A towering ancient tree with pale bark and lush green leaves stood majestically, its canopy casting a vast shadow over the land.

  A few meters away, Shen Long and Zhang Yuantao sat in silence, quietly recovering their strength. Their breaths were weak and sluggish, as if they had just endured a severe ordeal.

  Yet, Han and Bai Ruoyue were nowhere to be seen.

  Time trickled by. Suddenly, a disturbance from the distance put Shen Long and Zhang Yuantao on high alert.

  "Who’s there?" Shen Long demanded.

  A young man in green robes, wearing a bright smile, stepped into their line of sight.

  "Do you gentlemen need assistance?" he asked while scanning the surroundings, his expression calm as he found nothing unusual.

  "This has nothing to do with you," Zhang Yuantao replied coldly. "Please leave."

  With that, the two of them stood up and slowly backed away, keeping their distance as they moved past the ancient tree.

  “There’s no need to be so wary,” the young man in green chuckled. “I mean no harm. I was simply passing by.”

  “If you don’t need help, I’ll take my leave.”

  He strode past them, making his way closer to the ancient tree.

  Swish!

  Suddenly, the air split with a sharp whistle. A streak of dazzling light cut through space.

  The young man's expression changed instantly. His instincts caught the trajectory of an arrow, and without hesitation, he moved to take cover behind the ancient tree, using its trunk as a shield.

  An archer was hidden in the shadows!

  His gaze darted around, searching for threats while keeping an eye on Shen Long and Zhang Yuantao. Yet, a bone-chilling sensation suddenly overtook him. His vision twisted—

  A round object flew high into the air, then crashed heavily onto the ground.

  For a brief moment, the young man’s soul left his body. He stared down in bewilderment.

  That… that’s my head?

  Sunlight streamed down in relentless waves. The moment his spirit left his body, wisps of smoke rose from it, and a piercing wail tore through the air.

  The tree that had once provided shade was now gone.

  In its place stood a young woman, sword in hand, exuding an imposing aura.

  The tree… had turned into a person?

  "You set me up?!"

  The sudden turn of events left the young man in green utterly dumbfounded. No matter how he looked at it, he had never expected such a bizarre outcome.

  His spirit, scorched by the blazing sun, attempted to flee, seeking refuge in the shadows.

  But it was too late.

  A majestic handprint descended from above, enveloping his spirit entirely. It grasped him tightly and pulled him back.

  Han had appeared in the distance at some point, sealing the green-robed man’s soul with ease. A smile spread across his face.

  "All done!"

  Bai Ruoyue and the others approached, dragging the lifeless corpse of the young man in green behind them, clearly in high spirits.

  "So, this is a disciple of one of the world’s most notorious cults?" Bai Ruoyue tilted her chin slightly.

  "Not much of a challenge. I took him down with a single strike."

  "Mighty as always, Senior Sister," Han said with a grin.

  Bai Ruoyue chuckled sheepishly. "It was mostly thanks to you, Junior Brother."

  With that, she handed Han a leaf she had taken from her waist.

  "This thing is amazing—it actually turned me into a tree."

  "It only altered your appearance, nothing more," Han replied with a shake of his head.

  The Leaf of Illusory Transformation—when worn at the waist, it could disguise its bearer as a tree. Only cultivators at the Sun-Walker Realm had a chance of seeing through the illusion.

  And due to the influence of the Mountain God, no Sun-Walker cultivator could enter Black Mountain.

  In other words, practically no one could see through the transformation.

  The green-robed man had thought he was taking cover behind a tree, shielding himself from Han’s arrows.

  In reality, he had unknowingly thrust his own neck right in front of Bai Ruoyue.

  At such close range, there was no way a Visceral Realm cultivator could react in time.

  A single, clean kill.

  And as expected, this green-robed man was Lian Cheng, the cultist from the Heavenly Mother Sect that Han had identified earlier.

  Everything that had just happened was part of their plan.

  The moment they decided to take down this heretic, Han and his companions devised a strategy.

  Bai Ruoyue had suggested charging in directly—four against one, how could they possibly lose?

  But Han wasn’t convinced.

  This cultist practiced both martial arts and soul cultivation, having reached the third realm in both. His techniques were clearly advanced, and his cultivation level even surpassed Han’s.

