The Real Culprit Appears

It's him! It's him! It's him! It's none other than him—our friend—

Liu Zheng sensed a familiar aura.

In Crane City, within that stretch of forest.

At the Pure Yang Temple, along the path they had walked.

Traces had been left behind, but he never expected to encounter it again here.

Liu Zheng reloaded his pistol, straightened up, and sprinted toward the source of the energy fluctuation.

"Hey! What are you doing?" Old Bai watched as the mist dissipated, ready to leave and call for military backup to lay down suppressing fire.

But Liu Zheng looked like he was under some kind of spell.

Liu Zheng turned to Old Bai and Shouzhen.

"I can feel it—the same person who appeared in Crane City and attacked Master Chunzhenzi is here!"

With that, Liu Zheng dashed toward the clown gate.

The sudden surge of energy was unmistakable to him.

It had to be that man.

Seeing this, Old Bai gritted his teeth, gripped his gun, and followed.

"Being teamed up with you is just my damn luck."

Shouzhen didn’t say anything, but he picked up the magical artifact from the ground and joined Liu Zheng’s charge.

Just moments ago, the three had been running in the opposite direction.

Now they were rushing back toward danger.

"You really have a death wish!" Old Bai caught up to Liu Zheng.

"No, we won’t die! We were just trapped in an illusion earlier!"

Liu Zheng led the way.

Shouzhen, following closely, added, "That’s right. What we saw—the moving amusement park, those armed figures—were all illusions."

"So?" Old Bai seemed to be lacking in the critical thinking department.

But Liu Zheng’s expression grew more excited.

"The three of us should have died in that illusion, yet we emerged unscathed. And I sensed his energy fluctuation."

Liu Zheng raised a finger.

"There’s only one explanation—he intervened."

It sounded logical.

But Old Bai pressed further.

"How can you be sure he’s a good guy? Don’t forget, he clashed with Master Chunzhenzi."

"Not a clash—a complete overpowering. He effortlessly crushed Master Chunzhenzi."

At this, Liu Zheng glanced back at Shouzhen.

"No offense, Daoist Shouzhen. We’re just stating facts."

The three sprinted and soon reached the clown gate.

The faded paint on the walls no longer felt as eerie as before.

But their gazes locked onto the man standing not far away—dressed in a blue polo shirt, a belt, and dress pants.

Yet his face remained indistinct.

Lin Mo had no intention of letting them see clearly.

Originally, he hadn’t planned to intervene directly, but these guys seemed utterly incapable of handling the situation.

On the verge of being toyed to death by the illusion, they were moments away from meeting their end.

So, in the end, he raised a hand and dispelled the illusion, freeing the trio.

Yet from Liu Zheng’s words, Lin Mo caught something revealing.

His spiritual energy had betrayed his identity—this Liu Zheng could actually discern his energy signature.

Not a major issue, though. Lin Mo could mask his energy fluctuations, but since some exposure had already happened, he might as well craft a new persona.

Hence, the middle-aged man in a polo shirt was born.

Of course, this was also thanks to one of the Seventy-Two Transformations—False Form.

If he wanted, Lin Mo could even take on Liu Zheng’s appearance.

But for now, he cloaked his features in spiritual energy.

The moment he saw the three, Lin Mo scoffed.

"I don’t know whether to call you three fools or daredevils. The enemy has multiple cursed artifacts, and you just charge in like this?"

Shouzhen stepped forward, cupping his fists, about to speak—but Lin Mo cut him off.

"I recognize you. You’re the little Daoist guarding that old master. If that old man were here today, that illusion wouldn’t have stood a chance against his divine sense."

Lin Mo wasn’t lying. If Master Chunzhenzi had come, he would’ve shattered the illusion effortlessly.

In truth, Lin Mo didn’t realize that his own presence had altered events—Master Chunzhenzi hadn’t personally intervened this time, leaving the task to Shouzhen instead.

But no one would ever know that now.

At this point, Liu Zheng couldn’t hold back.

"Sir, was it you who dealt with those three criminals in Crane City?"

So it had come to this.

Lin Mo hadn’t expected that despite his caution, this Liu Zheng had still sniffed him out.

The Awakened of Yan Huang really had their tricks.

But he played along.

"Yes, it was me. Got a problem with that?"

Liu Zheng took another step forward.

"No problem. They deserved execution. But what about Master Chunzhenzi? Why did you attack him?"

Now that was unfair.

Lin Mo spread his hands.

"Attack him? I was just testing his strength. Isn’t he alive and well? Isn’t this little Daoist here also fine?"

"Wait—did I say you could leave?"

Lin Mo’s voice wasn’t loud, yet it pierced the air with undeniable authority.

He lazily raised a hand and flicked a finger upward.

No earth-shattering explosion—just a sharp, fabric-rending sound.

A straight black line split the massive clown-painted building down the middle.

The next second, the heavy doors collapsed outward as if shoved by an invisible force, crashing to the ground and kicking up dust.

A thick stench of blood and something sickly sweet assaulted their senses, forcing Liu Zheng and Old Bai to hold their breaths.

A woman stood with her back to them, hurriedly stuffing a backpack—clearly preparing to flee.

Hearing the commotion, she spun around in shock.

The moment she turned, all three men shuddered.

This wasn’t Liu Guixiang—but her daughter, Qian Xin’er, the same Ms. Qian they had met that morning.

Staring at the bisected clown house, Qian Xin’er’s face drained of color. Her legs gave out, and she collapsed into a puddle of thick liquid.

Around her, cursed artifacts were placed at the four cardinal directions.

And beside her lay three desiccated corpses—an adult man, an elderly woman, and a frail young boy.

Their blood had long been drained, forming intricate ritual patterns that glowed a sinister crimson under the light.

The sight made Liu Zheng’s brows knit tight enough to crush a fly.

He had reviewed all of Qian Xin’er’s records.

He knew she was married and had a son.

But he never imagined she would use her own husband and child’s blood for this ritual.

Shouzhen stood frozen, gaping at Lin Mo, then at the split clown house, his mouth hanging open wide enough to fit an egg.

A casual flick of a finger had cleaved the massive structure in two.

Even his grandmaster might not possess such power.

However, he didn't sense any hostility from the person.

At the very least, this individual hadn’t made a move against them.

Meanwhile, Liu Zheng and Old Bai had already raised their guns, aiming them squarely at Qian Xin'er.

"Qian Xin'er, your husband, your son... why?!"