History had proven it time and again: every Saintess chosen by the Tai Su Mysterious Truth Diagram was the perfect fit to carry on the Pure Truth Palace’s legacy and wield its immortal artifact to its fullest.


    No one knew where the rumor about all Saintesses being one person started, but some folks genuinely bought into it.


    Han mulled it over, then spotted a flaw.


    “Hold up—this theory doesn’t really add up, does it?”


    “Forget the past—right now, there are two Saintesses alive at once, past and present. If it’s reincarnation, how could two incarnations exist together?”


    “I can’t answer that one for you,” Lu Qingmo said with a chuckle. “Are you taking a legend seriously now?”


    “…”


    Han went quiet. Weren’t you the one who brought it up?!


    “Yeah, fair—it’s just a story,” he conceded.


    “If you’re into it, though, there’s another legend tied to the Pure Truth Saintesses.”


    “Spill it.”


    “This one actually leaked out from inside the palace. They say when three thousand Saintesses have taken their place, the Pure Truth Ancestor will return as a supreme immortal.”


    Han’s face scrunched up with question marks.


    “Three thousand Saintesses? How many years would Pure Truth need to rack up that many?”


    “That’s way too out there.”


    “Not as out there as you’d think,” Lu Qingmo countered. “Because they’re getting close.”


    “The Pure Truth Palace has been around forever—way longer than Xuandu Temple, longer than most factions in the world.”


    “Close?” Han asked. “What number is Jiang Yanyao, then?”


    “Generation two thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine.”


    “Whoa!”


    Han jolted. He hadn’t realized Pure Truth had already cycled through that many Saintesses. How many eons had they weathered?


    “So, when the next Saintess shows up, the ancestor’s supposed to come back?”


    “It’s a legend.”


    “Even if it’s just a tale, anyone with an agenda’s bound to keep it in mind,” Han said. “The next Pure Truth Saintess is gonna draw a lot of eyes.”


    Legends always had some root, especially one tied to a faction’s founder. It was too big for people to ignore.


    “Who was the Pure Truth Ancestor? How strong was she?”


    “Known as the Tai Su Mysterious Truth Upper Immortal. As for her strength? No clue. After all that time, who could say?”


    Lu Qingmo smiled. “A thousand years from now, you’ll be a legend too.”


    Han rubbed his chin. “True. With my flair, I’m definitely going down in history.”


    Late that night, Han was in his room, quietly burning lifespan, when he caught a stir outside.


    Stepping out, he bumped right into Lu Qingmo.


    “Aunt Mo, sounds like someone’s calling for you?”


    Lu Qingmo stretched out her senses, and her expression shifted instantly.


    “Why’s he here?”


    “Who?”


    “A senior brother from Xuandu Temple. Looks like he’s a Yin Spirit realm elder now.”


    Senior brother?


    Han perked up. Someone from Xuandu Temple!


    Lu Qingmo’s master had five disciples: four official, one nominal. Ahead of her were two senior sisters and a senior brother; behind her, the “slacker” Junior Brother Song.


    But her second senior sister was long dead, and her eldest senior brother—married to the second sister—had vanished years after his wife’s passing, his fate unknown.


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    So this surprise “senior brother” couldn’t be her direct sibling—just a fellow disciple from her generation at Xuandu.


    Lu Qingmo headed out, Han trailing close behind.


    Soon, three figures stepped into the peach grove.


    One was a tall, middle-aged man with a square face and a stern, upright vibe.


    Another was a chubby young guy, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with sharp, lively eyes.


    The last was a handsome, lean youth with a warm, easy smile.


    “Senior Brother Jiang,” Lu Qingmo greeted.


    The middle-aged man studied her briefly, then let out a sigh. “Junior Sister Lu.”


    The two youths beside him bowed at once.


    “Greetings, Uncle Lu.”


    Lu Qingmo glanced at them. “Your new disciples, Senior Brother Jiang?”


    “Jiang Yingyu,” he said, nodding at the chubby one. “A clansman of mine. Took him on three years ago.”


    Then he gestured to the handsome youth. “Wang Zai—not my disciple, but a new dao seed in the temple.”


    A genius on par with what Lu Qingmo once was.


    Han eyed Wang Zai briefly, unbothered, but zeroed in on the chubby kid.


    Jiang Yingyu? Sounds like ‘speaking English.’ Does he have a brother named Jiang Guoyu—‘speaking Chinese’?—out there somewhere?


    “Senior Brother Jiang, rushing to Black Cloud this late—did the temple send you to handle the Black Mountain mess?”


    “A Yin Spirit cultivator like me? Hardly qualified,” Jiang shook his head.


    “With all these factions bringing Yin Spirit and True Blood elders, the temple just sent me to uphold the Ghost God Division’s authority—make sure no one looks down on it and starts breaking rules.”


    “Also to give some temple disciples a taste of the field. A few more came with me, but they’ve gone off to find a place to crash.”


    The Ghost God Division and Xuandu Temple were thick as thieves—the higher up you went, the tighter the knot. State-level division heads were Xuandu disciples, and the big boss at the Jade Capital HQ was one of the temple’s top dogs.


    Lu Qingmo fell quiet for a moment, then nodded.


