Zhang Yuanqing had just surged out of the building, riding the wind, when the swordlight was already approaching the intersection. He immediately realized that flight would no longer suffice and activated the Star-Elusiveness Technique, barely catching up to the trailing edge of the swordlight. The very next moment, the swordlight reached the intersection. "Hooomph!" Ripples spread through the air, producing a resonant wave-like sound, as if a large firecracker had exploded underwater. Visibly, the void at the intersection was torn open, revealing a six-meter-long gash. From the hollow,芥子须弥, a powerful wave of dark energy surged forth, accompanied by a profound sense of dread that chilled the very core of those present—like the gates of hell had been opened. The pedestrians around finally reacted. Initially, due to the speed, most had not noticed the swordlight approaching. But when the swordlight tore through the delicate fabric of the world, its brilliant flash and the sudden drop in temperature made the ordinary people aware of what was happening. They all turned to gaze at the intersection. At the crucial moment, Zhang Yuanqing finally arrived after consecutively employing the Star Evade Technique. He raised his hand and snapped his fingers with a crisp sound. A shimmer of starlight interwoven with spiritual energy spread out, instantly covering a radius of one hundred meters. The driver inside the vehicle, the cyclist, and the pedestrians on foot all blinked, their gazes momentarily vacant before returning to normal. They no longer paid attention to the intersection, each continuing with their own routines—driving or walking. Zhang Yuanqing exhaled in relief, thinking: Fortunately, I managed to contain the situation. Otherwise, tomorrow's headline in the online news would read: Shocking! A mysterious, anime-style white-haired woman shatters the void in the bustling city center. And beneath that, the comments would be a heated debate among homebodies about which anime's heroine this white-haired woman is. The dark, gaping hole slowly began to close. The white-haired commander gently stepped forward and drifted into the spatial rift. The red ballet shoes "tapped, tapped" behind her, determined to eliminate Fu Qingyang. "Commander, wait for me!" Zhang Yuanqing rushed to the gradually closing opening and plunged into it. The scene abruptly shifts. The bright, sun-drenched city streets vanish, replaced by an ancient city shrouded in a heavy, somber atmosphere. A stone-paved main road stretches deep into the dark, tranquil heart of the city, leading to a grand archway bearing the plaque "Ghost City." On either side of the road, elegant, traditional buildings display signs that draw the eye. It feels as though one has arrived in a supernatural-themed haunted amusement park. "Whoa—this concentration of negative energy is so strong it could even freeze a night guardian solid," Zhang Yuanqing follows her instinct, drawing closer to her tall, graceful elder sister. "General, I'd like you to protect me." Fu Qingxuan offers a composed, reserved "Hmm," as if a queen had assented to the protection of her subjects. Her eyes glow with a bright white light as she surveys the ghost city, quickly forming a judgment, then murmurs softly: "A semi-divine-level artifact, composed of various supernatural forces and items—no spirit essence attached, with the core being a rule-based artifact. It's quite similar to the Dog Elder's zoo." "Plip, plip..." The red dancing shoes left the two behind and dashed straight toward the end of the long street. The two immediately followed, with the female marshal moving with calm composure, while Zhang Yuanqing remained on high alert, constantly glancing around. Every shop along the way exuded a dreadful, lingering aura—each one could easily have claimed his life. Yet now, the streetsides were in disarray. The sign for "Mystery Room Escape" hung at an angle. The door of the "Strange Foot Massage" shop had been smashed, and the ghost bride of the "Spirit Marriage" shop had her head severed, rolling with her red veil, her eyes full of resentment, fixed firmly upon the street. The "Zombie Outbreak" shop was also damaged, its crooked door revealing several blackened zombies lying in disarray, as though just recently bathed in the power of the Sun God. Clearly, these shops had all been attacked by Fu Qingyang and his companions. Yet as they walked deeper into the street, the shops grew more intact—this shift suggested that Fu Qingyang and his group no longer had the strength to assault and seize them, and could only retreat. Ahead stood a shop with its door partially collapsed, bearing