A person sacrifices himself to become a saint in a chaotic world of martial arts.

Late at night.

Su Bai stood in the courtyard, holding an ordinary iron sword in his hand.

I picked up the sword casually from the prison that afternoon; it was a standard model, costing three taels of silver, nothing special.

But holding it in my hand now, I had a strange feeling—the sword was cold, and the coldness spread through my palm and up my arm, but it wasn't really cold, but rather an indescribable sensation.

He closed his eyes and silently channeled his icy energy.

The internal energy circulates within the body, initially like a babbling brook, gradually accelerating like a surging river.

With each circulation, a cool sensation arises from the dantian, spreading along the meridians and flowing throughout the limbs and bones.

The coolness wasn't biting; instead, it had an indescribable comfort, like drinking a bowl of chilled plum juice on a sweltering summer day, leaving every pore feeling refreshed.

He opened his eyes, raised his left hand, palm down, and aimed it at the bluestone slab on the ground.

Internal force is released externally.

A layer of white frost spread across the stone slab at a visible speed, starting from the palm of your hand and spreading outwards in circles, reaching the size of a washbasin in the blink of an eye.

The frost flowers were fine and dense, shimmering with a white light under the moonlight, like a layer of scattered silver.

Su Bai looked at the white frost and felt a tremor in his heart.

The Cold Ice Force is a superior internal skill of the Diancang School, renowned throughout Zhangzhou.

It is said that when one reaches a high level of mastery, a single palm strike can freeze a three-foot square area of ​​water.

He had thought that the Lesser Completion Realm was just the beginning, at most making his palms feel cold, but he never expected that he could condense his Qi into frost.

Is this a minor achievement?

What would the Great Perfection look like?

Unfortunately, even with his current financial resources, he can only temporarily sacrifice his cultivation technique to the minor completion stage.

Any more, and the offerings require some rare and precious items, which are extremely expensive.

He took a deep breath, composed himself, and raised the iron sword in his hand.

Frost Sword Technique.

One of the signature sword techniques of the Diancang School, it is said that when the sword technique is unleashed, the sword strikes like frost, exuding a chilling aura, and wherever the sword light reaches, the grass and trees wither.

He began with a simple, level thrust of his sword.

The sword tip pierced the air, producing a faint whistling sound.

In that instant, he suddenly felt the sword in his hand come alive; it was no longer an inanimate object, but an extension of his arm, a part of his body.

The sword gleamed coldly in the moonlight, but the gleam was different from ordinary sword light; it had a hazy white hue, as if covered with frost.

The second strike is a diagonal slash.

The third strike, a sweeping attack.

The fourth sword strike, Whirlwind.

He started by practicing each move slowly, but gradually sped up, the sword light becoming denser and faster. Under the moonlight, a ball of white light rolled in the courtyard, and the air seemed to cool down wherever it passed.

The leaves of the old locust tree rustled without any wind, carrying a hint of desolation, as if autumn had arrived early.

He practiced faster and faster, more and more urgently, and the icy energy within his body circulated with the sword's momentum, sometimes like a babbling brook, sometimes like a rushing river, and sometimes like a raging sea.

With each exertion of force, a trace of coolness emanates from the sword, merging with the sword light and transforming into a sky full of frost.

With his final strike, he leaped into the air and brought his sword down in mid-air.

The sword light fell like a bolt of lightning, striking the stone table in the courtyard.

There was no sound.

The stone table remained perfectly still, without even a crack.

Su Bai landed, sheathed his sword, and walked towards the stone table.

The moonlight shone on the stone table, revealing a fine layer of white frost. The frost covered the entire surface, evenly thick, as if carefully sprinkled on. He reached out and touched it; it was icy cold, and the frost melted at his fingertips, turning into a drop of water.

He withdrew his hand and stared at the drop of water in a daze.

He clearly didn't touch the stone table with that sword strike.

The sword tip was at least three inches from the tabletop, but the chill of the sword energy arrived first, and a layer of frost condensed on the stone table.

This is only a small achievement.

What if it reaches its full potential?

What if you practice to the highest level?

He dared not think about it, yet he couldn't help but think about it.

The courtyard was silent except for the rustling of the locust tree leaves in the wind. Moonlight filtered through the branches, shining on him, on his sword, and on the frost on the stone table. The frost shimmered with a white light under the moonlight, like scattered silver or a sky full of stars falling into the courtyard.

Su Bai stood there, looking down at his hands.

