The Azure Blood Demon Bats ferried the Asura Blood Guards, soaring slowly over Cloudmist Isle. Upon the lead, sixth-tier Azure Blood Demon Bat, Mo Duanhun maintained a grim countenance, his eyes flashing with sharp intent as they opened and closed.

This was his second visit to Cloudmist Isle.

The last time, he had led the Asura Blood Guards to sweep the island clean, eradicating every single expert of the Gu family.

Logically, given the Gu family’s strength and previous subjugation, they should not dare to attempt any subterfuge. Yet, Mo Duanhun remained extraordinarily cautious. The moment he arrived, he bristled with hidden vigilance, even extending his divine sense to hover above Cloudmist Isle, constantly monitoring for the slightest anomaly.

Before arriving, Mo Duanhun had received a coded message from Yang Qingdi, warning him that this venture might prove troublesome.

Yang Qingdi, already besieged by the Demon Race from the Fourth Demonic Domain and burdened as the head of his clan, could not easily come to Cloudmist Isle to discuss trivial matters with someone like Gu Lie. However, because he calculated Shi Yan would appear on the island, Yang Qingdi was unsettled, urging Mo Duanhun to prepare thoroughly before setting foot on Cloudmist Isle—lest the Gu family launch some treacherous snare.

Mo Duanhun held unwavering faith in Yang Qingdi’s formidable divine abilities. Therefore, before departing, he had prepared several contingency measures, just in case.

Heeding Yang Qingdi’s explicit warning, Mo Duanhun proceeded with meticulous care, advancing step by deliberate step, even intentionally slowing the flight of the Azure Blood Demon Bats.

Aboard the Wind and Thunder Flying Lions, Fu Xinyan and He Qingman, both veiled, remained silent.

Yet, the clear depths of their eyes flickered with hidden alertness, cautiously observing the state of Cloudmist Isle below.

Fu Xinyan, in particular, carried a faint shadow of sorrow in her beautiful gaze. She knew Shi Yan was somewhere on the island; she yearned to see him immediately yet was entirely unsure how to begin her search, leaving her emotions tangled.

He Qingman, however, appeared composed, a faint, knowing smile playing on her lips as she occasionally glanced down, then over at Fu Xinyan, her curiosity growing intensely.

Judging by Fu Xinyan’s demeanor, she was truly deeply infatuated with that fellow named Shi Yan.

Along the journey, He Qingman had heard numerous tales of Shi Yan’s exploits relayed by Xia Xinyan. She desperately wanted to see what kind of man he was, the one who could so powerfully captivate the favored daughter of the Gallow Sea.

“Everyone, be alert. We are descending…” Mo Duanhun commanded sharply, guiding the Azure Blood Demon Bats to land slowly near the stone buildings below.

In the stone courtyard beneath, numerous members of the Gu family stood tense, scattering to proactively clear a landing zone for the Demon Bats.

One by one, the bats settled. Mo Duanhun frowned as he dismounted, narrowing his eyes to scan his surroundings. He stated coldly, “Who is in charge here?” A Gu family retainer, holding the cultivation of the Status Realm, stepped forward deferentially, clasping his hands. “Lord Mo, please wait a moment. Our master is temporarily absent, attending to documents at another mining site. We have already sent word; he should arrive shortly.” Mo Duanhun scoffed, his tone dismissive. “What is Gu Lie thinking, daring to play games in my presence…”

“Lord Mo, calm your rage! Lord Mo, please control your temper!” The retainer bowed deeply, trembling with cold sweat.

Mo Duanhun, as the foremost of the Three Asura Kings, was infamous throughout the Boundless Sea for his ruthless cruelty. In every campaign across the neighboring seas, Mo Duanhun had slaughtered relentlessly for the Yang family, burying experts from other regions one by one.

Among the Three Asura Kings, Mo Duanhun spoke the least, yet he was the most utterly unforgiving; if he did not strike, he would not. Once he acted, no living soul remained.

“Half an hour,” Mo Duanhun stated, frowning tightly. “If Gu Lie is not here in half an hour, you will all accompany him into oblivion. I have already cleansed Cloudmist Isle once; I do not mind repeating the act.” At these words, the faces of every Gu family member present turned ashen, a bone-deep chill running down their spines. Some of the lower-cultivation martial artists began to tremble at the knees, barely able to remain standing. Had anyone else uttered such a threat, the Gu family might have dismissed it, but spoken by Mo Duanhun, it shattered their composure.

Mo Duanhun never joked; he always acted upon his words, and possessed the very strength to reduce Cloudmist Isle to ash. Faced with such a declaration, how could they dare not fear?

“Lord Mo, I will inform the master again immediately!” The retainer wiped the cold sweat from his face, bowing low, and hurried toward a stone tower, frantically dispatching a messenger hawk.

Mo Duanhun stood without speaking, rigid as an ancient pine tree, his eyes slightly narrowed, as if gathering his energy internally.

Not a word was uttered, nor was any pressure deliberately exerted. Yet, the Gu family members were gripped by terror, feeling as if a colossal mountain weighed down upon their backs, preventing them from standing straight.

Soul Gathering Pool.

Banners of soul-summoning fluttered in the wind, drawing in specters, their hideous ghostly faces manifesting on the fabric of the banners.

In the center of the valley stood numerous stone pillars, multi-colored and intricately carved with patterns of various demonic monsters, radiating intensely powerful energy fluctuations.

Above the valley, within the murky gray fog, streaks of dim light pulsed, forming layers of membrane that enveloped the space above, blocking the intrusion of divine senses.

The Soul Gathering Pool churned violently, countless souls of living beings drifting across its surface.

The pool seemed densely packed with countless specters, crowding every corner of the water.

These ghostly apparitions, varied in form, shared a universally chilling, dead stillness, radiating intense aversion and hatred for the living world, writhing madly—a sight enough to make one’