    “With tensions brewing and heavy hitters piling in, the Ghost God Division could use someone like you holding the fort.”


    Facing off against all those Yin Spirit and True Blood types, she didn’t have much edge. Genius or not, that was the past. Now, stuck at Manifestation realm, she’d inevitably get underestimated.


    Jiang waved it off. “You’re still running Black Cloud’s Ghost God Division—I’m not meddling in the details. Just here to keep the rabble in line.”


    “As for Black Mountain and the Mountain God, the temple elders have their own plans. We don’t need to sweat it—just do our jobs.”


    Xuandu Temple hadn’t shown its face or made a peep, but that didn’t mean they’d forgotten Black Cloud or written off Black Mountain.


    In Great Qi’s turf, what the court could handle, the state religion could too. What the court couldn’t? The religion still had it covered.


    “One more thing—I came with some royal folks. They mentioned the Qi Emperor’s envoy to Black Cloud Town died two days ago. You know anything about it?”


    Han’s heart skipped, but his face stayed blank.


    Here it was—they were sniffing around, and even Xuandu Temple had caught wind.


    Lu Qingmo feigned confusion, then surprise. “Zuo Tianzheng’s dead?”


    “I had no idea. He went into Black Mountain days ago and never came out. Everyone in town figured he was still poking around in there. He died inside?”


    “Is this for real?”


    “Solid intel,” Jiang nodded. “His life-lamp back with the royals snuffed out.”


    “But… he went into Black Mountain?” Jiang frowned, puzzled. “Why would an imperial envoy handpicked by the Qi Emperor go in himself?”


    Lu Qingmo shook her head. “Beats me—I don’t have the details.”


    “Zuo Tianzheng and I weren’t exactly chummy. We’ve had our beef. He wouldn’t clue me in on his plans.”


    “You two had a grudge?”


    “Nothing major—just a little friction. Everyone in Black Cloud knows.”


    Jiang’s brow furrowed. “You haven’t been in Black Mountain lately, right?”


    “Can’t get in,” she said. “Mountain God’s rules—no Manifestation or Marrow Cleansing cultivators allowed.”


    His frown eased. Good enough—no issue there.


    “Did the royals ask you to dig into it?”


    “Nope,” Jiang said. “They just mentioned it to me. But since the emperor’s guy croaked here, the Ghost God Division’s got some duty to help out.”


    “Tomorrow, the royal crew’ll probably swing by to ask you about it. Since you’re in the dark, just play along.”


    “Got it,” Lu Qingmo agreed without hesitation. “I’ll give them my full cooperation.”


    She’d go all out to nab the “culprit”!


    Then she asked, “Any orders from the temple for me this time?”


    Jiang nodded. “Once Black Mountain wraps up, they want you back.”


    “You’re a Xuandu disciple—lingering out here too long without a solid reason doesn’t fly.”


    “I’ll think it over.”


    Truth was, she didn’t need the temple’s nudge—she’d already planned to head back, especially after snagging the Sky-Mending Vine and source stone. That resolve had only hardened.


    The Heavenly Saint Revival Elixir was so close—just one piece left. No way she’d let it slip.


    Whatever the third treasure was, Xuandu Temple’s resources would make tracking it down a breeze.


    Plus, even with all three in hand, refining the elixir needed a top-tier alchemist.


    Her third senior sister, still at Xuandu’s Mysterious Law Mountain, fit the bill perfectly.


    Returning to Xuandu was a no-brainer. It was her ticket to pulling off the elixir.


    With business sorted, silence settled between Lu Qingmo and Jiang, like they’d run out of small talk. Jiang broke it first.


    “This your disciple?” he asked, eyeing Han.


    Jiang Yingyu and Wang Zai turned too, both flashing friendly grins.


    Lu Qingmo shook her head. “I’ve guided Han in dao arts, but I haven’t taken him as a disciple.”


    Hearing Han’s name, Jiang didn’t bat an eye. He’d just rolled into Black Cloud tonight and come straight here—clueless about Han’s rep or talent.


    “Greetings, Senior,” Han said politely.


    Jiang nodded. “It’s late. I just stopped by to see you, Junior Sister Lu. I’ll catch you at the Ghost God Division tomorrow.”


    “Safe travels, Senior Brother Jiang.”


    “No need to see me out.”


    She didn’t—just watched the trio leave.


    “Aunt Mo, you and this Senior Brother Jiang… not exactly tight, huh?” Han ventured.


    Their vibe was all business—zero catching up, straight to the point. Even then, they barely chatted. In and out, brisk as could be. Jiang didn’t even stick around as long as Jiang Yanyao had.


    “His name’s Jiang Hengchuan, from a big clan in Cold Prefecture. Joined Xuandu Temple as a kid,” Lu Qingmo explained.


    “Among our generation, we’re just… acquaintances, really.”


    “Years back, he asked me for the Thunder and Earthfire Seals. The Jiang family offered a hefty price, but I turned them down. After that, our already lukewarm tie got even cooler. Still, he’s a straight shooter—no bad blood over it.”


    “Sending him here makes sense.”


    Han exhaled in relief. Just a neutral connection—no beef.


    How Xuandu’s folks got along with Lu Qingmo mattered a lot. If someone she clashed with had shown up, it could’ve stirred up trouble down the line.