Feng Zhiming knew that time was not a luxury he could afford. With every passing day, the stakes grew higher, and he was not one to sit idly by, waiting for the evaluation of disciples. His plans were multi-faceted, requiring constant vigilance and action on all fronts. As he made his way back to his abode, his path crossed with that of Instructor Laizu—an encounter that was anything but coincidental.

"Instructor Ryes, still here at this hour?" Laizu asked, his voice a mix of curiosity and mild surprise as he adjusted his robes.

"I was just on my way back," Feng Zhiming replied, his tone casual, though his mind was anything but. "Fortunate timing, it seems."

Feng Zhiming had long suspected that Laizu's loyalty lay more with the headmistress than with the sect itself, a critical weakness he intended to exploit. The time had come to plant the seeds of doubt and ambition in the instructor's mind.

"Since you're here, I’ve been meaning to ask," Feng Zhiming began, crossing his arms and fixing Laizu with a measured gaze. "What are your thoughts on who should succeed Headmistress Iyana as the academy head?"

Laizu's eyebrow arched in surprise. "The next head? Is the headmistress planning to step down?"

Feng Zhiming’s expression remained neutral, though his words were anything but. "With the looming threat of war, the role of Heavenly Eye cultivators will be indispensable. The headmistress, despite her power, is not immortal. Death can come for any of us, especially in such turbulent times."

Laizu's face darkened. "You speak as if her end is imminent. The headmistress is strong, she will endure."

Feng Zhiming shrugged, his gaze sharp. "And what will you do? Protect her yourself? A noble sentiment, but let's be realistic, war spares no one, not even those we hold dearest."

Laizu's mouth opened as if to protest, but no words came. The truth, harsh as it was, left him momentarily speechless. Sensing the instructor's internal struggle, Feng Zhiming placed a hand on his shoulder, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper.

"There is a way," Feng Zhiming hinted, his tone heavy with implication.

Laizu's confusion was palpable. "What do you mean?"

Feng Zhiming sighed, as if burdened by the weight of his own knowledge. "Righteousness, demonic arts, it's all a matter of perspective, of mindset. Tell me, do you truly believe your pursuit of the headmistress is as virtuous as you think?"

Laizu hesitated. He had always considered his loyalty to the headmistress a noble cause, but Feng Zhiming's words cast shadows of doubt over his convictions.

"If I offered you a chance to break through to the Heavenly Eye realm, would you take it?" Feng Zhiming asked, his voice now a velvet snare.

{You’re a bold one, Feng Zhiming, perhaps it is this reason the Lord sought you out} The scholar of Black murmured within his mind.

"A man who waits for a fish to bite will spend more time than one who hunts with a spear," Feng Zhiming replied silently. "And time is something I cannot waste."

This was a calculated risk, one Feng Zhiming was willing to take, especially since the consequences would fall on this borrowed body, not his true self. The odds of success were nearly in his favor.

"I... would," Laizu finally admitted, his voice betraying the conflict within him.

"Even if it involves less than traditional methods?" Feng Zhiming pressed, his eyes narrowing.

Laizu nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "If you have such a method, why are you still a Spiritual Awakener? Why not take the leap yourself?"

Feng Zhiming smirked, the expression one of self-assured confidence. "Because I have no desire to ascend at this moment. More power, more responsibility—neither holds any appeal for me. My ambitions lie elsewhere."

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Laizu knew enough of Ryes's reputation to believe these words. The man's habitual laziness and apparent disinterest fit perfectly with what Feng Zhiming was saying.

"What must I do?" Laizu asked, rubbing his temples as if trying to ward off the encroaching headache.

"You need the corpse of a Dao Lord," Feng Zhiming stated bluntly.

Laizu recoiled, his face a mask of horror. "Are you mad?!"

Feng Zhiming's lips curled into a predatory smile. "Did you think it would be easy?"

Laizu’s shoulders slumped under the weight of Feng Zhiming’s proposition. "You can’t speak of this to anyone, not even to the headmistress. She would never condone such a thing, even if it’s for her protection."

Laizu nodded, his mind spinning as he tried to process the gravity of what he was agreeing to. "And after I obtain the corpse?"

