Was the Shenjian Manor completely wiped out three years ago? In the scorching early autumn, with the sun blazing high, everyone felt a chill run through their spines, as though icy snakes were crawling up their backs. A manor that no longer existed three years ago—now, three years later, had entrusted the courier service to transport a coffin to the manor. Truly a haunting tale. Zhang Yuanqing glanced around at his "family"—Chen Wei and Zhao Youcai, the two fire masters, their eyes wide with shock clearly etched on their faces. The enigmatic, mesmerizing spirit, Zhu Peiran, stood with her brows furrowed, a fierce expression on her face, as though a wild beast had been startled, reacting with sudden aggression. Even the usually composed and serious Chen Xue dao looked suddenly serious. "It's impossible!" Zhao Youcai exclaimed. "The Shenjian Manor was, at the very least, a well-known power in the martial world. If it was wiped out three years ago, why haven't we heard any word of it?" "Though the Yellow Banner Courier Agency and the Divine Sword Manor have never had any direct contact and are located far apart, couriers are people who travel all over the country—such a significant matter could hardly have gone completely unnoticed. Zhang Yuan nodded with clear understanding, immediately opening his star-eyed gaze to examine Cai Gui. While illusionists could shift forms endlessly—sometimes even evading the keen perception of scouts—the art of stargazing could reveal the truth. Appearance might change, but the destiny palace remained immutable. Zhang Yuan had already reviewed the facial features of all the couriers the day before, thus memorizing Cai Gui’s destiny palace. —During that earlier examination, he had not noticed any signs of bloodshed or disaster for Yang Shuo or Wang Pingle, which was precisely why he was so astonished this morning. Since Cai Gui’s destiny palace remained unchanged, the issue lay with Cai Gui himself. Zhang Yuan nodded silently, composed. Chen Xue dao received the signal from his adopted son, no longer doubtful, yet his brow grew even more furrowed. He glanced around his children, his tone low. "What do you all think?" Zhao Youcai: "We should certainly go and investigate the Divine Sword Manor." Chen Wei: "Exactly! No matter what supernatural forces are at play, I’ll set the whole place on fire." Zhu Peiran: "The reputation of Huang Qi Courier Agency must not be compromised." Chen Xuedao sighed silently and looked at his youngest adopted son, Lin Ci. "Ci, what do you think?" If the information is true, then the fact that the God-Sword Manor's entire family had been wiped out three years without any news is quite puzzling—dramatically raising the complexity of the plot. Chen Xuedao and his companions must have been misled by the Lingjing realm, thus unaware of the God-Sword Manor's disaster. Based on my understanding of the Lingjing realm, this journey is likely not fictional. It's probably a real event—the historical God-Sword Manor likely faded quietly without a trace. I wonder what became of Huangqi Diaoju back then... Zhang Yuanqing's thoughts raced as he heard Chen Xuedao's question, and with a touch of hesitation, he replied, "Master Xuanyu seems unwilling to reveal the details. It seems there's something more going on. Father, do you think his words are reliable?" Chen Xuedao said, "Master Xuanyu has been my close friend for many years." Implied was his confidence in Master Xuanyu's information. Xuan Yu was a peripheral character in the quest, with only a tangential connection to the current escort mission—indeed, there was no real need to spread false rumors. Zhang Yuanqing grew more and more convinced that the mysterious massacre at Shen Jian Manor had actually occurred. He said, "We've already boarded the ship of the thieves. Now, if we abandon the escort, it would not only damage the reputation of our agency but also leave us with the difficult task of handling the deadly contents inside the coffin—how could we possibly bring it back to our agency? Moreover, we haven't yet collected the remaining funds. In my opinion, we should deliver the coffin to Shen Jian Manor." To me, however, however strange Shen Jian Manor might seem, that remains a matter for the future. Our immediate priority is to complete the quest objectives and eliminate the hidden enemies. Zhang Yuanqing's reasoning was clear and well-structured. Chen Xue Dao nodded slightly, "That makes sense." While both he and Lin Ci advocated sending the escort, Lin Ci's argument was well-reasoned and thorough, in contrast to the two sons and one daughter, who only relied on sheer personal courage. Zhang Yuanqing sensed that Zhu Peiran was looking During these days of interaction, he noticed that Lin Ci and Zhu Peiran had a strained relationship; as the eldest brother, Zhu Peiran rarely initiated conversations with him. Clearly, he did not particularly enjoy this seventh brother. This incident deepened the镖 team's sense of weight and gravity—faces now carried less smiles, more unease and alertness. However, under Chen Xue dao's steady presence, and given that most of them were accustomed to surviving on the edge of danger, few showed any hesitation. After