The Crimson Stone Peak was entirely ochre, a massive, square-cut rock formation, girded on all sides by celestial stairways leading to three grand halls atop, presenting an imposing spectacle. It was said that this place had once been a barren stone hill, but a century ago, when Elder Martial Brother Chiyuan took charge of this lineage, he undertook massive construction, and now the peak’s atmosphere was so majestic it could almost contend with Sunset Peak.

Among the military factions of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, the powerful ones all commanded a certain aura; only Little Bamboo Grove had Elder Ye Tiansheng, who had taken only one disciple and employed no auxiliary servants. Thinking of this, Feng Zikang couldn't decide whether to feel fortunate that his sect’s interpersonal dynamics were simple, making it easy for him to blend in, or lament the sect's lack of development and minimal influence within the military path.

Feng Zikang had visited once before, and his path was familiar; the disciples guarding the gate had also received instructions from their superiors. Upon seeing him approach, they immediately guided him toward the inner sanctuary.

The inner hall was towering and magnificent, seemingly constructed from the very essence of Departing Fire Primordial Yang energy. The exterior walls and roof tiles were all made of crimson jade and scarlet crystal, glittering intensely under the sunlight, possessing both the splendor of an immortal dwelling and an oppressive air of stern, fierce authority.

In the cavernous main hall, only Elder Chiyuan sat alone before a jade screen. Before him lay a simple spread of vegetarian fare, two sets of bowls and chopsticks, and two wine cups, suggesting a recent visitor had just departed before things could be cleared away.

“You are Feng Zikang?”

Chiyuan sat centrally, only slightly opening his eyes to cast a sidelong, commanding glance, his tone imbued with absolute dominance. Feng Zikang felt an immediate, intense pressure wash over him. Unwilling to resist, he obediently took a step back.

“Feng Zikang, disciple of Little Bamboo Grove, greets Elder Martial Brother Chiyuan!”

Elder Chiyuan nodded slightly, observing him up and down a few times, gently stroking his curly beard as his expression slowly softened.

“Your aptitude is not weak, and your physique is strong; you don't seem like a successor of Little Bamboo Grove. Heh heh, Martial Brother Ye has taken a fine disciple!”

Hearing the tone, which suggested no intent to interrogate or punish, Feng Zikang felt even more settled.

Given his low cultivation—he hadn't even received the core cultivation method of his own sect, let alone any divine techniques—no one would believe he could harm Miao Yuchun, who was at the fourth layer of Qi Introduction and proficient in divine artifacts. For Chiyuan to even consider him a suspect would be giving him far too much credit.

“I ask you this: over a month ago, when my disciple Miao Yuchun went to General’s Tomb to slay the Ghost General, did he take you along?”

Feng Zikang did not conceal anything, recounting truthfully every detail of their journey to the General’s Tomb, only slightly altering the conclusion: he said that because Miao Yuchun’s spiritual energy was depleted, they stopped to consume a Spirit Nurturing Pellet. The Ghost General seized the opportunity to escape, and he gave chase, losing contact thereafter. Luo Lianxin of Water Moon Pavilion could verify this account.

Hearing the name Water Moon Pavilion, Elder Chiyuan frowned slightly.

When Feng Zikang finished his narrative, Chiyuan furiously slammed the table, his anger erupting. The bowls and dishes rattled violently, emitting sharp, clattering sounds.

“That place is deep within the General’s Tomb! How could Chun’er be so reckless? Could it be he begrudged giving up that Spirit Nurturing Pellet? Foolishness!”

Clearly, Chiyuan had completely bought Feng Zikang’s fabrication, believing Miao Yuchun’s own greed had led him to greedily consume a Spirit Nurturing Pellet and then relentlessly pursue the half-dead Ghost General, recklessly plunging deep into the General’s Tomb.

The depths of the General’s Tomb were forbidden ground for junior disciples due to the presence of Ghost Kings. Although such powerful evil spirits did not appear frequently, perhaps Miao Yuchun’s luck was exceptionally foul, causing him to stumble upon one, resulting in his disappearance. Otherwise, against common ghosts, even if outnumbered, he should have found a way to escape or send a signal.

Chiyuan knew that although his disciple was meticulous and cautious in personality, he always harbored a streak of wishful thinking, and his avarice had never fully subsided. Thus, having met this disaster, he had nothing more to say.