The hands were broad and thick, with distinct knuckles. A scab had formed on the web between the thumb and forefinger from the previous night, and it was slightly itchy. These were the hands that had killed An Wuyu, a master of the True Qi Realm, last night. These were the hands that now gripped the sword, capable of unleashing the secret techniques of the Diancang Sect.

He recalled the scene of the sacrifice.

It was a strange feeling, as if something was surging into the body, flowing through the meridians, and everything changed wherever it passed. Those originally obscure and difficult-to-understand techniques and incantations suddenly became clear; those moves that originally required countless hours of practice to master suddenly became second nature.

Just like it is now.

He raised his sword and practiced the Frost Sword Technique once more.

This time it was even slower, each move and stance was broken down clearly.

The first sword strike: a thrust.

As the sword tip thrust out, he felt the icy energy within his body surge through his meridians to his arm, wrist, and the blade. That force gathered at the sword tip, poised to be unleashed, like a fully drawn bowstring, just waiting to be released.

The second strike, a flick.

The sword slashed upwards at an angle, releasing the concentrated force that formed a hazy white mist around it. Wherever the white mist reached, moisture in the air condensed into tiny ice crystals, sparkling in the moonlight as if the sword were encrusted with diamonds.

The third strike: a sweep.

The sword swept horizontally, and white mist spread out, drawing an arc in front of him. Where the arc passed, a row of fine white frost appeared on the ground, starting from the toes and extending outwards until it gradually faded away three feet away.

The fourth sword strike, Whirlwind.

He began to spin, sword light swirling around him, white mist swirling with it, forming a whirlwind around him. Wherever the whirlwind went, fallen leaves on the ground were swept up, twirling in the air, each leaf covered with a layer of white frost, shimmering in the moonlight.

After completing a set of sword techniques, he sheathed his sword and stood calmly, without blushing or panting.

The courtyard was completely silent.

The moonlight remains, the locust tree remains, the stone table remains.

There was a ring of white frost on the ground, starting from the feet and spreading outwards until it gradually faded away about ten feet away. The white frost was fine and dense, evenly sprinkled on the ground, like a light snowfall.

Su Bai looked at the circle of white frost and a smile appeared on his lips.

He suddenly remembered the storytelling he had heard in a teahouse.

"That battle was truly earth-shattering and awe-inspiring; blood splattered three feet deep, and the flash of blades was like snow!"

The storyteller slammed his gavel, spitting as he spoke.

The audience listened intently, occasionally bursting into cheers, banging on the table, whistling, and all sorts of other things.

He used to listen to those storybooks and longed for them so much.

I never imagined that one day I would actually reach that point?

Perhaps, he really can become that kind of person.

Perhaps, that's just who he was meant to be.

He looked up at the moon in the sky.

The moon was round and bright, its silvery light bathing the heavens and earth.

Under the moonlight, his courtyard was peaceful and serene, with the branches and leaves of the old locust tree swaying gently, making a rustling sound.

In the distance came the sound of the night watchman's clapper, one beat after another, slow and drawn out.

It's past midnight.

He sheathed his sword, walked to the well, and drew a bucket of water.

The water was very cold; when it splashed on my face, I shivered.

He wiped his face and looked down at the water in the bucket. The water reflected the moon and his own face. His face was young, with relaxed eyebrows and eyes, and a faint smile at the corners of his mouth.

He reached out and stirred the water. The moon shattered, and so did his face, turning into ripples that spread outwards and gradually subsided.

He continued practicing his swordsmanship.

This time, the practice was faster and more intense, the sword light as white as snow, and the chilling aura was palpable.

Su Bai practiced swordsmanship for another two hours, his whole body steaming with heat and white mist swirling around his head, as if he had just come out of a steamer.

The Frost Sword Technique combined with the Frost Force should, in principle, become colder the more one practices it.

But at that moment he only felt hot all over, as if a ball of fire was burning inside him.

wrong.

It's not fire.

It's about Qi and blood.

It is power.

It was that thing surging within my body, almost bursting out.

He sheathed his sword, walked to the open space in the courtyard, closed his eyes, and silently practiced the Golden Bell Shield technique.

This martial arts technique was given to me by Ning Yuechan. It's a horizontal training method with six stages.

The first stage is for refining the skin, the second for refining the flesh, the third for refining the tendons, the fourth for refining the bones, the fifth for refining the filth, and the sixth for refining the marrow, thus initially achieving an indestructible body.

He had previously reached the fifth level of training, achieving success in internal organ refinement, resulting in strong internal organs and abundant blood and energy.

