After a few slip-ups, Han finally churned out three more Reverse Fate Pills. By then, night had already fallen.


    He handed one to An Lang.


    Ghosts didn’t scarf down pills like living folks. They “ate” the qi, the energy—not the physical shell.


    In the mortal world, during annual offerings to the dead, if a departed soul had turned into a ghost, they’d quietly siphon the essence of the food from a plane unseen by the living.


    As An Lang sucked in the pill’s power, the Reverse Fate Pill slowly dulled, losing its sheen. Once every drop of potency was drained, moldy patches bloomed across its surface. With a light press, it crumbled to ash.


    “Feels pretty wild,” An Lang said, patting herself with a bemused look.


    She’d died around sixteen and spent five years in that lamp. If her mortal and ghostly lifespans stitched together seamlessly, she’d be twenty-one now.


    Glancing over, she caught Han smearing something on the remaining two pills—thick, gooey, yellowish stuff, maneuvered with his mental focus to coat them entirely.


    “Young Master, what’s that for?”


    “Giving the Reverse Fate Pills a disguise,” Han said. “Can’t just hand them out looking like this—they’d scream trouble.”


    A pill this shady? One glance, and anyone would know it was bad news.


    His cover? The beast honey. Slathered on thick, it masked the pill’s true nature. Unless someone probed hard, who’d guess what lurked beneath?


    Evil pill?


    Don’t slander me.


    It’s a candy drop—sweet as can be. Tell me it’s not delicious.


    Once the “candy” was ready, Han zipped off to deliver one to Bai Tian.


    “Master, this is a pill I snagged from Zuo Tianzheng. I tried one myself—pretty useful. Thought it might do you some good too.”


    Bai Tian was in his forties. Sure, as a True Blood warrior, forty was still young, but Han figured he could use a little extra “youth.”


    At first, Bai Tian waved it off, insisting Han keep it for himself.


    “Don’t worry, Master. Zuo Tianzheng had a stash of these things. Even if I give one to Senior Sister and the others, I’ve still got plenty left.”


    After some coaxing, Bai Tian relented and popped the pill.


    He didn’t even inspect it closely—just trusted Han implicitly.


    Of course, his realm helped too. He could sense if something was off or harmful in an instant. The pill felt fine—fragrant, promising, a clear winner.


    Once it kicked in, his eyes widened.


    “It’s like my body’s shed a few years. For a martial artist below True Blood, this could rewind them to peak condition—huge boost for cultivation.”


    Bai Tian’s insight was spot-on.


    Han nodded. “That’s about the gist of it.”


    Bai Tian beamed at him. “This could offset some of the downsides of your age, let your talent really shine. It’s a big deal for you.”


    “Zuo Tianzheng, huh? Royal stock sure comes with some fancy goodies.”


    “…”


    Oh yeah, good ol’ Lord Zuo—loaded and generous to a fault.


    Dead Lord Zuo? Even better.


    Back at the peach grove, Han bounded over to Lu Qingmo, buzzing with excitement.


    “Aunt Mo, I’ve got something awesome—and tasty!”


    Bai Ruoyue and the others were still young; he’d whip up more for them tomorrow.


    “Tasty? What is it?”


    “Open your mouth—I’ll feed it to you.”


    Han didn’t dare hand the pill over outright. Lu Qingmo was a cultivator and knew alchemy. If she gave it a quick scan, he’d be toast.


    Bai Tian had eaten his without a second thought—he didn’t know pills from pebbles.


    This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Lu Qingmo stared, bemused. “Feed me?”


    “What is it? I can handle it myself.”


    “It’s seriously good, Aunt Mo. Trust me, I’m not messing around.”


    She shook her head. “I’m not saying you’d pull something—just that ‘feeding’ sounds a bit odd.”


    “But if it’s a trick and it tastes awful, you’re in for it.”


    Translation: she was game.


    Her lips parted slightly, though her gaze flicked away, feeling a little ridiculous. At her age, getting fed like this?


    Han hadn’t expected her to roll with it so easily.


    “Aunt Mo, a bit wider—I can’t get it in.”


    In a flash, he slipped the pill into her mouth, his fingers brushing her lips in the process.


    Before she could protest, she was already refining the flood of energy surging through her.


    Once it settled, she pieced together its effects.


    “A pill? With this kind of power?”


    “What else?” Han grinned. “Not like it’s a candy drop.”


    “It does feel like one, though—you coated it in honey. This’d be better for you to take.”


    “I already had one.”


    Lu Qingmo was puzzled. Why slap honey on a perfectly good pill?


    “Someone’s coming tonight,” she said, shifting gears.


    “Who?”


    “The Saintess of Pure Truth Palace.”


    Speak of the devil—right on cue, a gentle voice called from beyond the grove, requesting an audience with the host.


    Lu Qingmo invited her in. Han tilted his head. “What’s the Pure Truth Saintess doing here?”


    “When she first arrived in Black Cloud Town, she sent word she’d visit me when she had time. Looks like she picked tonight.”


    A figure approached, and Han clammed up, curiosity simmering.


    The Pure Truth Saintess stepped into view, and wow—she was a vision. Calling her a celestial fairy wouldn’t be a stretch. Her grace was unmatched, her beauty otherworldly, yet she radiated warmth, not aloofness. One look, and you couldn’t help but like her.


