Canxin looked at Lu Qiancha and nodded in satisfaction.
This is more like it. A problem that could have been solved with a fight—why make it so complicated?
Lu Qiancha’s eyes snapped open, her consciousness returning instantly to her body without the slightest hesitation.
Her figure turned into a faint blue streak, shooting straight toward that Void Rift which had been torn open by the earlier earth-shaking blow and was now writhing madly as it healed.
She pierced through twisted light and broken currents of chaotic laws, the scene before her changing abruptly like a faded stage curtain.
The pitch-black rocks, the gigantic insect corpse in the center, and the surging, then settling, cultivation fluctuations within her, finally stabilizing at the mid-stage Nascent Void Realm—all these reminded her that she had left the illusion and returned to the heart of the Myriad Phenomena.
“Hiss…” A sharp, piercing pain shot up her hand, making Lu Qiancha furrow her brow tightly.
Fortunately, only one tendon in her hand had been severed—the other claw could still move.
She rummaged through her storage pouch and took out a bottle of healing potion, pouring it over the deep, bone-revealing wound to wash it clean.
“Hiss—!” The moment the potion touched the wound, a soft red mist rose up, the tendon rejoining as flesh and blood swiftly regrew and knit together.
Within a few breaths, the wound had already healed as good as new.
Flexing her now fully restored claw, Lu Qiancha’s gaze swept over the few illusion stones embedded in the cliff wall, each one radiating a mesmerizing, shifting light.
Her claw gently tapped them, spiritual power flickering.
A few illusion stones fell neatly into her pouch.
Lu Qiancha didn’t linger for even a moment.
She transformed into a barely perceptible shadow, shooting toward the entrance of the secret realm at breakneck speed.
With no one else to interfere, Lu Qiancha pushed her movement technique to the limit.
The ghostly flicker of the Moonshadow Evasion Art, combined with the space-shifting abilities of the Endshadow Pearl that ignored terrain, and a brief stretch of Cloud Sea Dragonstep during the intervals—all came into play.
What should have taken an hour to return now took her only a quarter of that time before she reached the destination.
At the secret realm entrance, the five members of the Iceblade Camp previously killed by Mufeng lay scattered on the ground.
Their faces were pale, their auras weak to the extreme, as if their spirits had been completely drained.
It seemed death was not without punishment.
Lu Qiancha quickly resumed her disguise as a youth, circulated spiritual energy to reinforce her body, and dragged the five out of the secret realm’s light gate one by one, stepping out herself only at the end.
“Xiao Qiancha… What happened?”
Xunxue immediately noticed the five sprawled on the ground and the ‘youth’ who was unharmed, asking with a mix of surprise and doubt.
Lu Qiancha gave a slight shake of her head.
Without moving her lips, a refined divine sense transmission was precisely sent into Xunxue’s mind, recounting every detail of the upheaval in the secret realm, Mufeng’s ambush, and Ling Muxue’s betrayal without omitting a single word.
Xunxue’s face was instantly covered with a layer of thousand-year-old ice.
She said nothing, but the frigid killing intent that escaped uncontrollably from her body was enough to show the raging inferno inside her heart.
Taking a deep breath to suppress her anger, Xunxue asked, “Did you get the illusion stones?”
“They’re already secured.”
Lu Qiancha nodded.
“Good…”
Xunxue uttered just one word, then grabbed Lu Qiancha’s wrist tightly.
“Whoosh—!”
The two of them turned into a streak of shadowy blue lightning, carrying endless fury as they shot toward the main palace.
***
The two arrived at the main palace but did not rush forward. Instead, they watched coldly from the shadows.
Deep within the resplendent palace, pure spiritual energy so dense it was nearly liquid seeped from every inch of jade-engraved with array patterns—from the walls, beams, and floor tiles.
The misty aura not only nourished the minds of all present but also bathed the entire grand hall in golden splendor.
