The footsteps were stiff, lacking the lively ease of a living person—more like someone walking with stiffened knees. When Zhang Yuanqing and the others heard them, the footsteps had already reached the door. Unprompted, the person seemed entirely unaware of giving the household any time to react. Was Wang Mingming back? Zhang Yuanqing felt a surge of cold dread, adrenaline racing through him. Instinctively, he opened his inventory, preparing to draw out equipment for battle. Yet in the blink of an eye, he changed his mind, lowering his voice and issuing a brief alert: "Go to bed!" He swiftly rushed toward the bed on the left, while simultaneously guiding the Blood Rose to silently leap onto the upper berth and lie flat. Lady Yin Yao moved immediately, choosing the lower berth on the right, while the Princess chose... Zhang Yuanqing's bed. The red gown slipped gently into Zhang Yuanqing's arms, pressing herself tightly against him, her delicate jade feet beneath the skirt playfully hooking around his legs. The delicate, lingering fragrance seeped into his nostrils, indistinct whether it came from the shampoo or from the young woman's body scent. How utterly enchanting—Zhang Yuanqing thought with a mixture of resignation, slowly adjusting his breathing, pretending to be asleep. According to Article 13 of the Employee Handbook: When unusual noises are heard in the dormitory at night, please lie in bed, pretend to be sleeping, and do not disturb—absolutely do not leave your bed. Among these high-tier rule-based items, Zhang Yuanqing believed that adhering to the rules was safer than engaging in combat. After all, could even the most skilled team possibly surpass a master-level rule-based artifact? The footsteps entered the room. Dun, dun, dun… rigid and heavy, they crossed the threshold and stepped inside. Zhang Yuanqing kept his eyes closed, unable to see the person, nor dared to use his spirit servant’s perspective to observe. From the rhythm of the footsteps, he could vividly imagine the person’s height, weight, and gait. The other person was over two meters tall, weighing more than two hundred kilograms—the heavy footsteps sounded less like a living being and more like a cold, rigid corpse. Once inside the room, the footsteps did not cease but continued to wander around. Thud, thud, thud… it moved between the beds. It knew someone was on the beds; it could see us… Zhang Yuanqing began to form a hunch. Then, he heard the footsteps stop right by his own bed. Immediately, he smelled a damp, putrid odor—like rotting dead mice in the sewer. Without having to look, he knew the thing was watching him, and it was very close. …Zhang Yuanqing slowed his breathing and remained still. About three to five minutes later, the putrid smell faded away, and the thudding footsteps resumed, moving toward the room’s door. The heavy, stiff footsteps stepped out of the room and then echoed down the corridor, eventually fading completely. The four people on the bed were all cunning—still refusing to get up, waiting for a long time, long time. Finally, Zheng Zhi, the Master of the Stopping the Killing, propped herself up against Zhang Yuanqing’s chest, glanced around, and said, “It’s gone.” Only then did Zhang Yuanqing open his eyes. He first took in his surroundings, glanced at the door, checked the windows, and confirmed there was no terrifying monster. Finally, he exhaled in relief. They had successfully avoided one crisis. With a sense of ease, a fresh surge of excitement returned to him—something reminiscent of the eerie, fearful sensation he’d felt during the Yu Ling tunnel incident. “Get moving now. It might return. We’ve already secured part of the rules. It’s time to focus on our real tasks—we don’t have much time,” Zhang Yuanqing reminded himself of his original purpose for coming tonight. At that moment, he realized the Princess had remained in bed, still not getting up. “Are you planning to stay here until morning?” Zhang Yuanqing asked, sounding rather impatient. The Princess, silver-pearled, opened her eyes slowly, raised her small megaphone with confidence Actually, the Princess is quite dogged—both stubborn and timid. Zhang Yuanqing chuckled, “Your modern vocabulary is impressive. If you don’t mind, you can stay here for now. We’ll handle things and come back to find you later.” Princess Yin Yao pretended not to hear his mockery, silently rose, and assumed the demeanor of a mindless corpse. The three, along with the body, swiftly descended the staircase and moved swiftly down a path thick with shrubs, wild grasses, and trees. Under the clear moonlight, the dark room remained utterly silent. The