Headquarters Underground

“Huh? Why?”

Huang Xiaoyao and the others were taken aback.

The old man didn’t elaborate, merely smiling as he said, “It concerns the core secret of the Blood God Palace—the Blood God Succession Rite. Only Blood Disciples are permitted to take part.”

“The other assassins at headquarters can’t join either. They’ll either be sent out on missions or stay in this tavern, not returning to headquarters until the next Blood God is chosen.”

Zhou Muxi seemed to have expected this. She looked at Huang Xiaoyao and the others. “Don’t worry. Whether it succeeds or fails, I’ll bring little sister Nanmo back safe and sound.”

“Well...”

“Just wait for us here,” Mo Tianxiao said. “And trust me—if anything happens, I’ll contact you.”

“Since that’s the rule, there’s no helping it. We’ll just have to wait here,” Yun Sangyi said lightly, without a trace of worry that Mo Tianxiao might run into trouble.

Besides Yun Sangyi and her two companions, the two Saint-tier assassins Zhou Muxi had brought also stayed behind in the tavern.

Mo Tianxiao and Zhou Muxi, meanwhile, were led by the old man to the tavern’s top floor. The space was bare except for a small formation engraved on the ground, above which hovered a swirling, dark energy portal, like a vortex.

“Go on in. You’re the last ones.”

Zhou Muxi and Mo Tianxiao exchanged a glance. She stepped forward first, and as soon as her body touched the vortex, she vanished.

Seeing this, Mo Tianxiao stepped into it as well. Amid a dizzying sensation of the world spinning, his vision suddenly dimmed. Once he steadied himself, the two had arrived in a gloomy world.

Above, only a blood-red moon hung in the sky, giving off an eerie light. Mo Tianxiao frowned as he took in his surroundings. His feet were planted in black, grainy sand. Apart from the pale red glow of that moon, which illuminated a small patch around them, everything else was pitch-black, as if draped in shadow.

“Where is this place?”

Mo Tianxiao couldn’t make heads or tails of it. He even began to wonder—was this still the Xuanhuang Realm?

Zhou Muxi stepped up beside him and explained, “This is the underground beneath the Black Desert in the Far West. The Blood God Palace’s headquarters is built here.”

She produced the Soul-Tracking Map, murmuring a chant under her breath. The next moment, a bloody speck of light appeared on the map. Then the blood moon above shone brighter, its light spilling down onto the ground and casting onto Mo Tianxiao and Zhou Muxi.

“Even in this place, the Blood God Palace’s location constantly shifts. Only core members of the palace, who know the special incantation, can guide the blood moon to point the way.”

The light from the blood moon began to move, and Zhou Muxi followed it, her tone turning serious as she warned, “Without the blood moon’s guidance, even a Saint-realm cultivator would get lost here. Stay close.”

Mo Tianxiao quickly grabbed her arm, walking side by side to avoid any mishaps.

“What exactly is this place? If we’re underground, how is there still that eerie blood moon up there?”

The atmosphere was grim and oppressive, like the stronghold of some dark cultivator.

Zhou Muxi calmly explained, “This place was probably opened up by a great cultivator from ancient times. Later, the Blood God Palace took it over as its headquarters. The blood moon up there is a holy artifact of the palace, used to guide the core assassins.”

“Divine sense is heavily suppressed here—you can’t probe far. Without the blood moon’s guidance, you could easily be trapped, never to leave.”

Mo Tianxiao’s face was full of curiosity. He tried to extend his divine sense and found that, just as she said, it barely reached two or three li. He couldn’t sense any spiritual energy either.

No wonder no one knew the Blood God Palace’s true location. They’d hidden not only underground but in a place utterly devoid of spiritual energy. No normal cultivator would ever come here.

Following the blood moon, they walked for what seemed like an eternity, with the scenery never changing. Mo Tianxiao strongly suspected they were going in circles.

Just as he was about to ask again, the blood-red light stopped moving. Zhou Muxi halted as well and said, “We’re here.”

The moment he registered her words, the space ahead rippled. A massive palace, exuding a murderous aura, materialized before them. It wasn’t grand or imposing—just deeply unsettling.

“An illusion array?”

Mo Tianxiao hadn’t even sensed it at first.

“This is a pretty clever array. It must be more than just an illusion, right?”

Zhou Muxi nodded. “It’s a quasi-emperor-level array. The illusion is only the smallest of its functions. Under this array, the Blood God Palace’s location shifts at any moment.”

“This is to prevent anyone from finding us. After all, as the number-one assassin organization in the Xuanhuang Realm, with a perfect record of no failed kills, we’ve made more enemies than you’d imagine.”

“Besides the headquarters, outpost branches get wiped out by righteous groups once every few centuries. It’s common.”

“Heh. Serves them right.”

Mo Tianxiao didn’t hesitate to complain. “They’re so stingy. Sister Muxi, when you become Blood God, you’ve got to revise the rules. At least give us back the ten holy artifacts we’re owed.”

Zhou Muxi’s eyelid twitched. She said flatly, “Let’s head inside first. Otherwise, the array will shift the palace’s position again.”

With that, she firmly pulled Mo Tianxiao into the formation.

“Hey, hey, hey, Sister Muxi, don’t change the subject. Can we really not get those ten holy artifacts back? Even a few less would do. Or if you take most, we could just take a few—one per person as a token, that’s fine too, right?”

“Sister Muxi? Say something, will you? Don’t just clam up when it gets awkward.”

“...”

No matter how much Mo Tianxiao rambled, Zhou Muxi kept silent whenever the topic of holy artifacts came up.

Before long, the two entered the palace. Inside, it was far more normal than the outside. The walls were embedded with glowing stones, their fluorescent light illuminating the vast, empty hall.

Mo Tianxiao could sense spiritual energy inside the palace, at about the same density as ordinary places in the outside world.

“Because of the array?”

He guessed that the concentration was likely achieved by converting spiritual stones into energy through the formation.

“Blood Disciple Zhou, cutting it close, aren’t you? Looks like you’ve prepared thoroughly.”

As soon as they arrived, a voice dripping with sarcasm echoed.

Mo Tianxiao looked up. A shiny bald head caught his eye. He blurted out, “There are baldies here too?”

“Huh? Who are you calling a baldy? You looking to die?”

The bald man shot a glare at him, unleashing a burst of Saint pressure, as if intending to teach Mo Tianxiao a harsh lesson.

But Zhou Muxi glanced at him, and with a flicker of her own aura, she dispelled his pressure.

“Blood Disciple Chen, my people are not for you to discipline.”