But after killing An Wuyu that day, he vaguely felt something loosening inside him, like a wild beast that had been locked up for a long time, restless in its cage, wanting to break free.

The feeling was even stronger tonight as I practiced swordsmanship.

The icy energy surged within his body, causing his blood and qi to boil. Every burst of energy and every strike of his sword felt like an attack on an invisible door.

The door was getting looser and looser, more and more precarious, just one final blow away.

He took a deep breath and began to circulate his internal energy.

The Golden Bell Cover technique was activated, and internal energy surged from the dantian, flowing through the meridians to the limbs and bones.

Wherever it passes, the skin tightens, the muscles bulge, the tendons stretch, the bones creak, and the internal organs tremble slightly.

Business as usual.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The surging blood and qi within his body suddenly seemed to find an outlet, rushing violently into the depths of his bone marrow.

Su Bai shuddered, feeling as if he had been thrown into a furnace, burning from the inside out.

That heat wasn't the heat of skin and flesh, but the heat of bone marrow, the heat of blood, the heat of the very source of life. He clenched his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, his hands clenched into fists, his nails digging deep into his palms.

heat.

too hot.

He was so hot that he wanted to shout, to run wildly, to smash something with his fist.

But he knew he couldn't.

This is the sixth level, the Marrow Refining stage.

Marrow is the source of essence and blood; once the bone marrow is refined, the qi and blood of the whole body will undergo a transformation.

This is a transformative process, the final crucial step for a mortal to advance towards the realm of true qi, and suffering is inevitable.

He endured it and continued to circulate his internal energy.

The heat inside my body grew stronger and stronger, like magma surging in my blood vessels, like flames burning in my bone marrow.

Every bone was burning hot, every drop of blood was boiling, and every pore was spewing out hot air.

I don't know how much time passed.

It might take an incense stick, an hour, or a night.

Suddenly, a loud "boom" resounded inside my body.

It looked like something had been washed away.

The heat suddenly receded, surging back from every part of the body and converging in the dantian. Within the dantian, an unprecedentedly powerful force was gathering, swirling, and roaring.

Su Bai opened his eyes.

Under the moonlight, his eyes shone brilliantly, like two stars, dazzlingly bright.

He raised his hand and clenched his fist.

With just a gentle squeeze, the air in his palm exploded with a crisp sound, as if something had been crushed.

He looked down at his hands, at the slightly protruding veins on his arms, and at the faint golden luster flowing beneath his skin.

power.

An unprecedented power.

It surges within the body, roars through the flesh and blood, and boils in the bone marrow.

He stood up and walked to the stone table.

The stone table is made of bluestone, with a tabletop three inches thick and weighing over two hundred pounds. He usually finds it difficult to lift.

At that moment, he reached out and pressed his hand on the table, then gently lifted it.

The stone table rose off the ground, floating lightly, as if it were a plank of wood.

He put down the stone table and walked to the old locust tree.

The tree trunk is so thick that it takes two people to hug it, and several people to encircle it.

He reached out, pressed down on the tree trunk, and gave it a gentle push.

The tree trunk shook violently, its branches rustled, and countless leaves fell. The leaves drifted down, landing on him, on the ground, and on the stone table.

He withdrew his hand and looked at his palm.

The lines on my palm are clear, and there's not much difference from before.

But he clearly felt that beneath his palm, there was a power powerful enough to split rocks and shatter stone, quietly lying dormant, just waiting to be released.

He took a deep breath and walked to the courtyard wall.

The courtyard wall was made of blue bricks, a foot thick and over ten feet high. He stood still, focused his strength on his right fist, and threw a punch.

"Bang!"

A muffled thud was heard, and the courtyard wall shook violently.

He withdrew his fist and looked at the deep fist mark on the wall.

The fist imprint was three inches into the brick, the edges of which were cracked, the cracks spreading outwards like a spider web, extending more than half a foot away. Moonlight shone on the fist imprint, revealing the clear lines and the traces left by the punch.

He looked at his fist.

My fist was slightly red and a little sore, but that was all.

In the past, such a punch would have torn the skin and flesh, and the bones might have even cracked.

But at this moment, it was only slightly red.

The sixth level of the Golden Bell Cover.

Once one has mastered the art of marrow refinement, one's bones and muscles become as strong as iron, and one's skin and flesh as tough as steel.

He went back into the courtyard and practiced the boxing technique again.

This time is completely different from before.