notebook that had been dropped on the floor began to turn pages on its own—blank pages now displayed a line of text: “The night patrol went smoothly… I’m delighted because four new staff members have joined the dormitory building—two without a pulse, two with a pulse… It’s been a long time since new staff arrived. I’ve felt quite lonely. I… will stay with them.” … The plump man had never witnessed a battle of master-level intensity, let alone a grand clash among multiple masters. The golden sun rose again and again, only to be extinguished, then rise once more—repeating this cycle endlessly. Cracks spread across the streets, causing skyscrapers to sway precariously. From the fissures, a stone giant six meters tall emerged, crashing through one undead corpse after another. Thick root stems rose up, spreading out like outstretched arms, ensnaring and shattering stone giants in their path. At a distant skyscraper, a mysterious figure in black robes raised a long sword, polished to a lustrous, oil-sheen finish, commanding a relentless tide of undead forces in coordinated advance. Four other swords darted through the air, flashing with lightning speed, while at intervals, strange, piercing cries—sharp and dissonant—ripped through the air, tearing at the spirits of the oncoming hosts. Fu Qingyang, dressed in white and draped in a rich cloak, stood with regal composure. Though countless undead surged forward, none could approach within ten meters. Beyond ten meters, bodies piled up in layers; within that distance, the ground remained untouched and clear. Long Ying elder's body radiates golden light as she raises both hands in seals, causing a series of miniature suns to rise from her head. The golden glow spreads out, swiftly purifying evil and shadowy entities. The two masters engage in aerial combat, their skills flowing continuously and dazzlingly. Throughout the entire exchange, there is no close-range fighting—only skill-based exchanges. The scene resembles divine warriors clashing in battle, with hands-on combat appearing almost like the tactics of ordinary men, lacking grandeur. "By the way, I came in as the bait—after all, I'm just a lure. Why are you all so unreasonable? The master-level battles are something we can participate in without spending a single coin!" Seeing no response, Yin Ji, growing softer, thought for a moment and spoke gently, "Don't worry. This item can withstand the master's attacks—enough to block three strikes at least. That should be sufficient for the elders to come to our aid. We're here to confront the Pure Yang Master, but he seems to be missing..." "Perhaps he's hidden himself, waiting to strike at us." Xia Shu Zhi Lian's voice was as cold as ice clashing together. "If we can't bring him out, we'll be wiped out by the master first... That's what the plump one is thinking. "Even though he's complaining, having someone to share the trembling with is exactly what he wants. He needs security most—what he lacks most of all. That's why he needs the leader." "Looking at their battle, it seems they're still tied up, unable to decide who's going to win." The less secure young man, seeking a topic to keep himself occupied. Hua Yu furrowed her elegant brows, impatiently saying, "You talk too much! If it weren't for the agreement between the Void Sect and the official authorities, I'd have already sent you back to the Spirit Realm right now." The orderly professions had never treated the evil ones well, even though this plump man seemed relatively gentle. "It's all because I'm afraid of angering the southern sect's elders, so I'm holding back from killing you," the younger man corrected. "...” At that moment, Yin Ji frowned and asked, "Pay close attention—how long has it been since the southern sect's elders have used mental attacks?" "Two minutes," the plump man said, his round face suddenly serious. "For two minutes now. Before, they launched a mental attack every ten seconds." Summer Tree of Love and the others were struck with alarm. The loyal minister, who had been chosen to be assassinated, was still alive, which meant the southern elders were unlikely to turn against them. The only truth was that the two senior elders of the southern sect had been attacked. Currently, two senior elders have been dispatched by the Night Rose: the Grand Guardian who commands the army of shadow creatures, and the Spring Deity (the professional title of a master-level wood spirit). With only these two masters, how could they possibly stand against the official forces and the Southern School? If the Night Rose intends to strike through internal sabotage, it must have mobilized sufficient