The departure of the Bloodstain Old Ancestor was executed with a burst of light, a seamless maneuver so practiced that Ye Wen watched in stunned admiration. Though he had no idea what kind of figure, or demonic tier, the Bloodstain Old Ancestor occupied in the Cultivation World, this very display told Ye Wen that this was undoubtedly an individual who caused no end of headaches for countless righteous heroes.

It wasn't simply a judgment based on cultivation, but on the sheer proficiency of the escape. Such mastery suggested he encountered similar situations often, yet remained alive—and that, of course, spoke volumes about practice making perfect.

The Bloodstain Old Ancestor vanished without a trace, and Ye Wen wasn't inclined to give chase. He and the Old Ancestor had forged a small enmity this time, but it wasn't something requiring immediate resolution. Since he was destined to make a name for himself in the Cultivation World sooner or later, expending effort here to fight the Old Ancestor—gaining no public acclaim even in victory—seemed wasteful. It was better to wait until his own power base was established and then use the Old Ancestor for a show of force.

Turning back, a blue, shimmering light descended beside him. From afar, Ye Wen had mistaken it for sword light, but as it neared, he realized it was the glow of blade energy. The newcomer wielded not a flying sword, but a magical artifact possessing the distinct traits of a treasured saber.

As the blade-light surrounding the man dissipated, the pale-blue, crystalline points that had enveloped him slowly withdrew, revealing his true form. However, the light spots did not vanish; instead, they continued to orbit the man unpredictably, resembling a constellation of brilliant starlight.

"It shares a certain similarity with how I manipulate the Purple Star River, yet this starlight harbors an incomparably fierce blade aura!"

The man was clad in a white long robe, his long hair falling naturally over his shoulders. He appeared barely twenty years old, but the formidable spiritual energy radiating from him clearly indicated a cultivator of no small stature. Ye Wen roughly estimated the man must have cultivated for at least two hundred years or more.

This assessment was based on the strength of Liao Tong, the Necromancer who had once been a cultivator. Ye Wen wasn't sure of its exact accuracy, but it served as a workable reference point.

The two sized each other up. The white-robed man’s gaze frequently drifted toward the Zixiao Sword hanging above Ye Wen’s crown. Then, he cupped his hands in a respectful salute: “I am the Hermit of Beihe from Kunlun Mountain. May I ask your esteemed name? And which lineage do you belong to, fellow Daoist?”

Ye Wen’s Zixiao Sword possessed an impressive bearing and an undeniable aura; anyone seeing it would know it was a true treasure. Combined with the imposing aura Ye Wen was currently projecting, the self-proclaimed Hermit of Beihe immediately recognized that this man’s cultivation was certainly not beneath his own.

Moreover, although the man’s presence was strong, his bearing exuded a quality of centered harmony. The Hermit of Beihe instantly recognized this as the true manifestation of orthodox Daoist profound arts, and Ye Wen’s spiritual energy fluctuations were exceptionally pure, lacking the taint of crooked paths. Thus, his tone was appropriately courteous.

However, out of caution, he did not fully retract the starlight-like blue motes surrounding him. He merely suppressed the sharp blade aura contained within the starlight significantly. If the Hermit of Beihe had been an unsheathed, razor-sharp saber moments before, now that blade was mostly returned to its scabbard.

Seeing the man’s righteous demeanor and sensing no hint of evil affiliation—plus the fact that he had indirectly helped scare off the Bloodstain Old Ancestor—Ye Wen felt no need to put on airs. He replied just as courteously: “I am Ye Wen of Mount Shu!”

“Mount Shu?” The Hermit of Beihe blinked, finding this self-introduction novel among fellow cultivators: “Are you from Mount Emei or Mount Qingcheng?”

In his understanding, Mount Shu typically hosted the largest concentrations of cultivators from those two peaks, and most were affiliated with one sect or the other. Independent cultivators had long since faded away, and in the last few centuries, there were virtually no such things as lone wanderers; if any existed, they were likely hunkered down in some incredibly remote corner.

Famous mountains and great rivers like Emei and Qingcheng, considered prime cultivation paradises by those in the sect world, were prizes coveted by countless people. So many cultivators scrambled across those peaks daily that, to the Cultivation World, these places held few secrets; they knew precisely how many caves and cultivators occupied each summit.

Since Ye Wen claimed allegiance to Mount Shu yet was completely unknown, the Hermit of Beihe surmised he cultivated in some obscure locale, otherwise, he was certain he would have heard of him.

Pondering fruitlessly, the Hermit of Beihe first recalled his own magical artifact and prepared to engage Ye Wen in deeper conversation to probe his background. Unexpectedly, Ye Wen merely cast