At this moment, Elder Qingquan was still wearing his faded blue Daoist robe, washed white from years of use, but now it appeared somewhat travel-worn. A few strands of disheveled white hair hung at his temples, and an unmistakable weariness seeped through his brows. Yet his eyes, sharp as an eagle's, glittered with a chilling gleam in the darkness.

He held a cinnabar-red gourd of wine in his hand, tilting his head back to chug a large mouthful of strong liquor.

"Disciple Su Ming pays respects to Master."

Su Ming stopped three zhang from the greenstone terrace, respectfully performing a Daoist salute.

Elder Qingquan set down the gourd and casually wiped the liquor stains from the corner of his mouth, his gaze sweeping over Su Ming. Feeling the deep, restrained spiritual energy within Su Ming's body, a glimmer of satisfied approval flashed in his eyes.

"After rolling around in the mortal world these past few days, your aura hasn't been disturbed in the slightest—not bad." Elder Qingquan's voice carried a hint of hoarseness as he patted the greenstone beside him. "Sit down and tell me."

Su Ming complied, stepping forward to sit cross-legged on the other side of the greenstone.

Elder Qingquan took another drink of wine. After a moment, he exhaled a long, turbid breath and began recounting his trip to the Northern Barbarian over the past half-month.

"After I arrived in the Northern Barbarian, I didn't alert anyone. I followed the lingering corpse aura straight to the Northern Barbarian State Preceptor's lair." A flicker of disdain passed through Elder Qingquan's eyes. "It was an underground demonic palace. That man had forcibly crammed his cultivation all the way to Foundation Establishment late stage. Unfortunately, his foundation was so flimsy it was pitiful—clearly a freak force-fed with all sorts of random living souls and elixirs."

Elder Qingquan let out a cold laugh.

"I only used three moves. The first broke his protective yin wind. The second severed that scrap-iron staff of his. And the third move—my sword qi was at his throat. That man usually threw his weight around in the Northern Barbarian, worshipped as a deity by the Khan, but when facing a true cultivator, his backbone was softer than a loach. One sword strike, and he showed his cowardice, kneeling on the ground, weeping bitterly."

"After searching his soul and interrogating him harshly, I discovered a huge joke."

Elder Qingquan shook his head, a note of absurdity in his tone.

"That guy wasn't a legitimate disciple of the Ming Abyss Sect at all. He was originally just an ordinary mortal herb gatherer deep in the Northern Frontier mountains. Decades ago, during one of his herb-gathering trips, he accidentally fell into a hidden cave. There, he picked up a token of the Ming Abyss Sect and half a scroll of a broken cultivation method jade slip."

"That method was obscure and difficult to understand. As a wandering cultivator with no master's guidance, he managed to fumble his way into a demonic path of cultivation all by himself, relying on his own blind experimentation. For the past ten-plus years, using those half-baked demonic arts, he played the sorcerer in the Northern Barbarian, summoning wind and rain, and somehow wangled his way into becoming the State Preceptor, second only to the ruler himself. Those so-called 'corpse-puppet iron cavalry' were nothing but shoddy imitations he created by forcibly controlling corpses with a remnant formation, copying the form without the substance."

As Elder Qingquan spoke, he flicked his wrist.

A faint light flashed through the darkness, and he casually tossed two items onto the greenstone before Su Ming.

Su Ming focused his gaze.

One was a jet-black token, radiating a faint chill, with eerie ghost-face patterns carved into it. This token was identical to the one Su Ming had seized when he killed the black-robed man on Black Wind Mountain.

Beside the token lay a black jade slip, its edges severely carbonized and broken.

A faint, subtle aura of yin-tainted energy seemed to wander over the jade slip.

Su Ming's mind tightened. He carefully extended an extremely fine thread of divine sense, wrapped in a layer of water-attributed spiritual energy, to probe it cautiously.

The jade slip contained the refining method for the "Ten Thousand Soul Banner." However, most of the content was missing, leaving only some crude methods for collecting living souls and carving soul-binding runes.

But at the very end of the jade slip, written in an extremely ancient script, was a place name.

"Dark Abyss Cave."

"See it?" Elder Qingquan stared at the jade slip, his voice turning grave. "That fake State Preceptor confessed that the cave he fell into had those three characters carved into its inner stone walls. Dark Abyss Cave was a secret stronghold set up by the Ming Abyss Sect in the Northern Frontier back in the day. That set of harmful arts and this half-rolled jade slip were the death relics of some poor soul he picked up there."

Elder Qingquan raised his head, giving Su Ming a deep look.

"You're quite lucky, kid. The black-robed man you killed on Black Wind Mountain was actually a nominal disciple that this Northern Barbarian State Preceptor took on in his early years. That guy only learned a scrap of skin-deep knowledge before he was sent to Great Xing to contact the Yongchang Marquis. If you'd run into the State Preceptor himself back then, even with his flimsy foundation, just the sheer suppression of his cultivation level would've been enough to finish you off, even if you had ten lives."

Su Ming humbly lowered his head and acknowledged the statement. Of course, he wouldn't tell Elder Qingquan about his trump cards like the Xuantian ring and Lin Yu. He simply silently accepted this "good fortune."

Elder Qingquan re-hooked the wine gourd onto his waist. "Back in that great war between righteousness and evil, the Ming Abyss Sect was wiped out, but a centipede doesn't die even when it's trampled. Now that we've discovered one of their strongholds, the sect will naturally send people to deal with it. That's not something you or I need to worry about for now."

Elder Qingquan stood up. The night wind rustled his Daoist robe, making it snap. He looked down at the vast darkness below the mountain, his tone growing lighter.

"Over in the Northern Barbarian, with that State Preceptor dead, the corpse-puppet iron cavalry he controlled also collapsed. The Northern Barbarian Khan saw that the tide had turned, and the entire army's morale completely shattered. The Northern Barbarian's national strength was never a match for Great Xing's anyway; it was all propped up by those fearless iron cavalry. Now that the cavalry is finished, it won't be long before the Northern Barbarian's peace delegation comes crawling to the Great Xing capital, wagging their tails and begging for mercy."

Elder Qingquan turned to face Su Ming.

"The Northern Barbarian delegation is coming from the grasslands. Even riding at full speed, it'll take them another half-month to reach the capital. As the sect's mediating envoy, I have to remain in the capital to oversee things until the two nations sign the treaty. But you're different."

A rare flicker of warmth appeared in Elder Qingquan's eyes.

"Since you have nothing better to do, you might as well go. I recall you were born in Great Xing. From the capital to there, at your current pace, it's only a few days' journey."

"Go on. Go back and take a look."

Elder Qingquan waved his hand.

"As cultivators, we talk about severing worldly ties, but that doesn't mean being heartless or devoid of feeling. A heart full of lingering attachments makes the Great Path hard to achieve. Cultivation is all about attaining unimpeded thoughts. Settle the karma of the mortal world completely. See the people you need to see. Repay the kindness you owe. Once you're back at the Cloud Hidden Sect, you can wholeheartedly focus on being a True Disciple and stop worrying about these trivial, mundane, petty affairs."

At these words, Su Ming's heart gave a violent thud.

Qingshi Town.

Su Ming took a step back, and with utmost respect, he bowed deeply to Elder Qingquan.

"Thank you for your understanding, Master. Disciple will set off now."

No superfluous words.

Su Ming turned, his figure transforming into a gray afterimage, instantly merging into the vast, dark night, speeding southward toward Qingshi Town.