Li Muzhan paced slowly in circles, then suddenly tapped his finger. With a dull thud, a plain slip of paper exploded into a cloud of ash, and with a flick of his sleeve, he vanished without a trace.

He completed his second circle, again tapping his left index finger. With another dull thud, another slip disintegrated into crimson powder, swept away by his right sleeve.

The third circle saw another slip disappear.

Six slips per circle, his steps grew slower with each rotation. When only four slips remained, he moved almost inch by inch, his brow deeply furrowed.

But no matter how slow his pace, it never ceased. He finished the circuit, and as only the last slip remained, he opened his eyes.

"Junior Brother, are you alright?" Wen Yinyue asked, frowning.

In the span of that time, Li Muzhan had become utterly haggard. His eyes were dull and lifeless, exhaustion and weariness shadowing his brow.

Li Muzhan shook his head. "I am fine."

He glanced down at the final slip and let out a soft laugh. "Senior Sister, if my calculation is correct, the Pojun Hall is about to be attacked."

Wen Yinyue frowned. "You can guess that accurately?"

Li Muzhan smiled. "Nine times out of ten!"

"...Very well, I will go tell Martial Uncle to dispatch some men!" Wen Yinyue said.

Li Muzhan shook his head and chuckled. "Senior Sister, who should we send?"

Seeing his state, Wen Yinyue pondered for a moment and asked, "Should the experts from the Martial Arts Hall and the Cui Feng Pavilion all be sent?"

Li Muzhan nodded. "Precisely!"

Wen Yinyue murmured, "Hmm. The Lantuo Temple has always acted with caution, ensuring nothing goes awry. They will likely send many men, much like an eagle facing a hare."

She frowned again. "If they go, what about us?"

Li Muzhan sighed deeply and slowly sank onto a chair. "Us?"

He shook his head. "Either we wait, or we go ourselves to substitute for the experts from the Martial Arts Hall and Cui Feng Pavilion... We are short-handed; even the cleverest cook cannot make a meal without rice."

"I will go discuss this with Martial Uncle Bei," Wen Yinyue said, picking up the last slip and turning to leave gracefully.

Li Muzhan hastily returned to the couch, formed his hand signs, and began channeling the Gazing at Heaven Divine Illumination Scripture to restore his spirit. He hadn't expected that using intuition for deduction would drain him so severely.

After this round of calculation, he felt dizzy, as if his spirit had been hollowed out and he was about to collapse—it gave him a terrible fright. It was better to do such things less often. He vaguely sensed danger; a true backlash could lead to losing more than he gained. He secretly wiped a cold sweat and sighed in relief at his narrow escape.

……………………………………

Holding the slip, Wen Yinyue arrived at Nun Zhumei's small courtyard. The bright sunlight falling upon the nun's gray robes lent her a certain ethereal quality.

Nun Zhumei was admiring plum blossoms and turned upon hearing footsteps, smiling. "Yinyue, why the rush?"

Wen Yinyue, usually detached and composed, always presented an air of complete self-possession.

She approached, bowed with cupped fists, and reported, "Martial Aunt, Junior Brother has already calculated that the Lantuo Temple intends to attack Pojun Hall. We must dispatch men immediately!"

"Pojun Hall?" Nun Zhumei paused in surprise.

Wen Yinyue nodded. "Yes."

Nun Zhumei pondered briefly, then shook her head. "Pojun Hall is to the east. If the Lantuo Temple is making a move, why travel so far?"

"It is what Junior Brother calculated; it should be mostly accurate," Wen Yinyue insisted.

Nun Zhumei laughed. "Zhanran has skills in divination and calculation now?"

Wen Yinyue frowned inwardly, displeased, but dared not show annoyance toward her Martial Aunt. She gave a faint smile. "Junior Brother's meditative skill is profound; he possesses Buddhist supernatural powers."

"What supernatural powers?" Nun Zhumei asked with a smile.

Wen Yinyue shook her head. "Junior Brother refuses to say."

"How can Buddhist supernatural powers be obtained so easily?" Nun Zhumei shook her head and laughed, waving dismissively. "Don't listen to Zhanran's boasting."

Wen Yinyue frowned. "Junior Brother Shifeng is not that kind of person!"

Nun Zhumei pursed her lips into a smile. "Look at you, protecting him so fiercely. Are you about to fall out with me?"

"Martial Aunt jokes; your disciple wouldn't dare," Wen Yinyue lowered her head.

Nun Zhumei shook her head. "Hmph, it's not that you don't dare, it's that you don't want to. You..." Wen Yinyue lowered her head and said softly, "Martial Aunt, perhaps you should trust Junior Brother this once."

Nun Zhumei laughed. "If I trust him, it feels a bit too mystical. If I don't trust him, I risk offending you. Let your own master worry about matters like this!"

"Yes," Wen Yinyue nodded, secretly breathing a sigh of relief.

Although their master scolded Junior Brother fiercely and called him worthless, she knew the true depth of his abilities and would surely believe his calculations, sending men immediately. With preparation, striking against an enemy unaware, the Lantuo Temple forces would not fare well.

As for the possibility of Li Muzhan making a mistake in his deduction, she had considered it, but an inexplicable confidence told her that her Junior Brother’s calculations would not be wrong.

In the end, Nun Zhumei decided to return to Canghai Mountain first. For Pojun Hall, she would send someone up the mountain to deliver a message to the Sect Leader for his final decision, and separately dispatch experts.

Li Muzhan raised no objection. By the time the Lantuo Temple received the news and reacted, there would be a brief window. They were likely also monitoring the Dragon Slaying Secret Codex.

