“The Inscription of Silence,” Feng Zhiming murmured as he examined the scarf he had taken as his payment. It was a well-crafted item, bearing an inscription that spiritual inscribers could make upon reaching the Foundation Establishment realm. However, the efficacy of the inscription varied widely depending on the skill of the inscriber.
He carefully wrapped the scarf around Anissa’s neck and instructed her to speak.
“I don’t like this color; it’s very ugly,” Anissa said as instructed, but no sound came out. The scarf had effectively suppressed her voice, a testament to the inscription’s power. Of course, if Anissa truly wanted to, she could shatter the scarf and the inscription along with it.
She pulled off the scarf and handed it back to Feng Zhiming. He raised his hand to stop her. “Keep it. I have a feeling you’ll find a use for it in the future.”
“Who wants this ugly scarf?” she thought to herself but decided to hold her tongue. Instead, she stored the scarf in her ring without further comment.
They were now heading toward the trading circle of the city, the bustling marketplace where the majority of sect disciples came to buy and sell items. Feng Zhiming had considered going straight to the Flowing River Sect but decided it was wiser to exercise caution. He had no idea how many Spiritual Awakening cultivators the sect might have or if any of the game’s participants were among their ranks.
The increased reward for the creature of the Wildlands had only intensified his desire to claim victory. It would be a delicious irony if he could overthrow the very Assembly that had helped him grow stronger.
“What exactly is our plan of action? I could walk into the sect and kill them all. Just give the order,” Anissa said, her patience wearing thin. The lack of a proper fight was gnawing at her, and she was growing restless from their constant moving without action.
Feng Zhiming, now back in his usual light-hearted mood, turned to her with a calm yet serious expression. “The Hiding Demon Sect are subordinates to my sect. I’ll catch a ride with their disciples, go to their sect, and have them declare war on the Flowing River Sect.”
Anissa’s dissatisfaction was evident on her face. She opened her mouth to argue but stopped mid-sentence when she saw the look in Feng Zhiming’s eyes.
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“You are free to leave, Anissa,” Feng Zhiming said firmly. He hadn’t brought her along to question his every decision. He couldn’t tell her about the game or the 96 people trying to kill him—revealing such information would mean certain death. All he could do was offer her a way out.
He had always maintained that what he needed was absolute loyalty. “If I have to explain my logic and reason to convince my subordinates to follow my orders while my enemies have blind loyalty, I will always lose.”
Anissa lowered her head, understanding the gravity of his words. She knew that in their world, even a fraction of a second could mean the difference between life and death.
“My apologies,” she said softly, her voice tinged with sadness. She knew that if she left, she would have nowhere to go. The thought of secluding herself in a forest for a millennium, as she once might have done, now repulsed her. After all she had experienced, she despised the idea of wasting her life in solitude. She truly wanted to see the world.
“There will come a time when I may seek your advice,” Feng Zhiming added, not wanting to completely shut down her input. He valued her presence but needed her to understand the importance of unwavering trust in his decisions.
Anissa nodded in response, clearly affected by the lecture Feng Zhiming had given her.
Seeing her somber expression, Feng Zhiming sighed. He reached out and patted her head gently. Although she was only slightly shorter than him, she was still short enough for him to reach.
“It’s good you understand. Now come along, I think I see my tools getting abused over there,” he said, his smile returning, hoping to lift her spirits.
At the end of his gaze, four men, whom he recognized from the restaurant, were harassing two members of the Hiding Demon Sect—a boy and a girl who looked around fifteen and were at the Qi Condensation stage.
“We’re already giving you a good deal. Just hand over the beast cores,” one of the four men said, pushing the male disciple.
The four men were at the Foundation Establishment stage, so it made sense for the boy to concede. But as a young man eager to impress the girl beside him, he refused to back down.
“I will sell to those who pay me what I want, or my name isn’t Qin Hao,” he declared, standing at about 5’9” and looking utterly dwarfed by the four men.
As the four men harassed him, they noticed Feng Zhiming approaching from behind. The memory of him turning someone to mush earlier was still fresh in their minds, and they quickly made themselves scarce, not wanting to find out why he was heading their way.
Qin Hao, who had closed his eyes in anticipation of a beating, slowly opened them to see that the four men were running away. A broad grin spread across his face as he placed his hands on his hips.
“Look, Junior Sister Zhu Li, gaze upon my strength,” he boasted, turning around to reveal Feng Zhiming and Anissa standing behind him, their presence far more menacing than the men who had fled.
“The heavens want me dead,” Qin Hao thought, his bravado evaporating as he realized the situation he was now in. He quickly abandoned any thoughts of resistance.