His body was so thin that it resembled a skeleton wrapped in dried skin. White hair hung loosely over his shoulders, and his eyes remained closed as he sat cross-legged in meditation.

At first glance, he looked like a corpse that had been sitting there for hundreds of years.

Yet despite his frail appearance, the moment Wu Haruto laid eyes on him, his expression immediately became respectful.

There was no trace of the dignity he displayed before the elders.

Nor was there any of the authority expected of the Sect Master.

Only reverence and awe remained.

Wu Haruto straightened his red robes and carefully approached.

His footsteps slowed unconsciously.

The closer he came, the greater the pressure he felt.

It was not a pressure intentionally released by the old man.

Rather, it was the natural oppression produced by a being whose existence had already surpassed ordinary cultivators.

Finally, when he was several meters away, Wu Haruto stopped.

He lowered his head. Then cupped his hands and bowed deeply.

"This junior greets the Ancestor."

The cavern fell silent.

Only the faint sound of dripping water echoed in the distance.

Several breaths passed.

Then several more.

The old figure remained motionless beneath the black tree.

Just when it seemed as though no response would come, a dry and aged voice slowly echoed through the cavern.

"You have come."

The voice was calm.

Yet it seemed to carry an indescribable weight.

Wu Haruto immediately lowered his head even further.

"Yes, Ancestor."

The old man slowly opened his eyes.

Within those cloudy purple pupils flickered a strange light.

It was not the gaze of someone observing a junior.

It was the gaze of someone looking down upon the passage of generations.

"Back when I decided to settle in these mountains and put an end to the Pishachas, I never expected this battle would continue for so many centuries."

The old ancestor’s voice was hoarse and dry. Although his expression remained calm, a faint trace of weariness could be heard beneath his words.

"You are already the sixth generation leader of the White Moon Sect. So many outstanding juniors and descendants have met their end before their time."

His gaze slowly drifted upward toward the opening above the cavern.

"Meanwhile, this old ghost continues to hide here, watching them leave one after another."

Wu Haruto immediately knelt.

"Please don’t say such things, Ancestor. Others may not understand your sacrifices, but I do. Without your suppression, the thousands of Pishachas beneath Frostspine Mountains would have long overwhelmed the sect. The White Moon Sect owes its survival to you."

The old ancestor revealed a bitter smile.

"You always know how to comfort an old man like me."

Then the smile gradually faded.

"My time is nearing its end, Haruto."

Wu Haruto’s heart skipped a beat..His head snapped upward.

"Ancestor... You..."

"It’s exactly as you’re thinking." The old ancestor’s voice became heavier.

"The greater chaos is approaching. I can feel the seal weakening with each passing year. It won’t be long before the Pishachas begin escaping Frostspine Mountains in large numbers."

His gaze lowered toward Wu Haruto.

"And when that day comes, I may no longer be able to suppress them."

Wu Haruto’s face turned pale. This was the worst possible news.

For generations, the White Moon Sect had relied upon the Ancestor’s existence as its final pillar.

If even that pillar was beginning to crumble...

The consequences would be unimaginable.

"Ancestor, is there truly no other way?" Wu Haruto asked urgently. "We cannot simply watch the sect perish."

The old ancestor remained silent for a moment before slowly nodding.

"There is one possibility."

Hope immediately appeared in Wu Haruto’s eyes.

"Please tell me, Ancestor."

A strange glimmer flashed through those ancient purple pupils. "The two wandering experts who recently arrived at the sect."

Wu Haruto froze.

"Elder Song’s guests?"

"Hm." The old ancestor nodded. "They are the key."

His tone carried unusual certainty.

"Whether it is suppressing the Pishachas once more or completely resolving this centuries-old disaster, the answer lies with them."

Wu Haruto was startled.

He had sensed Su Mo’s extraordinary talent, but he never imagined the Ancestor would evaluate the two so highly.

A trace of hesitation appeared on his face. They were outsiders after all.

Yet compared to the survival of the sect, everything else seemed insignificant.

Seeing his reaction, the old ancestor spoke calmly.

"Haruto."

"Yes, Ancestor."

"No matter what method you use, you must bring them here."

Wu Haruto lowered his head.

