Chapter 47: Chapter 47: Holding the Fort

Perhaps he was simply worrying too much— but whatever the case, Lü Yang no longer trusted any power backed by a Foundation-Stage cultivator.

Especially those capable of noticing him.

“Unlike my previous life, this time I have the Divine Talisman’s protection. Heaven Mending Peak cannot easily scheme against me. The Divine Martial Sect, a sect of the righteous sects, should not betray its own disciples… So could that Foundation-Stage cultivator, behind the Skull Mountain event, actually be the founder of the Sanhe Association?”

The more he thought about it, the more the Sanhe Association reeked of danger. Still, his expression did not shift.

“I understand. Second Senior Brother wishes to see me?”

“Yes,” Fairy Feixia nodded lightly. “He has already arrived at Skull Mountain. He needs capable assistance. He hopes you will lend him a hand, Senior Brother.”

Assist? Lü Yang almost laughed.

More like cannon fodder.

Without hesitation, he shook his head. “Although I dabble in Arrays, once I leave an Array’s protection, my strength plummets. I am hardly worthy of Second Senior Brother’s favor.”

“Please tell him to seek someone else.”

His refusal was firm.

Though he had joined the Sanhe Association and signed a contract, he was no one’s slave — he still possessed the right to refuse.

Fairy Feixia seemed to expect this. Her expression soon softened into another familiar look — shyness and a charm that seemed to spill from her skin like warm wine.

“Junior Brother… I’ve run into a difficulty in my Array studies. I was hoping you could… guide me.”

“With pleasure,” Lü Yang replied immediately, straightening up.

…

Months slipped by like flowing water.

Lü Yang’s days settled into a peaceful rhythm: discussing Dao with Fairy Feixia, studying the Hundred Bones Grand Array, and when he felt especially inspired — doing both at once.

Yet outside the Marketplace, Skull Mountain was embroiled in chaos.

The Divine Martial Sect, the Stain Sect, their subordinate powers, and even powerful Loose Cultivators had all converged. They clashed constantly — blades, talismans, and tempers erupting at the slightest spark.

Ancient relics of the Wu Ghost Sect had been unearthed, confirming the whispers: the Wu Ghost Secret Realm truly existed.

During this turbulent period, Fairy Feixia brought surprising news.

Zhao Xuhe had been using Lü Yang’s name to seize opportunities outside.

“Who would have thought my reputation was so valuable…”

Lü Yang could not help but feel amused. Zhao Xuhe had risked life and limb repeatedly, and every time he scraped by danger, he invoked Lü Yang’s name to scare off enemies.

Ouyang Haize’s grisly death still lingered in many hearts — and so did Lü Yang’s supposed ruthlessness.

Of course, Zhao Xuhe’s cunning helped — he avoided antagonizing top cultivators and managed to skate the edge without falling off.

“Junior Brother, are you truly ignoring him?”

Fairy Feixia’s voice grew sharp, cold killing intent igniting in her eyes. “He’s dragging your karmic ties into the open. We should cut him down first.”

“Leave him alone.”

Lü Yang shook his head. Zhao Xuhe hadn’t returned to the Marketplace in a long while; he was combing Skull Mountain for remnants of the Wu Ghost Sect and the entrance to the Secret Realm.

To kill him, Lü Yang would need to leave the Marketplace.

That would be utter stupidity.

“Let him run around. He mortgaged a loan from me, and I allowed him to use my name. There’s nothing more to say.”

When Fairy Feixia departed, Lü Yang’s smile faded.

“Heh.”

“In the past few months, everything I see and hear seems to push me to leave the Marketplace.”

The word surfaced in his mind, dark and ominous:

Manipulation.

He — a mere Qi Refiner — had caught the attention of a Foundation-Stage cultivator and become entangled in countless schemes. If that wasn’t a manipulation, then what was?

“Karma… what a filthy thing.”

“I mustn’t act rashly. I should stay put, and let this calamity pass me by…”

External pressure from the Sanhe Association.

Internal entanglement from Zhao Xuhe.

“Hook me however you wish — I will not bite.”

With that thought, his mind instantly cleared, burdens falling away like dust shaken from a robe. His body felt light — as though a karmic chain had snapped.

…

Time wheeled onward; another month crept by.

A thousand miles east of the Marketplace.

A streak of blood-tinged Flying Light tore through the sky, fleeing desperately. Behind it, seven or eight Flying Lights chased like wolves on a deer’s trail.

“Zhao Xuhe! Stop running!”

The pursuers wore armor forged for war; their vitality surged like roaring flames. All were Divine Martial Sect disciples — Late-Phase Qi Refiners with no Final-phase among them.

If they had one, Zhao Xuhe would already be dead.

Even so, he was at his limit. His blood-burning technique had drained his very life.

But hope — foolish, blinding hope — kept him from collapsing.

“I’m almost there!”

“I sent a message to Lü Yang! I just need to reach the Marketplace! As long as I get close, Lü Yang will save me!”

He repeated the thought like a mantra.

“He must save me!”

“The Bond of Devouring Fate still has my Restriction! If he wants to break through Foundation Establishment — sooner rather than eighty years later — he needs me alive!”

“He will save me!”

“He must!”

Then, he saw it.

From the direction of the Marketplace — a brilliant streak of Flying Light shot upward.

“He’s here! I knew he wouldn’t abandon me!”

His pursuers slowed, also noticing the arrival.

But as time dragged on…

Something felt wrong.

The Flying Light flew toward them — yet never… arrived.

Meanwhile, Zhao Xuhe could no longer flee. The Divine Martial Sect disciples cornered him, blows falling like rain.

The battle dragged on for hours — the pursuers striking carefully, terrified of accidentally killing him.

And that distant Flying Light?

Slowly… quietly…

It drifted farther away.

Zhao Xuhe’s final defenses crumbled.

“No… Why!?”

Blood spurted from his mouth. He fell to his knees. His vitality drained like water from a cracked jar.

One final, agonized thought echoed:

Had Lü Yang… given up the Bond of Devouring Fate?

“Why… didn’t he save me…?”

Unbeknownst to him, Elder Ouyang Feng — mastermind of this entire pursuit — was asking the very same question in the shadows, teeth grinding in disbelief:

“Why didn’t he save him!?”

“Only a fool would save you.”

Lü Yang flicked aside yet another frantic message plea from Zhao Xuhe. His expression held not a shred of hesitation.

“You think you can threaten me with a Secret Technique?”

“Eighty years? I can wait.”

“When your Restriction dissolves naturally, the Secret Technique will still be mine. If not this life, I’ll use it in my next.”

He sighed, almost sympathetic.

If Zhao Xuhe had made it to the Marketplace, Lü Yang wouldn’t have minded giving him a helping hand.

But outside?

That was fate’s verdict.

“Senior Brother Zhao, I’ll give you peace of mind. You’ve sacrificed yourself for the Stain Sect — I’ll request a glorious burial for you from the Master of Heaven Mending Peak.”

“As for your debt — I’ll collect it next life.”

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