Early the next morning, Xie Yuyan discovered that the people from Qilin Hall had already entered the mountains ahead of them. It seemed something must have happened during the night—he could sense that Zhu Yin had used Wuxiang.

Seeing that Zhu Yin also appeared somewhat distracted, and with no one else nearby, Xie Yuyan could only grab the closest person, Xie Yuhe, and say, “Once we’re in the mountains, riding horses won’t be easy. There’s a rumor that after Ye Qingchen ascended the throne, he buried all the treasures he had gathered here. Tell me—without horses, and without mobilizing large forces, how do you think he managed to do it?”

Hearing him finally talk about something serious, Xie Yuhe held the map of the Luoyi Mountains and replied calmly, “Luoyi Mountain was already a spiritually rich land before the rebel faction came to power. Perhaps Ye Qingchen came here with the intention of searching for something in the first place.”

“That seems unlikely,” Xie Yuyan said, analyzing aloud. “When Ye Qingchen was still Grand Chancellor, the Shen Dynasty was already on its last legs. Gold and silver alone wouldn’t have allowed him to revive things so dramatically after taking the throne. You and I both know he must have obtained something truly important. Luoyi Mountain may be connected to that very thing.”

Xie Yuhe said, “Third Brother, whatever it was that he obtained, in the end he’s nothing more than a pile of dust now. Father Emperor ordered us to search for treasure—so as sons, we search. If we find something, it’s a gift for Father Emperor. If we don’t, the trip isn’t wasted. Why concern ourselves with anything else?”

“Life is only interesting if you stay curious about the unknown,” Xie Yuyan replied calmly, tossing out another remark that bordered on treason. “If you only care about Father Emperor, how can you ever be happy?”

Xie Yuhe hesitated, then turned his gaze forward. “Do you remember our childhood?”

“Of course,” Xie Yuyan said. “Back then, you were the model student in the tutors’ eyes. You barely spoke to me.”

“That year during the royal hunt, you said many things to me,” Xie Yuhe replied. “I still remember them.”

He glanced past Xie Yuyan toward Zhu Yin behind him, then looked back at Xie Yuyan. “If you remember as well, then you should know exactly what you’re doing right now.”

Xie Yuyan felt as if he had been reprimanded again. He was just about to retort when Xie Yuhe suddenly accelerated and rode past him, ending the conversation.

Why was it that anyone could say a few cryptic words to him and then just ride off? Xie Yuyan truly didn’t understand. He was honestly here to look for mineral veins and had zero interest in any so-called treasure. If Zhu Yin hadn’t mentioned that Qilin Hall would be coming, he wouldn’t even have bothered joining this group of people on a treasure hunt.

If Ye Qingchen really had been an immortal acquainted with Luan Ling, how could he have secretly come here to bury treasure after ascending the throne? If he were truly that greedy, he wouldn’t have endured so long before seizing power—and he certainly wouldn’t have died so abruptly, almost as if… as if he had no choice but to die.

Compared to the events themselves, Xie Yuyan preferred speculating about the logic and connections behind them. And the more he thought about it, the more strangely everything seemed to link together. For example, the largest battle in the Heavenly Realm in recent times had occurred shortly after Ye Qingchen’s regime collapsed. Coincidentally, Xie Yuyan also knew a bit of gossip from the Demon Realm—that same period had been a critical time of great upheaval there as well. Wei Jiang hadn’t gone into detail, and Xie Yuyan couldn’t tell from his tone whether the change had been good or bad, but it likely had something to do with a shift in power within the Demon Realm.

In other words, major changes had occurred in all three realms during the same period, one after another, eventually intertwining.

How fascinating. Matters that the divine and demonic realms would never openly communicate about were being pieced together by him, a mere mortal. If he could uncover the truth, that would be far more interesting than any treasure.

Unfortunately, while he didn’t care about treasure, some of his brothers clearly did. They had originally agreed to travel together for a stretch after entering the mountains, but in the blink of an eye, Xie Yucheng and Xie Yujin had sped ahead, deviating from the route marked on the map.

“Looks like someone wants to take a shortcut,” Xie Yuyan remarked casually, not the least bit anxious. “That eagerness to present treasure is really something, don’t you think?”

He looked at Xie Yuheng. Xie Yuheng didn’t rush to judge, merely replying, “This map was drawn a long time ago. After Ye Qingchen’s downfall, the mountain’s ley lines also shifted. Prince Chen and Seventh Brother are probably just going ahead to scout the path.”

Seeing Xie Yuheng’s serious expression, Xie Yuyan couldn’t help laughing. “Fifth Brother, I didn’t expect you to be even better at talking nonsense than I am. If they knew how selfless you’re making them sound, they’d probably thank you for the praise.”

Xie Yuheng didn’t know how to continue, and Xie Yuyan didn’t tease him further. He pressed his heels to his horse and rode through the mountain entrance.

Just as Xie Yuheng was about to follow, Xie Yuhe brushed past him, glanced back briefly, and continued onward.

