Chapter 05: Mission Accomplished, Time to Retreat

The Morning Questions

A peaceful night passed.

Gu Chi opened his eyes at dawn.

Fang Xiyu still sat calmly on the bluestone.

She hadn’t slept, her spiritual energy gradually restoring to fullness, but she made no move to leave.

Perhaps after losing too many bets, she no longer wished to gamble.

She only had to wait until noon to depart—no need for another risk.

It was like tying a young elephant with a rope.

As a calf, it couldn’t break free.

Even grown, that same thin rope could still bind it.

Gu Chi opened his eyes, clearly pleased she remained.

Unexpectedly, Fang Xiyu spoke first.

“How did you enter this secret realm restricted to those below Core Formation?”

“Because I am Core Formation.”

“You can’t be.

No Core Formation cultivator could dodge my sword.”

“There are always people beyond people, heavens beyond heavens.

To beat me, train another ten years at least.”

Gu Chi’s tone held unmasked arrogance.

“What do you need so many spirit stones for?”

“None of your business.”

“With your talent, why not join a sect to cultivate?”

“Too many rules, no freedom.”

“Sects protect your growth.”

“Sects are just tools you people use to strangle geniuses and control cultivators.

You band together, hoard resources, exclude and suppress rogue cultivators—forcing them to join or survive in your cracks.

The difference is being a tame dog or a wild one.

Compared to an obedient dog, I prefer being wild.”

Gu Chi replied indifferently.

“But you—trying to lure me into your sect?

Say if I join, you’ll forget the past, then close the door and beat the dog?”

“No.

In the future, I’ll find you, flay you alive, linger your death with a thousand cuts.”

Fang Xiyu’s tone was now calm and icy—no longer hysterical.

Gu Chi’s eyes held amusement.

“Then prepare well before coming.

Otherwise… you know.”

“Oh, right.”

Gu Chi suddenly remembered.

“Since you love tough words…

Take off your undergarments now—give them as a memento.”

In an instant, Fang Xiyu’s eyes burned with shame and fury, killing intent surging.

“I’ll wait outside.

If you refuse, you don’t want me stripping them myself, do you?”

With that, Gu Chi turned and left the cave.

Half an incense stick later, he returned.

Fang Xiyu clutched her just-removed white lace panties, teeth gritted, eyes misting with humiliated tears.

“Throw them over.”

Fang Xiyu took a deep breath and tossed them to him.

Gu Chi stored them in his ring.

“You… what for?!”

“Hm, war trophy, of course.

Kidnapping the Moon Wheel Sect’s Moonlight Fairy from the Eastern Domain’s top sect—quite an achievement.

Maybe when you’re in the seventh or eighth realm, leaving us rogue cultivators far behind, I can take them out to reminisce my heroic deeds.”

In truth, the Fire Phoenix Saintess wanted them—as proof of the kidnapping.

His eyes were utterly infuriating.

Her shoulders trembled, sword gripped tight again.

But this time, she didn’t swing.

A jade ring on Gu Chi’s left hand flashed once more.

After about ten breaths, his expression relaxed.

“You can go.

My partner confirmed safety.

Your mother dotes on you—no extra branches.”

“Five thousand spirit stones mean nothing anyway.”

Fang Xiyu’s eyes locked on him.

“I won’t forget today.

One day, I’ll take your head myself to honor my sword!”

“Alright, tough words done—go.

If I get angry, lust rises, feed you some aphrodisiac, then…”

Before Gu Chi finished, Fang Xiyu stood.

In a blink, her figure vanished from the cave.

She left.

Gu Chi stood too.

He had to run.

If he didn’t, and she called righteous companions, he’d be done.

A bountiful haul.

Gu Chi stretched, left the cave, and soon vanished into the dense forest.

Changing Appearance

At the westernmost side of the Burning Heaven Secret Realm, Gu Chi discarded the mask and black robe.

He washed in the lake, then donned a cyan robe.

He gazed at his lake reflection—face like fine jade, red lips, white teeth, gentle eyes.

His pupils shifted from pure black to brown.

His gaze now differed utterly from when masked.