a sign that read "Screams and Shouts." The shop had clearly been struck, yet not completely destroyed. Zhang Yuanqing peered through the open doorway and just caught sight of an elderly face protruding from the entrance—wrinkled, with dark, flowing streams of blood in its eye sockets, gazing silently at the two of them. It was an old woman, pale as bone, her pupils filled with dark, viscous blood. At the moment their eyes met, she opened her mouth without sound, splitting it all the way to her ear roots, the dark, syrupy blood pouring out steadily. A chilling gust of wind swept through the shop, and the elderly woman in her early 20th-century attire shrieked, rushing toward Zhang Yuanqing. This should have been a spirit of master-level strength, but it appeared to have just suffered a severe blow from the power of the Sun God, its vitality waning—now hovering between that of a saint and a master. Weak at level seven! Fu Qingxuan tilted her gaze slightly, glancing with a casual, almost dismissive eye at the wrathful yuanshen flailing about, without pausing her steps, her finger poised like a sword, ready to dispatch the fire-moths. Suddenly, Zhang Yuancheng moved—actively stepping forward to meet the weak seventh-level yuanshen. The general furrowed his brow. Black, dense energy surged in Zhang Yuancheng’s left eye socket, while his right eye transformed into a molten golden pupil. His left arm darkened with pervasive yin energy, and his right arm shone with pure, resolute golden light. Both the energy of Taiyin and Taiyang flowed abundantly through his body. Zhang Yuancheng grasped the old woman’s neck with his left hand, exerting spiritual suppression, while gently patting her forehead with his right. A series of sharp hissing sounds followed, black mist rising from her forehead, accompanied by piercing screams only audible to the night-wanderers. Her vital energy rapidly declined. Zhang Yuancheng spoke and inhaled—immediately, the old woman dissolved into black mist and was swallowed whole into his abdomen. Less than Fu Qingxuan relaxed her sword-finger, her brows already smoothed. She gazed at Zhang Yuanqing with keen interest, saying, "The power of the Sun God... you've managed to contain the Sun God's power within your body as a Saint—truly a prodigy, with a promising future." Should the official elders hear this, they would surely place even greater emphasis on Yuanshizhen. A general who reached the pinnacle of his career before turning thirty is exceptionally rare in terms of talent, surpassing even the Magistrate King. Such individuals naturally grow proud and self-assured; Fu Qingyang believes all the world's prodigies are mere trash, while she considers every half-divine being in the world to be nothing but ordinary. Yet she never says so. Among today's youth, only the Magistrate King earns her genuine recognition. Even her own younger brother, Fu Qingyang, in her eyes, is merely a diligent bird that compensates for its lack of natural ability. Zhang Yuanqing stepped back to his original position and declared loudly, "It is precisely because of the General that I have dared to take this risk. It is the General who has given me the courage." Fu Qingxuan looked astonished, never having expected the newly risen talent from the official ranks to be so conversational. "Are you short on spiritual servants?" "Extremely short!" Fu Qingxuan paused thoughtfully. "I'll take you around and show you the good supply of spiritual servants and undead here. However, I'll only collect those at the Saint-level. For the master-level undead and spirits of resentment, you'll need to seek them out yourself—I won't rush things." Zhang Yuanqing's heart pounded wildly. He hesitated, "Then, won't this delay the rescue efforts? Fu Elder hasn't yet escaped danger." Compared to the quality of spiritual servants and undead, he was more concerned about Fu Qingyang's safety. Fu Qingxuan's usually composed, frosty expression finally softened into a gentle smile, which then faded as she turned toward the distance and said, "They won't die anytime soon—waste should be properly tucked away under the quilts." Zhang Yuanqing didn't quite catch the second part of the sentence, but it didn't prevent him from immediately bowing deeply. "Thank you, General!" ... The western northwest desert. The Gobi Desert is one of the world's largest arid regions, stretching across the northwest of the continent, spanning from grasslands into the northwest of Huaguo. Looking out, the landscape is dotted with exposed rock formations, and the wind seems to carry sand and gravel with it. During the day, it is scorching hot; at night, it