reinforcements—thus, the senior elders of the Southern School are likely being held in check by the opposing master spirits concealed within their ranks. Given the heart-madness spirit's characteristic of being elusive and hard to track, the fact that it has not yet managed to break free immediately indicates that the enemy is exceptionally tenacious. After this prolonged stalemate, the Night Rose has begun to mount a counteroffensive. As this thought first arose in the minds of the saints, Fu Qingyang suddenly raised his jade dragon sword, forming a defensive stance. "Crack!" The sound was sharp and piercing, sparks flying. Fu Qingyang swiftly retreated, his fine handcrafted leather shoes cracking with a distinct "grah" sound, and his brand-new white suit tearing open along several seams. A tall, imposing figure materialized where Fu Qingyang had just stood. He stands at 1.9 meters tall, with eight arms, his body covered in twisted, strange runes, his muscles as dense and solid as forged steel, with not a single inch of fat. Even the most successful bodybuilder in the world would feel humbled in his presence. Each of his eight arms holds a different weapon—swords, spears, halberds, rings, and a staff and a rope! He has a gleaming bald head, his features rugged and resolute, with silver rings adorning his earlobes, nostrils, and lips. Silver Moon King! Even the sages, as well as the two senior elders, Feng Ying and Gao Feng, show a slight change in expression. Though the Silver Moon King has only recently entered the Sovereign stage, he is a rare anomaly blessed by the War Lord. Even at the peak of the Sage stage, he could hold his own against Sovereigns for a few exchanges—indeed, he is a peak-tier professional. Such a figure cannot be treated merely as a beginner in the Sovereign stage. No one knows just how powerful he has become. After repelling Fu Qingyang, the frontline warrior, the Silver Moon King immediately launched a swift, aggressive assault, Although Fu Qingyang possessed the insight technique, he still had only one sword, and soon his body was covered with wounds—raw, flesh-splitting cuts. His expression remained stern as he deflected with his sword, retreating steadily while simultaneously summoning four flying swords to attack the silver moon emperor from behind and the sides. For a moment, the flying swords circled the eight-armed giant, each attempt to strike being easily knocked aside with sparks flying. The silver moon emperor launched a swift assault while laughing wildly: "Huh, Fu Qingyang, why have you weakened so much? Oh, I forgot—Yanshi's bonus to close combat isn't very strong. Your technique approaches the realm of Dao. Go on, unleash it—see if I can withstand it!" His face, twisted by eagerness and excitement, continued to erupt in laughter. Anger was not actually his primary spiritual attribute; it was his fierce competitiveness. At that moment, the Red Eaves Elder and the Peak Elder immediately stepped in to assist Fu Qingyang. As a frontline combatant, the Scout reaches its peak during the Sage stage, but evolves toward a "commanding leader" role in the Sovereign stage. The Sovereign-stage form of the Enchanting Demon, known as the Ancient War God, continues to refine its combat prowess. In one-on-one duels, the Master Craftsman cannot hope to match the Ancient War God. Furthermore, although Fu Qingyang's techniques approach the Dao, this rule is one of "certain hits," not "decisive kills." By the Sovereign stage, it becomes increasingly difficult to achieve the decisive, unyielding victories seen during the Sage stage. Meanwhile, the Senior Guardian, cloaked in black and wielding a carbon sword, rides the wind toward the scene, his wake a surge of dark qi like a tidal wave. It is now his turn to act. "No assistance needed!" Fu Qingyang's calm voice interrupts the two senior elders preparing to lend support. Despite his successive retreats and despite the firm suppression of his once-prized close-combat abilities by the Ancient War God, his expression remains composed and unflinching. This man seems to never experience dramatic emotional fluctuations—except when he shouts at the Prime Heavenly Sovereign to knock before entering. At one moment, Fu Qingyang delivers a straight, powerful strike that repels the Silver Moon Heavenly King. Cracking, cracking, cracking… the eight-armed giant steps back, his hands gripping the defensive blows, his wrists splitting open. He pauses, stunned. What appears to be a casual sword thrust from Fu Qingyang carries a force so potent that even he cannot withstand it. "Ssshh!" After pushing back the Silver Moon Heavenly