The disappearance of numerous disciples cast a pall over the gathered factions. Frustration simmered, but they were powerless. The caverns had been treacherous—yet no one had witnessed those missing being slain by others. Revenge wasn’t even an option without a target.


    “Who got the Legacy Mandate?” someone finally asked, breaking the tense silence. Eyes darted around, scanning faces with suspicion.


    Han and Bai Ruoyue joined the game, sizing up the crowd with hawk-like intensity. Who was it? Come on, step up if you’ve got the guts! The unspoken challenge hung in the air, fueling their irritation.


    Just then, figures descended from nearby Moonview Mountain—elders from various factions, joined by deputy commanders from the Ghost God Division and the Martial Stabilization Division. In Tianyue County, these were heavy hitters. Their presence alone pressed down on most of the crowd.


    “The cavern’s gone,” declared Yuan Yihan, the Ghost God Division’s deputy commander. “The Legacy Mandate is with one of you. Whoever has it, use it wisely—don’t squander it on evil.”


    “Exactly,” chimed in the Martial Stabilization deputy. “If the bearer hands it over to the court, the rewards will be generous.”


    Silence greeted the offer. Everyone here hailed from major factions—surrender a prize like that to the court? For what, a fancy banner and a few coins? Besides, most hadn’t even snagged it.


    The experts’ gazes swept the group like lightning, hunting for clues, but they came up empty. Han kept his expression neutral, betraying nothing. Yeah, it’s me—so what?


    “Huang family disciples, with me,” a Bone Refining elder barked. Other factions followed suit, peeling away from the scene.


    As they left, Yuan Fang swung by to greet Han. “Next time you’re in the county capital, I’ll host you,” he said, then sighed. “The Legacy Mandate’s owner is a mystery—this isn’t over. Everyone’s going to keep digging. No one lets something like that slip away.”


    True enough—these weren’t pushovers. If not for the clout of their backings, those Day Roaming and Bone Refining cultivators might’ve resorted to force. But with elders watching and tensions high, coercion wasn’t an option.


    Han nodded gravely. “Totally. Anything tied to the Tianming Sect is too rare to pass up—I’d kill for it myself. Too bad I’m just one guy. Even if I knew who nabbed it, I couldn’t get a peek. Such a shame.” He let out a theatrical sigh. “Man, if only I’d gotten it.”


    “Right?” Bai Ruoyue jumped in. “If Little Brother had it, Taibai Martial Hall would be soaring!”


    “Senior Sister,” Han said, turning sage, “finding it is my fortune; missing it is my fate. No point in forcing it. Since someone swiped it under our noses, we’ve got to chalk it up to bad luck. Maybe the one who got it deserves it more—some things you can’t chase.”


    Yuan Fang nodded, impressed by Han’s composure. “Well said. Whoever took it’s hiding deep—tracking them down’s a long shot.” He bid them farewell and left with the Yuan clan.


    Han unfurled his flying carpet, whisking Bai Ruoyue back toward Black Cloud Town. A few onlookers watched, their eyes glinting with curiosity. Suspicion lingered—two prodigies like them could’ve pulled it off.


    On the way, Bai Ruoyue clicked her tongue. “Little Brother, you’re a natural—‘fortune and fate,’ all smooth and convincing.”


    “It’s just the truth,” Han replied, deadpan. “Snagging the Mandate was my good luck.”


    She dodged that bait, switching gears. “This trip was a blast. We nabbed the best loot and took out Fang Cheng and Li Hai—talk about settling scores!”


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Her excitement was palpable. To her, slicing up those two felt more satisfying than the Mandate itself.


    “Hey, watch your words,” Han corrected. “We only killed beasts down there—no people. Don’t go spreading rumors, Senior Sister.”


    She grinned. “Oops, my bad.” Glancing back, she added, “Think anyone’ll try to ambush us?”


    “Nope.”


    “Why not? The Mandate, the missing disciples—we’re prime suspects, and no elders are tagging along.”


    “Because of your strength and my carpet,” Han explained. “This thing’s too fast—Bone Refiners can’t touch us; they don’t fly. Only Day Roamers could catch up, but with your Bone Refining power, they’d struggle to take us down quick. Fail to kill us, and they’d piss off Aunt Mo for good. No one’s that dumb.”


    “Makes sense,” Bai Ruoyue agreed. “This is Aunt Mo’s carpet.”


    “What’s hers is mine.”


    “Shameless.”


