That night, over a million people in Cliff City really felt the Immortal’s power.
With almost two hours until dawn, bursts of light in the sky kept flipping Cliff City between day and night. Some overly curious folks stared straight up during the “daytime” and ended up like they’d looked at the sun—vision going black and taking ages to clear.
Thunder rumbled at the same time, rolling from east to west, south to north, shaking the entire city. Window frames and beams trembled, and the roars and clashes that had started earlier only added to the chaos. The blasts were so loud they felt like lead in everyone’s hearts, and people could only lock their doors and pray for it all to end.
Normally, ordinary townspeople couldn’t relate at all to cultivators’ mindset, but tonight was different.
In Sun Light Sect and on Heavenly Wings Pavilion, cultivators—just like everyone else—hoped the night would end soon, wishing that, as Immortal Yu of the Rifting Earth Sect had promised, this mess would wrap up before dawn.
Geng Fu sat propped against a wall in a corner on the third level, clutching his chest, eyes rolling, foam at his lips—his back felt like it was going to snap. He’d been lucky: when the fourth floor collapsed, he fell and, though he was knocked senseless, he’d survived. After the Void Heart Demon Spider Shadow Curse spread, he’d been terrified and severely drained, but at least he hadn’t died like so many around him.
As steward of Heavenly Wings Pavilion, he knew there had been about 350 people in the main hall and along the side bridges. Now, he thought having half that number left was a win. Looking out, he saw that more than thirty percent of the powerful cultivators were down—and that didn’t count the ordinary folks on the corridors.
“Demon—it has to be a demon!”
Even though the Void Heart Demon Spider Shadow Curse was gone, Geng Fu’s legs felt weak at the memory. He had no strength to stand. The only relief was that Immortal Yu and the others had probably killed the demon. Survivors upstairs were slowly shaking off fear; those feeling better staggered to the railings to peer out and see what was happening.
Geng Fu let out a couple of groans, checking his waist to see if it was really broken. But as his gaze swept the ground, he felt a chill: down below… the shadow seemed to move.
***
When the intense waves of light swept the sky, Yu Ci saw Chi Yin. Ever since she’d slashed Jin Huan at the banquet, she’d vanished without a trace—now she appeared on the mountain like a ghost.
Under the glare, Chi Yin’s cloak absorbed every beam and stayed pitch-black, which only made her stunning beauty stand out more. Her proud, fierce aura was on full display as she hovered above, looking down.
A cold wind whipped on the mountain, lifting one corner of her cloak.
From Yu Ci’s angle, he could just make out the gold-threaded layers of her skirt, dotted with jade-like clouds of mist. The fabric billowed with a faint fragrance, and every so often he caught a glimpse of the ornate floral patterns on her cloud-patterned shoes.
These weren’t clothes she wore to fight.
Yu Ci wasn’t surprised—he knew Chi Yin loved luxury and never lost face. Coming to a banquet in splendid robes was normal; covering them with a cloak outdoors was probably just sect rules.
Most people would have thought her earlier words pure sarcasm, but Yu Ci remembered: when Chi Yin used that tone, she was really praising you—she just had a habit of tossing compliments on the ground and making you scramble for them.
Back when he’d been in the Twin Immortal Sect, he’d spent hours parsing her tones, figuring out how to respond in an effort to save his own skin. Now, a reflexive smile flickered across his face like a fixed mask, and he said clearly, “Master Chi Yin, you flatter me. Borrowing the universe’s method is a simple trick—how could it compare to your sect’s Divine Lord’s favor, with powers falling from heaven?”
The saying “a dog riding on someone else’s power” applied to him using the Rifting Earth Sect’s backing. He’d countered by mentioning the Mysterious Moon Sect and even the Eastern Sea Rakshasa Sect’s devotion to their Divine Lord.
Though neither spoke it outright, Chi Yin was smart—she understood.
Now they were at a stand-off, matching each other word for word.
Chi Yin’s eyes went cold, but she deemed it beneath her to trade words with a mid-stage Divine Connectivity realm junior—she would just kill him! She was about to head back to the Eastern Sea, ignoring the Rifting Earth Sect’s threat, when a thought that had popped up earlier made her hesitate.
That split-second delay came with a special sense transmission that furrowed her brows.
By cultivation, Yu Ci was slower, but soon he saw it: on the mountain’s shaded slope, the shadows were stirring.
His heart jumped; hearing the wind swirl, he looked up—and Chi Yin was gone.
At the cliff’s top, layers of shadows gathered, twisting in the air, trying to form something humanoid but always falling short.
The Void Heart Demon Spider Shadow Curse, which had broken when the Yin Spirit collapsed, was knitting itself back together bit by bit. Even with most of its controllers gone, it still fed spirit energy to the shadows to keep them changing.
Someone on the cliff noticed and started shouting, but the shadows kept shifting. Their earlier might kept everyone below from coming to investigate.