But when Xie Yuhe caught up, something strange happened. Xie Yuyan had not been far ahead earlier, yet upon reaching the entrance, there was no sign of him at all. Had he, like Xie Yucheng, taken a different route?

In truth, Xie Yuyan hadn’t taken another path. He wasn’t really here to search for treasure anyway. Once he finally entered the mountains, he could attend to his own matters—shake off the emperor’s spies, watch Zhu Yin reunite with Qilin Hall, and meet with the people from the Four Directions who had been waiting for him.

At that very moment, both Zhu Yin and the people of the Four Directions—though in different parts of the mountain—wore the same expression. All of them sensed that this matter would not be easy.

As expected.

Zhu Yin carefully sensed her surroundings. She knew that Qilin Hall was waiting for her near the entrance—this had been arranged long ago. She had even seen the marks left by her senior brother. Yet from the perspective of divine perception, she couldn’t sense anyone else at all. The magnetic field here had already begun to warp.

“Senior Sister.”

When she saw Luan Ling and the others, Zhu Yin realized they must have already encountered trouble. Otherwise, they wouldn’t have deviated from the planned meeting point.

“No need to worry—it’s still under control,” Li Xiao said to her. “But we did try to clear out those mixed and chaotic energies. Just as you said, Senior Sister, the aura here is extremely strange. Even after we clear it, it quickly returns—like pushing water aside with your hands. It flows right back through your fingers and can never be completely drained.”

“What about fire?” Zhu Yin asked, turning to Si Zhuo.

Si Zhuo released a burst of dragon flame, burning away a strand of demonic energy in the air. Yet almost immediately, that same strand reappeared, drifting once more through the atmosphere.

“It’s as if time itself is frozen here,” Luan Ling said, picking up a leaf. A few droplets of dew still clung to it, and there was an eerie calm in her expression. “But frozen at what point? Twenty years ago, perhaps?”

Si Zhuo frowned, and Li Xiao sensed something amiss. “Junior Sister?”

Luan Ling snapped back to herself, her gaze clearing. She said in annoyance, “I almost forgot—this place has a very strange effect on divine perception. Once you activate it, you’re more likely to be disturbed by all kinds of chaotic consciousness.”

Li Xiao thought for a moment. “To be safe, let’s minimize the use of divine perception. We can’t split up. We must stay together.”

Luan Ling nodded. “All right.”

There were many strange aspects to this place. Although the demons and spirits they had encountered so far were still within their ability to control, there were constant, unexpected disturbances—nonlethal, but deeply irritating.

Luan Ling felt that this place was deeply twisted. Perhaps, as Si Zhuo suggested, someone had set up a formation here. But Luoyi Mountain was vast—who could have laid down a spell so immense that even Luan Ling couldn’t trace its origin?

When it came to formations, Luan Ling prided herself on knowing all the arrays of both the Heavenly and Human Realms. Yet she had never seen anything like this. Could it be the work of the Demon Realm? But that made even less sense. The strange magnetic field here only allowed chaotic energies to regenerate endlessly; it couldn’t drain living essence, block outsiders, or conceal the internal environment. It was hard to imagine what purpose it served.

Well—except for its attraction to divine perception. That seemed important. Luan Ling had asked Li Xiao and the others, but none of them had heard the call urging her to come here. Perhaps it was because her divine perception was the strongest among them, allowing her to trigger something the others couldn’t.

She wanted to try again, but Li Xiao felt it was unwise. Since entering the mountain, Luan Ling’s experience had been the only one that resulted in real injury. Physical wounds were one thing—damage to divine perception was a serious matter. Luan Ling’s perception was already the strongest present; if she were injured, none of them could heal her. Repairs in that domain required someone of Wen Yuan’s level—a true God-Lord.

Though reluctant, Luan Ling knew their concerns were valid. She had already memorized several locations while exploring with her divine sense; investigating those places first would suffice.

As they ventured deeper, the sky darkened even faster than it had the day before. It was barely mid-afternoon, yet the forest was already shrouded in gloom, with no sunlight in sight.

Seeing how exhausted everyone was, Situ Meng asked Li Xiao, “Senior Brother, should we stop for now and replenish our supplies?”

Li Xiao nodded. “That’s fine.”

Although they were carrying out an official mission, Heavenly restrictions weren’t something that could be lifted at will. Except for particularly critical moments, immortals descending to the mortal realm usually kept their restrictions intact—or only partially lifted them. As a result, prolonged activity in the human world taxed their physical bodies almost as much as it did mortals.

After walking so long while also clearing demons along the way, everyone was thoroughly worn out.

Si Zhuo wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but he felt that Luan Ling seemed more exhausted than the others. Immortals differed from mortals in constitution—even if Luan Ling didn’t specialize in physical combat, she shouldn’t have been this fatigued. Could the suppression of divine perception here be so strange that, even without actively using it, it was silently draining her?