With each punch, a sharp whistling sound burst forth in the air—the sound of force and speed tearing through the air.

With each step, the ground trembled slightly, leaving shallow footprints on the bluestone slabs.

With each move, a gust of wind would rise around him, scattering fallen leaves and kicking up dust.

After finishing his set of punches, he stood up and stopped.

Under the moonlight, he was steaming with heat, surrounded by white mist, as if he had just come out of a steamer.

But his breathing was steady, his heartbeat was normal, and his complexion was normal, as if the drill just now was nothing more than taking a walk.

He closed his eyes and sensed the state of his body.

Within his dantian, the power continued to swirl and coalesce, like a sleeping giant, quietly dormant.

The meridians have widened several times over, and internal energy surges within them like rivers flowing into the sea, unimpeded.

The bones were heavier, denser, and harder than before, as if forged from refined steel. The blood was thicker, more viscous, and hotter than before, like magma flowing through the veins.

The most obvious change is in that force.

Peak of the Divine Power Realm.

Just one step away from entering the True Qi Realm.

This step is both difficult and easy.

Some people spend their entire lives stuck at this step, unable to break through until their death.

Some people have an epiphany one day, and the process becomes natural and effortless, allowing them to cross that threshold effortlessly.

He opened his eyes and looked at the moon in the sky.

The moon was still so round and so bright, its silvery light bathing the world.

He suddenly remembered what Ning Yuechan had said.

"You were able to kill An Wuyu, you are no ordinary person, you are a fierce dragon that cannot cross the river."

Looking back now, those words were truly well said.

Only a mighty dragon can cross the river.

He wasn't a dragon, but he crossed the river.

From training his muscles to gaining superhuman strength, from being an unknown nobody to becoming famous throughout Fenjiang County, from being someone anyone could trample on to slaying a True Qi Realm expert.

What has enabled you to get here all this way?

It was a sacrifice.

Besides offering sacrifices, what else is allowed?

It was that indomitable spirit, that desire to climb higher, and that unwillingness to live a life of mediocrity.

He looked down at his hands.

The moonlight shone on my hands, revealing the lines on my palms, the scabbed wound at the base of my thumb, and the faint golden luster flowing beneath my skin.

These hands killed An Wuyu.

These hands can wield the Frost Sword Technique.

These hands can condense qi into frost with a single palm strike.

These hands are capable of smashing a brick courtyard wall with a single punch.

But these hands are not enough.

It's not strong enough.

Not hard enough.

That wasn't enough to shut up those who looked down on him.

He clenched his fist, his nails digging into his palm.

Power surged and roared within him, wanting to break free, to tear something apart, to prove something.

But he just stood there quietly, without moving.

Su Bai stood in the courtyard, holding his sword, but he stopped practicing.

The sword tip touched the ground, making a very slight "ding" sound on the bluestone slab.

The moonlight shone on him, revealing his furrowed brows, his tightly pursed lips, and the deep contemplation in his eyes.

"I'm not strong enough! Not enough! Only those who make it onto the Hidden Dragon List are true heroes!"

He muttered to himself, his voice very soft, as if speaking to himself. His grip on the sword tightened, his knuckles turning slightly white, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged, then quickly disappeared.

The Hidden Dragon List.

That's a list of the entire younger generation of the Great Qian Dynasty, including genius martial artists under the age of thirty. Those who can make the list are extremely rare.

Every name is known throughout the world, and behind every name lies a legend.

He looked up at the moon in the sky.

The moon was round and bright, but he knew that those on the Hidden Dragon List were even brighter than the moon.

"I must break through to the True Qi Realm."

He looked down at his hands.

The palms are broad and thick, the knuckles are distinct, and there is a faint golden luster flowing under the skin.

He was just one step away from reaching the peak of the Divine Power Realm.

But how do we take this step?

"Should we break through using the Frost Force?"

The moment that thought flashed through his mind, another one immediately followed—

"But what if the Diancang Sect finds out? If they start investigating, we'll be in big trouble."

He thought of An Wuyu.

That person was a traitor to the Diancang Sect, who had been hunted down for many years, but ultimately died at his hands.

He had heard of some of the methods the Diancang Sect used to deal with traitors—crippling their martial arts, severing their tendons, and then locking them in a dark and sunless dungeon, where they could neither live nor die.

If it is discovered that he used the internal energy of the Diancang Sect to break through to the True Qi Realm, what will be done to him?

After all, learning this kind of martial arts without permission is a major taboo in the martial arts world.

