The young man and woman’s faces twisted in shock as a deadly sword strike bore down on them. True energy erupted from the woman’s body—blood-red and sinister. What had been an elegant aura turned eerie in an instant.


    “Caught you red-handed!” Han barked, his grip tightening on the blade.


    He’d held back on that first swing—otherwise, at this range, the pair wouldn’t have had time to blink before he cut them down. As the sword arced, his Righteous Giant Hand Seal shot out, lunging for the man beside her.


    Boom! A shockwave blasted outward, splintering nearby trees. Birds caught in the blast dropped dead, their bodies bursting into bloody mist mid-fall. The forest groaned as trees snapped one after another—the woman coughed blood, sent flying, crashing through trunks.


    “Peak Visceral Realm—not bad,” Han sneered, his eyes blazing with killing intent. He launched forward, charging straight at her.


    Her cultivator buddy? Already nabbed by the Hand Seal, pinned to the ground with zero fight left. The seal held firm, crushing him flat despite his thrashing. A Night Wanderer cultivator—Han could’ve dusted him in one move if he hadn’t wanted him alive.


    The woman didn’t even glance back—bolted without a second thought. She barely made it a few steps before a piercing whistle sliced the air behind her. Her skin prickled; she spun, sword up to block.


    Clang! Metal shrieked. Her hands went numb, the blade slipping from her grasp. Before she could react, a dazzling flash streaked across—Tai Bai rested against her throat, blood trickling. She froze, daring not to move. Her glare at Han dripped with venom.


    “Who are you?” Her voice rasped, harsh and grating like stone on steel—explaining her earlier silence.


    “Mixing it up in Tianyue County and you don’t know me?” Han quipped. Tai Bai danced, tapping her body, channeling true energy through the sword to seal key acupoints. Spotting and blocking meridians—a basic skill for any legit martial artist, taught at Tai Bai. Not fancy acupoint tricks, but clogging the right spots with foreign energy did the job.


    Yun Duo floated down from above. The clash had cleared a wide swath of trees, giving her a landing pad. “Evil cultivators?” she gasped, gawking at the woman.


    “At least one’s practiced dark arts,” Han said. “Whether they’re the Heavenly Mother Sect crew from Qinghua County? Not confirmed.”


    Dark arts were a given, but that alone didn’t nail them as sect members—no ID stamped on their faces. Some stumbled into evil techniques by chance, building their path from there. Tianyue had its share of other cultist creeps too. Still, these two were undeniably shady. In times like these, drastic measures were fair game—snagging them for dark arts alone? Han had no qualms. Harsh, sure, but for the sake of Qinghua’s two hundred-plus dead, he’d play hardball.


    A quick mental scan revealed the woman’s surface looked fine, but she was nursing internal injuries—some from their scuffle, others older. More suspicion piled on.


    “Heavenly Mother Sect?” Han pressed.


    No answer.


    Whoosh! The Hand Seal dragged the other guy over, still clamped tight.


    “Who are you? Why’d you attack us?!” the man yelled. “We’re not with the Heavenly Mother Sect! Is the Ghost and Spirit Division this high-handed?!”


    “Your word doesn’t settle it,” Han shot back, nodding to Yun Duo. She caught his drift, pulling ropes from her spatial pouch and trussing them up tight.


    Once they were secure, Han stepped away, muffling sound, and buzzed Lu Qingmo via snail. “Aunt Mo, nabbed two. One’s got dark arts training, but their IDs are still up in the air.”


    “Dark arts, huh?” Lu Qingmo paused, then asked, “Where are you at?”


    “Almost to Qinghua County.”


    “Keep searching forward, then head there. Let the local authorities ID and grill them—see if they tie to last night. If they’re clean of that but still evil cultivators, hand them over for processing.”


    “Got it,” Han said, cutting the call. He knocked the pair out with a quick trick, then hoisted them up, flying toward Qinghua with Yun Duo in tow.


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    “Han, how’d you clock them as trouble right off the bat?” Yun Duo asked, curiosity piqued. “I didn’t pick up a single weird vibe.”


    He grinned. “Maybe I got lucky—blind cat stumbling on a dead mouse?”


    She shook her head. “No way. You’re not the type. You don’t move without being sure—this was no fluke.”


    Han blinked—didn’t expect her to have that much faith in him. “I did catch something beforehand,” he admitted. “Their dark-arts power tripped my senses, tipped me off they were off. I held back on the first strike, waiting to see if they’d confirm it. They did—my hunch was spot-on.”


    The trigger? His Righteous Aura. When his mental lock hit them, it stirred, flagging them as suspect. Righteous Aura and evil filth were natural enemies—dark cultivators rarely hid from someone packing it. Unless they wielded top-tier dark arts—like Heavenly Maiden legacies—straight-to-the-top stuff, free of the low-grade junk’s side effects. But those were rare. That’s why evil cultivators avoided Eastern Zhou—its key cities had Saints’ Academy-righteous treasures and arrays, hypersensitive to dark vibes with brutal killing power. Southern Jin? That’s where they thrived.


    With his Righteous Aura tingling, Han hadn’t hesitated—sword out, no second-guessing. Reckless? Maybe, but he trusted it. His Seven-Orifice Exquisite Heart backed it up. If they’d fought clean, he’d have pivoted. But the aura’s dark-arts radar? Razor-sharp and dead-on.