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  Moreover, the location was the nest of a Bone-Washing Realm beast—charging in recklessly was far too risky.

  What if this cultist had the ability to control beasts?

  Thus, Han opted for an ambush.

  With his vast arsenal of peculiar artifacts—and the benefit of an omniscient perspective—setting a perfect trap in this environment was ridiculously easy.

  There was no need for a fair fight when dealing with heretics and deviants.

  Overwhelming force was the best approach.

  After waiting patiently, they finally caught the green-robed man leaving his hideout. Using his movement patterns, they set up the perfect kill zone right here.

  And it worked flawlessly.

  Not a single drop of effort wasted.

  A dual-path Heavenly Mother cultist?

  A man who had single-handedly slaughtered dozens of Visceral Realm warriors?

  Against Han and his team, he didn’t even make a splash.

  Thank you, omniscient perspective.

  "The longer I spend with Junior Brother, the more I find him incredible," Shen Long murmured.

  "He’s nothing like any warrior or cultivator I’ve ever met before."

  "In the past, setting up an ambush like this would have been an enormous challenge."

  Han simply smiled. He knew what Shen Long meant.

  From Shen Long’s perspective, Han’s entire approach felt surreal.

  And it was true. Han's thinking process differed vastly from the people of this world.

  Normally, situations like these required lengthy investigations, intricate tracking, and countless battles of wits before finally uncovering the mastermind.

  Then, after even more struggles, they would barely manage to take down their target—often encountering unexpected twists along the way.

  But Han? He didn’t bother with any of that nonsense.

  There was no need to overcomplicate things when you had an advantage.

  He simply sprang the trap and closed the case.

  Zhang Yuantao handed Han the green-robed man’s spatial pouch. Its owner was dead, but a spiritual imprint still lingered on it.

  And it wasn’t just one pouch—this cultist had looted many treasures from the warriors he had slain.

  Han led the group to a safer location and began erasing the spiritual imprint.

  Over the past month, Lu Qingmo had already taught him plenty of Daoist tricks.

  "Whoa… this space is huge."

  As his spiritual sense entered the pouch, Han’s expression darkened.

  There were many items inside, but some were particularly disturbing.

  Organs.

  A gruesome collection of fresh human organs, packed inside the spatial pouch, blood dripping from them.

  A cauldron, filled to the brim with scarlet liquid.

  Han recognized it at a glance—

  It was blood.

  In a dimly lit corner of the space, a pile of withered corpses lay lifeless, their skin stretched tightly over brittle bones.

  Among the sinister artifacts, a soul-refining banner stood out—its inner chamber teeming with more than a hundred tormented spirits. Some of these souls had been recently captured, their essence still potent, unmistakably belonging to warriors or cultivators.

  It was clear—those who had fallen at the hands of the marrow-washing beast had found no peace even in death.

  The Tianmu Cult—truly a nest of depravity!

  Han reached into the storage pouch and retrieved a peculiar object—an aged scroll.

  Unrolling it revealed an astonishing sight: two massive serpents with wings lay coiled atop a pile of stones, their menacing eyes fixed on something beyond the frame. Behind them, a cave entrance was faintly visible, and within that cave, a lone stalk of verdant grass stood resilient.

  This was the rumored Habitat of the Hundred-Life Grass—or at least, that’s what it was meant to depict.

  But in reality, it was merely… a painting.

  “What an incredibly lifelike piece of art,” Shen Long marveled, running his fingers over the scroll.

  "I can almost feel the oppressive aura of the beasts."

  "This must be how so many warriors were deceived," Han mused, his eyes narrowing.

  It was too real. The beastly presence, the vibrant energy radiating from the grass—it all felt tangible, as if the very essence of these elements had been sealed within the painting itself.

  Han quickly sent a message to Lu Qingmo, detailing his discovery.

  “A painting like that?” Lu Qingmo’s voice carried a hint of surprise. “You’ve actually found one?”

  “If you channel your spiritual energy into it, you’ll see something even more remarkable,” she advised. “This is a rare branch of Daoist techniques—one that intertwines the art of painting with mystical arts.”

  “That question you asked me before—this is your answer.”

