Time slipped by quickly, especially for Yang Ying. Cultivating in isolation, he hardly noticed its passage until Baal’s chillingly crisp voice announced the arrival of New Year’s Eve to the great master, snapping Yang Ying back to the present.

Faint sounds of firecrackers could already be heard outside the hotel, though the sun hadn’t yet set; the true clamor was yet to arrive.

Picking up his communicator, Yang Ying saw that Xin Jinyun had called him several times, but having been in deep meditation with his eyes closed since the night before, in a state of spiritual wandering, he hadn’t noticed.

So, Yang Ying returned the call, and soon Xin Jinyun’s image materialized on the screen.

“Miss Xin, I hope you and your mother have been well these past days?” Yang Ying asked with a smile.

“We are fine, of course. But you haven’t answered my calls all day—why is that?” Xin Jinyun adopted a tone of gentle accusation.

“I’ve had a sudden breakthrough in swordsmanship, you see, and have been training nonstop. I truly apologize for neglecting my communicator,” Yang Ying replied smoothly; it wasn't entirely a lie, after all.

“Why were you looking for me so urgently, Miss Xin?”

“It’s really nothing much…” Two dimples bloomed on Xin Jinyun’s cheeks. “But tonight is New Year’s Eve. Wouldn’t you be terribly bored spending it alone in the hotel? Why don’t you come over to our place for the reunion dinner?”

“Reunion dinner…” Yang Ying recalled the sight of eating that meal five hundred years ago, a genuine smile gracing his lips. “Very well, I will come.”

The Xin family residence was right next to the Tai Chi Sword Arts Hall, and the Hall itself was only a ten-minute walk from the hotel (otherwise, Yang Ying wouldn’t have chosen the Tai Chi Sword Arts Hall upon arriving at Mount Wudang—it was simply too convenient). Thus, Yang Ying soon arrived downstairs at their building.

It was a modest two-story building with simple exterior decorations. Several strings of firecrackers already hung from the drying rack in front of the door, ready to be lit at the stroke of midnight.

Yang Ying rang the doorbell. Only five seconds later, the door opened, and Xin Jinyun stood on the other side with a face full of bright smiles. “Brother Yang, you’re so fast!”

Yang Ying thought to himself, Have I already been upgraded to ‘Brother Yang’? Out loud, he said, “New Year’s Eve is always merrier with more people. Miss Xin’s invitation was too gracious to refuse; I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all, please, come in,” Xin Jinyun moved aside, ushering Yang Ying into the house.

Xin Tianqing emerged from the kitchen carrying a pot of soup. The Hall Master, proficient in swordsmanship, had already prepared a lavish dinner spread. Seeing Yang Ying, she said, “Yang Ying, you’ve arrived. Since it’s just the three of us today, we’ve kept the cooking simple. Please don’t be formal.”

The table held six dishes and one soup—enough not just for three people, but easily for six.

“Thank you so much for inviting me, Hall Master. The food I’ve been eating these past few days has been rather monotonous (high-energy military rations). Seeing this spread is making my mouth water,” Yang Ying quipped with a smile.

However, as the three ate, Madam Xin frequently steered the conversation sideways, probing Yang Ying about his origins. Yang Ying sensed no ill will, so he revealed what he could—mostly surface-level information.

“Ah!” Xin Jinyun exclaimed. “I thought you looked familiar! Brother Yang is actually the hero who saved the Light of Titan. My memory is terrible.”

“It’s nothing, I’m just yesterday’s news, having been out of the headlines for over a month. There’s no need to keep track of me,” Yang Ying took it in stride. He wasn't someone who valued empty fame; a diminished reputation made it easier for him to operate in the shadows.

The three chatted while watching television programs as midnight slowly approached.

Amidst the laughter and conversation, Yang Ying suddenly felt a chilling wave of psychic energy sweep across the area, drawing closer.

I haven’t seemed to cross anyone recently? Unless someone from the Tai Chi Temple found a clue, but this kind of mental energy doesn't feel like it comes from those Dao-seeking practitioners. Still, it seems their… no, their target is definitely me.

Yang Ying stood up and told the mother and daughter, “I must take my leave immediately for something urgent.”

“Leaving again?” The smile on Xin Jinyun’s face instantly froze. “Can’t you wait until after the firecrackers, and leave tomorrow?”

