Chapter 5: You’re Overthinking It

The night was dark, the wind fierce.
Tao Han looked up at the sky. Tonight’s moon was exceptionally round, its light illuminating his face, which had transformed into a different guise.
For tonight’s operation, he had prepared thoroughly.
He wore a high-grade spiritual robe bestowed by his sect leader, impervious to fire, poison, and even air. It could withstand a full-force strike from a Nascent Soul cultivator.
A large sword hung on his back. The Jingwu Sect was renowned for its martial prowess, with a saying: “One force breaks ten thousand techniques.” Jingwu disciples only needed raw power; miracles would handle the rest.

It wasn’t just him. The elders accompanying him from their respective sects were equipped with countless tools and techniques.
Yet, despite such thorough preparation, as they walked the official road to the National Teacher’s residence, Tao Han’s right eyelid twitched uncontrollably.
“Something’s wrong. Nine out of ten, something’s very wrong.”
He stopped, sensing something terrifying waiting ahead.

“Indeed, something’s off.”
The Huanling Sect elder also noticed the anomaly, his seasoned eyes darting around:
“The spiritual energy here is pitifully thin, almost nonexistent. And ever since we stepped onto this street, I’ve had a strange feeling—like my connection to the heavens and earth has been severed.”
“No spiritual energy, and you expect to connect with the heavens? That’s nonsense.”
The Chiyan Sect elder stepped forward, openly disdainful of the Huanling elder’s timid demeanor.
“You know nothing!”
Stung by the retort, the Huanling elder snapped back:
“Your Chiyan Sect is just a bunch of fire-playing apes! It’s curfew now. We passed plenty of patrol soldiers on the way, but this place is deserted. You can even see the National Teacher’s gate from here. Would Emperor Dingwu be foolish enough to leave the residence unguarded?”

“No matter.”
A saccharine female voice cut through, sending shivers down the spines of the other six, who instinctively distanced themselves from the speaker.
Tao Han sighed helplessly:
“Your voice can change tones? What exactly does your Xuehun Sect spend all its time comprehending?”
The woman smiled:
“Oh, I’m just a frail woman. To survive, one must always prepare extra fodder, just in case.”

With that, she stepped toward the National Teacher’s residence. The other six exchanged glances and followed.
The vermilion gate loomed into view, adorned with an unremarkable black flag fluttering in the night breeze.
“That flag…”
The Huanling elder muttered, but before he could ponder further, a buzzing sound emerged as the vermilion gate was pushed open by a woman’s hands.
“Come along, everyone. I’m curious to see who this Great Han National Teacher really is.”

Seeing her bold move, the Huanling elder looked to Tao Han:
“Elder Tao, I rarely deal with the Xuehun Sect. Are their people always this bold?”
“No matter. Tonight, seven sect elders are visiting in the dead of night. Surely the National Teacher won’t deny us face.”
Tao Han shook his head and entered, the other five steeling themselves to follow.

The National Teacher’s residence was vast yet ordinary. The anticipated dangers didn’t materialize; instead, the small bridges, flowing water, and pavilions gave the place a leisurely charm.
Tao Han’s brows furrowed. It was too quiet. Even a single trap would be something, but there was nothing.
Watching the woman wandering aimlessly ahead, a flash crossed his vision, as if he saw his own back.
Focusing, he saw it was the woman again. Doubt stirred in his heart, but he shook it off.
He’d heard of the Xuehun Sect’s puppetry, which refined a target’s divine sense and turned their body into a shell. Once complete, a cultivator’s spiritual sense could control it remotely.
Even if the puppet died, the controller’s spiritual sense would only be damaged, recoverable with time.
Since it wasn’t their own body, they acted without restraint—and could even control a female form.

Tao Han suppressed a flicker of envy. The residence was vast, and as he prepared to take flight, the Huanling elder’s puzzled voice came from behind:
“Elder Tao, why aren’t you leading the way? Why are you standing there dazed?”
“Leading the way?”
Tao Han was baffled. He didn’t know the layout of the residence—how could he lead?
“What do you mean by that?”
The Huanling elder grew more confused:
“Didn’t you push open the gate and head straight in? We thought you’d scouted the place before, given how confidently you moved. We followed you until you suddenly stopped. Are you lost?”

Thump thump—
A deathly silence fell, broken only by the deafening pounding of Tao Han’s heartbeat.
What was this guy talking about?!
Wasn’t it the Xuehun Sect member who pushed the gate? When did it become him?
He was about to retort when he noticed, among the six behind the Huanling elder, a woman with blood-red eyes and veins crawling over her exposed skin—the Xuehun Sect’s puppet.
But if the Xuehun Sect member was behind him, who was in front?

Tao Han tried to turn his head, but his neck felt like a rusted gear, refusing to move.
Fear gripped him. Desperate for confirmation, he clung to hope like a drowning man clutching a stalk, staring at the Huanling elder and speaking word by word:
“Didn’t you just ask why the Xuehun Sect member was so bold?”
His urgent question was met with confusion and pity:
“Elder Tao, when did I say that? Ever since we entered, you’ve been acting paranoid. You’re not… overthinking it, are you?”

“…”
Tao Han staggered back. Gradually, he felt something soft press against his back, followed by that sickly sweet female voice in his ear:
“Elder Tao, why did you stop?”

…
Baizhu’s figure appeared before the vermilion gate at some point, her bare jade feet stepping on the stone tiles, her calm gaze sweeping over the six piles of limp flesh before the gate.
“How are Golden Core cultivators so weak nowadays? My Ten Thousand Demon Banner was barely raised, and they fell for it.”
The young woman’s eyes were filled with confusion and disdain. Back in her day, the Golden Core cultivators she faced were formidable, their schemes and deceptions commonplace.
Now, with spiritual energy far denser than before, the Golden Core cultivators were somehow weaker.

With a wave of her hand, the Ten Thousand Demon Banner above turned into a streak of black light and vanished into her palm.
Baizhu’s gaze shifted to the lifeless female body in the courtyard. Its controller, likely specializing in spiritual sense, was the first to fall, leaving nothing behind.
“What should I do with this puppet?”
Lost in thought, her eyes were drawn to the moon.

She didn’t want to stay in the National Teacher’s residence forever.
With a tentative mindset, Baizhu stepped down the stone stairs, leaving the residence’s boundaries entirely, no longer suppressing her spiritual energy.
In an instant, dark clouds gathered, plunging the silver-lit world into darkness. A beam of light tried to lock onto her position.
“Tch, with so many cultivators under heaven, why do you always chase your old friend?”
Baizhu suppressed her spiritual energy again, returning to the residence’s steps in a blink.

At the same time, the beam lost its target and vanished, transforming into a massive bolt of lightning. With an earth-shattering roar, it struck as a dry thunder before dissipating.
The world returned to the moon’s embrace.
The vermilion gates of the National Teacher’s residence closed slowly, shutting out the outside world.
Baizhu studied the female corpse in the courtyard, its configuration clearly crafted with great care by its former master.
A spark of inspiration flashed, and the corner of her mouth curled upward.
Baizhu: ☝️🤓