grows cool. The soil is too poor for farming, and the mountains too rugged for hunting. Sparse in human habitation, the vast expanse appears largely uninhabited. Geographers believe the Gobi formed due to rising elevation, where sandstone has been gradually weathered and eroded into vast amounts of fragmented material. Yet compared to true life deserts, the Gobi's undulating terrain and towering rock peaks offer a visually rich and varied landscape. At the foot of a mountain known as "Tenggeri," clusters of flat, mudstone houses have stood for ten years under relentless sun exposure. In Mongolian, "Tenggeri" means "god." The army's spiritual demons, adapting to local customs, bestowed this name upon the mountain, which had previously been nameless. Because the spiritual leader of the demons who dwell in the mountain's core—the Vairocana. Vairocana chose this rocky mountain not for any particular reason, simply because he didn’t want to be disturbed while sleeping. The sparsely inhabited northwest thus became his preferred choice. Twenty years earlier, Vairocana’s resting place was not the sacred mountain of Tengri, but another unnamed peak. At that time, the Five Elements Alliance had only recently been established, and its ten elders had just assumed power, eager to demonstrate their authority and achievements. After consulting with the higher authorities, they decided to completely flatten Vairocana’s mountain. The mountain was flattened, but Vairocana himself remained intact, leaving him homeless. So, Vairocana sought a more vibrant and bustling place to rest—and he chose the capital. The incident caused a great stir, drawing close attention from spiritual practitioners across the borders. Ultimately, it was the Grand Master of Taiyuan and Jiang’s Master who jointly engaged in a confrontation with Vairocana. After retreating from the capital’s territory, Vairocana returned to the northwest desert plains, and the Order of Harmony has never attempted to flatten him again. Inside a simple house near the mountain's core, dark red flesh-like material spread across the entire room like mud. At the center of the room, the flesh piled high into a mountain, with a three-meter-long meat chamber half-embedded within it. Veins of vibrant purple connected the chamber to the surrounding flesh. The entire meat mountain rose and fell slowly, pulsing like a beating heart. This was Chu Family's rule-class artifact—the Mother Goddess's Womb! Though the word "goddess" is present, it is far from holy or radiant—instead, it exudes a distinctly creepy, monstrous atmosphere. Suddenly, the flesh membrane on the chamber's surface was pushed upward, revealing the outline of a human hand. The next instant, that hand burst through the membrane, and a man emerged from the chamber, as if a newborn had been delivered from the amniotic sac. He was a robust man, standing at 1.9 meters tall, with a gleaming bald head, strong and rugged features. Small holes remained in his earlobes, nostrils, and lips, but no silver rings were visible. He had been revived! The earring and the silver ring are not within the scope of the Mother Goddess's resurrection, nor are the garments. The Silver Moon King trembled as he climbed up, sitting against the flesh chamber, lifting his head and gazing into the ceiling, lost in a long silence. "I thought the Mage's Eye would be the first to rise from the Mother Goddess's womb—instead, it's you. Just promoted to King, you're forced to rely on this artifact for revival. It seems you've taken a heavy blow." A graceful, relaxed laugh drifted from beside him. The Silver Moon King turned his head. It was a young man in a well-tailored suit, with neat short hair and silver earrings, exuding refined elegance—like a butler from a noble household. The Silver Moon King turned back, lifting his head again, still lost in thought. The King of Fear offered patient reassurance: "I know how disheartened you must feel. During your Saint phase, you were quite comparable to him. After your promotion to Sovereign, the ancient War God's strength should have far surpassed yours. "Yet he treated you as though a sixth-grade student were playing against a kindergarten class." "Silver Moon Emperor coldly said, 'Finish speaking and go. I'd like to be alone.' 'Apologies,' Fear said, 'perhaps if I rephrase it—instead of kindergarten, let's say first grade—then you'll feel a bit better.' Silver Moon Emperor's mouth twitched slightly. Fear Emperor was completely unaware of how unappealing he had become now, settled into the flesh chamber, and smiled, 'There's no need to compare yourself to a mere youngster. Across the globe, besides Fu Qingyang, how many have truly grasped the rules during the Saint stage? I've known him for years, and heard of his accomplishments. In fact, he's a prisoner.' Upon speaking of his rival Fu Qingyang, Silver Moon Emperor finally responded, 'A prisoner?' 