Fair enough

Since an elder is speaking, everything can certainly be discussed. I will convey your words to the sect leader.

The man’s expression was gentle, though after a slight hesitation, he still ventured to ask, “But may I ask for your title? The sect leader is cautious, as you may well understand.”

Chu Xingchen lifted his gaze slightly, his expression seeming to sink into recollection. At last, a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I don’t know if anyone remembers me these days, but back then I was called—Blood Slaughter True Lord.”

“Whether you can find me depends on how capable you really are.”

“Our next meeting won’t be here. The Eighteen Immortal Sects have already tracked us down.”

Chu Xingchen casually dropped a jade token of ancient simplicity.

“The address is inside. I’ll allow you some time to think it over, but don’t take too long.”

The man bowed humbly, picked up the jade token, and made a final respectful salute before turning to leave. As he went, he closed the door behind him.

Bai Xuanling lightly stroked his teacup. Sensing the man’s departure, he spoke softly, transmitting his voice through spiritual power:

"You're counting on the Running Away sect leader himself to show up? That might take a while. Over the years, plenty have tried to catch him, setting all kinds of traps. But aside from his remarkable speed, his real specialty is playing the turtle and retreating into his shell."

"There hasn't been a single rumor about him in a century. Even the Evil Spirit Cult barely hears from him. I'd say his title as cult leader is practically honorary by now."

“With this kind of pressure, rather than come out, I think he might just give it up altogether.”

Chu Xingchen shrugged lightly. "If the Eighteen Immortal Sects really wanted to kill the Running Away Sect Leader, they'd have done it long ago. It's just a matter of whether it's worth it or useful."

“The Evil Spirit Cult isn’t only useful to rogue cultivators. Our intelligence shows plenty of righteous sects also need them to handle some shady business.”

“A rag that anyone can use—dirty, but handy.”

With that, Chu Xingchen rose unhurriedly. “Since the one we were waiting for has actually come, we might as well sweep away these small fry and give this place some peace.”

“Since they love to join in the fun, let’s send them all down together to really have some excitement.”

Bai Xuanling’s gaze once again shifted to the old man standing on the street corner, wearing a simple smile as he sold candied hawthorns.

For some reason, the old man seemed to feel a sudden impulse. He turned his head to the right, looked up at the wide-open window, but saw no one there—only an overturned teacup resting on the table.

The old man quickly averted his gaze and didn’t stare further.

But somehow, just that perfectly normal overturned teacup made an inexplicable chill crawl down his spine.

He realized he couldn’t stay any longer. The place had become a muddle of fish and dragons. He’d been lurking here for days without any useful intel.

If he still wanted a piece of the pie, he’d have to find another way. His disguise and illusion skills might be top-notch, but what had truly kept him alive all these years was the wariness buried deep in his bones.

Shivering, the old man stood up and decided to withdraw.

“Old Zhang, why leaving in such a hurry today? You haven’t sold many skewers yet.”

The old man turned back. It was the dark-faced young laborer squatting by the roadside waiting for work. According to intelligence, they were old acquaintances. He mimicked his usual tone:

“Someone said yesterday I shouldn’t set up here… said it’s not safe…”

The young laborer glanced at the many unfamiliar faces and sighed inwardly. He stepped closer to the old man, took a few copper coins from his pocket, and handed them over.

“It’s not safe. Usually, you wouldn’t pack up until the street was empty. I know it’s because your wife needs constant medicine. I remember the candied hawthorn you once gave me. Don’t come around here for a while. For any shortfall, I’ll try my best to make it up.”

The old man’s face showed just the right amount of surprise and gratitude. He took the coins and replied, his voice touched:

“Thank you for your great kindness. I’ll repay this money when I can spare some…”

The young laborer scratched the back of his head and answered with a simple smile:

“Get home early.”

The old man nodded repeatedly and hobbled away, his steps limping. But as soon as he turned into an alley, his ailing leg seemed to heal instantly. His stride became light and quick.

Familiar with the route, he rounded several corners and then tossed the perfectly cared-for candy basket into a filthy corner full of mud.

The glistening candied hawthorns stuck in the sludge, except for a tiny unsoiled spot that reflected the old man’s back—utterly indifferent, without a trace of hesitation.

He still had to return to his “home,” because inside was a Soul Refining Pearl needed to keep a corpse from rotting and stiffening, used to control it. This thing was troublesome to refine and expensive, but if used correctly, it could be considered a supreme treasure in its own way.

Having gained nothing, the old man certainly wasn’t about to throw away a Soul Refining Pearl.

He intended to retrieve it from his so-called wife.

His steps were fast. The few copper coins in his spacious pocket clinked with every stride.

He arrived at an old, broken-down house. Sensing no eyes on him, he disdainfully fished out the coins that had jingled the whole way and tossed them aside, then pushed the door open and entered.

The moment he stepped inside, he froze on the spot.

A woman in white robes with a languid expression sat quietly in the main hall. On a crooked table lay a longsword.

His “wife,” controlled by the Soul Refining Pearl, sat on the bed nearby, still letting out occasional coughs.

The old man’s scalp exploded. Using the pearl, he could control the corpse remotely with his spiritual sense. Yet this white-clad woman had sat here without him sensing a thing—her cultivation must be absurdly high. Outrageously high.

He didn’t hesitate. In an instant, he made the only decision: turn and flee, activating every life-saving artifact he had.

But a flash of light moved faster than any of his actions.

He felt a pressure press against his chest, and then his cultivation suddenly went wild. Spiritual power began to flow chaotically out of control.

The old man stared in terror. The sword that had been on the table was gone.

At the same time, he realized a massive hole had been blasted through his chest.

A sword intent began silently eroding his soul, which was trying to escape.

In that moment, he knew all his tricks were useless.

“You killed him because he was weak.” The woman’s voice was cold as she stood up. “I kill you because you are weak.”

The white-robed woman’s gaze was calm and indifferent.

“Isn’t that fair?”

The old man didn’t look down. He wanted to touch his chest, but his hand passed straight through, touching nothing. He let out a lost, desolate smile:

“Fair enough… but… who are you?”

The white-robed woman replied calmly:

“Bai Xuanling.”

The old man was shocked at first, then a trace of relief crossed his eyes.

“Well then, I suppose I didn’t die too disgracefully.”