Entering the villa's main hall, Zhang Yuanqing quickly surveyed the room before rushing up to the second floor. At the staircase entrance on the second floor, he stopped and noticed a closed door at the far end of the corridor. Standing outside was a solid middle-aged man with broad shoulders, wearing a black vest whose muscles bulged prominently, his face fierce—exactly like a character from film or television, a bodyguard or security agent. The villa was silent, with only this man stationed at the entrance. "Wang Qian's sister should be inside," Zhang Yuanqing said. "Xiaohou Tianyuan brought her here. Well, if I could just have her as a living witness—personally captured—I’d call Fu Qingyang right away…" He stepped out to observe the layout of the second floor. In his direction, there was a surveillance camera directly facing the room where the man stood. If I were Xiaohou Tianyuan, I'd certainly have this camera monitored 24/7 and summon reinforcements at the first sign of trouble… Zhang Yuanqing quietly pulled himself back. Now that night-wandering time had ended, he leaned against the staircase wall, recovering his strength while thinking through options. Two courses of action were currently available: One: silently depart and notify Fu Qingyang to send rescuers for "the hostage." Two: eliminate these bandits and take Wang Qian's sister with him. The first option seemed safer, yet once official Pilgrims intervened, his own involvement would inevitably become exposed. Xiaohou Tianyuan would surely realize that it was the great Yuan Shi Tian Zun who had disrupted his plans. In previous years, Zhang Yuanqing hadn’t needed to worry—his merits and reserves were strong enough. But now, with Wang Qian’s sister as a case in point, he began to question whether Xiaohou Tianyuan might investigate his identity and ultimately target his family members. Accidents such as car crashes or sudden deaths couldn't be justified through formal procedures. And yet, Zhang Yuanqing had not yet devised a solid plan for secretly eliminating Xiaohou Tianyuan. Thus, the second option proved more reliable—provided he could act swiftly without revealing his identity, and before Xiaohou Tianyuan himself suspected any involvement from Yuan Shi Tian Zun. Reflecting carefully on this second strategy’s viability: "Xiaohou Tianyuan wouldn’t assign a Sage-level official to guard an ordinary person. A Pilgrim of that rank would never handle such tasks. The strongest possibility is simply one Level 3 Pilgrim stationed here. The Xiaohou family is a Scholar lineage, well-equipped with props; among these people, there must be someone in charge of at least one prop. The middle-aged man at the door—his presence feels very much like that of a Fire Master, his aura strong, while those outside appear less so. He’s clearly the strongest." After weighing this assessment, he decided to take a risk: first swiftly eliminate the three figures outside, then before Xiaohou Tianyuan arrives, dispatch the man at the door. The Level 3 Fire Master in charge of props posed a strong challenge. "If necessary," Zhang Yuanqing murmured, "I’ll activate the Red Mantle. But I must ensure full destruction of evidence—after all, that’s my wife's mother." He chose to save the person alone—not just for Wang Qian, but also for his personal sense of justice and revenge against the Xiaohou family, and especially for the little person named 'person_name'. Having trained their son as a Spirit Servant, he felt this was an act of goodwill repaid. With his thoughts clarified, Zhang Yuanqing opened his inventory and retrieved the Change-of-Form Ring. He had long since mastered its function and limitations: after wearing it, simply visualizing someone’s appearance in his mind allowed him to morph into that person's likeness. The limitation was that he could not undergo gender transformation or become more handsome than his natural self. [Note: Does he not know what kind of figure he is himself?] With the ring on, Zhang Yuanqing mentally envisioned Xiaohou Tianyuan’s appearance. Within seconds, his features began to ripple like water waves—once the ripples settled, he had fully transformed into the likeness of Xiaohou Tianyuan. Entering night-wandering state, he silently descended to the ground floor. In the backyard, three middle-aged men sat around a circular table, enjoying the late spring sun or sipping beers, chatting casually. "Speaking of that woman," said the round-shouldered man facing the kitchen’s bulk, gently stroking his belly and encouraging his companions with a cheerful tone, "She has quite a good figure." "Wouldn’t it be nice if we got some excitement?" he added, "Xiaohou Tianyuan just uses her as leverage—she lives or dies, but he doesn’t pay much attention to the details." The two others remained hesitant—one was enjoying grilled meat, the other a beer—and replied: "Sure, go ahead and call him for approval. If he gives the green light, we’ll take her right away." The round-shouldered man sighed with mild frustration: "I just thought things were getting dull—so I decided to find some fun…" Then his expression stiffened as his gaze locked onto the living room entrance—the fresh red dance shoes now moving up and down on the thick carpet. An eerie, unsettling scene unfolded. The round-shouldered man’s eyes widened in alarm: "Behind you… behind you…" The two others instantly