I gain ten years' worth of cultivation every day, and even geniuses will only see my doorstep!

Behind Guixu Temple, the mountain is shrouded in clouds and mist.

Beside a taro field about half an acre in size, Qin Yuan squatted on the edge of the field, holding a withered taro leaf in his hand, his brows slightly furrowed.

He wore coarse linen clothes, his white hair casually tied behind his back, looking like an ordinary old farmer in the fields. Only the bone blade he never parted with was stuck diagonally in the soil beside him, the dense patterns on the blade shimmering with a faint light, reminding this world—its master was the Dao Ancestor of Myriad Realms.

"The taro leaves are turning yellow." Qin Yuan stood up and patted the dirt off his hands.

A gentle voice came from behind: "You've watered too much."

Su Yao walked over carrying a tea tray, her black hair flowing like a waterfall, her white dress whiter than snow. She placed the tea tray on the stone table, leaned over to look at the taro field, and smiled lightly, "You've been fighting and killing in the myriad realms for so many years, but your farming skills haven't improved at all."

Qin Yuan's lips twitched slightly, which could be considered a smile.

Su Yao sat down on the stone bench and began to brew tea. Boiling water poured into the pot, filling the air with its aroma. Her movements were fluid and graceful, a pleasure to watch. This was a habit she had cultivated over many years; every afternoon she would brew a pot of tea, with Qin Yuan sitting beside her drinking while she watched, day after day, year after year.

"Where are they?" Qin Yuan asked, picking up his teacup.

"Yan Lingji and Mu Hongyi are sparring in the back mountain, saying they're itching to fight." Su Yao shook her head helplessly. "Jian Wushuang is watching from the side, Bingji is cultivating in the cold pool, Hongyue is practicing her spear, and Yueyao is picking flowers again."

At this point, Su Yao paused, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked at Qin Yuan: "What, with so many people with you, isn't that enough?"

Qin Yuan didn't reply, and lowered his head to drink his tea.

He knew what Su Yao was talking about. After returning from that Eternal Heaven, the seven women reunited, and life in the Guixu Palace was too peaceful. So peaceful that they felt that perhaps it was time for this man, who had once stirred up bloodshed across the myriad realms, to take a break.

But Qin Yuan knew in his heart that some things were not over yet.

After drinking three cups of tea, Su Yao suddenly put down the teapot in her hand and looked up at the sky.

Her Chaos Saint Body is most sensitive to changes in the Qi of Heaven and Earth.

"There's something there." Su Yao frowned slightly. "In the direction of the lower realm."

As soon as he finished speaking, a gray streak of light tore through space and landed shakily on the plaza outside the Guixu Palace. When the light dissipated, an old man covered in blood collapsed to the ground, panting heavily.

He is the Elder Wandao.

Qin Yuan appeared in the plaza in an instant, bone blade already in his hand. Su Yao followed closely behind.

"Dao Ancestor..." The old man of ten thousand paths struggled to bow, but Qin Yuan helped him up.

"explain."

Qin Yuan's tone was indifferent, but the old man Wan Dao had followed him for so many years and knew that behind this word "speak" was the Dao Ancestor's full attention.

The old man of ten thousand paths took a deep breath, his voice hoarse: "Something has happened. Seventeen middle-level worlds in the lower realm have simultaneously been corrupted by demonic energy, and their inhabitants have been demonized. I went to investigate, and the residual aura on those demonized beings..."

He looked up, his eyes filled with fear: "It's that aura from the altar of the Heavenly Mystery Cult."

Qin Yuan's fingers tightened slightly as he gripped the bone blade.

The Heavenly Secrets Cult.

These four words are familiar to everyone in the Guixu Palace. Back then, when the seven women were captured and imprisoned in the Goddess Palace, Qin Yuan single-handedly stormed into the Divine Realm with his sword and forcefully rescued them from the Heavenly Mystery Sect. He severely injured the sect leader's strength, but did not completely eliminate him.

"Is he still alive?" Qin Yuan's voice carried a hint of coldness.

"Alive." The old man wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. "And... even stronger. The source of that demonic energy is not the sect leader himself, but an even more ancient seal. I followed the veins of the demonic energy and finally found a ruin with four characters engraved on it—"

"The Primordial Chaos Realm".

Qin Yuan's gaze suddenly sharpened.

He was familiar with those four words. When he first entered the Eternal Heaven Domain, he had heard of the existence of the Chaos Primordial Realm, which was said to be a primordial chaos before the formation of all worlds. It later merged with the Eternal Heaven Domain and became a forgotten ruin. The Heavenly Mystery Divine Sect's former headquarters was built on the edge of that ruin.

"What's inside the seal?" Qin Yuan asked.

"I don't know," the old man shook his head, "but the seal has already loosened, and the demonic energy seeping from the cracks is enough to pollute all seventeen worlds in the lower realm. Moreover, the cracks are still widening, and it won't be long before the demonic energy spreads to all realms."

Qin Yuan fell silent.

His gaze passed over the roof of the Guixu Palace, looking into the distance. There lay the myriad realms he had once conquered, the places he had cleaved with his sword, and the home he had rebuilt with his blood and bones.

Someone wants to destroy it.

"You should rest and recover," Qin Yuan said to the old man Wan Dao, then turned and walked back to the back mountain.

Su Yao followed behind him without saying a word. She knew Qin Yuan was making a decision, a decision that would shatter the current tranquility of the Guixu Palace.

On the back mountain, Yan Lingji and Mu Hongyi had stopped sparring. The flames in Yan Lingji's hand had not yet completely died down, and Mu Hongyi's longsword was still in her hand. The two of them looked at Qin Yuan who was walking towards them.

Jian Wushuang stood up from the rock, Bing Ji emerged from the cold pool, Hong Yue planted her spear into the ground, and Yue Yao ran down the mountain path carrying a bunch of wildflowers.

They all sensed the change in Qin Yuan's aura.

It wasn't anger, nor was it murderous intent, but rather a deeper, more profound... chill.

It's the kind of chill that only someone who has been through mountains of corpses and seas of blood can exude.

"What's wrong?" Yan Lingji was the first to speak, her voice filled with a burning heat.

"Some people don't want us to live a peaceful life," Qin Yuan said.

The flames in Yan Lingji's hand suddenly shot up three feet higher.

"Are they from the Heavenly Mystery Sect?" A cold light gleamed on Mu Hongyi's sword.

"It's not certain yet." Qin Yuan simply repeated what the old man Wan Dao had said, "But whatever it is, if they've touched my people or my place, they'll have to pay the price."

He spoke calmly, as if he were discussing what to have for dinner.

But all seven women understood the weight of those words. Qin Yuan had used the same tone when he destroyed the Dark God Cult.

"When are we leaving?" Jian Wushuang asked. She didn't say much, but every word she uttered hit the nail on the head.

"Tomorrow," Qin Yuan said. "Prepare today."

The seven women didn't ask any more questions. They knew that Qin Yuan meant what he said; if he said today, it was today; if he said tomorrow, it was tomorrow.

That evening, the atmosphere inside the Guixu Hall was exceptionally quiet.

Yueyao stopped picking flowers and quietly sat beside Suyao, helping her tidy up the tea set. Hongyue was cleaning her spear in the courtyard; the shaft was so polished it reflected a person's image. Jian Wushuang was sharpening his sword, the water flowing from the whetstone taking the shape of sword intent. Bingji stood by the window, gazing absently at the night sky. Yanlingji and Mu Hongyi, unusually, didn't spar; the two sat on the steps in front of the hall, chatting idly.