"Zi-chong, Zi-chong, your father has been killed..." The piercing cry woke Lin Zi-chong. He sat up suddenly, and saw the familiar room—the whitewashed walls painted by the villagers themselves, a simple wardrobe, a large bed, and a modest desk by the window. On the desk stood a gaming computer he had picked up at a second-hand market, a dirty mechanical keyboard, a ashtray, and a bottle of mineral water filled with cigarette butts. How could I have returned to this? Lin Zi-chong's eyes flickered with bewilderment. His head felt heavy, as if still recovering from a hangover. Hangover... Yes. Yesterday, he had been drinking with a few childhood friends from the village. Recently, the village had been in turmoil due to land reclamation. The land reclamation project had brought both joy and sorrow—while those who had moved away for work welcomed it, as their long-abandoned farmland could now be converted into cash, it was a bitter blow to older residents who had lived their entire lives off the land. The elder farmers, who have spent their entire lives harvesting food in the fields, have long grown accustomed to this way of life. With limited ability to seek employment off-farm and their age no longer permitting them to engage in physically demanding work year-round, land reclamation projects effectively mean their demise. As a result, intense conflicts have arisen between the two parties. Now, developers have hired a group of idle, armed men with sticks to guard the excavators, and violent clashes have occurred repeatedly, intermittently. Many young and middle-aged villagers have been taken away due to these confrontations, and the village's resistance has rapidly weakened. As he recalled this, Lin Zichong's mind became completely clear. "Zichong, your father has been injured..." A sharp cry came again, and an elderly farmer, covered in blood and mud, rushed in, his eyes red with grief and rage. "Uncle, what did you say?" Lin Zichong jolted awake, leaping off the bed. The farmer clutched tightly at Zichong's wrist, his eyes welling with tears: "Your father has been injured—go see him right away." Lin Zicong burst out wildly, rushing past the village and reaching his own fields. At a distance, he saw a group of people gathered there, villagers and casual residents with sticks clearly divided into two distinct groups. Pushing through the crowd, he spotted his father, a sturdy old man, lying in a pool of blood. His white hair was stained with mud and blood. His back of the head was mangled and covered in wounds from numerous blows. Lin Zicong’s face grew pale, and his heart ached with sharp, piercing pain—a sorrow he had felt before, as if he had experienced it before. Upon seeing Lin Zicong arrive, the leader of the thugs immediately raised his voice: “We didn’t hit him at all—he stumbled into us himself.” “Exactly, he himself collided with our sticks.” “Enough talk! If he dares to make any more noise, this is what he’ll face. Boss, we’ll call the security officers right away and have the municipal police handle it—this is a civilized society now.” Lin Zichong collapsed beside his father's body, this stubborn man who had always clung to reason finally unable to straighten his back. He died on the land he had labored on all his life, his blood mingling with the soil. "Zichong, your father died a terrible death—he was literally crushed to death," said Uncle Da, sighing. "You must now avenge him. You can no longer be as weak as you were last time…" No longer be as weak as he had been last time… Lin Zichong clutched his head in pain, memories returning, vivid and clear. He remembered the most humiliating moment of his life. That time, he had watched his father die on the field's edge, heard the thugs shouting, and, in his weakness, had chosen to endure, to submit. He had gone to appeal to the emperor, believing he could secure justice. But in doing so, he had ultimately cost his mother her life. He had regretted it for years. Beneath the roof, there is no god; justice lies in the blade. Lin Zicong's eyes grew steadily redder, his expression more and more fierce. He roared forward toward the thugs, determined to avenge his father and fight to the death against these murderers. The thugs surrounded him, delivering a crushing blow that sent him crashing to the ground. Rods rained down upon him, and Lin Zicong never rose again. "Team Four reports: General Lin Chong has been confirmed deceased, having died in the dream; the team has sustained no losses. Report complete!" "Team Five reports: Fang Fang has been killed; the team has lost one member. The battle has affected ordinary residents, with six dead and thirteen injured. The situation is now under control. Report complete!" "Team Six reports: The legendary 'Duke of the Parting of the Consort' has been killed; the team has sustained no losses. The battle has affected ordinary residents, with three dead and seven injured. The situation is now under control. Report complete!" "Team Seven reports..." While listening, Zhou Secretary marked the heads of the fallen officers with a