'Indeed, a prisoner! He drew a circle in his mind and confined himself within it—never stepping outside for over twenty years. I've known Fu Qingyang for a long time. I've always deeply resented those who abandon freedom.' The King of Fear said: "Back then, he was still extraordinary, with average combat prowess and ordinary talent. As you know, among peers with similar levels and abilities, some are naturally stronger while others are weaker. This depends largely on the alignment between one's career and their grasp of skills—Fu Qingyang had none of that. In terms of dungeon conquests, he was competent, but still far behind true prodigies. Yet he remained steadfast within that circle, day after day, weathering storms and rain, wielding his sword without fail, giving up leisure, romance, and everything else—his world revolved solely around the sword and power, the very things that allowed him to forget his former self, once timid and insecure." "Insecure? Timid?" The King of Silver Moon found it utterly unbelievable. Who could believe it? A figure as renowned as Qian Gong, whose skills approached the very essence of mastery, could be so insecure and hesitant? "Therefore, defeating Fu Qingyang is straightforward—simply challenge him at the same level. He will not retreat. Indeed, he will never back down." said the King of Fear, a smile playing at the corner of his lips. "The Silver Moon Emperor was struck: 'In your board, Fu Qingyang already has his final resting place?' The Fear Emperor didn't pursue the topic further, smiling instead, 'So, what gives you the right to defeat him? What gives you the right to overcome a man who has been self-imprisoned for over twenty years, a man so rigidly devoted?' The Silver Moon Emperor remained silent, coldly stating, 'Get out of my way, don't obstruct my view here.' 'Hm, I'm curious,' the Fear Emperor said, his legs crossed, showing no sign of leaving. 'How bold and disrespectful can you still be before the Shura?' Without hesitation, the Silver Moon Emperor replied, 'I respect him, I fear him—but I will still remain thus.' As he spoke, a memory flashed through his mind. He was born in the free Federation across the ocean, where his parents were slaves on a farm in the Federation's central region. That very nation, hailed as the most civilized and powerful in human history since its founding, had always been intertwined with the history of slavery and human trafficking from the very beginning." A highly developed social welfare system and high labor costs have consistently left that powerful nation short of affordable labor. To this day, they continue to engage in the business of human trafficking—though, compared to their ancestors' crude and assertive methods, these people have learned to cloak their greed and imperfections with the veneer of civilization and freedom. What once took place in the open daylight is now conducted in the dim, hidden corridors of the underground. His childhood and youth were a series of painful memories, sealed deep within his mind and only occasionally brought to the surface for reflection—much like a wine connoisseur savoring a fine vintage he has treasured for years. From an early age, his parents had told him: if you didn't know who your master was, then imagine who you couldn't criticize. That person, who you couldn't criticize, was your master! Silver Moon Emperor resented his birth and the painful years that followed. After escaping the farm to become a spiritual traveler, he vowed in his heart that no one in the world should ever go unchallenged—no one, not even Shou Luo. The members of the General's Academy believed that Silver Moon General should be the one to rage, since he always spoke with grace and elegance; in truth, he simply no longer wished to remain a servant. The past could now be laid to rest, just as fine wine cannot be gulped down quickly—it must be savored slowly. Silver Moon Emperor gathered his thoughts, furrowed his brow: "Are you waiting for someone to be revived?" The King of Fear tapped gently on the flesh chamber beneath him and nodded with a smile. Master Silver Moon didn't ask any further questions. After a moment of silence, he suddenly said: "Fu Qingyang, truly stubborn—facing danger head-on, refusing to retreat, even at the cost of death?" "...Not even able to step outside!" Fu Qingyang said, his face stern in the dim corner.