It's a Road, It's a Destiny.

East Victory Divine Continent, Wandering Cloud Bay.

Inside a dilapidated old house by the shore, a graceful woman gently parted the dust-laden curtains and gazed outside.

A dense drizzle fell at that moment—not heavy, but steady. There was little wind, yet the sound of raindrops hitting the ground was still audible.

Perhaps because the weather wasn’t entirely unpleasant, the woman spoke in a light tone:

"You’ve all received the news, haven’t you?"

Though she wasn’t facing the room, her words were clearly directed at those inside.

The old house, aside from the woman, held a solemn-faced Young Man and a somewhat prematurely aged Young Lad.

After a brief silence, the Young Man finally spoke: "Your Eminence, are you referring to the newly emerged demonic cultivator who’s been hunting down other demonic cultivators, delaying our progress?"

A flicker of disgust passed through the woman’s eyes, her voice turning icy:

"Or is it about how your gluttony forced others to clean up your mess? What, didn’t get your fill last time? Eager for another feast?"

The Young Man trembled and immediately dropped to his knees: "This subordinate—"

"Silence. I have no interest in hearing apologies." The woman’s gaze shifted back, her eyes glinting with killing intent.

If not for the scarcity of capable hands, trash like him would’ve long been reforged into fertilizer.

The Young Lad was unremarkable in appearance, dressed plainly—the kind who’d vanish into a crowd without a second glance. Yet his eyes remained unnervingly calm, almost like an old man’s, though without the cloudiness of age.

He interjected: "No need to dwell on the past. The matter at hand takes priority."

The woman scoffed. "Always the peacemaker, aren’t you?"

"If berating me gets the job done, I’ll sit here and let you scold me all day," the Young Lad replied, meeting her gaze squarely. "The Tianyan Sect’s investigations have already delayed the mission’s progress."

"Time is tight. The higher-ups won’t tolerate excuses."

The woman withdrew her gaze, tapping her left arm lightly with a finger.

"Then what’s your proposal?"

A faint smile touched the Young Lad’s lips. "A rare talent like this shouldn’t be wasted. If we can recruit him, it might save us considerable time. The higher-ups could use some good news."

The woman frowned. "Doesn’t his sudden appearance strike you as suspicious? Right when our tracks are hidden? And he only targets demonic cultivators, leaving mortals untouched. The bait’s barely in the water, and you’re already rushing to your death?"

"To achieve results, one must take risks." The Young Lad’s smile faded, his tone turning grave. "Before coming here, I visited three sites of his attacks."

"The intel was accurate—the newcomer is a blood-path demonic cultivator, the vilest kind."

"I confirmed the residual blood qi. No illusions. More than that, I sensed traces of a supreme blood-path divine ability!"

"Nascent Soul realm, solid foundations, and even a divine ability. Put it all together, and there’s no doubt—this newcomer is a blood-path cultivator with a stable lineage."

"How many must die to nurture a blood-path cultivator with such foundations to the Golden Core stage? And what of his master?"

"Among the Eighteen Immortal Sects, only the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect and the Tianyan Sect are hunting with full force. The others are far less aggressive."

"But neither the Mysterious Purity Heavenly Sect nor the Tianyan Sect would invest so heavily in chasing such faint leads at a time like this. It’s not just handing their enemies leverage—by all logic, this demonic cultivator can’t be from their ranks."

"As for your question—blood-path cultivators naturally find demonic cultivators more efficient prey."

The woman listened quietly, then shifted her gaze, her voice still calm:

"Since when has logic been infallible? In my eyes, steady progress—even if slow—is the correct path."

The Young Lad arched a brow. "So killing him is the answer? If it’s a trap, as you say, we’d still have to intervene. A Nascent Soul cultivator with a divine ability? You’d need at least a Deity Transformation expert to take him down."

Here, his tone sharpened:

"Or do you suggest we do nothing? Wait for the righteous sects to eliminate him before we resume?"

"Can we afford to wait? Can the higher-ups?"

The woman’s frown deepened. After a moment, she said, "It still feels off."

"Then report it back." The Young Lad leaned back slightly. "You’re in charge here. The choice is yours—you’ve certainly got the means to get the higher-ups’ approval."

The woman’s glare turned murderous.

Yet the Young Lad remained unperturbed, utterly unfazed by her lethal gaze.

Silence fell again, the air thickening.

The Young Man didn’t dare even breathe, kneeling motionless.

"I’ll investigate personally," the woman relented at last, though the killing intent in her eyes didn’t waver. "You prepare contingencies. Whether we recruit or eliminate him, be ready. If this fails, you’ll be the one reporting to the higher-ups."

The Young Lad rose slowly. "We’re all here to get the job done. If it fails, none of us walk away clean. If it succeeds, we all benefit. You needn’t worry about my end."

"Since you’re suspicious, I’ll add this—if you were incompetent, the higher-ups wouldn’t have entrusted you with this mission. I may not trust you, but I trust their judgment. Recruit him if you think it’ll work. Kill him if you must. Even if you choose inaction, you’ll have your reasons."

"Just remember one thing—time is short."

The woman closed her eyes and waved him off without reply.

The Young Lad’s expression remained placid as he turned, pushed open the door, and stepped into the drizzle. Within moments, his slight figure vanished into the mist.

The Young Man stayed prostrated, not daring to utter a word.

"Stop polluting the air," the woman said, eyes still shut. "Go prepare. Standard procedure."

"Yes!" The Young Man scrambled up, moving swiftly and silently.

Without hesitation, he strode out into the downpour.

The house fell quiet once more.

After a while, the woman opened her eyes and looked at the swaying rain beyond the door.

Rain was rain. And she, too, was rain.

Rain made noise when it hit the ground. But her passing might leave no sound at all.

Everything felt too strange, too wrong—like a glaring trap laid right before her.

She straightened and walked out. Whether it was an ambush or a scheme, she had no choice but to investigate.

"Adrift in wind and rain…" she murmured as she stepped into the rain.

"A path… and a fate."