The sword-lights of the patrol disciples cut through the air overhead and gradually faded into the distance.
Mo Fan lay absolutely still in the dirt for a full half-hour, enduring the damp, earthy smell of the undergrowth...
Until every last trace of their spiritual fluctuations had dissolved into the night wind.
Only then did he cautiously activate [ Death Vision ], sweep the area for several hundred meters in every direction...
And confirm that not a single blazing red dot remained.
He exhaled a long, slow breath.
That was almost it.
Mo Fan parted the thorny shrub branches in front of him with painstaking care and eased his head out.
Flying was absolutely out of the question.
This was peak patrol hours—hovering in the open sky would be the same as painting a target on himself.
Damn it, 003. You useless pile of bones...
Mo Fan hunched low and began creeping along the edge of the mountain path, using tree shadows and rock formations for cover, inching his way downward.
I swear to every ancestor I have—if I ever turn on "autopilot" while flying again, I deserve whatever happens to me.
Next time this brainless skeleton might deliver me straight into the Sect Master's bedroom! Or some ancient monster's!
He worked his way through several clusters of buildings, moving by moonlight and sheer stealth, narrowly avoiding disaster at every turn.
In the course of this deeply involuntary sightseeing tour, Mo Fan had to admit—Sunset Peak was nothing like Hundred Forging Peak.
The vegetation here was lush and ancient. Spirit herbs grew wild along the roadsides, faintly luminous in the dark.
Streams trickled through the forest, and small animals with bright, spiritually-aware eyes darted between the trees—the kind that, given enough time and ambient spiritual energy, would naturally evolve into low-tier monsters.
More importantly, the concentration of Heaven and Earth Spiritual Qi here was extraordinary.
Every breath felt clean and invigorating. It was easily on par with the Sect's Main Peak.
No wonder disciples fight tooth and nail to get into places like this.
Mo Fan breathed in the dense spiritual energy around him and shook his head slowly.
Cultivating in a blessed land like this, even a pig would make twice the progress with half the effort.
And then there's Hundred Forging Peak—where not even birds bother to nest. The difference is astronomical.
He was nearly through the last stretch of open forest, almost ready to use the natural slope of the mountain to slip out of Sunset Peak's territory entirely—
When a chorus of bright, chirping voices drifted up from the path below. Laughter. Chatter.
The sound of a flock of sparrows coming home to roost.
Again?!
Mo Fan's chest tightened.
With the practiced reflex of someone who had been doing this all night...
He threw himself sideways and thudded face-first into a dense patch of spirit grass beside the path.
He held his breath and peered through the gaps in the leaves.
A long, winding procession of young female cultivators was making its way up the mountain path.
They moved in small clusters of three and four, most of them carrying scripture scrolls or cultivation tools, talking and laughing freely.
Through [ Death Vision ], their life-flames burned at a moderate level—mid to late Qi Condensation, the lot of them. Not a Foundation Establishment aura among them.
Looks like regular disciples coming back from evening classes. They haven't mastered sword-flight yet, so they're walking back to their quarters in groups.
These were clearly the most relaxed they'd been all day.
They strolled at a leisurely pace, stopping and starting, their conversation drifting from which Sect Elder was the strictest to what new cosmetics had arrived at the market.
The chatter swirled around Mo Fan's ears in an endless, cheerful stream.
Mo Fan lay rigid as a plank of wood, face pressed into the damp soil...
Enduring the occasional insect crawling across the tip of his nose, not daring to twitch so much as a finger.
Mercifully, this group had the situational awareness of sleepwalking sheep.
Not one of them noticed the fully grown man lying in the shadows less than two meters from their feet.
Time crawled by. The night deepened.
The procession of silhouettes on the mountain path gradually thinned out, the main group moving further away.
In Mo Fan's perception, only a handful of straggling red dots remained behind him.
He quietly flexed his stiff limbs, bracing himself. The moment these last few pass, I'm gone.
But then the last few figures drew closer, and in the clear moonlight, Mo Fan's gaze swept across one of them.
His pupils contracted slightly.
This world is really, genuinely, absurdly small.
He let out a deeply exhausted internal groan.
Of the three female cultivators bringing up the rear, the one walking in the middle was someone Mo Fan knew without question.
Shen Qiu.
She looked nothing like she had at the Outer Sect tournament. Gone was the fitted, combat-ready attire.
In its place was Sunset Peak's standard moon-white flowing robe, her cascade of dark hair pinned up with a single plain white jade hairpin.
Stripped of the arena's cold hostility, standing in the moonlight...
She looked less like a wall of ice and more like a refined young woman from a distinguished family—composed, graceful, quietly beautiful.
By the looks of it, among all the Elders who'd extended invitations, the Ice Queen had apparently decided that Sunset Peak's deep foundations suited her best.
