To date, Black Cloud Town had only encountered evil cultivators twice. The first was during Han’s [God’s Perspective] trek into Black Mountain, where he crossed paths with a Heavenly Mother Sect lunatic who’d massacred a slew of martial artists. The second came just before Han and Bai Ruoyue were ambushed—an evil cultivator raided a village. There was also that Impermanence Hall monk scheming to set up a Yama Domain, but that was clearly aimed at Zuo Tianzheng. Beyond those incidents, the town’s frequent turmoil stayed within the realm of “ordinary chaos”—not the handiwork of dark practitioners. Oddly enough, evil cultivators—who typically thrived on stirring the pot and looting the chaos—had been unusually quiet this time. It baffled people. No self-respecting fiend would skip a golden opportunity like this, so their absence raised eyebrows.


    But last night’s carnage and today’s revelations hinted at something sinister. Those vermin hadn’t stayed away—they’d just been brewing trouble elsewhere, lurking in Tianyue’s counties instead of storming Black Cloud.


    “Looks like these creeps are plotting something big,” Han said to Yuan Yihan. “Does the county seat have a plan for this?”


    Yuan nodded. “We’ve got contingency measures in place. Tianyue’s unrest was foreseeable—it’s been simmering for a while. I’ll report this to Chief Ye, and the county seat will dispatch more manpower to bolster each county’s defenses. The deputy chiefs from both divisions might be away from the city for a stretch. We’ll need to nudge the major families for extra hands, though—relying solely on the county’s two divisions to cover every county is a stretch. We might even need to call on neighboring counties for support.”


    The Qinghua massacre laid bare the gravity of the situation. Visceral Realm fighters, once a rare sight in Qinghua County, were about to become commonplace. Counties had already been reinforced with decent muscle from the seat before this—otherwise, last night’s killers wouldn’t have bothered fleeing; local forces would’ve been helpless, incapable of capturing or taking down any of them. But with Qinghua’s bloodbath and Yuan’s fresh intel, ignoring it wasn’t an option. Tianyue spanned thirty-two counties—guarding them all with serious firepower using just the county’s two divisions? Unrealistic. The seat couldn’t be left undefended either.


    So, they’d lean on private factions—community and authority working hand in hand. In sheer numbers, the county’s Visceral and Bone Refining ranks couldn’t match even one of Tianyue’s nine major players, especially the two dominant clans. Centuries of lineage, generations of growth, and a knack for recruiting outsiders gave them a hefty roster. Blood ties ran deepest—dynasties and sects could fall, but as long as humanity kept reproducing, clans would endure.


    Han’s brow furrowed with concern. “If the county scatters its forces across the counties, won’t that leave the seat vulnerable? What if someone seizes the chance to stir trouble there—or pulls a feint to draw us out? That’d be a disaster.”


    The seat outweighed the counties in importance. Risking it to secure them could cost more than it gained.


    Yuan flashed a self-assured smile. “The seat’s locked down by the Tianyue Five Spirits Radiant Array, plus a court-gifted relic anchoring it. Together, they’re unstoppable. As long as the governor and division chiefs stay put, running the array, no one’s dumb enough to try anything—even if we’re spread thin. True Blood Yin Spirits? They’d hit a brick wall.”


    Han nodded. “Fair point—the Five Spirits Array.” Lu Qingmo had clued him in about it on his first trip to the seat.


    He glanced at the bound couple, paused, then asked, “Deputy Yuan, what’s the verdict on these two?”


    “Death,” Yuan said, no hesitation in his voice. Sure, they’d been coerced, pawns in someone else’s game—but last night’s Qinghua slaughter, along with their past crimes under the Impermanence Hall’s orders, was undeniable.


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    Han didn’t argue for mercy. Instead, he pivoted. “The Hall monk controlling them—was he in Qinghua last night?”


    “Yeah, a Day Wanderer monk. Slipped through our fingers,” Yuan replied. “Slaughtering babies for ghost infants? Absolute scum.” Murder flared in Han’s eyes. He stepped toward the woman, Tai Bai gleaming as it slashed down. A drop of blood and a strand of hair flicked onto the blade; he pocketed them.


    “What’s that for?” Yuan asked, puzzled.


    “They’re guilty as sin, no question,” Han said. “But some deserve it more.”