"I understand."

The old ancestor nodded.

"Remember this carefully."

His tone became unusually solemn.

"It must happen before the next full moon."

Wu Haruto’s expression stiffened. The next full moon was only three days away.

The pressure weighing on his shoulders suddenly became even heavier.

After receiving a few more instructions, he respectfully bowed and withdrew from the cavern.

His thoughts remained occupied by the Ancestor’s warning and the increasingly unstable situation surrounding the Pishachas.

The cavern gradually fell silent.

Only after Wu Haruto’s presence completely disappeared did the old ancestor slowly open his eyes once more.

The sorrow and weariness visible moments ago had vanished.

His gaze became indifferent, cold and detached. He took a deep breath.

Immediately, vast amounts of Yin energy gathered from all directions and flowed into his body.

His skin became even paler, yet the dimness within his eyes seemed to lessen slightly.

After a moment, he spoke.

"Yuna."

The surrounding shadows distorted.

A figure wearing a black robe appeared soundlessly before him.

One knee touched the ground. Her head remained lowered. She did not speak.

The old ancestor’s gaze swept across her curvaceous figure hidden beneath the robe briefly before withdrawing his eyes.

"There is a mission."

The woman remained kneeling silently.

"Pressure Song Meilin." His voice contained no emotion.

"I want her to reach Golden Core as soon as possible."

A brief pause followed. Then his eyes narrowed slightly.

"I do not wish to see another failure."

The woman lowered her head even further. "Understood."

Her voice was hoarse and strangely empty.

The old ancestor waved his hand.

"You may leave."

Without hesitation, the black-robed woman disappeared into the darkness.

The cavern became silent once more. The old ancestor closed his eyes.

However, unlike before, the surroundings were no longer peaceful.

Strange wisps of purple light gradually emerged from the darkness surrounding the cavern.

They drifted through the air like restless spirits.

Some laughed.

Some cried.

Some released eerie whispers that seemed capable of unsettling one’s soul.

The countless spectral figures circled around the black tree before gradually sinking into its roots and trunk.

The tree absorbed them greedily, as though feeding and growing.

At the same time, an even denser stream of Yin energy flowed back from the tree and entered the old ancestor’s body.

His withered face relaxed slightly.

A faint expression of satisfaction appeared.

"Not enough..."

The old man muttered softly.

His fingers tightened slightly against his knees.

"Just a little more."

The surrounding purple spirits continued drifting toward the tree.

Even with the sunlight falling inside, the cavern only grew darker and coder.

Making the scene more unsettling.

And beneath the black tree, the old ancestor slowly returned to meditation.

"...It won’t be long now."

***

The fight between Su Mo and Shen Kai was still ongoing.

What began as a simple exchange of fists and kicks had gradually evolved into a clash of techniques.

Crackling arcs of lightning danced around Shen Kai’s limbs. Every punch and kick carried explosive force, producing bursts of thunder-like shockwaves that spread across the training ground. Decades of experience were evident in every movement. His attacks flowed naturally into one another, leaving almost no openings.

Su Mo, meanwhile, relied on the techniques he had accumulated through the system.

Rock Fist strengthened his defenses and striking power, allowing him to directly confront the lightning-enhanced attacks. Whenever Shen Kai attempted to create distance, compressed Air Bullets shot forward one after another, disrupting his rhythm and forcing him to remain engaged.

The spectators watched attentively.

Even Song Meilin could not help but feel surprised.

The gap in experience between the two was obvious, yet Su Mo was adapting at an astonishing pace. Compared to the beginning of the battle, his movements had become noticeably sharper and more efficient.

Su Mo himself could clearly feel the changes.

Just this short sparring session had given him more practical experience than several ordinary fights combined.

If his current self were to face the version of himself from yesterday, he was confident he could win without much difficulty.

His understanding of timing, distance, and movement had improved tremendously.

Unfortunately, the fight had also confirmed something else.

Shen Kai was still holding back.

The powerful techniques Su Mo had been expecting never appeared. Neither Lunar Chains nor Moonfall Piercer had been used.

The old man was clearly treating this as guidance for a junior rather than a serious battle.

Su Mo wasn’t bothered by that.

This was only a spar after all.