At this moment, Xiao Ning felt as though he had just claimed a long-desired fortress after a bitter siege, only to see dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon—heralding a force even more terrifying than the last defenders. Victory had barely touched his hands before it threatened to slip through his fingers.
A deep, cold premonition churned in his heart.
If his suspicions were correct, then that woman—Su Jen—would not be satisfied with merely chasing after him and Mei Lin. No, a cultivator of her caliber did not act on whimsy.
Once she set her sights on something, she would not rest until she uprooted it completely.
If she had left a tracking mark on Mei Lin without the latter even noticing, then what of the two Nascent Soul cultivators who had unknowingly played their part in her 'abduction'? Would they have escaped her attention?
Unlikely.
Worse yet, those two were not strangers—they were Elder Zhou and Elder Qian, both of the Shadowclaw Sect… his sect.
If that woman had already marked her path, then the Shadowclaw Sect might very well be her next destination. And if so, she wouldn't be arriving for diplomacy. She would descend like a heavenly executioner.
The notion that she would kill only the two elders and leave the rest of the sect untouched… was laughable.
This woman was not the merciful kind.
From the pure and unblemished earth qi he had sensed upon her arrival, Xiao Ning could immediately dismiss any notion of leniency. Her aura was righteous, ancient, and unwavering—like a sword forged in the heart of the heavens.
That kind of foundation could only belong to a cultivator who walked an orthodox path—righteous.
To someone like her, erasing a sect like Shadowclaw was not murder—it was cleansing rot from the roots of the world.
In this world, righteous cultivators, those aligned with the natural order, and even demonic cultivators with their own twisted honor, all shared one common view:
They despised the Evil Dao.
Given the slightest justification—or none at all—they would strike with thunderous force, leaving corpses in their wake and entire sects turned to ash.
So what options did Xiao Ning have?
Could he fight her directly?
His eyes narrowed.
He was not weak. In fact, he was far stronger than most cultivators in his realm. He possessed numerous secret arts, forbidden techniques, and even some life-saving techniques, Against most Heavenly Tribulation cultivators, he could survive—perhaps even force a stalemate.
But to defeat one outright? Even with all his cards laid bare, he could not say for certain.
And Su Jen… she was not a mere Heavenly Tribulation cultivator.
He had felt it— That terrifying law aura that spilled forth for the briefest moment when she descended from the skies, cloaked in golden radiance.
It had not been the pressure of a cultivator approaching Divine Transformation—it had been the pressure of one who had already stepped across the threshold.
Even if she was concealing her true realm… even if she was injured… she was at least an early-stage Divine Transformation cultivator.
The gulf between the Heavenly Tribulation stage and the Divine Transformation realm was like the difference between a mortal and a Nascent Soul. One stood on the peak of the mortal path, while the other had already begun to grasp the truths of the immortal way.
Even a wounded Divine Transformation cultivator could crush most Nascent Soul experts with a wave of the hand. And Xiao Ning… for all his brilliance and preparation, knew that such an enemy was not something he could resist alone.
His hands clenched into fists behind his back.
Time was running out. The Shadowclaw Sect might already be marked for destruction.
In the cultivation world, strength was more than just personal might—it was the currency of dominion, the foundation upon which authority was built. A lone cultivator at the Spirit Awakening Realm, though weak in the eyes of the great sects, could still stand unrivaled within a small city, commanding respect as a guardian or silent overlord.
A step higher, a Foundation Establishment cultivator could control an entire kingdom of mortals, reigning as king or hidden sage-emperor, their lifespan and mystical arts placing them beyond the reach of mundane rulers.
Those who reached the Core Formation stage were no longer bound to petty borders. Such beings could lay claim to an entire province—thousands of miles of fertile land, mountain ranges brimming with spirit veins, and countless sects and clans who would bow before a single flick of their sleeve.
Upon stepping into the Nascent Soul stage, one's divine sense could stretch across the skies, and the heavens themselves would part at their command. These were cultivators capable of carving out a vast dominion—half a continent, or even more—governing dozens of sects and commanding entire armies of lesser cultivators like chess pieces on a board.
But above them all stood the Heavenly Tribulation Realm experts, whose very presence could shift the fate of nations. These cultivators stood on the precipice of ascension. If they so wished, they could bend the will of an entire world, becoming revered as immortal emperors, guardian saints, or living deities whose names echoed across oceans.
And beyond even them—aloof and nearly mythical—stood the Divine Transformation cultivators.
Such figures were no longer of the mortal world. Their comprehension of the Dao, mastery of laws, and cultivation of essence allowed them to traverse the void between stars. A single Divine Transformation cultivator could preside over an entire cultivation realm composed of countless worlds and lesser heavens, ruling from atop celestial palaces as a true sovereign among immortals.
Where they walked, space bowed. Where they gazed, the laws of nature themselves trembled.
To reach this stage was to leave behind the bindings of the mortal coil—and to become something far closer to a true god.
"You don't intend to return to the sect… do you?"
Mei Lin's soft voice broke through the silence, tugging Xiao Ning back from the depths of his thoughts.
He blinked once, slowly, then gave a cold laugh.
"Return? That would be no different than delivering my own head on a platter."
There was no emotion in his voice. Just a cold, pragmatic truth.
Mei Lin's lips curled into a bitter smile.
She had expected as much. And yet, hearing it aloud still stirred something in her heart.
She understood the danger. She too had sensed that the Shadowclaw Sect stood on the precipice of annihilation. And she knew, perhaps better than anyone else, that the man standing before her—though wearing Li Fang's face—was no longer the same man she once knew.
If the real Li Fang still lived… he would have returned.
Even if the heavens fell, even if the sect was already aflame, he would have flown straight into the fire without hesitation. That was who he was—stern, loyal, and unbearably foolish when it came to his people.
But the man who stood beside her now…
He was not Li Fang. Not truly.
And she had known this from the beginning.
That day, months ago—when Li Fang's soul perished and Xiao Ning seized his body—Mei Lin had felt it. She had felt the death of her Dao Companion in the severing of their spiritual bond. And though Xiao Ning had mimicked him well in the early days, the difference was too stark to remain hidden forever.
This man's eyes were too calm. Too calculating.
"…If it had been Li Fang," she muttered in low voice, "he would have returned. Even if it meant dying."
Xiao Ning said nothing.
Mei Lin's eyes turned toward the distant sky, her voice growing colder.
"People say the Evil Path is heartless. That its cultivators only care for power, stepping on friend and foe alike to climb higher." She paused, then gave a faint laugh. "But that's not entirely true, is it?"
"There were bonds. Friendships. Even love. It was twisted, sometimes, but it was there. Li Fang… wasn't heartless."
Although Xiao Ning remained silent, but Mei Lin caught the faintest flicker of disdain in his eyes.
She didn't press the point. She merely exhaled and looked down at her own hands.
"I don't blame you for not going back. Even I'm not sure what I'd do, if I were in your place."
Xiao Ning remained silent.There was no point in comforting lies. The Shadowclaw Sect had long been teetering on a blade's edge. This time, the fall would be final.
He turned away slightly, staring into the mist that drifted between the cliffs.
To him, the sect had always been a means to an end—a stepping stone upon the long road of cultivation. If avoiding calamity required casting it aside, then he would do so without hesitation or regret.
Better a shattered sect than a buried corpse.
A faint mountain breeze swept through the gorge, stirring Mei Lin's robes and lifting a few stray strands of her hair.
She stood in silence for a moment longer, then slowly turned her gaze toward the horizon—the direction of the Shadowclaw Sect.
"I'll go."
Xiao Ning did not turn to look at her. "To the sect?"