Liang exhaled slowly, watching Tian Shu with a cool, unreadable expression.
"There. Now speak. Begin with the puppets."
Tian Shu lowered himself cross-legged onto the cold stone floor. He closed his eyes briefly, gathering his thoughts. When they opened again, they were calm, resigned—yet sharp as ever.
"The puppets are called Ghost Puppet Generals. They originate from the lost Hollow Puppet Sect of the Western Desolation Realm. The technique that controls them is the Soulthread Binding Art. It uses extracted ridians from dead cultivators, reforged with soul-infused silk. Each puppet is a vessel, guided by my will, tethered to through spirit threads anchored in my dantian."
Liang's eyes glead faintly.
"And the inscriptions?"
Tian Shu nodded. "They're carved with Binding Nether Runes of the Ninth Circle, harvested from the ruins of the Ninefold Tomb in the Yulian Abyss World. That's where I found the scroll."
Liang fell silent for a beat, his gaze unreadable.
Tian Shu continued.
"As for the Ghost Dao technique… it's called Ten Thousand Nether Veins Art . It was passed down from a fragnt of the Black Coffin Sect, sealed beneath the Withered Soul Plateau. It works by planting a spectral root into the soul sea—an anchor to the nether realm. Through this root, one can absorb remnant yin qi and ghostly essence, refining it into power. It strengthens the soul body, allows communion with lingering spirits, and even grants temporary immunity to spiritual attacks. But the root feeds on the cultivator's emotions. If not constantly restrained, it twists the soul into sothing… unrecognizable."
He leaned back slightly, exhaling as if releasing a long-held burden.
"That's everything. The origins, the nas, the risks. You wanted the truth. There it is."
Liang studied him for a long mont, face unreadable. Then, faintly, he smiled.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?"
Tian Shu inwardly sneered but held his tongue.
"If that's all, allow to leave."
Liang's eyes flickered thoughtfully. With a wave of his hand, the universe domain collapsed.
Tian Shu let out a quiet sigh of relief and turned to go—
When—
"Oh, right. There's sothing else."
Tian Shu froze. His heart turned cold. What now, you bastard?
He turned back slowly, forcing a neutral expression.
"What is it?"
Liang's expression remained calm.
"Since we're bound by a soul contract, we can trust each other—to a degree. Don't you think?"
Not a chance, Tian Shu thought bitterly. But aloud, he said, "I suppose."
Liang's lips curved slightly.
"You've taken heavy losses. I doubt you'll be able to rebuild your puppets anyti soon."
Tian Shu's eyelid twitched. He clenched his jaw.
And whose fault is that, you smug bastard?
Liang raised an eyebrow.
"Don't give that look. You attacked first. I was rely defending myself."
Tian Shu nearly exploded on the spot.
"You didn't call back here just to mock … did you?"
Liang chuckled. "I'm not that idle."
"…So?"
Liang stared at him, eyes intent.
"What if I offered you an opportunity—not just to restore your puppets, but to make them stronger than ever?"
Liang waved his hand, and a streak of light flashed through the air.
Tian Shu raised his hand, catching the object mid-air. It was a space ring.
Without delay, he sent his divine sense into it—and his pupils contracted sharply.
Five hundred million elental crystals? No… more.
The glimr of high-grade spirit ores, refined spiritual materials, and ancient treasures practically blinded his senses. A conservative estimate would place the value at over eight hundred million elental crystals.
His gaze snapped to Liang.
"What's the aning of this?"
Liang t his eyes calmly.
"What do you think? I'm giving you another task."
Tian Shu fell silent. He closed his eyes, weighing the offer in the quiet of his mind. When he opened them again, his voice was even.
"Very well. What's the mission?"
Liang's lips curled slightly.
"The sa as the last one."
Tian Shu narrowed his eyes.
"The sa?"
Liang nodded.
"Yes. You are to keep watch over the Heavenly Yin Cliff. Specifically, the inner region."
Tian Shu remained silent, his expression unreadable.
Liang continued, his tone quiet but firm.
"The mont the revenant returns… inform . Imdiately."
Tian Shu's gaze lingered on Liang, the space ring still cradled in his palm.
Eight hundred million elental crystals… that's enough to rebuild the entire Ghost Puppet Legion thrice over. Enough to forge a dao domain, to tread into the Soul Transformation stage without shackles…
His fingers curled slightly around the ring.
And yet—this old fox treats such wealth like pocket change. What else is he hiding? What does he truly want with the revenant?
A flicker of suspicion danced through his mind.
He raised his head, expression composed.
"I understand. I'll watch the cliff. The mont anything stirs, you'll be the first to know."
Liang studied him, as if asuring his soul through his eyes. After a mont, he gave a slow, satisfied nod.
"Good. Then our agreent holds."
Tian Shu bowed slightly.
"It does. For now."
But once my puppets walk again… old man, we'll see who truly pulls the threads.
The wind howled softly across the Heavenly Yin Cliff, carrying with it the sighs of countless lingering spirits. The cliffside trembled with old resentnt, soaked in yin qi so dense that even the light seed hesitant to pierce it.
Liang appeared in the void above, his silhouette a shadow among shadows. With a flick of his sleeve, he pressed two fingers to the center of his brow.
Chi—
A faint ripple pulsed outward, vanishing the mont it appeared. The Spirit Genesis Rune activated.
In the next instant, Liang's essence collapsed inward. His presence, once vast as the heavens and oppressive as a mountain, vanished completely. No spiritual sense could trace him. Not even the laws of heaven and earth acknowledged his existence now.
Liang rarely used this rune. He disliked drawn-out confrontations—too many unknowns, too many shifting variables. He preferred certainty, precision, foresight. But this ti… unpredictability was inevitable.
"Too troubleso for normal use," he murmured to himself. "But necessary here."
He didn't stop there.
With another flick of his fingers, a soft silver glow encased his body. Moonlight scattered like ripples across water—Moon Reflection Light. It cloaked his spiritual fluctuations with the grace of a celestial river, making him indistinguishable from the natural flow of the cliff's ambient qi.
Then ca the third layer—Heavenly Mirror Art. Ethereal strands of light coiled around him, forming mirrored illusions that bent perception itself. Anyone who looked toward him would see nothing—no figure, no ripple, not even a hint of disturbance.
Even if a late-stage Void Return Realm expert stood a re hundred ters away, unless they actively pierced through layered concealnts, they would miss him entirely.
Only after ensuring his stealth did Liang move, drifting silently like a wisp of smoke into the cliff's deeper regions.
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