    Yun Duo kept her wheel humming, linked via snail. “Han, you’re unreal—nothing seems to faze you.”


    “Learn more, build your toolkit—you’ll be a force too,” he said, then added, “When you’re out in the world someday, remember this. Stay sharp with everyone. Evil cultivators, bad apples—they’re crafty. Looks or vibes alone won’t always cut it. The world’s full of weird tricks—don’t get fooled.”


    Spotting dark arts by aura was rare these days. Evil types caught on—hated as they were, most masked up. Few strutted around screaming “villain!” like idiots. Han’s past Heavenly Mother Sect run-ins? Normal on the surface, vibe-wise too. They could brush past you in a crowd, undetectable. Righteous Aura was an outlier. Some only showed their true colors in a fight—others even fought “nobly.” Telling evil apart? A perennial headache. Plenty got burned missing it.


    And then there’s the flip side: upright skills, clean power, but a rotten heart. Trickier still—prime trap material. The world’s a messy place. Han just wanted Yun Duo to grow up safe, no nasty surprises.


    The last stretch to Qinghua was quiet—no more Righteous Aura pings. They met up at the county gate, then headed to the local Ghost and Spirit Division. Han sensed a familiar presence—Yuan Yihan, the deputy chief. He wasn’t hiding; his aura flared wide, a beacon for anyone with cultivation, signaling his presence to spook lurking rats. But it felt… off from Han’s memory.


    “Deputy Yuan,” Han greeted, clocking him in person. It clicked—Yuan had broken through. Yuan Fang once said he’d been stuck at peak Day Wanderer for years. Now? Manifest Saint. A new heavy hitter for the county division and the Yuan clan—worth a party in Tianyue’s nine factions. Han kept mum—he didn’t want Yuan guessing his soul cultivation level. Weaklings can’t peg the strong.


    Yuan’s grim face softened seeing them. Qinghua’s mess had the county seat raging—he’d rushed over under pressure. “Thanks for pitching in.”


    “Black Cloud’s Ghost and Spirit and Martial Stabilization crews are out hunting too,” Han said. “Yun Duo and I moved fast, swept straight here.” He gestured at the captives. “Caught these two en route—dark arts confirmed, IDs pending. Deputy Yuan, maybe have Qinghua’s folks take a look?”


    Yuan’s eyes lit up. “Well done, Patrol Han—you’re a lucky charm! Helped us nab Soul Demon’s shard last time, now this. I’ll put in a good word for you!” He called out for last night’s intercept team.


    Several filed in—including an old face: Zhao, ex-chief of Qinghua’s division, now deputy, likely demoted over the sect hideout fiasco.


    “Fiends!” one guy blurted, stealing the room’s focus.


    “You know them?” Yuan asked.


    “They were in last night’s massacre—slaughtered civilians, broke out of Qinghua!” the man said. “She’s a peak Visceral martial artist, longsword user. He’s a Night Wanderer cultivator. She took a hit from Round Moon Hall—should be injured.”


    Han nodded—details matched perfectly. He roused the captives. The man’s face flickered—despair, then venom. The woman stayed stoic, her glare at Han mixing hate with… relief?


    “Still denying you’re Heavenly Mother Sect?!” Yun Duo shouted. “You’ve been ID’d!”


    “Ha!” The man burst into manic laughter. “Heavenly Mother Sect? They deserve to die—all of them! So do we!”


    Han stared, cold as ice. Confirmed killers from last night—no point wasting breath on them. Utter scum.


    “Good you know it!” Yuan’s eyes flashed. He yanked the man’s soul out and dug in—rough and ruthless. The guy screamed, agony ripping through him, Yuan’s search tearing at his essence. After a bit, Yuan tossed the faded soul back into its shell, musing. “Not Heavenly Mother Sect, but they were in on last night’s bloodshed.”


    Han frowned. “Wasn’t it pinned on the sect?”


    “We nabbed sect members—confirmed involvement,” Yuan said. “But this guy’s soul had no wards. I saw everything. No restrictions.”


    That clinched it—no sect ties. Sect souls always had locks, weak or strong, shielding their secrets.


    Yuan summed it up. “They’re a couple—ordinary martial artist and cultivator once. Their kid got snatched by an Impermanence Hall monk, soul fused with eight other infants into a Nine Evil Ghost Infant. The monk and a sect pal used it to leash them—forced them into dark arts. They’ve been Hall lackeys for years, hands bloody. Recently, under sect and Hall orders, they holed up in Qinghua with others and pulled off last night.”


    As he spoke, the woman shut her eyes; the man kept laughing. Silence gripped the room.


    “So, last night’s culprits included Impermanence Hall mixed with the sect?” Han asked.


    “Exactly,” Yuan said. “Hall monks are ghosts—leave no tracks. We missed them last night. Heavenly Mother Sect, Impermanence Hall—two big evil players moving.” Han pondered. “What’s their angle? Chaos for kicks, or something bigger?”


    Yuan’s face darkened. “More than that. His memories show they’ve spilled blood across Tianyue’s counties beyond Qinghua. These cults have been stirring the pot—way more than we thought.”


    Beneath the already choppy waters, a deeper shadow loomed.