    Back at the peach grove, Han recounted the Beast Arena saga to Lu Qingmo. She nodded thoughtfully. “The reward you earned at the Ascension Hall ended up paying off in that cavern. Fate’s funny that way.”


    “As for offing those Tianlong disciples…” She paused, considering. “I’ve heard of the Gulong Peak Master—crazy strong, second only to Tianlong’s sect leader. But this? Too small to drag him out. Fang Cheng’s dad, though—a True Blood Realm elder—that’s trickier. If he shows up in Black Cloud Town over this, it’ll be a headache. Keep the kill under wraps—don’t breathe a word, and don’t flash Fang Cheng’s loot around. Someone sharp might connect the dots.”


    Han nodded—he’d already clocked that. “Aunt Mo, what about selling Heaven and Earth in Harmony at the Black-and-White Tower?”


    “They’d take it,” she said, “but Yunlong City’s branch isn’t high-tier enough to cough up something matching a True Blood-grade art. For that, you’d need the state capital’s Tower or the county’s Ten Thousand Stars Chamber—and even then, they’d have to pull strings for resources. Better to wait.”


    Han agreed. The Chamber wasn’t as discreet as the Tower, which had a rep for guarding secrets with blood—history backed that up. It’s why they were the go-to for fencing hot goods.


    “Here’s the Ding Six Beast Arena Mandate, plus the plant and egg,” Han said, presenting the cube, the beast egg, and the Ten Thousand Blood Spirit Flower.


    Lu Qingmo’s tone turned stern. “Guard that flower well—it’ll be a game-changer for forging True Blood. If Bai Tian had something like this during his breakthrough, he’d be out by now, with blood far stronger than his peers.”


    “Got it, Aunt Mo.” The flower’s peak effect hit during the True Blood transition—full-fledged True Blood cultivators could only use it to boost vitality, not their blood itself. Still, as a breakthrough-grade spirit plant, its value was sky-high.


    “The egg…” Lu Qingmo shook her head. “Barely a flicker of life. Hatching it with what you’ve got? Near impossible.” Methods existed, sure, but the bar was steep—and in her eyes, Han had zilch to work with.


    “I’ll give it a shot,” Han said, undeterred. “It’s the Arena’s top beastcrafting feat. If it hatches, it might surprise us.”


    He had an ace up his sleeve: the Creation Spirit Liquid. Its three known effects—restoring decayed pills, enhancing demon bloodlines—suggested it could revive the egg too. If it could fix a pill’s potency, why not a beast egg? Maybe even push it beyond its original potential.


    “Go for it,” Lu Qingmo said, pulling a few items from her ring. “These are odds and ends I picked up—good for healing spirit beasts, packed with vitality. They might help a bit, even with a beast.”


    Han accepted them without fuss—he’d repay her later. “Have you checked the Mandate?”


    “Partway,” he said. “Didn’t finish on the way back.” He’d skimmed it—beastcrafting notes: what beasts were, how to make them, care tips. In past-life terms, it was lab data, experience logs, and brainstorming scraps. Useless to him or Taibai Hall now—they lacked the muscle to pick up where Ding Six left off. Big sects or clans could swing it; the resource drain was too steep for small fries.


    If he hatched the egg, though, the nurturing bits might come in handy.


    Lu Qingmo probed the cube with her mental energy—no ownership lock there. After a moment, she sighed. “Tianming didn’t crack this nut—modern factions pulling it off? Slim chance. Blending the best beast bloodlines and bodies, sparking intelligence, birthing a new race—it’s borderline creation. Spans multiple Taoist fields too. One person can’t wield this alone.”


    Taoist arts split into combat, alchemy, formations, seals, and more. Beastcrafting demanded beast-taming know-how and deep bloodline expertise—pro-level stuff for dedicated teams. The Mandate favored factions over lone wolves.


    “But these non-combat Taoist arts in here?” she added, intrigued. “Pretty clever stuff—worth a look. Tianming’s depth is unreal. There’s even a near-Yellow Spring-grade technique.”


    Han took it back, diving in. Soon, his eyes lit up—not at the near-Yellow Spring art, but another gem: The Art of Awakening Spirits and Nurturing Divinity.


    Vital in beastcrafting, it ignited spirituality and intellect in beasts. Per the notes, it worked on rare inanimate objects too—pair it with specific treasures, and you could birth a “divinity” within. Han’s mind raced to his natal artifact. Normal ones already had spirits—could this be his chance?