Three days after the snowfall, the southern lands were bathed in continuous clear skies.
The three suns hung in the sky like the eyes of the heavens, silently gazing upon the vast earth below.
Across the southern territories, many villages and towns had quietly shifted their faith, all worshiping the same entity—the Celestial Venerable.
"The Celestial Venerable Immortal instructed us to offer stones as tribute and taught us the Mountain-Splitting Hammer Technique and the Second Set of Radio Calisthenics."
"You offer stones? Our town suffers from constant floods, so the Celestial Venerable Immortal had us dig canals and offer sand and mud..."
"Those disciples around the Immortal... they all look so bizarre and terrifying. Could it be from practicing Radio Calisthenics?"
"Nah, the Immortal said the disciples of the Myriad Forms Immortal Sect excel in form-mimicking martial arts..."
"After a few days of Radio Calisthenics, my backache and leg pain are gone!"
"The Celestial Venerable Immortal actually helps when called upon! His blessings are real, and he doesn’t even demand child sacrifices!"
"Really? My kid just turned six. Maybe I should move my whole family to your town..."
Meanwhile, at the southern branch of the Demon-Summoning Cult...
The ancient hall was shrouded in darkness, as if even sunlight dared not penetrate its depths. The faint glow cast eerie shadows on the primal murals lining the walls.
Unearthly howls and roars echoed faintly, sounding nothing like human voices.
"Lately, our disciples have suffered heavy losses. What are your thoughts?"
The Beast Hall Master sat atop the highest seat, his voice hoarse, like the creaking of lifeless wood.
The Demon-Summoning Cult had long collaborated with Han Zhen, and the Beast Hall was born from this alliance.
Now, Han Zhen was dead.
But the Beast Hall’s ultimate goal remained unchanged—two simple words: the True Dragon.
To summon the True Dragon into the world.
The True Dragon was no innate being but a fusion of powerful creatures revered as totems by humanity. As tribes warred and merged, their totems intertwined, birthing this ultimate entity.
When the collective faith of the masses grew strong enough, the True Dragon would manifest.
Thus, even with Han Zhen gone, the Beast Hall’s mission remained—control the southern lands and harvest the power of the masses.
But now, someone was shaking the very foundation of the Beast Hall.
"......"
None of the high priests present dared speak first.
Come on, they were a demonic cult.
Some among them had secretly schemed against each other—why should they care if another’s territory was in trouble?
Others simply didn’t grasp the situation well enough and feared saying the wrong thing.
The Hall Master snorted coldly.
"The Young Master has been in a foul mood lately. You all know he desires the True Dragon’s body to reclaim the top spot on the Hidden Dragon Ranking."
"If he finds out we’ve failed him, the consequences..."
The high priests gulped and straightened their postures.
The Hall Master was the Young Master’s brother-in-law.
After some hushed discussions, a priest spoke up:
"Hall Master, our priority now is to uncover the origins of this Heavenly Court’s Myriad Forms Immortal Sect—especially this so-called Celestial Venerable."
"Heavenly Court? Myriad Forms Immortal Sect? Celestial Venerable?"
"Yes. He claims to be the Celestial Venerable Immortal, having slumbered for countless years, wielding boundless powers..."
"Creation of Heaven and Earth? Even fantasy novels wouldn’t dare exaggerate like that..."
The gathered priests were all at least at the Inner Realm level.
Yet even those at the Outer Realm wouldn’t dare speculate about the unfathomable power required to shape the heavens and earth.
If this were true...
Not just their branch of the Demon-Summoning Cult—even the Grand Patriarch himself would tread carefully.
"There’s more."
The Beast Hall Master’s expression darkened further.
"This Celestial Venerable claims our Demon-Summoning Cult merely inherited fragments of the Myriad Forms Immortal Sect’s legacy."
"Impossible!"
"Our history stretches back to before the Great Yu Dynasty, but..."
The priests recalled the earlier description of the Celestial Venerable’s disciples—each bearing bestial traits, yet retaining clarity of mind.