turned around. While their attention was drawn to the strange dance shoes, Zhang Yuanqing appeared silently behind the round-shouldered man, his left hand pressing over his mouth and his right arm gripping a blood-slicked blade, lightly grazing the carotid artery. The two men heard a deep, gurgling sound and swiftly turned around—seeing the round-shouldered man’s face pale with shock, blood gushing from his neck, and a splatter of fresh blood on the young man’s side profile. "Is it Xiaohou Tianyuan?" they gasped in astonishment. In their sudden panic, time had slipped by—during this delay, Zhang Yuanqing swiftly drove her blade into the left middle-aged man’s chest. The man instinctively reached out to grasp, but missed—he caught only a fleeting shimmer as the blade penetrated his body like vapor. A phantom technique. Then, he felt a sudden coolness behind him and collapsed, spilling blood with a gasp: "Night… Night Wandering Deity?" he exclaimed, speaking with rising anger and disbelief before slowly sinking to the ground. Meanwhile, the final captive had just begun to react when the strange red dance shoes suddenly charged toward him—each step firm and decisive. He instinctively swung his fist to meet them, only to hear a sharp crack as bone pierced skin—the fist now dangling at his wrist. Then came a series of heavy thuds: the dance shoes rapidly and powerfully stomped on his chest. The middle-aged man was sent flying—unable to rise again. The entire sequence lasted under ten seconds. Zhang Yuanqing approached, plunged the blood-slicked blade into the last captive’s chest, allowing this Enchantment Demon weapon to draw out its full vitality. Holding the blade, he felt a surge of warm, powerful energy flooding his body. The slight fatigue from night-wandering disappeared completely—his physical condition even surpassed his usual peak performance. The passive ability of the Enchantment Demon—the Bloodthirsty—now activated in him. With the blood-slicked blade held firmly, Zhang Yuanqing stepped confidently into the living room, just as his feet touched the soft carpet, a swift burst of light flared at the doorway—crashing into his head like a shockwave. Yet this was only a phantom illusion. The man in the black vest had, without any prior notice, slipped on red fingered gloves—the first punch struck air, and he paused slightly, startled. At that moment, Zhang Yuanqing appeared ghost-like behind him, delivering a clean stab to his back. The Night Wandering Deity’s assault was silent, unanticipated—yet in the very instant the blade pierced skin and muscle, the Fire Master reacted with astonishing agility, rolling forward and collapsing. "Night Wandering Deity?" the man exclaimed, lifting one eyebrow, "You’re not Xiaohou Tianyuan—are you? Who are you?" At least he had broken through—now he would begin to bleed steadily. Zhang Yuanqing ignored his words, closed the living room door, and assumed a concealed posture, waiting for the moment to strike. Meanwhile, he silently retrieved the Heavenly Turtle Furnace from under the sofa and placed it there, issuing an urgent command to the Red Dance Shoes to pursue the man. Dashing swiftly—tap-tap-tap—the red dance shoes hurried toward the middle-aged man, while Zhang Yuanqing moved around to the left, attempting a flanking attack on the Fire Master. If time allowed, he could recreate his previous victory over Ou Xiangrong in the underground garage—but not every battle offered such favorable conditions. "Hmph!" The black-vested man snorted, raising his gloved hands and unleashing blazing flames with a powerful punch aimed at the dance shoes. Soon, he experienced the helplessness of his fallen colleague—the flame and punch passed through the dance shoes before striking him directly—two heavy thuds echoed as pain surged in his chest. A massive sweeping kick caused his heart to momentarily stop—he stumbled back. An opening! Zhang Yuanqing lowered himself, darting like a leopard toward the enemy, just as he saw the man's foot press firmly into the ground for stability, then clenched both fists tightly against his chest. "Boom!" The force was explosive—like a high-explosive hand grenade detonating—the heat wave and shockwave surged through the entire living room, setting the carpet, sofa, and wooden cabinets ablaze, sending flames soaring upward. Zhang Yuanqing was thrown out, dazed and in agony, his hair lifted by the wind, clothes ignited, and burns forming across his face with black-red streaks. The man in the black vest looked paler than before—seemingly affected by the explosion’s rebound—he charged forward furiously, his back muscles bulging, then pulled his right arm into a fist. Snap! The air seemed torn apart. Half-dazed and unable to dodge, Zhang Yuanqing chose the most appropriate response: he extended his hand into the air and grasped a golden orb floating in front of him. Then, the fierce punches landed one after another—each heavier than the last—on his face and chest. He seemed to have forgotten resistance—he staggered backward, each step slow and heavy as though bearing an entire mountain. A warm yellow glow enveloped his body, rippling outward in gentle waves—the force of the punches passed through the defense of the "Steady One" orb, pressing upon him with pain but still manageable. Tap-tap-tap! The red dance shoes arrived to rescue their fallen master—each