze. Lu Shaohua and the War Wolf Chariot too. The tension thickened like a blade ready to fall.

Lu Shaohua turned her head slightly, her heart beating faster, petals swirling around her feet. The leader straightened himself, forcing his expression back to calm, but his jaw was tight.

And from up above, several figures were standing above their flying swords.

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