At the center of the gathering shadows, a sentience thought, “Good thing I moved the Heavenly Demon Seed early. If it were still on that Tu Du, I’d be doomed!”
Then the thought shifted: “This is tricky. Without a Yin Spirit as a host, even if I kill that junior and grab the Mirror and leave, I wouldn’t be able to control it long. Better to…”
At that moment, the thought leapt across the void and caught hold of a target drifting ever farther away.
No sooner had it finished its preparations than a crisp, chilling voice rang out: “So it really is a Shadow Puppet. But separated by tens of millions of miles, whatever happens here, the host over there probably can’t sense it, right?”
Up to this point, the shadow had only roughly formed a humanoid shape—and at the sound, it froze mid‑shift.
“Who’s there!?”
“You’re all talk and no action—trying to be clever, you lose sight of everything. Your d*mned stunt puts us in a bind. It’s a shame that Murong traveled a thousand miles for nothing in the end.”
A mountain breeze stirred a subtle fragrance. With brocade‑shod feet crunching the ice and snow, Immortal Chi Yin drifted in. Unfortunately, the Shadow Puppet had no taste for such beauty.
A Shadow Puppet’s power depended largely on its host. When it had parasitized Tu Du, it had wielded cultivation at the Core Refinement stage—but now that Tu Du’s Yin Spirit was gone, it could only patch together scraps of soul energy through the Shadow Web, and its strength had plummeted. Worse still, without a stable host, its thinking had grown rudimentary and its demonic instincts took over.
It sensed that Immortal Chi Yin’s words hid layers of meaning, but it lacked patience and rasped through the air, “What do you mean?”
The answer came in the sweep of Chi Yin’s flowing sleeves and in an instant‑killing chill.
With a single swish, the shadows that had swirled and gathered atop the cliff were wiped clean—no trace remained.
“You pathetic puppet‑clown have no right to question me… Do you really think I’m as patient as that Murong?”
Having dissipated the Shadow Puppet with ease, Immortal Chi Yin allowed a cold smile—but her mood was far from cheerful. Liu Guan had been infuriating—if he wanted to leave, fine, but he’d left a tail behind and was acting without restraint. His so‑called “Shadow Void” and “Void Heart Demon Spider Shadow Curse” had already been identified—and those techniques belonged to the Northern Demon Sect, also known as the infamous Primordial Demon Sect.
Just when Sky Rift Valley had quieted down, another incident like this occurred—surely someone with sharp eyes would seize on it and stir up fresh trouble.
“Whatever. I’m about to head back anyway. Let Ming Lan and those who come after scratch their heads over this… huh?”
On the snow‑blanketed summit, a sudden crimson glow erupted. A thousand layers of rosy light whipped across the sky, its heat fierce enough to turn flesh and bone to ash. It instantly blanketed half the heavens, melting the snow below—and then Jin Huan’s unusually calm voice followed: “It was you who struck the blow.”
“I wouldn’t dare steal someone else’s glory.”
Immortal Chi Yin’s thought‑transmitting mastery was perfectly in sync with her—every reply matched her words exactly. She pursed her lips in a smile, squinted at the blinding light, and after a brief assessment, allowed it to swallow her.
The light seemed to vaporize her into a wisp of smoke. Jin Huan of course would never believe she’d vanished so easily—but for that instant, he truly lost all sense of her.
Then Immortal Chi Yin’s slender form, cloaked in black, materialized from the void about thirty meters away. How she’d emerged from the light, no one knew—but she appeared headed for the shaded side of the cliff.
Jin Huan didn’t care whether it was her who’d killed Tu Du—he’d never forget that on Heavenly Wings Pavilion, it had been her first blade that struck him, after all he’d done to help the Mysterious Moon Sect!
The Myriad Rays Draping Cloud Pearl spewed a hundred zhang of crimson light in a roaring sweep.
Immortal Chi Yin flipped off the cliff’s crest, showing no intention of backing down. “You self‑righteous fool—I’ve long grown sick of looking at you…”
“Perfect—let’s finish you off together!”
Those last words curled on her lips but never truly escaped; instead, they lifted the corners of her mouth in a faint smile.
The attack missed, but Jin Huan’s keen gaze swept the shaded slope below—nothing escaped him. In that moment, he saw not only Immortal Chi Yin but another figure as well!
“Ha—you’re here too!”
He threw back his head and laughed loudly—the release he’d craved since the fierce battle at last found an outlet.
High overhead, Shi Song and Hu Dan arrived, hoping to intercept him midair. But though Jin Huan was drenched in blood, his power had peaked; they couldn’t stop him. They watched helplessly as he plummeted like a meteor, unslowed, and slammed into the cliff’s summit.
The impact thundered across the peak Fortress City relied on.
Ice and rock sheared away in an instant, and the shockwave violently rocked the Heavenly Wings Pavilion below—ready to collapse at any moment.