“Chun’er has been missing for half a month; I fear the worst…”

After all, these were years of master-disciple bond. Although Chiyuan had already formed a Golden Core and officially embarked on the path of immortality, his heart was not made of stone. Tears welled in his stern eyes as he shook his head and sighed.

“After I emerged from seclusion, I investigated the area around the General’s Tomb; there were no traces.”

Of course, there were no traces. Miao Yuchun had long been thoroughly destroyed and incinerated by Feng Zikang, his essence entirely refined into Battle Qi True Essence for Huo Zhongguang to absorb, not even bone fragments remained. No matter how heaven-defying Chiyuan’s cultivation, how could he conjure something from nothing?

“I have already achieved the Golden Core; I ought to let go of worldly attachments, but Chun’er was my disciple for many years. Now that he is neither seen alive nor confirmed dead, I cannot help but feel a persistent thorn in my heart…”

He usually referred to himself with the superior term Ben Zun (This Venerable One), yet here, mixed with the common first-person pronoun, the sorrow in his speech was palpable, betraying his agitated state.

Feng Zikang’s eyelids flickered slightly, but he knew that even with a crack in the heart of such a Golden Core master, it was not something he could probe at his current level. He forcefully suppressed the urge to manifest the form of the Formless Heavenly Demon to [REDACTED], quietly awaiting what Chiyuan would say next.

“You shall spread the word for me: anyone who can bring news of Chun’er, dead or alive, can receive three Military Rations Pills from me. I must find Chun’er’s whereabouts!”

Chiyuan’s tone was resolute, and he was truly offering a considerable price. He held onto this last shred of hope; even if he could not save his disciple’s life, recovering the corpse would at least allow him to put his mind at ease.

The Military Rations Pill was a Yellow-grade, third-rank elixir. It not only instantly restored physical strength and vital energy but could also rapidly stimulate the body’s hidden potential in a short time, proving exceptionally effective in actual combat. Such elixirs were difficult to refine, requiring rare materials and mastery of Crimson Stone Peak's unique cultivation methods to a certain level. They were rare medicinal treasures not just among the military factions of Dragon-Tiger Mountain, but throughout the entire cultivation world.

Chiyuan was willing to offer three pills at once, demonstrating that his affection for this disciple had truly become his inner demon.

If he could obtain these Military Rations Pills, not only would they be highly useful to Feng Zikang himself, but giving them to Huo Zhongguang would also increase his chances of defeating Liang Si’an in the Sunset Peak Grand Competition by several points. It was a pity that Miao Yuchun had been utterly annihilated; this task seemed destined to be extremely difficult to complete.

Feng Zikang’s expression turned firm, and he agreed with sincere commitment: “Do not worry, Elder Martial Brother Chiyuan, I shall exert my utmost to find Martial Brother Miao’s whereabouts. Please relax, Martial Brother Miao is blessed with great fortune and will surely be fine!”

Chiyuan sighed softly, shaking his head, but a look of gratification appeared in his eyes. His original features were fierce and intimidating, but when his expression softened, a hint of gentleness emerged.

“Don’t hold out much hope, Zikang. You shouldn't waste too much time, lest it delay your cultivation…”

He gave a bitter smile. “Your temperament truly resembles your master’s. When he was young, he would become frantic at the slightest news of trouble among his martial brothers; if one suffered, he wished he could take their place. Speaking of which, he was the one who valued loyalty among us most…”

He seemed lost in old memories, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky, silently for a long moment.

Feng Zikang secretly congratulated himself. He had been blessed with a kind-hearted master, one who was not only exceedingly caring towards him, benefiting him greatly, but whose kindness also caused others to view him through the same pure lens, rarely suspecting him.

“You should go first. If there is any news of Martial Brother Miao, come directly to Crimson Stone Peak!”

Feng Zikang promised and withdrew from the inner hall. Since Chiyuan had said this, it meant he naturally wouldn't enter deep seclusion for some time, showing how much this disciple weighed on him.

It was a shame Miao Yuchun was so disappointing, causing the red-haired man to send this black-haired man; his master was destined to be disappointed once again.

Feng Zikang dismissed the matter, turning to descend Crimson Stone Peak.

He activated a Divine Movement Talisman and sped down the mountain; reaching Little Bamboo Grove would take barely the time it takes for half an incense stick to burn.

Unexpectedly, as he was running at high speed, he heard a crisp voice call out beside his ear.

“Um… what is it, Junior Brother! Wait a moment!”