cross on her notepad. Only four remained: Xiao Yuan, Kou Beiyue, Liang Chen who chose his master, and Zhao Xintong. Zhou Secretary turned off her headphones, pulled out her phone, and sent a message: "It's time to wrap this up!" ... Jinshan City. "Beep!" The elder Lu, of the Bai Xie branch, felt the notification sound. He pulled out his phone to check the message: [Zhou Secretary: Tuonao, without emotion, folded his phone and turned to command his team members, coldly stating, “After I take action, immediately activate the drone-based remote surveillance. If any intense conflict is detected, report it immediately to the two senior elders accompanying us, then seal off the nearby streets.” “Understood,” one of the subordinates replied quietly. Tuonao turned back and directed his gaze toward the residential complex in the distance. He was handsome with pale skin. At thirty-five, he had already been appointed a senior elder of the Bai Xia branch, located just outside the capital city, close to the imperial seat—his career trajectory was exceptionally promising. Yet Tuonao himself knew that without a major event involving widespread casualties, he would not reach the headquarters within the next decade. A branch senior elder held regional authority, but its influence remained limited; only by entering the central leadership could one hope to eventually serve as a secretary to the Ten Elders. Secretaries served as the elders’ representatives and spokespersons, wielding power that was truly unimaginable. Currently, Elder Cai had promised that, as long as the mission was completed, he would be transferred to the headquarters within five years. The objective is to eliminate the malevolent professionals hiding within the Chonghua Residential Area of Jinshan City, as well as anyone arriving to rescue them. "Cai Elder's intentions are clearly not what they seem," Lu Tao Weng quietly remarked. Who would come to rescue them? By eliminating these underachieving, insignificant figures, the hidden signal from the Night Rose could draw out Yuan Shǐ Tian Zun. Cai Elder's true target is Yuan Shǐ Tian Zun. To avoid alarming him and ensure the success of the operation, Cai Elder has arranged three Masters—two of whom are secretly stationed, their presence masked by subtle reinforcements, making it impossible for Yuan Shǐ Tian Zun to detect any early signs of threat. Once the target appears, they will strike together, citing the charge of "colluding with evil professionals and obstructing law enforcement investigations," thus eliminating him outright. The Grand Marshal will have no grounds for objection! Lu Tao Weng's body rapidly vaporized, his misty form drifting toward the Chonghua Residential Area. ... In the bedroom, two tables stood side by side, with two computers placed in front of them. "Damn it, another loss." Kou Beiyue angrily slammed the mouse down and stared at the younger, stocky teammate beside her. "You can't even focus on a game—are you a waste of time?" "Boss, wasn't it your own lack of focus that led to these losses? You never push towers with your射手, never participate in team fights while playing jungle, and you just wander around—whether it's going with the flow or against it—your teammates keep complaining and you end up losing towers." The stocky one said, voice full of委屈. "How could I possibly be blamed?" Kou Beiyue gave him a good scolding on the scalp. "You dare to argue? You dare to argue?" He huffed and stood up. "I'm going to get juice from the living room. What will you have?" Since Wuhen the Master went into seclusion, Xiao Yuan has been following Yuan Shǐ Tian Zūn's instructions and has kept them from going out to deliver packages. "Happy Water!" the stocky one said without hesitation. Kou Beiyue immediately went out, then turned back at the door, still not satisfied, giving him another two good scoldings. "Tonight, Kou Beiyue hummed and hiccoughed his way to the living room, which was pitch black. His room and Xiao Zhaoping’s room were on the north side, while Xiao Yuan and Zhao Xintong’s rooms were on the south, separated by the living room. Recently, he found himself quite content staying here. Every night, he could play games with his brothers, and whenever he stepped out, he could see Xiao Yuan’s door. Zhao Xintong was very particular about cleanliness—she took charge of the entire household’s hygiene and worked efficiently. He cherished this lifestyle and hoped it would continue. As Kou Beiyue approached the refrigerator, ready to open it, he suddenly heard Zhao Xintong coughing from the room across the hall—her cough was intense and strained. Hmm? Was she ill? He thought instinctively. Then, coughing came from Xiao Yuan’s room as well. "Thud…" A sound of someone falling came from behind. Kou Beiyue turned in surprise, and saw Xiao Zhaoping collapse to the ground, barely breathing. He was even dull of mind and yet he sensed something was amiss. He scanned the room with alert eyes, and as his gaze settled, he saw a silhouette seated on the sofa in the living room. "Good constitution—seems like a seductive