    Yuan and the others caught his meaning. The couple stared, but Han ignored them, turning to Yuan. “We’re heading out—gonna keep scouting the area. If we nab anything, Aunt Lu will pass it to Chief Ye.”


    “Much obliged,” Yuan said with a nod. “Things are hectic—I won’t hold you up.”


    Han and Yun Duo stepped out. A faint “Thank you” slipped from the woman. Han faltered for a split second, then kept moving.


    On Qinghua’s streets, he spotted Martial Stabilization officers escorting captives—escapees from last night, snagged in the all-out manhunt. Han’s team wasn’t the only one racking up wins. They left the county, took a detour back to Black Cloud, and kept sweeping.


    “Han, are you going after that ghost-infant Hall monk?” Yun Duo asked.


    He nodded. “Gonna give it a shot. No idea if I’ll track him down, though.” He buzzed Lu Qingmo via snail, briefed her, then asked, “Aunt Mo, can I hunt that creep with what I’ve got?”


    She pondered it. “A mother’s bond runs deep—blood and hair should track her child under normal circumstances. But her kid’s a ghost infant now. It’s a toss-up—I can’t promise it’ll work. Get back here; I’ll try.”


    “On my way.”


    Ghost infants mimicked a child’s form, but they were hollow shells—souls long gone, twisted into controlled monstrosities by dark arts. The man’s memory of “seeing their kid”? A delusion, a flimsy balm for his pain. That child died the moment it was forged.


    “These evil bastards are pure filth,” Yun Duo growled. “Targeting babies—killing nine of them? They belong in hell. Han, I’m coming with you!”


    He shook his head. “If I pinpoint that creep, I’m going solo. He’s a Day Wanderer—I’d be worried about you. I’m safer alone.”


    Yun Duo wasn’t one to argue senselessly—she got it, though she hated sitting it out. Her wheel zipped off.


    On the carpet, Han gazed over the sprawling land and boundless sky, his expression unreadable—no joy, no grief. That woman’s thanks? Wasted breath. His decision had nothing to do with them. Not pity, not revenge, not some soft spot. The world brimmed with pitiful souls and their tales—none of that was his load to carry. He couldn’t fix it all and never aimed to. To him, they were just two guilty strangers, not worth a ripple in his heart.


    This impulse, this choice? No deep motive, no compassion. He just felt like killing. Plain and simple.


    Live between heaven and earth—act when it suits you, hold back when it doesn’t. Where the mind sparks, the heart follows, and the sword strikes. With this kind of power, why not wield it? Brawl for glory, snatch treasures—sure. When something rubs you wrong, unsheathe and swing—damn straight.


    All he craved was a clean, sharp release. Anyone who soured his day? He’d give them a swift exit. Can’t deliver it now? No biggie—Lord Zhou’s got a grudge list and a long memory. Today’s unfinished business would get settled down the line. Especially this guy—an Impermanence Hall monk, ticking him off just right. With Lu Qingmo’s beef against the Hall, this creep’s clock was ticking.


    The return sweep turned up nada—expected. If Han had to nab every Qinghua killer himself, what’s the point of the authorities? Might as well slap a crown on him.


    Back in Black Cloud, he and Yun Duo parted ways. She’d grab Yun Yun, she said, and they’d hunt more culprits together—her way of pitching in since she couldn’t chase a Day Wanderer. Spirited kid.


    Han hit the peach grove, handing the woman’s blood and hair to Lu Qingmo. She got to work. He had tracking sorcery—bits and pieces from big shots who’d “gifted” him their wares—but it couldn’t touch her Xuandu Temple skills or cultivation. Best left to the expert.


    Enter the trusty wooden frog. Its tongue twisted, pointing a direction. “It’s working!” Han’s pulse spiked.


    Lu Qingmo nodded. “Mother and child, blood-bound—hard to break. Looks like that creep’s still in Tianyue. Didn’t hightail it last night? He’s not slipping out today.”


    Han took the frog. “Fair warning: if the ghost infant’s wrecked or someone else nabbed it, you’re out of luck. It’s tracking the infant, not the monk.”


    With her caution ringing in his ears, Han flew solo out of Black Cloud again.


    “Time’s up, you twisted punk—I’m coming for you!”