"Qiuqiu, come on, walk faster!"
The cultivator to Shen Qiu's left—a round-faced girl with a bright, lively energy named Taozi—tugged at her sleeve with an exaggerated pout.
"I still don't understand that qi-gathering technique the Elder taught today. You have to help me review it when we get back!"
"Exactly! It's your fault for insisting on walking at the back."
Mo Fan lay in the dirt and prayed with every fiber of his being that these young women would just keep moving.
But he had severely underestimated the gossip capabilities of female cultivators.
The round-faced girl leaned in toward Shen Qiu with a conspiratorial gleam in her eye.
"Okay, but seriously, Qiuqiu—that Senior Brother Huang Yun from the Main Peak the other day?"
"He showed interest right in front of everyone! How did you just turn him down without even looking at him? I thought he was pretty handsome, honestly."
At the name Huang Yun, the faint warmth that had settled into Shen Qiu's expression vanished instantly, replaced by a flash of undisguised distaste.
"A lecherous fool." Her voice returned to its characteristic cool clarity.
"He coasts on being the descendant of a Vice Sect Master's Elder, spends his days chasing after romantic nonsense instead of cultivating the Great Dao, and has no real ambition to speak of. He makes me sick just looking at him."
"Oh, our Qiuqiu's standards are so high!"
The tall girl called Moli covered her mouth and laughed, her tone teasing.
"Huang Yun is handsome and well-resourced, and even he doesn't make the cut. So tell me—has your heart already been stolen by that Lu Xiaoqi from the Outer Sect?"
"I heard about him, you know. Apparently that Lu Xiaoqi has no Spirit Root whatsoever, but he's a ruthless guy who'd throw his life away for you without blinking. That's a devoted man!"
Moli sighed with theatrical sympathy. "Such a pity, though. Poor thing got assigned to Hundred Forging Peak. Who knows how badly those unhinged Senior Brothers over there are bullying him right now."
"Y-You—you two are talking complete nonsense!"
A vivid flush of red crept across Shen Qiu's perpetually frost-cold face—a sight so rare it was practically a natural phenomenon.
She stamped her foot and shoved at both of them playfully. "I don't think about him at all! He has absolutely nothing to do with me!"
"Nothing to do with you? Your face is red all the way down to your neck!"
The three girls dissolved into a tangle of laughter and shoving on the moonlit mountain path, the air around them bright with youth.
Mo Fan, face-down in the spirit grass, listened to every word of this exchange with the internal sensation of ten thousand alpacas stampeding through his skull.
Then Moli's expression shifted.
The teasing faded. Her brow furrowed slightly, and her voice dropped to something more serious.
"Actually, Qiuqiu—there's something I need to warn you about. Don't brush it off."
She lowered her voice further.
"A couple of days ago, I was at the Main Peak and I happened to overhear Huang Yun drinking with a few Inner Sect disciples. He was boasting."
She paused.
"He seems to be holding a serious grudge over you rejecting him. He was saying he's going to Hundred Forging Peak in a few days to find that Lu Xiaoqi and teach him a lesson."
Moli exhaled. "He's dressing it up as avenging the 'insult' from the Outer Sect tournament. But really, he wants to cripple the guy—cut off whatever you might feel for him, and make a show of power in front of you at the same time."
Silence fell over the path.
"Is that true?!"
The flush drained from Shen Qiu's face in an instant, replaced by something she couldn't quite hide—a flicker of genuine alarm.
"Huang Yun is Mid-Stage Foundation Establishment! He's going to go pick on a body cultivator who doesn't even have spiritual energy?! Does he have any shame left?!"
She bit down on her lip, her voice tight with anger and something else underneath it.
Taozi seized the moment.
"Right?! That's so disgraceful! Qiuqiu, maybe you should go to Hundred Forging Peak yourself in a few days. Give Lu Xiaoqi a heads-up."
"I—I'm not going anywhere!"
The provocation landed perfectly. Shen Qiu's pride surged back up like a reflex.
She turned her head away stubbornly.
"I already said he has nothing to do with me! If Huang Yun beats him half to death, why should I care?! If you two keep teasing me, I'll hit you both!"
With that, she quickened her pace—practically fleeing...
And the three of them disappeared around the bend in the mountain path, the sound of muffled laughter fading into the dark.
Silence reclaimed the mountain.
Rustle.
The shrubs beside the path parted slowly.
Mo Fan climbed out of the dirt and stood up. He brushed the clinging leaves and mud from his clothes.
His hair was an absolute disaster—a bird's nest would have been more dignified.
But the face beneath the shadow of the trees showed not a single trace of panic.
He narrowed his eyes slightly and rubbed his chin.
Huang Yun. Mid-Stage Foundation Establishment.
Coming to cause me trouble?
Seems like I'm being underestimated again.