Fu's main fortress lies in the western part of Yuanwu Kingdom. This mountain has been long enveloped by a pale purple mist that blocks and surrounds it. Once people enter, they can no longer see clearly; after a while, they begin to weep tears from their eyes and suffer sore throats; if they remain exposed for longer, they eventually succumb to poisoning and die. Although the locals are well aware of the dangers posed by this purple mist, treating it as deadly as a scorpion and never dare to approach it, some outsiders each year still accidentally enter and perish within it. For Fu family, who have long regarded this mountain as their own territory, these mortal deaths are entirely unremarkable. After all, ordinary people simply die—what more can be expected? Moreover, to die under the "Toxic Cloud Purple Mists Array," a carefully orchestrated defense crafted by several array masters summoned and jointly deployed by Fu family, is no small fortune for these ordinary individuals. Yet in recent days, although Zhidao Mountain remains shrouded in mist, this place usually sparsely visited has begun to grow increasingly lively. From time to time, cultivators appear frequently beyond the mist, shouting a few words, then presenting a radiant red item—resembling an invitation—which promptly draws them into the mist, where they vanish. This wasn't Ai'Er being lazy at all—it was simply because it was now the height of summer, and no matter how hard anyone tried to shout for help under the scorching sun, they'd soon run out of strength by mid-morning. Even Master Liu, known for his sharpness and fussiness, noticed Ai'Er's listless demeanor, frowned slightly, and though he murmured a few discontented remarks, merely settled down to diligently work through the thick ledger on the table, tapping away at his yellowwood abacus. Ai'Er lifted his head to gaze at the pale, diffused sky, muttered a few internal complaints to himself, then lowered it again, whispering to himself in a voice barely audible—his listlessness deepened. He was just thinking whether he might slip back to the kitchen unnoticed, to quietly drink a few glasses of cool water and ease the heat building up inside him—when suddenly, the sky darkened, and a cool breeze swept through the surroundings. Ai'Er was startled, and looked up in surprise, only to be taken aback. To their surprise, three strange figures had appeared before them without knowing how. One wore a high-crowned, coarse robe, short and stout, like a large soft ball; another had a shaved head, bare feet, broad shoulders and a strong, beady gaze, standing nearly a full height; the third was bare-headed, tied with a band, with a fierce expression and cold, piercing eyes. "Before Ader could say a word, Liu the掌柜, who had already noticed all that was going on at the door, instantly sprang up like a man in his thirties or forties, leaping to the doorway with a sudden burst, snatching the silver from Ader's hands. Then, with a smile full of deference, he said, 'Yes, Master.' Though deeply resentful of Liu's abrupt actions, Ader could only respond patiently. In his heart, he sighed, lamenting that the reward he had just earned was now being taken away by this stingy man. Had it not been for the fact that he only knew his work as a hotel attendant and that there were only two hotels in the city, he would never have agreed to stay with this harsh man. After venting his strong complaints in his mind, Ader still smiled warmly and guided the three guests into a room on the second floor, then stepped back. 'Hm?' As soon as Ader moved away from the group, the oppressive heat returned, suddenly overwhelming. He touched his forehead, puzzled by what had just happened." But after hesitating and thinking it over, he still went downstairs with a deep sense of puzzlement. A rich spread of wine and dishes was quickly prepared, and Ah Er helped the other servants carry them inside. The three sat quietly on one side of the table, saying nothing. Ah Er glanced at them with some curiosity, and the bearded monk seemed to sense it—suddenly he stared at him coldly. That gaze sent a shiver through him, as if plunged into an icy cavern. Startled, Ah Er immediately bowed low and hurriedly retreated, still trembling with excitement when he reached the inn's entrance, unable to still his racing heart. At that moment, the three inside finally began to speak. "Han, why did you use the haunting technique on a mere mortal? Don't you find that boy unappealing?" the short, stout man said, smiling as he sensed no one outside. "There's nothing special about it. This young waiter also possesses a spiritual root, though not particularly strong. Still, with consistent cultivation, he should reach the Qi Condensation stage at levels three or four without any issue." The long-haired cultivator spoke matter-of-factly. We had come to Zidao Mountain precisely hoping to seize any favorable opportunity during the old master's birthday celebration of the Fu family. If we could win the favor of the major clans or magical sects attending the celebration, our fortunes would surely improve. Alas, as scattered cultivators like ourselves, we are only granted access to the Fu family's stronghold on the birthday day—otherwise, what would be the point of staying here for a full week? The short, stout cultivator sighed, offering a wry smile. "Agreed!" the hairless cultivator nodded coldly, clearly unwilling to speak further. Observing the hairless one's demeanor, the short, stout one exchanged a glance with the bearded man. The bearded man then opened his mouth with a broad smile. "Brother Han, our two brothers only knew we were both going to attend the birthday celebration at the Fu family's stronghold, so we decided to travel together. However, after several days of journeying, we learned that you are also a scattered cultivator of exceptional cultivation. Yet, we have never heard of your name or where you previously trained. We simply don't know why we have never heard of you before," the man said, his large, earnest eyes fixed After the Han cultivator spoke these words, the short, plump man's eyes flashed with brilliance, fixing his gaze on the Han cultivator without blinking. The bearded cultivator remained composed, merely responding calmly: "I used to be a cultivator from Yue State, and only recently moved to Yuanwu State. It's not unusual that you two don't know me." "Yue State! Isn't that under the jurisdiction of the Guilin Sect? Why didn't Brother Han go to Guilin Sect and instead come to our Yuanwu State?" asked the short, plump cultivator, blinking his eyes. "How do you know I haven't been there, Luo Brother? It's simply that I've always been unable to find a path into the sect. Moreover, in Yue State, Guilin Sect has now become dominant, and no other sect cultivators can exist alongside them. That's why I came to Yuanwu State to seek my fortune. I didn't expect, upon arriving here, to hear about the birthday celebration of the Fu family's elder patriarch. This is indeed a rare opportunity, and I certainly won't let it pass." The bearded cultivator said with ease. "Ah, that makes sense. It seems Brother The short, plump man chuckled at this and then stopped asking further questions, beginning to share some rumors he had heard about the immortal cultivation world. After the meal was finished, the bearded cultivator excused himself and went to the adjacent room to rest. As soon as the bearded cultivator stepped out of the room, the short, plump man's previously cheerful expression vanished, replaced instead by a look of growing sternness. Suddenly, he drew out a scroll from his sleeve, pressed his palms together in a series of gestures, and then waved his hand, causing the scroll to expand into a broad sheet of bright white light that completely enveloped the entire room. This was an acoustic insulation scroll! "Luo brother, is what this young man said true? Is he really an independent cultivator?" As soon as Luo's spell was completed, the bald man hurriedly asked, clearly eager to know. "He's definitely not an independent cultivator. More likely, he's a disciple from one of the smaller sects," the short, plump man said, with a cold smile, while gently stroking his thick, fatty chin.