Chapter 68: Assessing the Situation and the Youming Sect

Somewhat frustrated, Chu Huaizhou felt like he was being targeted by a pack of yanderes.

My life’s really done for.

He’d only lost his memory a month ago—why were so many things piling up? Logically, to a Tribulation-stage cultivator like him, these should be trivial matters handled by subordinates, right?

Oh, his subordinates were his dear disciples. Never mind then.

He’d confirmed he wasn’t a virgin, as that day’s “falling red” proved it. As for whether Lü Qian was part of his past, he could only go along with her wishes for now.

To calm his restless heart, he decided to take stock of his current situation.

First, since waking, he’d faced numerous events: taking Ye Feng as a disciple and acquiring two treasures at an auction.

This led to his goals:

• Find all fragments of Di Daoyao’s soul and build a strong friendship during his Tribulation stage. A fully restored Di Daoyao would mean another top-tier cultivator backing him.

• Master arrays, alchemy, talismans, and artifact crafting to become a supreme expert.

• If myths invaded, he’d have more defenses. If not, he’d solidify Tianyuan Sword Sect as the world’s top sect, unmatched even by the Six Immortal Gates or Five Demonic Sects.

Pretty exciting.

These were long-term goals. Other matters, to a Tribulation-stage cultivator, were achievable, leaving life a bit dull after “clearing the game.”

Conveniently, if memory served, the Sacred China Secret Realm held a soul fragment—grab that first. The other fragments he knew of either weren’t ready or were hard to obtain, to be revisited later.

Complete the Nine Luminaries Abyss Ring to secure ascension means. Chu Huaizhou didn’t get those obsessed with ascending to madness. He wasn’t keen on it himself—his current life was fulfilling enough.

Still, while he didn’t need to ascend, he needed the means to.

Most crucially, recover his memory and cultivation, and uncover why this happened. While the “beast” (his past self?) hadn’t awakened, he’d head to the Youming Sect to investigate memory- and cultivation-draining curses.

Less important, but… had he really stayed chaste? A normal young man surrounded by beauties—could pre-amnesia him have held back? He doubted it.

Reflecting on these calmed him significantly.

Chu Huaizhou froze.

A strange sensation made him acutely aware something was… trapped. His gaze dropped in disbelief. His hands rose, hovering before Bai Li’s eyes, where her paws clung, as if to block her view further.

“Baiqian… this isn’t okay.”

Xia Baiqian looked up, her innocent gaze meeting his.

“What’s not okay, Master? I don’t understand~ Heehee~”

In the end, Chu Huaizhou gave in, torn between pain and pleasure.

Far away in the Huanyuan Dynasty, a woman sat at a desk.

Her deep blue imperial robe cascaded like water, shimmering faintly under the cold glow of night pearls. One hand propped her chin; the other tapped the desk idly, as if distracted.

Each stroke she wrote decided countless fates, yet she seemed indifferent.

This was Leng Qingqiu, handling affairs in a palace corner. Her willow brows furrowed briefly, then relaxed, a hand covering her mouth as her face flushed.

Really, Master, again?

Sensing his body heat rise through their bond, her lips curved slightly. How many times now?

Since her departure, his temperature spiked irregularly, his qi and blood wandering outside his body, unable to sustain long due to his unadjusted state. In the dead of night, he must be missing her. Hehe~

Setting aside a mountain of documents, Leng Qingqiu felt a hidden compartment in the dark. With a click, a nondescript floor tile in the study twisted open, and she stepped inside.

Countless ice sculptures filled the space—some reading, some crouching, some gazing skyward…

The day’s suspicions turned Master Leng into a chilling blade.

The Nine Nether Lands, west of Tianyuan Sword Sect, beyond the Giant Spirit Dynasty’s borders, sounded ominous but was merely an endless forest.

A subterranean river imbued it with heavy yin qi, tinting leaves and ground purple, attracting demon beasts seeking seclusion. Merchants and herb-gathering cultivators often crossed or delved into it.

At a certain spot, twelve merchant wagons lay overturned. Mixed-breed horses’ legs still kicked mechanically, as if running, their eyes clouded gray-white, lifeless.

Gold, jewels, silks, and herbs spilled like trash, yet no one dared touch them. The merchants stood frozen, as if witnessing a great terror, teeth chattering, bodies trembling like rubber.

“Immortal masters! Take my spirit stones, my treasures—just spare us!”

A middle-aged man in opulent robes, hair neatly styled, slumped on the ground, crawling backward, tears streaming. This was Zhao Degui, branch president of the Tianxing Chamber, his costly robes torn and filthy, unnoticed in his pleas.

From the withered trees, gray-robed demonic cultivators with cursed headbands emerged, exuding an ominous aura.

Ignoring Zhao Degui’s pleas, the lead cultivator shook his head, green pupils glowing eerily, uninterested in the treasures. A raspy, sandpaper-like voice slithered from his cursed lips:

“Jewels? What use are mortal riches to us?”

His grin widened, eyes scanning each figure like prey.

“We… want people! Fresh… living… people!”