    Every inch of her was perfection.


    But as Han took her in, his mind drifted to the woman he’d met that morning at the martial hall.


    Comparing them, he realized they were neck and neck.


    That sparked a flicker of suspicion. Who could stand toe-to-toe with the Pure Truth Saintess? That stranger’s identity had to be something big.


    While Han mulled it over, the Saintess finished a quick chat with Lu Qingmo and turned to him with a radiant smile.


    “Greetings, Young Master Zhou.”


    Han snapped back, addressing her as “Saintess.”


    “Just call me Jiang Yanyao,” she said lightly.


    He nodded, then stepped back, letting her and Lu Qingmo talk. He didn’t know her, after all.


    “How’s your master been these years?” Lu Qingmo asked warmly.


    “She’s doing well. She still mentions you often,” Jiang Yanyao replied.


    Her master—last generation’s Saintess—was Lu Qingmo’s old friend, a tidbit she’d shared with Han yesterday.


    Barring any twists, every Pure Truth Saintess was destined to become Palace Master, ruling over this top-tier lineage.


    So this woman before him? Future lord of the Pure Truth Palace.


    The Saintess gig didn’t come with a set term. A new Saintess had to emerge before the current one stepped down.


    Sometimes decades passed without a change; other times, a new Saintess took over in just a few years.


    If the reigning Saintess hit the level to run the palace and no new one showed up, she’d appoint a proxy Saintess after taking the throne. The real title stayed vacant until a true successor appeared, and the proxy got the boot.


    Quality over quantity—no compromises.


    If two Saintesses were close in age, the Palace Master role got a fixed term. Once the previous Saintess hit her limit—even if she was still in her prime—she’d step aside for the current one, roughly her peer.


    The big reason? The palace’s immortal artifact, the Tai Su Mysterious Truth Diagram.


    Per Lu Qingmo, this thing was a live wire—way more active than the dormant artifacts other top factions enshrined.


    Becoming a Pure Truth Saintess had two hurdles: outshine all your generation’s true disciples and earn the Diagram’s nod.


    The first could wait—the second was the dealbreaker.


    Even a fresh recruit could be tapped as Saintess if the artifact picked her.


    It’d happened before—a little girl, barely through the gate, not even started on cultivation, and the Diagram flew right to her, locking her in as Saintess.


    Some schemers caught wind and tried sending spies, hoping to snag the artifact’s favor and seize the palace.


    No dice. Never worked. The Pure Truth Palace stood like a fortress, thriving stronger every day.


    Get the artifact’s blessing, train up a bit, and crushing your peers became a breeze.


    A new Saintess always became the previous one’s disciple—no one else could claim her.


    Outsiders had no clue how the Diagram picked its girls, but its taste was flawless. Every Saintess turned into a world-class powerhouse, fiercely loyal to the palace, no exceptions.


    That made the Pure Truth Palace a rare beast—zero infighting over the Saintess or Palace Master roles. Cut out a ton of internal rot.


    No point in fighting; the Diagram called the shots.


    Some grumbled, sure, but their opinions didn’t count.


    The Palace Master wielded the artifact; the up-and-coming Saintess got its protection.


    Troublemakers couldn’t pull any strings.


    Over a millennium, the palace had fully embraced this system.


    In Pure Truth, the artifact was infallible—its authority towered over everyone.


    A quirky lineage, no doubt.


    Lu Qingmo and Jiang Yanyao kept the vibe light. Every so often, Jiang tossed a comment Han’s way, peppering him with praise.


    After about half an hour, the Saintess bid her farewell and left.


    “Aunt Mo, what’s Jiang Yanyao’s cultivation level?” Han asked, curiosity piqued. “I couldn’t read her at all.”


    Lu Qingmo shook her head. “Neither could I.”


    “But a Pure Truth Saintess always dual-cultivates dao arts and martial paths—it’s been that way for every generation.”


    “Even you can’t tell?” Han said, shocked.


    “Saintesses carry the artifact’s power as a shield. How could I see through an immortal artifact?”


    She sighed. “Across the world, only Pure Truth Saintesses get this perk—every one of them travels with immortal power guarding them.”


    Other top factions had their moments—some prodigy might catch an artifact’s eye and score a protective boost.


    But none did it as consistently as Pure Truth.


    No one else could copy that trick.


    Reviving an artifact or tapping its power wasn’t child’s play.


    “Pure Truth Saintess—now that’s a cushy gig,” Han said, a touch envious.


    Wonder if they’d bend the rules and take a Saint Son for once?


    “Good or bad, that’s up for debate,” Lu Qingmo replied.


    “You know there’s a legend about Pure Truth among the top factions?”


    “What’s that?”


    She spoke slowly, “Every Pure Truth Saintess… they’re all the same person.”


    “All just reincarnations of the palace’s founder.”


    Han’s eyelid twitched. “No way, really?”


    “Just a rumor—no one’s ever proved it,” Lu Qingmo said, shaking her head.


    “But the Tai Su Mysterious Truth Diagram’s antics do lend it some weight.”


    “All the same person…”


    A chill crept up Han’s spine. That was downright eerie.