Beneath the massive statue of the Spirit Sovereign, the Wolf Tribe Emperor Ling Ze, dressed in a dark imperial robe embroidered with gold, sat atop the Dragon Throne, looking down at the hall below with an inscrutable expression.
More accurately, he was looking down at Mufeng and Ling Muxue below him.
Beside the two stood over a dozen Wolf Tribe Warriors clad in Frost Pattern Heavy Armor, standing silent and motionless like icy statues.
The heavy armor radiated a suffocating aura of blood and iron, making the entire hall oppressively tense.
At the center of the hall, a Sky Machine Camp soldier knelt on one knee, holding aloft an Imaging Crystal that projected a clear image.
Within the crystal, the scenes repeated: Mufeng wielding the Frost Moon Wheel, tearing through the secret realm’s barrier, with Ling Muxue close behind.
And the two joining forces, ruthlessly slaying the Iceblade Camp squad and Lu Qiancha—every moment captured.
Though silent, the images rang loud as thunder.
“I already know everything,” Ling Ze finally spoke. His voice was flat and calm, yet it landed like a heavy hammer, instantly shattering the suffocating silence.
Yet the air only grew colder.
Everyone understood that this calm opening was just the brief lull before the storm.
“Muxue, my good daughter. Do you have any explanation for this matter?” Ling Ze’s gaze was as sharp and cold as an icicle, fixed on Ling Muxue’s face.
His tone betrayed no emotion, but those familiar with his temper could hear the rage building beneath his calm words.
“Father, Mufeng and I bear grudges against this person. Inside the secret realm, there was no real threat of death, so we resorted to this just to teach him a lesson and vent some anger.”
Ling Muxue forced herself to remain calm, though her voice carried a faint, barely noticeable tremor.
“Heh.”
Ling Ze let out a cold snort, shaking his head slowly. “I have no interest right now in judging whether your actions were right or wrong.”
“What I need you to explain is how, as a princess, you could collude with this criminal and fugitive from another race, wanted for serious crimes, to steal our clan’s sacred relic—the Frost Moon Wheel.”
“And, brazenly tampering with the core formation of the rear mountain’s secret realm to steal the precious medicines nurtured by the Deep Dream Domain!”
As he spoke, Ling Ze slammed his palm down on the armrest of the Black Ice Dragon Throne, his tone suddenly growing heavier.
All the engraved array patterns in the hall activated in an instant, and a vast, unstoppable pressure—like the sky collapsing—descended with a roar, bolstered by the formation.
In an instant.
The weaker cultivators turned ashen, their bodies trembling and about to collapse.
Even the battle-hardened warriors felt their breath stall and their minds quake.
Facing this tangible, raging fury, the last trace of color drained from Ling Muxue’s face, leaving her as pale as paper.
She had been desperately avoiding this core accusation from the beginning. But now, the sword hanging over her head finally fell—there was no escape.
At last, the officials in the hall broke out in an uproar.
Shock, fear, disbelief.
All sorts of expressions spread like a plague across countless faces.
Previously, most only knew there was some conflict between the princess and Xunxue’s son. Who could have imagined such a shocking act of treason was involved?
In comparison, the matter of killing soldiers and attacking the children of immortals in the secret realm instantly became far less important.
“Your Highness! How could you harbor such traitorous thoughts?!”
An elder minister with snow-white hair and beard, dressed in ceremonial robes, stepped forward abruptly, his voice trembling with grief and anger.
His cloudy old eyes fixed on Ling Muxue, full of disbelief, disappointment, and deep sorrow.
As a senior who had watched Ling Muxue grow up through three reigns; as a pillar who pinned the Wolf Tribe’s hopes for the future on her.
What he heard today was beyond even disappointment.
Standing in the center of the hall, Ling Muxue hung her head low.
Faced with her father’s fury and the reproaches of the elders, the courage that had driven her to help Mufeng steal the Frost Moon Wheel was now utterly gone.
In this situation, she felt some regret.
Of course, it wasn’t regret for what she had done. Rather, she regretted not destroying the Soul Talismans on those soldiers ahead of time.
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