lunch, under Chen Xue dao's guidance, the镖 team found a small stream, cleaned their horses' noses, replenished with fresh water, and resumed their journey southward. At full speed, they covered ground swiftly—within just three hours, they encountered two waves of bandits. The first wave was modest, consisting of about thirty men. Zhu Peiran led four riders directly into the midst of them, routing them with swift, decisive attacks. The bandit leader, a swordsman of extraordinary realm, was utterly helpless against the sage-stage spirit-being that exerted influence over him, and was beheaded by a single stroke. The second wave of bandits was much larger—over a hundred men, with twenty horses, several dozen bows, each equipped with a fine iron longsword. Their leader was a water spirit at the Sainter level. Their armed forces could directly assault the county town. Though Chen Xue dao was a land monster, he was remarkably resolute in temperament and refused to pay passage fees. He ordered three of his sons and his daughter to lead ten riders into battle, and they completely routed the bandits. By evening, the sky suddenly turned overcast, vast dark clouds surged in, blocking out the sunlight, accompanied by strong winds. "Hoo-hoo~" The wind whipped up dust and grass fragments along the official road, lifting them into the sky. The entire sky grew dark, the heavy, dense clouds pressing down on the heads with an unusually oppressive weight. The rain came at the wrong time... Zhang Yuanqing looked up at the sky and felt his heart sink. On horseback, Zhu Peiran shouted, "Father, it's going to rain soon—look at the sky, it will likely be a downpour. The rainproof cloths may not be enough to protect the talismans and array on the coffin." "Chen Xuedao glanced back at the black coffin, 'Let's add another layer of water-resistant cloth.' Zhu Peiran shook his head, 'It will hold for a while, but not through the night.' Chen Xuedao frowned. While he could summon the spirits of loess to form a thick shell on the coffin's surface, the resulting strength would be immense—too heavy for the horses to pull. Without the loess spirits, the ordinary soil shell would be washed away instantly by heavy rain. The team's镖masters were primarily composed of earth monsters and scouts, with no water spirits among them. At that moment, Chen Wei pointed excitedly toward the distance and called out, 'Dad, there's a place to rest ahead!' Following her gesture, they saw a dilapidated charitable hall standing on the open plain, with a single row of eaves and a small courtyard, the entire structure appearing gray and black. It stood quietly beneath the overcast sky, exuding an indescribable sense of solemnity and gloom. Yet for these itinerant镖masters, in the midst of a remote wilderness, it was already the ideal place to rest. Chen Xue dao's expression relaxed slightly. "I'll stay overnight at the charitable hall for shelter from the rain." The escort team immediately took the winding path through the overgrown grass, their horses galloping swiftly toward the charitable hall. The hall had stood for some time—its heavily weathered gate covered with rust holes, the plaque's characters partially peeled off and draped with cobwebs, the foundation of the courtyard wall thickly covered in moss. It presented a scene of quiet decay and desolation. Yet it had not been abandoned. Along the official road, such charitable halls served as vital social welfare facilities in this era, specifically housing travelers who died far from home. Periodically, officials would bring their families to retrieve the remains. The镖masters swiftly untied the ropes, lowered the coffin, and disengaged the horses, then set the flat cart aside, leading the horses and carrying the coffin into the hall. As they passed through the narrow courtyard and opened the drafty lattice gate, the镖masters entered. Just as Fang stepped inside, Zhang Yuanqing immediately detected an unpleasant, offensive odor of decay. His gaze swept across the Yi Zhuang, and there were no rooms—only six upright pillars supporting a single, elongated roof, beneath which stood six or seven thin coffins, their surfaces faded and blackened, exuding a putrid odor. The bodyguards tied their horse reins, cleared dust from the ground, and began their tasks. Zhang Yuanqing handed his horses to one of them and quietly activated his Star-Eye, observing each of the bodyguards' facial expressions. Though yesterday's experience had taught him that the art of star reading could not reveal the lives or deaths of these NPCs, he still went through the motion out of habit. "Still nothing out of the ordinary. I can't detect any danger among the bodyguards. It must be the spiritual realm blinding my perception. But why would the spiritual realm do this?" "The Dream-Weavers hidden in the shadows will surely act again tonight. The Dream-Weavers are truly troublesome—dreams and illusions are relentless and impenetrable." "Compared to the evil professions, the mesmerizing spirits are more appealing—while the toxic and curse-casting gū-wu-shī are less favored, they're still not as unpleasant as the dream-wielders. Chen Xue dao knows the party has been under the watch of the