King, Fu Qingyang drives the Jade Dragon Sword into the ground, standing before it. Then, he raises his hand and reaches into the void—only to hear a deep, resonant thud as a bronze box, half as tall as a man, sinks heavily to the ground. The lid of the box is engraved with a majestic white tiger, and each of the four sides features fierce creatures such as Zhu Yan and Yazi. Fu Qingyang kicks the lid open with a sharp "clunk," and the lid lifts, revealing a hundred figures stepping out of the bronze box. These figures are cast in bronze, standing at a height of one point six meters, each wielding a bronze sword from Fu Qingyang extended his arms, palms downward, fingers nimbly trembling—like a master puppeteer. The hundred bronze soldier puppets turned their heads in unison, their fierce, hollow gazes fixed upon the Silver Moon King. At that very moment, an overwhelming sense of crisis surged from every direction, overwhelming the Silver Moon Emperor. In his perception, each sword carried an inescapable rule, and every one radiated a blade energy so potent it could cleave through gold and jade. This fierce energy even wounded the two senior elders and the sages. One hundred swords—each nearly achieving the Dao?! He might withstand a single such sword, but could he endure a hundred? The crisis exploded within the Silver Moon Emperor's mind; every nerve and every cell roared with urgency, urging him to flee. Yet he could not escape. He was locked in place by a hundred swords nearly attaining the Dao. "I didn't defend myself earlier," said Fu Qingyang, speaking with the tone of a seasoned mentor evaluating a junior disciple, "because I wanted to see how strong you've become after your ascension to the rank of Sovereign. Overall, you're still a bit behind—next time, make greater efforts." With a gentle press of his palms, he commanded: "Cut!" And instantly, the hundred bronze swords descended simultaneously. A hundred sword energies submerged the Silver Moon Emperor. Plink... plink... The newly crowned emperor was instantly dismembered, his broken flesh and organs falling to the ground, splashing a trail of vivid red across the terrain. Fu Qingyang lowered his gaze, his expression stern, and quietly said, "I haven't even exerted myself, and you're already fallen." The Red Sash Elder and the Peak Elder stood motionless, stunned. The Grand Protector, who had been approaching on the wind, suddenly braked mid-flight. The sages seated in place all stared blankly, as though stunned and out of breath. Silence reigned throughout the scene. Moreover, there's a female marshal who could return at any moment. The King of Fear won't be able to hold off the marshal for long, as per the Free Revolutionary's assessment, the female marshal's physical output ranks among the top among half-divine warriors. Against the marshal, the battle hinges on her thick health bar, enduring through sheer resilience. Zhang Yuanqing grew increasingly anxious, speaking rapidly: "I've observed the layout... the garden isn't very large in its core area, so finding the camphor tree that holds the Eye of Magic shouldn't be too difficult." "But the routes are numerous!" Princess Yin Yao, holding the small megaphone, added: "Each route presents different dangers. We hope the route taken by the Camphor Tree Spirit is one of the standard procedures we've documented in our employee handbook." "How fortunate!" Zhang Yuanqing sighed in resignation. Suddenly, he remembered the item in his inventory—the 'Lucky Necklace.' In situations that rely on chance and luck, this might prove particularly effective. He immediately retrieved and fastened the necklace, saying: "This is a valuable item—it might just win over the goddess of luck." "Then I'll have her killed," said the Palace Master. "Pfft, pfft, pfft—childish nonsense, childish nonsense..." Zhang Yuanqing sneezed. He couldn't look—quietly he drew his gaze back and quickened his pace. The employee handbook clearly stated: "move swiftly" and "do not look back." He feared that even a few extra glances might trigger some dreadful event. The Ru丝 Garden was not very large, with a diameter of roughly two hundred meters—within that distance, they could easily make it even with their eyes closed. Yet at that moment, fog suddenly rose around them. The fog came without any apparent cause, blanketing everything in a thick, gauzy white, as light as a silk gown and as delicate as floating dust. The path ahead vanished. According to the handbook's fifth point: in case of dense fog, remain still, stay silent, and wait for the fog to clear. Zhang Yuanqing suddenly stopped, his heart sinking to the depths.