“No,” Yang Ying replied. “I truly wished to wait, but I have an important remote conference call scheduled precisely at midnight from the hotel. I need to return to prepare, so I must be excused.”

Madam Xin nodded. “If that’s the case, you had better return. Travel safely.” Xin Jinyun echoed, “Travel safely.”

Xin Jinyun escorted Yang Ying to the doorway, looking as if she wanted to say something more, but ultimately said nothing.

After bidding her farewell, Yang Ying stepped out onto the street.

Soon, two shadows stealthily began trailing him. Yang Ying glanced back, found a secluded alley, and walked in.

The alley turned out to be a dead end. The two shadows blocked the exit. One of them laughed heartily, “You’re quite cooperative, walking right into a deserted spot. What, did you hear Hell calling?”

Yang Ying saw that both men wore black monkey masks and cloaks woven from pure black, light-absorbing material. Recalling secret lore about Awakened ones he’d glimpsed at the Tai Chi Temple, he called out loudly, “I wondered who it was—the remnants of the Ape Worship Cult. Haven’t you been hunted by the Psionic Monastery for nearly thirty years and still haven't perished?”

“Insolence!” The first man roared in anger, but the other held him back.

Yang Ying noticed the first man wore the Rage Ape Mask, while the second wore the Laughing Ape Mask.

The Laughing Ape Mask spoke smoothly, “I didn't expect the hero who saved the Light of Titan to have heard of us. How much do you know?”

Yang Ying recited his knowledge: “Forty-five years ago, the Ape Master-level expert Horas infiltrated Earth with a large contingent, looted the Psionic Monastery’s kindergarten, and took a group of young Awakened ones. Based on them, the Ape Worship Cult was established. Those young people were later brainwashed by the Ancient Legion, becoming cold, ruthless, obedient to orders, and planted as deep cover agents in human society, specializing in intelligence, assassination, kidnapping, and all activities beneficial to the Ape race.”

Clap, clap, clap…

The Laughing Ape Mask applauded. “Well said. You certainly know a great deal about us. You must have gained quite a bit after retrieving that data drive for the Intelligence Division, haven’t you?”

“I see,” Yang Ying realized inwardly. “The Intelligence Division is truly porous; information leaks everywhere. Now they’ve even leaked me out.”

“Precisely!” the Laughing Ape Mask confirmed. “Blood has been spilled by your hands, and you must be prepared to pay the price. You certainly won’t be leaving here alive today. Prepare to die!”

With that, the Laughing Ape Mask stomped the ground, leaped ten meters into the air, flew over Yang Ying’s head, and landed on the opposite side, forming a pincer movement with the Rage Ape Mask.

The Laughing Ape Mask landed and sneered, activating a machine shaped like an antenna, plunging it into the ground. A deep purple barrier enveloped the area. “Anything else you want to say? Say it now. I’ve activated the jamming device; no means of detection, including heavenly satellites, will find our battle here. You are finished.”

Yang Ying turned his body ninety degrees, looking left and right, then smiled. “Are you truly that confident? As far as I know, the first batch of Ape Worship Cultists was mostly wiped out by the Psionic Monastery thirty years ago, and the Monastery hasn't stopped hunting them since. The number of survivors you can count on one hand. You must be later-generation Awakened recruits, and there are many things you haven’t learned.”

Yang Ying estimated the Rage Ape Mask’s Psionic energy strength to be around 1,500, and the Laughing Ape Mask around 1,700. While higher than his own, the difference was limited.

Each masked figure drew a sixty-centimeter metal rod from beneath their cloaks. Zzzzzzla— a lightsaber flared from both ends—a double-ended blade!

“What we have learned is more than enough to kill you. According to intelligence, your Psionic power has just awakened, making you far weaker than us, and we have the advantage of two against one,” the Laughing Ape Mask slowly pulled off his cloak, letting it drop to the ground.

“Let me confirm one more time: is it absolutely true that no means of detection can ascertain what’s happening here?” Yang Ying asked with a smile.

“Naturally,” the Rage Ape Mask sneered, also removing his cloak and letting it fall. “Are you dreaming of calling for help? Don't bother.”

“In that case…” Yang Ying waved his hand, and instantly, a formation of twelve Zealots appeared in the space!

“Regarding the numerical advantage you just mentioned,” Yang Ying laughed, “I have a different perspective.”