Even if he killed An Wuou, it wouldn't matter.

He frowned, his brows furrowing tightly, a deep vertical line appearing between his eyebrows.

"Could it be the Blazing Sun Force?"

He shook his head.

The Blazing Sun Force was the earliest internal skill he practiced. It was an inferior technique, crude and simple, and the internal energy he developed was thin and loose, making it unusable.

Using this method to break through to the True Qi Realm is tantamount to ruining one's future.

Even if you break through, you'll only reach the weakest True Qi Realm. Once your foundation is damaged, you'll never be able to advance any further.

"The Golden Bell Shield is missing its back..."

He had mastered the Golden Bell Shield technique up to the sixth level, but Ning Yuechan hadn't given him the technique for the seventh level, or perhaps she simply didn't have it.

That is the highest level of external martial arts, achieving an indestructible body, said to be able to withstand swords and blades, and not afraid of fists and feet.

Without the cultivation method, he could only stay at the sixth level, unable to make any further progress.

"Go find Ning Yuechan?"

He pondered for a moment, then shook his head.

He didn't want to owe Ning Yuechan anything more until the very last moment.

He needs to think about it some more.

"Should we buy a superior internal cultivation manual?"

He thought of the treasure pavilion in the prefectural government, but even a single light-body skill was so expensive.

Superior internal skills are probably incredibly expensive.

A superior internal cultivation manual can easily cost tens of thousands of taels of silver, or even more than several tens of taels.

Although he has some savings now, he is still far from that amount.

Besides, some silver should be reserved for purchasing sacrificial offerings; it cannot all be spent.

"It's too expensive. I'm already short of money."

He sighed.

The sound of a night watchman's clapper could be heard in the distance.

It's past midnight.

He was still thinking, still hesitating, still weighing the options.

But before he could come up with a solution—

The next afternoon, a high-ranking prisoner arrived at the jail.

Su Bai was reviewing case files in the jailer's cell when the door was pushed open. A constable strode in, clasped his hands in greeting, and said, "Lord Su, the Northern Garrison Command has sent someone, saying they are a wanted criminal and need you to receive them personally."

Su Bai put down the file and stood up.

He walked out of the room, crossed the courtyard, and arrived at the prison gate.

Three carriages were parked at the entrance, surrounded by a large crowd—three constables leading a group of official constables, numbering twenty or thirty, completely blocking the entrance to the prison.

Those men all had swords hanging from their waists, their expressions wary, and their eyes scanning their surroundings with suspicion.

Several people still had bloodstains on their clothes, which had dried and turned black, and were particularly glaring in the sunlight.

The carriage in the very center had its doors tightly shut, its windows sealed with iron bars, and an additional iron chain added to the outside, making it completely secure.

A taxi driver saw him, quickly stepped forward, clasped his hands in a respectful greeting, and said, "Lord Su!"

The constable's surname was Wang, and he was an old man from the Northern Garrison Command.

He was covered in sweat, his hair was plastered to his forehead, he was breathing heavily, his face was pale, and his eyes were bloodshot, as if he had stayed up all night.

Su Bai nodded: "Boss Wang, you've worked hard. Where is everyone?"

"He's in the car." Wang Tou stepped aside and lowered his voice, "Sir, please be careful. Although this person is injured, he is still a master of the True Qi Realm. We cannot be careless."

Su Bai walked to the carriage.

As the car door opened, a stench of blood mixed with the smell of decay hit you, almost suffocating you.

The carriage was dimly lit, and only a figure could be vaguely seen huddled in a corner, motionless.

Two constables jumped onto the carriage and dragged the man off.

The man was dragged out of the carriage and thrown to the ground with a thud.

Su Bai looked down.

The man lay on the ground, his clothes tattered and stained with blood, some of which had dried and turned black, while others were still fresh and dark red.

His hair was disheveled and messy, obscuring his face and making it impossible to see his features.

His back, legs, and arms were covered in wounds, some of which were still bleeding, wetting a small patch of the ground beneath him.

Wang squatted down, grabbed the man's hair, and lifted his face up.

Su Bai's pupils contracted sharply when he saw the face clearly.

The face was pitch black, not naturally so, but from being smoked or burned. The skin was shrunken and covered with a layer of dark brown scabs. There were lacerations at the corners of the mouth and eyes, some scabbed over, others still oozing a pale yellow liquid. The entire face was almost unrecognizable, as if it had been dug out of a fire.

Most people can't even see his face clearly.

But Su Bai recognized the other person at a glance.