This bore an uncanny resemblance to the Beast Hall’s foundational scripture, the Ten Thousand Forms Dragon Transformation Art.
However, the Dragon Transformation Scripture had a fatal flaw—practitioners absorbing the bloodlines of various beasts often lost their sanity. Most couldn’t even reach the dragon stage, succumbing to madness during the serpent phase.
Yet, the Celestial Venerable’s disciples seemed perfectly lucid.
Rumors spoke of them practicing some form-mimicking martial arts.
And their sect’s name? Myriad Forms Immortal Sect!
Like the Beast Hall, they too harvested the power of the masses.
The more the priests pondered, the more unsettled they grew.
Could there be a sliver of truth to the Celestial Venerable’s claims?
Had their Demon-Summoning Cult truly inherited only fragments of the Myriad Forms Immortal Sect’s teachings?
This... was spiraling into something far bigger than they’d imagined.
Whispers filled the hall.
Little Li would never have dreamed that his simple scheme to gather the masses’ power had somehow ensnared even the Demon-Summoning Cult.
After a long silence, the Beast Hall Master cleared his throat.
"Regardless, we must answer to the Young Master!"
"True or false, we must test the waters—establish contact and determine if they’re friend or foe!"
This involved the cult’s deepest secrets. Though dangerous, it also held potential opportunities.
The high priests eagerly volunteered.
---
Under the moonlit branches, the city of Qingmu was bathed in a silvery glow.
A faint, melodious birdcall seemed to echo through the night, like a dreamlike whale’s song piercing the heavens.
"The Soundbird Form has taken shape."
A breeze lifted the window of the chamber, stirring Ying Bing’s ink-black hair.
She instinctively reached for her oversized doll-shaped pouch, retrieving a jade hairpin. Just as she was about to gather the strands tickling her back beneath her flowing fairy skirt, she paused.
The jade pin shimmered under the moonlight, as if still warm from someone’s touch.
That warmth reminded her of Li the Genius’s... unorthodox modifications to the dual cultivation manual Phoenix Cries Over Heavenly Marsh—combining cultivation with foot massages.
"Nonsense!"
This pin was ordinary jade, not even warm jade! The warmth was surely her imagination...
Pursing her lips, Ying Bing secured her hair with the pin and decided to test her newly acquired Soundbird Form.
With a rustle, her fairy skirt transformed, now gleaming gold like an exotic dancer’s attire.
The lower half became sheer harem pants, while the upper revealed a gold-embroidered bustier, leaving her toned abdomen exposed.
Had Little Li been present, he would’ve gasped:
"Damn! A Western dancing girl!"
"Perhaps... he’d like this?"
Ying Bing initially frowned at the bold outfit but, recalling Little Li the Tyrant’s wide-eyed enthusiasm, couldn’t help a faint smile.
Closing her eyes, she channeled the Soundbird’s essence.
Soundbirds were divine dancers and peerless listeners.
Through the wind, she caught fragments of voices:
"This tavern’s doing great—heard the barbecue recipe was invented by Little Li the Tyrant himself?"
"Boss, how’s this hammer for smashing rocks? The Celestial Venerable Immortal wants us to dig up stones as offerings..."
Celestial Venerable Immortal?
Hearing the word "immortal," Ying Bing's eyelids flickered slightly.
What kind of spirit or deity would dare to call themselves an immortal?
It could only be him...
"Mom, can you buy me osmanthus cake for my birthday?"
"Silly child, your birthday is still seven days away. It’ll go bad if we buy it now."
Birthday...
Ying Bing slowly opened her eyes, the serene depths of her gaze reflecting the moonlight.
Only then did she remember.
In five more days, it would be her... birthday?
The word felt unfamiliar—after all, she never celebrated birthdays. It was always just her, alone and quiet, no different from any other day.
He still hadn’t finished his business.
This birthday, like all the others, would likely pass without fanfare, as if nothing had happened.
But then again, she was already used to it.