Fellow Daoist! That scoundrel has written a new book again.

"Your spiritual power has been restored."

The old man gazed at her for a moment and then said this.

The manuscript, which was being pushed forward, paused slightly, and then was casually placed in front of the old book collector.

From the moment Ye Xiaozhou said he could help her restore her spiritual power, Zhu Wuyao knew that she couldn't hide it from him any longer.

From the moment the decision was made to eliminate Ye Xiaozhou, every step that followed was a precipice.

This confrontation was the simplest, yet also the most dangerous.

The gamble was on the old man's "moment of inspiration".

After saying that, the old man took the stack of manuscripts in his hand and turned to the first page.

The article itself is not the most eye-catching part.

Instead, it was a reddish-brown curse.

This is Sister Rong's specialty. Zhu Wuyao not only told Hu San's fortune and learned the art of body refinement, but also learned this incantation from Sister Rong Si.

"I have regained my spiritual power. This spell is connected to my heart, but unfortunately, I have not had time to learn it for long enough to connect my life with inanimate objects like books."

"I only need the time it takes to read a book."

If she dies, the book will be destroyed; if the old man forcibly imprisons her, he can also threaten her life.

Unless he memorizes the entire book with his divine sense in a very short time, then Zhu Wuyao's life will be worthless.

The old man could do that, but when he saw the first sentence of the book—

The Tao that can be spoken of is not the eternal Tao.

"this……!"

These few short sentences seem to contain boundless philosophical insights, reaching the universe and touching the very source.

What is this Way? Can it be spoken of or not? Is it beyond the ordinary or the extraordinary? Where is the boundary between change and constancy? If human power is limited while the Way is limitless, how can human power possibly glimpse the Great Way?

The old man thought of the great roc spreading its wings and soaring south.

The ephemeral mushroom knows not the cycle of day and night...

Am I also a morning glory?

Seeing the contemplation in the old scholar's eyes, Zhu Wuyao let out a soft breath.

For book lovers, the first encounter with a book is often solemn; if one tries to memorize it by force, the surprise and delight the book brings will be ruined.

Zhu Wuyao retreated very quietly, and as she passed the Wufeng Sword, she put it into the storage ring on her wrist.

He then used his object manipulation technique to retrieve his storage bag.

Then, he quietly slipped out.

For the old man, she was too weak; it was like watching a play where lovers, having experienced life and death, were about to transform into butterflies, and at that moment, you glimpsed an ant crawling towards the kitchen.

Zhu Wuyao certainly had his guesses: perhaps the old man didn't like staying in the mine, or perhaps the last rebellion of cultivators was something he had intentionally allowed... but these were all just guesses.

There is no evidence to prove his good deeds, but Zhu Wuyao witnessed his love of books and his pride.

Even so, it is still too dangerous.

But for the ultimate goal, that's enough—

Lead everyone to escape to safety or to their graves, erasing the reason why Ye Xiaozhou had to come.

"The documents have been handed over to Master Shu, but one page was missing. I need to go back and retrieve it."

Zhu Wuyao spoke calmly to the guard at the door.

Then, it was taken back to the mine and thrown back into the protective shield.

Zhu Wuyao used his hands to support himself and slowly stood up.

"You're back."

A suppressed voice rang in my ears, and outside the protective barrier, there was a dark mass of heads.

Zhu Wuyao, who destroyed the entire mine and drove everyone to their doom, was only a hair's breadth away from this group of desperate criminals.

She looked up and saw the hatred and anger in their eyes, as if... they wanted to skin her alive.

Like a trapped beast whose home has been destroyed, it has finally learned to bare its fangs and extend its claws. The fighting has begun, and the blades reflect a chilling light in the dim mine.

It's terrifying.

They no longer hesitated.

Zhu Wuyao felt reassured; at least this group of people would die more slowly.

She calmly stepped out of the protective shield, letting the blade press against her neck, and pushed the cold, sharp edge away with her fingers.

Go forward.

A path was made in the crowd.

A stone was hurled at Zhu Wuyao, but the spiritual light shone from his body, and the protective spiritual power blocked the stone.

Then came the axes and knives that came to chop and split.

The angry and fearful crowd bred a dark and tenacious life force. Even in the darkest cracks of the rocks, weeds that no one cared about would sprout, listening to the curses around them, as the attacks that fell upon them grew more and more numerous.

Zhu Wuyao's lips slowly curved into a barely perceptible smile—Hu San and Rong Si did a great job.

At the very least, this is a group of rebels who dare to wield knives.

Instead of a bunch of cowardly wretches clinging to life.

They should be like this. Anyone who can survive in a place like this, even if they are a wild dog, should be a wild dog that dares to bite the enemy's throat, not a wild dog that runs away with its tail between its legs!

She ascended the central boulder, her spiritual energy radiating outwards, her will reaching every corner—

“I am also a cultivator. You are not afraid of me killing you, but you are afraid of people outside killing you.”

"You are also cultivators. Are you not afraid of being buried in oppression in this life, but afraid of dying on the journey to shatter your shackles?!"

Zhu Wuyao grasped her bladeless sword once more, her wrist flicking as she slowly raised it upwards. After a long silence, everyone heard the resounding clang of the sword once more.

The bloody and turbulent world of martial arts, as the bladeless sword flashed by, reappeared before our eyes once more.

That was the unbridled passion and camaraderie of wine, something I dared not even dream of.

That was the Daoist heart and courage buried beneath the dust and grime of the mine.

Standing at the highest point is not Zhu Wuyao, but the sword in her hand and the indomitable spirit of resistance.

Its will will reach every corner.

Since the flames were lit, since the seeds of fire were sown, there have been those who gathered firewood, those who passed on the flame, and those who sacrificed themselves to become flames...

"To be alive is to not die; to die is to be without self!"

"Fellow Daoists, it is time to die!"

Like a thunderclap that shook the very soul, everyone awoke as if from a dream.

Fellow Daoist...

Fellow?

Sister Rong murmured, "That's right, I'm not Rong Si'er from the mine, I'm Rong Zhao, the Soul-Dinger of the Ghostly Fiend Sect!"

A burst of wild laughter rang out nearby—"Hahahaha, I am the Mountain-Shaking Hu Sanlang!"

A rustling sound arose, like the wind blowing, stirring up the fields of wheat that stretched to the sky.

"My name isn't Huang Ganzi! My name is Huang Mang, and I come from the Huang family in the cultivation world!"

"Hahaha, Fellow Daoist Huang, then I am Li Chun, the Poison Spider... I am Li Chun, the Poison Spider!"

"What's my name again...? I've forgotten... I've forgotten, I've forgotten!"

"Now is the time to die! Now is the time to die!"

"Now is the time to die!"

"Rong Si can live in the mine, but I, Ding Hun Rong Zhao, can only die on the road to find him!"

"I can shake mountains and crash into Hu Sanlang, just like him!"

……

Everything in the past seems like a dream, and only when I wake up do I realize who I am.

Zhu Wuyao's gaze swept across the faces of the crowd, revealing excitement, bewilderment, shame, and maniacal laughter...

She never expected that the term "fellow Daoist" would have such power.

His arm was slightly bent, and then the sword in his hand was raised even higher—

"Now is the time to die!"

The sword's chill reveals one's courage, and the lean bones hear the clang of bronze!