“Guess what I heard” A burly man leaned closer to his companions, his voice low but dripping with excitement.
“What is it?” snapped the teenage-looking woman. Her sharp tone masked the flicker of greed in her eyes.
The burly man smirked, savoring the moment. “There’s a treasure hidden in this secret realm. But here’s the kicker—the sect geniuses are the only ones with the real details.”
The woman’s lips curled into a scowl. “And how exactly do you know this?” Her tone carried thinly veiled skepticism.
He puffed out his chest, pride spilling into his words. “Took care of one of Linglong’s servants. She begged for her life and spilled what she knew before I sent her off. Didn’t have the exact details, but she said the treasure’s big enough to make every genius here go mad for it.”
“Big enough to make Linglong move herself,” muttered another man, his face pale and lanky. He clutched his sword tightly, his knuckles white. “If she’s interested, we’re nothing but ants in their eyes.”
“She’s not the only one,” the burly man said with a sneer. “Jiang Yu, that crazed nun from the Profound Moon Sect, and who knows how many others? They’re all after it. But—” his voice dropped conspiratorially—“why should they have all the fun? If we play it smart—”
“Smart?” the woman cut him off, her words like a blade. “Linglong’s people will butcher you before you even see the treasure. And if it’s not her, the beasts or traps in this damned place will.”
“You always have to ruin the mood,” the burly man shot back, irritation flashing across his face.
The third man, quiet until now, chuckled softly. His thin smile carried a hint of malice. “She’s not wrong, but… we don’t need to get our hands dirty, do we? Think about it. What if we spread the rumor—loud and far enough that everyone hears? The weaklings will throw themselves at Linglong and the other geniuses, desperate for a chance at glory. They’ll claw at each other, and when the dust settles, we’ll pick through the scraps.”
The burly man’s expression shifted, his grin returning with twice the wickedness. “Now that’s a plan. Let the idiots fight the geniuses to the death while we swoop in after.”
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The woman frowned, crossing her arms. “It could work, but it’s risky. If Linglong’s group catches wind of us being the source—”
“They won’t,” the thin man interrupted smoothly. “They’ll be too busy keeping the swarm at bay. It’ll be chaos, and chaos is the best cover.”
Unseen by the group, a shadow slipped silently past them, its presence masked by a faint ripple in the air. Yanwei, hidden under a subtle illusion, listened with keen interest.
“So, that’s their game…” Yanwei’s lips curved into a faint smile. “Not just brutes after all. They’re clever, in their own way.” He lingered for a moment, fingers twitching instinctively as he calculated the energy he could gain from their blood. But he stopped himself.
“Letting them live might serve me better,” he murmured. “Their little plan will stir the pot nicely.”
….
The secret realm was living up to its infamous name: the “Grave of the Geniuses.” In just a few days, corpses had begun piling up, their deaths greeted with indifference by those who remained. For many, this realm was a chance at advancement, no matter the cost. Some cultivators smiled with bloodstained teeth, having reached the quotas required to exchange for breakthrough pills, while others wandered aimlessly, one step from becoming prey themselves.
Yanwei strolled through the chaotic landscape, his pace unhurried, his honest smile plastered across his face like a mask. He moved with such ease that he seemed utterly out of place—a harmless fool wandering through the back garden of his own home.
Thirty meters ahead, a glint of light caught his eye: a storage pouch, carelessly discarded on the ground. Yanwei’s expression didn’t change as he approached, his movements as casual as ever.
Just as his hand reached for the pouch, the air crackled with energy, and a glowing formation erupted around him. The array pulsed with power—a common trap, fragile from the outside but difficult to escape once triggered.
Four figures emerged from the shadows: two men and two women. Their smug laughter echoed in the confined space.
“Look at this idiot,” one of the men sneered. His lean frame shook with mockery. “Did you really think treasures just fall from the sky?”
Yanwei didn’t flinch. His head remained bowed, his posture unassuming.
The group laughed harder, their confidence blinding them. They didn’t notice the four corpse puppets materialize behind them until it was too late. Heavy fists struck like hammers, shattering bones and silencing laughter in an instant.
Before the shock could fully register, Yanwei moved. His hand pressed against the forehead of the nearest victim, and their screams tore through the air as his soul-searching technique began. Their agony painted the cruel efficiency of the technique, which left cultivators as either mindless husks—or dead.
“Boring,” Yanwei muttered, his voice laced with disappointment. He retrieved a black jar from his storage ring, pointing it toward the corpses. A crimson stream of blood and essence flowed into the artifact, leaving the bodies shriveled and lifeless.
Direct absorption would have been quicker, but Yanwei wasn’t reckless. Breaking through to Rank 2 in an unstable realm was a gamble he didn’t intend to make—not yet. The jar, a treasure forged at his peak, was the perfect tool for storing power until the time was right.
As the corpses burned to ash, Yanwei frowned slightly, memories from the soul-searching technique swirling in his mind.
“A thousand-year-old medicinal herb taken by Jiang Yu? Linglong’s servant wasn’t lying about her injuries… And ghosts wandering this place?” His tone darkened, his eyes narrowing. “It seems this realm holds far more secrets than the rumors suggest.”
Yanwei’s lips curled into a faint smirk as he began walking again. “But that just makes it all the more interesting.”