spirit?" the figure on the sofa smiled. "You—" Kou Beiyue was startled, instinctively drawing out a weapon from her inventory. "Cough! Cough!" He clutched his throat, coughing hard. His forehead grew hot, then he felt dizzy and began to vomit—this sensation reminded him of childhood episodes when he had caught a stomach bug and fevered. "Clang!" The weapon slipped from his hands. Kou Beiyue leaned against the refrigerator and slowly collapsed. With great difficulty, he looked toward Xiao Yuan's room, his voice weak and hoarse, calling out, "Xiao Yuan, hurry—go!" In the room, Xiao Yuan struggled to rise, using all her strength to shatter the Dream-Calling Seal. Her phone lay broken by the bedside. She would no longer seek help from Yuan Shǐ Tian Zun. In another room, Zhao Xintong trembled as she reached for her phone beneath the pillow, and, as her consciousness ... In the realm of illusion, Master Huanchen held his heart in one hand and manipulated his prayer beads with the other, reciting the Diamond Sutra. Behind his head rose a blazing, clear sun. The pure and resolute golden light vaporized the spirits of resentment descending from the sky. The power of the sun god is the most dominant force in the world, repelling all other forms of spiritual energy and unaffected by any spell or technique. Thus, even the most concealed essence of the moon goddess could not erase the presence of the sun god's power. Only the sun god's power itself could overcome it. While the Southern Sect's master could manifest a more powerful Great Sun, the sun's inherent exclusivity remained indifferent to enemies or allies—effectively aiding the past, unmarked by traces. The round moon hung quietly within the clouds, its power surging wildly, giving rise to countless spirits of resentment that surged in waves, only to be vaporized again and again, until the contest became one of spiritual strength. Whoever's spiritual energy depleted first would perish. Yet, the heart in the Wuxian Master's palm gradually lightens from black to crimson, and he is about to suppress the malevolent thoughts within the black orb. Once the heart is fully restored to its blood-red hue, he will become a Phantom God—specifically, a Phantom God capable of suppressing malevolent forces. Neither the Lingtuo Sect leader nor the Southern Sect Master shows urgency; one is engaging in a contest of endurance, the other quietly observing. At this moment, the Wuxian Master suddenly lifts his gaze toward the distant horizon. He senses the plea from the small orb, but when he attempts to follow that signal, the connection between him and the Incense Dream Seal is obscured. Then, from the deep, ethereal void, comes the indistinct, gender-neutral voice of the Southern Sect Master—cold, with a hint of scorn: "Do you truly believe you can win? "You've underestimated the Southern Master's strategic foresight." "The past is ever unmarked—would you like to see what has become of your disciples and descendants?" As the words fell, vivid scenes materialized in the void—scenes of the "Wanderer of the Human World" being shot through the head; of the "Model Teacher" pierced through the heart; of the sweet-hearted Red Demon consumed by flames and turned to ash; of the kind-hearted Auntie having her head severed; of Lin Chong dying in agony in a dream… The heart in Master Wuhen's palm rapidly darkened. The golden Buddha, which had always stood there, finally opened its eyes. The compassion in its gaze faded, replaced by an overwhelming fury. Master Wuhen's expression turned mad; he raised his head and roared, "Lingtuo!!" A soft laugh echoed through the surging black clouds. … In the capital. Within a quaint, vintage theater, Elder Cai stood on a tall, trapezoidal viewing platform, gazing at the empty stage, and declared aloud, "Master of the Palace, I have a matter to report. Master Wuhen's ascension to the rank of Phantom God has failed, and he is now on the brink of madness. For the safety of the innocent people of Jinshan City, I beg you to intervene and eliminate this villain." "From behind the stage curtain, a soft and charming voice replied, 'Understood.'... At the Shieh Family Mansion. Zhang Yuanqing, full of food and wine, leaned on Shieh Su's shoulder, chatting and laughing with the patriarch. 'Grandfather, just wait for me for one month. Once I've hidden myself long enough, I'll come out and marry one of your daughters. I want to marry ten.' 'You've had too much to drink,' Shieh Su said, patting her future son-in-law on the shoulder. 'At the Shieh household, you can only marry Lingxi.' 'That's where your fault lies, Grandfather,' Zhang Yuanqing replied. 'Shieh Aunt is so beautiful—why don't you have more daughters to marry off to me?' Shieh Su paused, then pushed him aside with a look of disdain. 'Lingxi says you're a man of devotion. When did she go blind? Clearly, she lacks social experience.' The patriarch then scolded his grandson, 'A man should have three wives and four concubines—what's wrong with that?' Zhang Yuanqing raised his cup. 'Still, Grand Caller: Zhao Xintong.