step firm and powerful, landing precisely on the man’s waist. Zhang Yuanqing finally seized the opportunity—he promptly withdrew the golden orb and held his blade forward, pressing it into the Fire Master’s abdomen. At that moment, the black-vested man began to vanish—his form consumed by flames—and reappeared in a blaze of fire just behind Zhang Yuanqing. Fire element activated! Immediately after manifesting, he launched a fiery ball at Zhang Yuanqing. The wind from behind drove him forward—he moved swiftly to intercept, allowing the ball to skim past his head and crash into the wall nearby—sending a large area blackened. Just as he had pushed himself to the ground, two more fire balls arrived in quick succession. Zhang Yuanqing rolled aside to avoid the first one but was struck in the waist by the second—the fabric of his clothes instantly ignited with intense pain. Punch after punch! Two powerful kicks provided him brief respite—his rolling form vanished as he recovered. The black-vested man stepped aside from a direct foot press, only to feel a sudden chill on his head—and then, in the periphery of his vision, he saw the Night Wandering Deity, now materialized on the left side, waving her blade across with a sweeping motion. "Hmph! A ghostly tactic!" This time, instead of launching an immediate counter-attack, he flicked his fingers to send out a line of flame that cleanly pierced and dissolved the night-wandering deities’ form into vapor. Yet just then, the black-vested man suddenly lost vision—his field of sight faded completely. His expression tightened—he immediately reacted, clapping his palms firmly against his chest—producing an intense wave of flame and shockwave. Boom! The surge shattered the television, knocked over the potted plant, and ignited a massive blaze in the living room. Relieved that he hadn’t been struck—now his vision returned and the sensation on his head subsided. Then, a strange itch began to rise in his throat—he couldn’t suppress it, coughing steadily—the deeper he coughed, the more intense it became. The black-vested man bent forward, face flushed red, then collapsed into a seated position—his limbs tingling and numb. The Red Dance Shoes seized this opportunity and launched relentless attacks, stepping firmly upon the man’s body. At the staircase leading up to the second floor, Zhang Yuanqing watched everything unfold—by his feet sat a chubby infant, tears streaming down her cheeks, one hand gripping the edge of the host’s trousers while pointing at the black-vested middle-aged man, accusing him of having frightened her earlier. That was precisely when the little person named 'person_name' had rested on top of the Fire Master’s head—then under Zhang Yuanqing's command, had switched the visual focus. The purpose: to compel the black-vested man to re-enact his "explosion" technique again—because Zhang Yuanqing had previously observed that this was a tactic involving significant sacrifice in exchange for victory. Now, at the moment when he finally stabbed the man through the back, Zhang Yuanqing had devised an entire strategy: using the Red Dance Shoes and Bloodthirsty Blade as tactical consumables, and relying on the Heavenly Turtle Furnace as the decisive strike. The toxin from the Heavenly Turtle Furnace gradually evaporates—it’s strong enough that inhaling it once could cause illness; however, at first it was mild—ordinary people could endure it—thus requiring time to build up. But if the target is in very poor condition, extremely weak, and with diminished immunity, that would certainly be the case. Thus, he devised a plan: to exhaust the enemy through the relentless pursuit by the Divine Object, the blood-soaked edge of the Blood-Drinking Blade, before finally concluding the battle with the Tianchan Furnace. And when he first dared to deploy the Tianchan Furnace—this was not merely a gamble; it was grounded in his firm belief that his own immunity would surpass that of both the Fire Master and the Night Wandering Deity, whose powerful vitality and self-healing capacity provided him with unwavering confidence. The Fire Master lacks such passive abilities. Seeing that the Fire Master had finally ceased all movement under the relentless pressure from the Divine Object's footsteps, Zhang Yuanqing still felt uneasy and launched the Li Blade as if it were a flying dagger. The sharp blade drove deep into the opponent’s abdomen—only then did he feel at ease, no longer hesitating, and swiftly retrieved the Tianchan Furnace beneath the overturned sofa. He returned this bronze-based, black-wood-bodied Prop to his inventory. Then, one by one, he collected back the Blood-Drinking Blade, the Divine Object, and the pair of gloves held by the Fire Master. At this moment, flames had already begun to spread rapidly, blazing fiercely and showing a clear tendency to engulf the entire living room. Zhang Yuanqing seized every passing moment, rushing up the second floor, leaping high into the air, and striking one of the surveillance probes with a powerful punch. Ding-ding-ding… He ran along the corridor paved with elm wood floors, soon reaching the door of the bedroom—only to suddenly have his pupils contract dramatically, fixing his gaze firmly on the edge of the doorway. There, a Smartphone lay quietly, its screen illuminated and still maintaining an active call. The caller—Xiaohou Tianyuan!