With the bronze mask, his eyes held faint amusement, mocking the world.

Now, only warm calm—no trace of laughter.

The secret realm closed tomorrow.

All surviving cultivators would teleport out.

Pass the final day, and this trip was complete.

Gu Chi touched his face, sighing helplessly.

Twenty years since transmigrating, his only dissatisfaction with this face was its excessive fairness and handsomeness—always noticed first in crowds.

He preferred solitude, blending in, not standing out.

Thus, he stayed unkempt, beard unshaven, looking older than his years.

His twentieth birthday neared.

His partner waiting outside said there’d be a special reward…

What would that guy give?

With her twisted tastes… allow worse evils?

Seemed possible.

Gu Chi felt a spark of anticipation.

He was indeed a man.

His earlier words to Fang Xiyu were misdirection.

Enough smoke bombs, and she’d guess wildly.

But his voice was disguised.

He murmured to the lake for a while, slowly readjusting to his real tone.

In the reflection, the gentle, pure youth looked utterly righteous at a glance.

The Sect Master’s Arrival

Next day, noon.

Gu Chi woke on a tree branch.

He’d slept in the tree overnight.

Upon waking, his spiritual energy sensed the world’s rejection.

Space rippled beside him, soon sending him out.

He closed his eyes.

When he opened them, he was in barren mountains.

With him, 237 cultivators.

200 from major sects, a third rogue like him.

After exiting, cultivators didn’t rush off.

They bartered on-site, exchanging unneeded resources.

The seven tense days over, moods relaxed.

But soon, sharp-eyed ones noticed a woman in black daoist robes standing before everyone.

Her pitch-black eyes fixed on each person.

Immense pressure crashed down—from an eighth-realm cultivator.

All instinctively bowed heads, backs bending slightly.

Divine sense swept their bodies—no one dared speak.

Guesses formed: something happened in the realm; some junior wronged, elder seeking justice.

But doubt surged.

The black-robed woman, beauty demonic despite the robe, was Moon Wheel Sect Master, Fang Ziyue.

Why her personally?

Could her daughter Fang Xiyu suffer in the realm?

Mid-Core Formation, Earth-tier sword—who’d provoke her?

Fang Ziyue looked down, gaze soon on Fang Xiyu.

In purple skirt amid the crowd, a path naturally cleared.

Seeing the intact cinnabar mark on her inner arm, Fang Ziyue quietly sighed in relief.

She raised her eyes to the crowd, pink lips parting.

“Who is Qingmian?”

Instantly, minds reeled like heavy blows.

Some weaker cultivators spat blood.

Soul-searching secret art—forcing instinctive truth.

But no one answered.

The Fire Phoenix Sect Master had tried similarly—useless.

Stronger pressure would burst everyone.

Fang Xiyu stood before her mother, lashes lowered, transmitting.

“My thunder explosion bead is on him.”

Fang Ziyue raised her hand.

Dao seals surged in her snow-white palm, resonating with her mark on the bead.

But everyone exchanged glances—no response.

All storage rings forcibly burst open.

Contents floated in air.

No thunder bead, no Fang Xiyu’s treasures or spirit stones.

Certainly no undergarments.

All seethed but dared not speak, heads low, awaiting inspection.

One incense stick later.

Fang Ziyue sighed, looking at Fang Xiyu.

“You’re fine—that’s good.”

Then to the crowd.

“My appearance here today—rot in your bellies.

If I hear a whisper later, I’ll trace it and splash blood on the spot.”

All heads bowed—no objections.

Fang Ziyue’s spirit boat hovered mid-air.

Fang Xiyu followed her into the skies, aboard, soon vanishing from sight.

Before boarding, she glanced back at the ground masses.

No sign of those faintly smiling eyes.

Pressure gone, all exhaled.

Staring at shattered rings, they sighed.

Ring crafting was sect-held.

Sect disciples had spares—not costly.

But for many rogues, it hurt.

Gu Chi joined complaints about Moon Wheel Sect’s unreasonableness.

But talk soon hushed—as if nothing happened.

They began bartering.

Gu Chi took out his realm gains, pretending to trade with the crowd.