Too Shameless

The old Taoist turned around, his eyes widening instantly as he saw a woman in white standing there with an air of indifference, her gaze filled with nothing but endless mockery. Her posture was relaxed, hands resting lightly in front of her.

He had never met this woman in person before, yet he recognized her immediately.

Her reputation was simply too great.

Bai Xuanling—the one known as the Living King of Hell in the Central Continent.

The old Taoist refused to believe it. He extended his spiritual sense, only to perceive a void.

Having never faced a Tribulation-stage powerhouse before, he couldn’t tell whether this emptiness matched the aura of such a figure.

"Still playing illusions?!" The old Taoist narrowed his eyes, his expression skeptical, though his body tensed slightly.

He wasn’t entirely dismissive. After all, for a Golden Core cultivator to forcibly drag him, a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, into an illusion—even with the aid of a treasure—was no small feat. Such a prodigious disciple surely wouldn’t be sent into danger alone.

But… everyone knew Bai Xuanling had only one disciple.

The old Taoist hesitated for a moment, still finding the situation absurd. If Bai Xuanling’s temperament was as the rumors described, she’d more likely knock him out without a word than stand there posing.

The Eight Trigrams beneath his feet expanded instantly. With a solemn expression, the old Taoist summoned a peachwood sword, and lightning crackled to life within the formation.

Thunder Art—Cloud Severing!

A thunder dragon surged from the formation, streaking toward Bai Xuanling in midair.

"Tch…" Bai Xuanling smirked disdainfully, extending a finger to lightly tap the charging dragon. There was no violent clash—the moment the thunder dragon touched her, it dissipated into nothingness.

The old Taoist’s face stiffened—she was real?!

"Few dare to attack me after realizing who I am," Bai Xuanling said as she slowly descended. "What… do you think my temper has improved lately?"

The old Taoist remained wary, his Eight Trigrams spinning wildly as spiritual energy surged around him. Though he still suspected an illusion, he replied,

"I merely didn’t expect you to come, Senior."

"You’ve dared to go this far—why wouldn’t I come?" Bai Xuanling’s eyes narrowed, utterly indifferent to the old Taoist’s cautious movements. "Kidnap my people? Does Mist Mystic Temple think the Taidao Sect’s backing gives you the right to overstep?"

The old Taoist didn’t answer. His skepticism faded as he ignored Bai Xuanling entirely, turning his gaze instead to Zhou Ping, who stood frozen at the entrance.

Lightning erupted from the Eight Trigrams once more, striking directly at Zhou Ping.

Zhou Ping showed no reaction, not even attempting to dodge.

The lightning struck—and Zhou Ping dissolved into motes of light.

In an instant, the entire scene followed suit, even the haughty Bai Xuanling vanishing into nothingness.

Everything returned to reality.

Under the moonlight, the mountain in the direction where the old Taoist had unleashed his thunder dragon now had its peak obliterated.

Clearly, the girl had merely used some illusionary technique to mask her presence.

Standing at the entrance now, under the pale moonlight, was Chen Baiqing, shielding Zhou Ping behind her.

Ignoring Chen Baiqing for the moment, the old Taoist swept his spiritual sense over Ancestor Zhou, verifying that this was indeed the real Ancestor Zhou—not some illusionary replacement conjured by the absurdly skilled Golden Core girl.

"Little girl, your methods are impressive," the old Taoist said warily. "Hiding the aura of a thunder dragon is no small feat. For a Golden Core cultivator to achieve this… I can’t help but admire it."

"But you should learn when to stop. Don’t test my patience."

Though he had seen through the illusion in mere moments, if this girl had been at the Nascent Soul stage, she could have toyed with him effortlessly.

Chen Baiqing remained silent. Maintaining an illusion capable of deceiving a late-stage Nascent Soul cultivator, even with the aid of the Azure Sky Treasure Ring, had drained her significantly.

She couldn’t understand how the old Taoist had seen through it so quickly—there shouldn’t have been any flaws.

Deceiving him again would be difficult now.

Should she retreat?

Or call her master?

Chen Baiqing lowered her head slightly, the Azure Sky Treasure Ring transforming into a dagger that she pressed lightly against her wrist.

Perhaps she should really summon Bai Xuanling—if she injured herself severely enough.

Self-inflicted wounds still counted as injuries.

But she quickly dismissed the thought—she shouldn’t worry her master.

Without hesitation, Chen Baiqing turned away, speaking to Zhou Ping beside her,

"Follow me."

Zhou Ping hurried after her, casting a nervous glance back at the old Taoist standing in the ancestral hall.

The old Taoist’s gaze remained fixed on Chen Baiqing, but he made no move to stop them as they left.

To his spiritual sense, Chen Baiqing had completely withdrawn her own awareness, utterly defenseless—as if she didn’t care whether he attacked her or not.

Though he had no intention of harming her, wasn’t this too reckless?

Was she… baiting him into attacking?

This girl… was a little too cunning.

Zhou Ping followed closely behind Chen Baiqing, not daring to even breathe loudly.

He had just witnessed the power of immortals—a single casual strike had erased a mountain peak.

Gold and silver paled in comparison to such terrifying might.

And to think that the mastermind behind these horrifying events was an immortal, not some demon…

It was…

Chen Baiqing made no effort to conceal their path, striding boldly down the main road as they left.

Zhou Ping’s heart pounded with fear.

Were immortals always this true to their word? They said they’d spare him, and they did. Said they’d take him, and they did.

No second thoughts?

Could it be that this immortal before him was actually young, lacking caution?

Zhou Ping’s mind raced, trying to distract himself from the terror and confusion.

Chen Baiqing walked in silence, neither questioning nor glancing back at Zhou Ping.

By her measure, she had failed the mission.

The person following her now was, in her master’s words—just a consolation prize.

Translated to her master’s usual fishing analogy: if you couldn’t catch the fish, at least scoop up some water.

She mentally reviewed her mistakes.

Lack of intelligence had forced her to avoid using spiritual sense or energy, and an unexpected Nascent Soul cultivator had been lying in wait.

These were valid excuses, but she could have done better.

If her illusion had been more convincing, perhaps she could have tricked the old Taoist.

Just a little more time—her spiritual energy had nearly enveloped Ancestor Zhou. A few more breaths, and she might have succeeded.

As Chen Baiqing led Zhou Ping beyond the barrier, she saw her master, Chu Xingchen, already waiting there.

Her master hurried over, placing a hand on her head and examining her anxiously. Though not a single fold of her robe was out of place, he still asked worriedly,

"Are you hurt?"

Chen Baiqing shook her head lightly, her voice tinged with guilt.

"Forgive me, Master… I failed the task you entrusted to me."

Chu Xingchen exhaled in relief.

"Nonsense. You’ve already accomplished the most important part."

Chen Baiqing smiled beneath her mask, her earlier weariness dissipating considerably.

Though her master hadn’t said it outright, wasn’t her safety the most important thing to him?

Sometimes, her master just loved saying things like this.

Baiqing enjoyed hearing them, but just like what her senior sister had said on her birthday—

it was just too shameless.