  Intrigued, Han followed her instructions.

  As his energy seeped into the scroll, the painting suddenly began to shift. Without a single sound, it expanded outward, stretching across reality itself.

  And then—it became real.

  The monstrous beasts, the stone piles, the cave, the vibrant green grass—all materialized before them, as if the landscape had truly emerged from within the parchment.

  The once-faint oppressive aura of the creatures and the essence of the grass intensified exponentially, becoming nearly indistinguishable from the real thing.

  Even probing it with spiritual senses yielded no flaws—it was seamless. Any small object tossed toward the scene would appear to land within it, further adding to the illusion.

  Yet, Han knew its limitations. If one were to attack with actual energy or force, the illusion would shatter in an instant, collapsing back into a simple painting.

  "This is... astonishing," Bai Ruoyue breathed, unable to tear her eyes away.

  Now, everything made sense.

  Back at the marrow-washing beast’s lair, dozens of warriors—convinced that the legendary Hundred-Life Grass had ripened—had likely launched a coordinated assault on what they believed to be mere guardian beasts.

  Instead, they had unknowingly provoked a fully matured marrow-washing beast—a massacre was inevitable.

  Han handed the storage pouch to Shen Long and Zhang Yuantao, letting them inspect its contents.

  Shen Long took one glance before erupting in curses.

  "These bastards are beyond salvation!"

  Had it merely been an ambush for treasure, it could have been dismissed as ruthless pragmatism.

  But the contents of the pouch—they revealed something far more sinister.

  Zhang Yuantao frowned deeply. “The chaos of Black Mountain has given these cultists an opportunity.”

  "The real question is—was he the only one? Or have more of these heretics infiltrated the area?"

  A single Tianmu Cult disciple was far more dangerous than any beast.

  “I’ll try another foresight,” Han said. “See if I can pick up on any other threats.”

  “Should we send him out first?” Zhang Yuantao gestured toward the captured soul of Lian Cheng, the cultist they had taken down.

  “No need,” Lu Qingmo’s voice came through the transmission.

  “A disciple like him won’t hold a high status. Even if we capture him, he won’t have much valuable information. No rush.”

  “Understood.”

  Han proceeded with the interrogation.

  Lian Cheng remained stubbornly silent, refusing to reveal anything substantial.

  At first, he mistook Han and the others for bandits—mercenaries who made their living by ambushing and selling warriors for ransom. He even tried to negotiate for his freedom, promising vast riches in exchange.

  When that failed, he resorted to cursing them relentlessly, his spectral form writhing in frustration.

  “Damn the Black Cloud Town cultivators! Despicable cowards!”

  For days, Han and his companions roamed Black Mountain, sharpening their skills, seeking treasure, and keeping watch for signs of other cultists.

  But despite their efforts, Han found no further traces of the Tianmu Cult or any other notorious sects.

  Instead, he stumbled upon another familiar group—The Huang Clan.

  Though he scouted them from a distance, neither of the Huang brothers—Huang Mingnian nor his sibling—were among them.

  A slight disappointment.

  But fate had another surprise in store.

  One day, while traveling through the mountain, Han spotted an unexpected group of people.

  The Yun Clan.

  "Han?"

  From afar, Yun Duo’s eyes lit up as she waved excitedly.

  Beside her stood Yun Yun, Yun Feng, and a few other Yun Clan cultivators.

  Han took a quick scan. Good. All had green or white borders.

  However, one thing stood out—Yun Yun had already stepped into the Visceral Realm.

  “Didn’t expect to see you all here,” Yun Duo said, clearly delighted.

  Of course you didn’t. I deliberately maneuvered into your path.

  “Neither did I,” Han responded, feigning surprise. “Are you all heading out?”

  “Yeah,” Yun Duo nodded. “The second earthquake was half a month ago. Black Mountain will return to normal soon. You all don’t need to stick around much longer.”

  Then, she leaned in slightly and lowered her voice.

  "By the way, the opportunity in Black Mountain… is over."

  Han’s expression remained neutral, but internally, he was impressed.

  The descendants of the Mountain God sure had a way of avoiding the struggle while reaping the benefits.

  They’d remained unseen the entire time—only emerging after everything had settled.

  Smart. Very smart.