Feng Zhiming took a deliberate step back, allowing his words to hang in the air. "Once you have the corpse, I will refine it into a pill. That pill will grant you the breakthrough to the Heavenly Eye realm."

It was a lie—a grandiose fabrication—but one that held just enough plausibility to ensnare Laizu. Feng Zhiming knew that the body of a Dao Lord was invaluable, its potential uses beyond his own knowledge, but convincing Laizu otherwise was all that mattered.

"Aren’t you afraid I’ll report all this to the sect?" Laizu asked, his voice trembling with the threat.

Feng Zhiming turned away, resuming his walk toward his abode. "Go ahead, tell them everything. But know this, you'll be sealing the fate of your beloved headmistress. If you can bear that burden, then do as you wish."

Laizu stood frozen, watching Feng Zhiming's figure fade into the distance. "What do you gain from all this?" he called out, desperation tinging his voice.

Feng Zhiming paused, glancing over his shoulder with a cryptic smile. "Entertainment."

And with that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving Laizu to grapple with the impossible choice before him.

...

As Feng Zhiming made his way back to his abode, his mind churned with the weight of his plans. The acquisition of the Dao Lord's corpse was a gamble, a dangerous tool that could either secure his survival or hasten his downfall.

"Right now, I have no way to escape the strength of either a Heavenly Eye or a Dao Lord cultivator. I need a method, something decisive," he mused, his thoughts a labyrinth of possibilities.

{And that’s why you covet the corpse?} the scholar of Black interjected, ever the voice of reason and challenge.

"Hmmm, I have a few ideas," Feng Zhiming responded, his tone contemplative, but the exact nature of those ideas remained locked away, even from the scholar.

{That aside, how do you plan to leave the Sect? After you obtain the Seal of Beast Suppression, you'll need an excuse to venture into the Wildlands to return to the heart. Items in this body’s storage ring cannot be taken there otherwise.}

Feng Zhiming withdrew an apple from his storage ring, biting into it thoughtfully. "Raja has shown remarkable progress. His cultivation is advancing swiftly, and his resolve is unyielding. I doubt he'll falter during the disciple evaluation… but to ensure success, I'll make additional arrangements. Just as I did with Leila. Wuya won't catch me off guard."

He took another bite, savoring the taste as he continued to plot. "As for leaving the sect, an excuse will be easy enough to manufacture. Once I have the Seal of Beast Suppression, I'll orchestrate an attack by Anissa on one of the subordinated sects in the Wildlands. The sect will need to send a Spiritual Awakener, and I’ll be the first to volunteer."

{You leave no room for error,} the scholar noted, a trace of admiration in its tone.

Feng Zhiming rolled his eyes at the comment, his expression darkening. "Hardly… At any moment, I could be struck down by the Sect Leader or the Headmistress. Their power is beyond my current means to resist. If anything, I’m just barely keeping my head above water in this ocean of death. The only reason I'm taking these calculated risks is because my opponents will not. Take Dao Lord Fury, for example, this person will not act hastily. They have time, power, and methods beyond my understanding. I'm just rushing to catch up, playing a game where the rules can change at any moment."

The scholar paused, sensing a shift in Feng Zhiming's thoughts, before asking, {I see... What has become of those methods you requested from the Elysium Guild?}

"Hera has passed them to Anissa, and Anissa will ensure they reach me. Maybe not while I’m still within the sect, it’s too risky. But once I’m in the Wildlands, it’ll be easier to secure them. But I'll plan other ways just in case."

With that, the conversation tapered off into a quiet lull as Feng Zhiming lay down, his thoughts still racing but gradually succumbing to the pull of sleep.

{Feng Zhiming, you have a difficult life,} the scholar observed, a rare note of empathy in its voice.

“...” Feng Zhiming found himself at a loss for words, the statement striking a chord within him. It was not something he had ever heard or considered before.

As the night deepened, the silence of Feng Zhiming's abode was interrupted only by the soft rustling of the wind outside. The shadows lengthened, wrapping around him like a protective shroud as he lay in bed, his mind teetering on the edge of wakefulness and slumber.

"A difficult life… Isn't that just life?" he thought to himself as his consciousness flickered like a dying flame, his mind unwilling to surrender entirely to sleep. Sleep had become increasingly elusive, slipping through his grasp like sand through his fingers.