……………………………………

On the first day, the members of the Canghai Sword Sect departed from the Li Residence, heading towards Canghai Mountain.

Murong Hao and Nie Xuefeng came to see them off. Upon seeing Nun Zhumei, the two acted obediently, not daring to speak more than a few words in front of Wen Yinyue.

Li Muzhan noticed their deference toward Nun Zhumei—like mice facing a cat—and was quite astonished. He mused why they feared her so much when she appeared so benevolent.

He quietly asked Wen Yinyue, who explained that Martial Aunt Zhumei had been ruthless and a mass murderer in her youth, only changing her temperament in middle age, by which time her fearsome reputation was already established.

Nie Xuefeng and Murong Hao were clearly afraid because their elders had warned them. They had intended to follow Wen Yinyue, but upon seeing Nun Zhumei, they immediately abandoned the idea.

The Li Residence was empty save for Li Wudi and Li Xiaoshui; all other servants had been dismissed. Li Xiaoshui’s mother had passed away long ago, and the remaining maidservant had just been betrothed.

Fifteen people in total rode on horseback, traveling as fast as possible. The luxury of having two horses per person was unheard of; horse supplies were so tight in the Dayuan region that even the army couldn't manage one steed per man.

Chiying occasionally neighed softly, sometimes bolting ahead to race far beyond the others, only to return and rejoin the group after a while.

Li Muzhan let him be, riding in the carriage and contemplating the Dragon Slaying Hand technique.

As dusk began to settle in the evening, they spotted a temple nestled halfway up the mountain, obscured by trees.

"Let's rest there for the night!" Nun Zhumei pointed toward the distance.

Except for Li Xiaoshui, everyone else was a master with internal energy protecting their bodies. Nun Zhumei, prioritizing safety, insisted on keeping regular hours, ensuring everyone maintained peak physical strength to avoid being caught off guard by ambushes.

"Martial Aunt, I will scout ahead," Li Muzhan offered.

He and Wen Yinyue rode alongside Nun Zhumei at a steady pace. His suggestion was abrupt, and Nun Zhumei turned to look at him, smiling. "You are cautious, good. Go take a look."

Li Muzhan responded, sped up his horse, overtook the group, and soon arrived before the temple.

The temple was situated halfway up the slope, surrounded by sparse woods. The temple walls’ red lacquer was faded, patchy and ancient, showing the clear marks of time.

Li Muzhan gently nudged Chiying and quickly passed through the trees to the temple grounds, dismounting fluidly. Chiying stopped, and Li Muzhan stepped into the courtyard, which was wide.

The ground was paved with blue bricks, but they were pitted and uneven, seemingly eroded by age, suggesting a time when incense burned profusely. However, upon closer inspection, he frowned—the indentations were caused by arrowheads. Had he not served in the army, seeing such damage, he would have attributed it to rainwater erosion, never suspecting it was the result of a hail of arrows. He took a step back, vaguely sensing a chilling aura of murderous intent.

A scene flashed before his eyes: a sky filled with arrow showers, wave after wave, incessant. The arrows carpeted the blue brick ground; standing there, no one could have survived.

……………………………………

He stared intently at the main hall and the two side rooms; both sets of doors and windows were gone, seemingly wrenched out. Inside the main hall stood a Buddha statue, its head missing, as was its right arm. Only half the torso and the left arm remained, making for a frightening sight.

Li Muzhan frowned, turned, exited the temple, and floated onto Chiying. The horse snorted, then shot like smoke through the woods, returning to Nun Zhumei at the foot of the slope.

"How was it, Zhanran?" Nun Zhumei asked, smiling from atop her horse.

Li Muzhan shook his head. "Martial Aunt, the aura of malevolence here is too dense. We should find somewhere else."

"A malevolent aura?" Nun Zhumei frowned.

Li Muzhan nodded, sighing. "This temple is too ominous; staying here would bring bad luck. It is better to avoid it. Let us search elsewhere."

"You! And you call yourself a cultivator!" Nun Zhumei laughed and shook her head. "What's wrong with an unlucky dwelling? We aren't staying long, just one night. It makes no difference."

Li Muzhan frowned. "Martial Aunt, I have a bad feeling. Let's go somewhere else."

Wen Yinyue interjected, "Martial Aunt, Junior Brother's intuition is usually accurate. Let's stay elsewhere."

"I refuse to believe it!" Nun Zhumei laughed, shaking her head. "I'd like to see what fiends or ghosts dare approach; I'll dispatch them with a single sword strike!" Her eyes sparkled, full of spirited energy.

Li Muzhan smiled wryly and stopped arguing. This Martial Aunt, while appearing gentle, possessed a stubborn streak and was somewhat headstrong. Old habits die hard.

Wen Yinyue looked over, and the two exchanged a glance, both sighing softly.

Nun Zhumei waved her hand. "Let's go! We rest at the temple tonight and leave early tomorrow!" She urged her horse forward and plunged into the woods, heading toward the temple on the mountainside. The others followed closely, the sound of hooves rumbling.

Upon entering the temple, Nun Zhumei inspected it and concluded Li Muzhan was making a fuss over nothing. There was no dense, sinister gloom; though old and dilapidated, it was nothing frightening.

Li Muzhan said no more. Inside the main hall, he immediately found a corner, sat down, closed his eyes, and began circulating his energy, focusing on cultivating the Dragon Slaying Hand. He was eager to master its power and couldn't wait to achieve success instantly.

Wen Yinyue’s heart remained taut, trying to persuade Nun Zhumei to find another place to rest; she trusted Li Muzhan’s words implicitly.

Nun Zhumei impatiently waved her hand, signaling Wen Yinyue to be quiet, then sat down to cultivate her own arts.