dream-wielder, yet he still dares to spend the night at the Yì Zhuāng. What gives him the confidence? Is it sheer skill and courage, or does he simply have some backing? "I only hope the Dream Master is at the early stage of Level 6, so I still have a chance to stand against him. If he's at the peak of Level 6, it will be dangerous. These individuals are among the strongest right after the Elders." As he thought this, Zhang Yuanqing felt a growing weight in his heart. He drew out his assigned blade, using its sharp, reflective surface as a mirror to examine his own appearance. The moment he looked, his face changed instantly. Blood-like light surged vividly across his eyebrows and eyes! In the star-reading prophecy, bloodlight signifies a life-or-death crisis—should one fail to overcome it, death follows. Oh no—has my cover been exposed? Does the Dream Master know I'm a Spirit Realm traveler and plans to strike me tonight? Or have I been chosen as the sacrificial offering by mere chance? Zhang Yuanqing's heart raced, adrenaline surged, and his body responded with a natural physiological stress reaction. Then, he took a deep breath, calmly suppressing all emotions, and quietly opened his inventory and clan warehouse, focusing on the items and materials within. He paused for several seconds, his gaze lingering on the ten golden bars. Then he closed the inventory and the clan warehouse, stepped close to Chen Xue dao, and spoke softly: "Uncle, I'll have a blood-related disaster tonight." Chen Xue dao glanced at him and said slowly: "Dealing with the Dream Master is simple—just wake up." Wake up? How? The Dream Master has another skill called Dream Sovereign... Zhang Yuanqing frowned, thinking. Without further ado, he hurried after Zhao Youcai and rushed out of the Yi Zhuang. The black clouds thickened rapidly, and the sky grew completely dark. The wind howled loudly, piercing the windows and doors with an unsettling, sharp cry. Just a few minutes after the team of wood-collectors had started out, a downpour began. Large raindrops pattered against the roof tiles, then dripped steadily along the eaves, forming a clear, shimmering curtain. When the wind blew, the drops scattered like flying petals and shattered pearls. Chen Xue dao stood beneath the eaves, silent and motionless, gazing at the storm without speaking. "Dad, what are you thinking about?" Chen Wei approached with a cheerful step. "Don't worry—our convoy is large. Whether it's the Divine Sword Manor or the Sword Sage Manor, as soon as you give the word, I'll have my men clear them out." Chen Xue dao turned to look at his daughter, his usually stern expression softening. "Don't be too hasty!" At that moment, several figures carrying bundles of wood hurried in, heads bowed, and dashed into the Yi Zhuang—Zhao Youcai and Lin Ci "Uncle, we're back! We arrived just as the rain was coming down, and if we hadn't come back sooner, the wood would have been completely soaked." Zhao Youcai rushed into the ancestral hall, tossing aside the half-wet logs and shouting, "Good thing we have so many people—there should be enough wood." The fire soon flared up. The messengers collected rainwater in iron pots, set them over the fire, added dried meat and salt, and served a steaming pot of broth with steamed buns. After eating, the messengers settled in silence, sitting around the fire. With the two previous nights' incidents involving missing messengers, no one dared to sleep—there was a palpable sense of tension. The rain outside poured heavily, and the wind grew stronger. The aging doors and windows of the ancestral hall trembled slightly in the gusts. Zhang Yuanqing sat cross-legged at the entrance, completely relaxed, while his younger sister, half-leaning against him, dozed off, her eyes half-open, as if she might fall asleep at any moment. Ah, now I understand why Zhuo Piren doesn't like Lin Ci—even if he's slow, he should be able to sense the close bond between Chen Wei and Lin Ci... Zhang Yuanqing mused. As for whether Zhuo Piren has noticed the greenish hue on his head, he wasn't sure. After all, Zhuo Piren is a more strategic, reserved kind of enchanting spirit, not a fire master. Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blows in, rattling the panel door of the Yi Zhuang with a loud "clunk," raindrops and wind rushing in, causing the bonfire to sway violently. Zhang Yuanqing, already tense, swiftly turns around to see the storm raging outside, the night dark and heavy—otherwise, everything seems normal. Startled me—Zhang Yuanqing mused, rising to close the door. Just as he finishes closing it and turns back, he suddenly stops. The fire crackles softly, and the messengers seated around it, all now leaning forward with their eyes closed, appear to have fallen asleep—among them, Chen Xue Dao and the four Saint-level masters, Zhuo Piren included. Have they all been pulled into dreams? Zhang Yuan's pupils constricted sharply. At the same time, in the dark corner of the family estate, the black coffin emitted the sound of fingernails scraping against the lid. "Creak... creak..." Then, the lid slowly lifted, revealing a pale, corpse-stained, deep-blue ghostly hand that grasped the edge of the coffin.