The Reincarnation Cult demons who attacked Ning Yuechan that night.

Yi Tianxing is the leader of the Southwest Branch of the Rotation Sect.

A master of the True Qi Realm.

He recalled the scene from that night—back then, he was still in the Skin Refining Realm, and he could only hide from one of the opponent's seriously injured subordinates.

At that time, Yi Tianxing was like a god in the sky to him, unattainable and untouchable.

But now, this person is lying at his feet, like a dead dog.

Su Bai looked at that face, at those wounds, at those half-open, cloudy, and lifeless eyes, and a strange feeling suddenly welled up in his heart.

He couldn't quite define it—was it a feeling of感慨 (gǎnkǎi, a complex emotion encompassing emotion, reflection, and a sense of exhilaration)? Or something else entirely?

He stood there, looking down at Yi Tianxing, for a long time.

Sunlight shone down from above, falling on him and on Yi Tianxing.

"How was this caught? Why wasn't it sent to Fengshan County?" Su Bai asked.

His voice was calm, revealing no emotion.

Wang Tou loosened Yi Tianxing's hair, stood up, dusted off his hands, and replied, "Reporting to Lord Su, this is Lord Ning's intention."

Su Bai raised an eyebrow.

Wang then began to explain.

It turns out that just last night, Yi Tianxing, this sorcerer from the Reincarnation Sect, somehow appeared ten miles north of the county town.

They were discovered by the secret sentries of the Northern Garrison.

Most importantly, this sorcerer seemed to be seriously injured.

His walking posture was wrong; he limped and had to stop every now and then to lean on a tree for air, as if he might fall down at any moment.

Therefore, Zhou Changqing, the deputy clerk of the Northern Garrison, quickly made a decision—to mobilize manpower and besiege Yi Tianxing.

Zhou Changqing personally led a team of more than fifty people, completely surrounding the forest.

After a fierce fight, they finally managed to capture him.

It was called a fight, but it was more like a one-sided gang beating.

Yi Tianxing was already seriously injured and had no power to fight back. He barely managed to hold on for the time it takes for an incense stick to burn before he was knocked down.

"Zhou Changqing?" Su Bai narrowed his eyes slightly.

By the way, Zhou Changqing was the deputy clerk of the Northern Garrison.

Su Bai remained silent for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright, take him to the second basement level first and pierce his collarbone!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

Several constables stepped forward and dragged Yi Tianxing up from the ground.

Yi Tianxing was as limp as a lump of mud, being dragged forward, his feet carving two shallow furrows in the ground.

From beginning to end, he didn't make a sound, didn't struggle, didn't beg for mercy, and didn't even utter a groan.

Only those half-open, half-closed eyes turned slightly as they passed by Su Bai, glancing at him.

That glance was so faint that it was almost impossible to discern any emotion.

Su Bai stood there, watching the heavy wooden door of the prison slowly close with a dull creak.

The iron ring on the door wobbled and slammed against the door panel with a crisp "bang".

He turned around and looked at Wang Tou.

Wang was still panting, and another layer of sweat seeped from his forehead, running down his cheeks and leaving several white streaks on his dusty face. He wiped his face with his sleeve, and a dark patch immediately seeped onto the cuff.

"Lord Su, the rest is up to you." Wang Tou said, clasping his hands in a solemn tone, "This fiend is a branch leader, and he cannot die. The higher-ups said he must be alive and interrogated."

Su Bai nodded.

"I see."

His voice was calm, revealing no emotion.

Wang Tou breathed a sigh of relief, clasped his hands in a fist salute, and left with his men.

The carriage rumbled away, raising a trail of dust.

Su Bai stood at the prison gate, watching the carriages disappear around the street corner, watching the dust slowly settle, and watching the street return to calm.

He raised his hand to smooth his hair, then turned and walked into the prison.

The prison was dimly lit, damp, and filled with the smells of mold, blood, and excrement.

He walked through the passageway, down the stairs, and came to the second basement level.

The second basement level was darker, damper, and colder than the upper levels.

A chilling atmosphere permeated the air, as if one were immersed in ice water.

Water droplets seeped from the wall, dripping down and forming thin streams on the ground, flowing towards some unknown place.

Yi Tianxing was chained to the wall, his hands were hoisted high up, and his feet were three feet off the ground.

Two iron spikes pierced his collarbone and emerged from below his shoulder blades. The bleeding had stopped, but the edges of the wounds were white and gaping, like two open mouths.

He had his head down, his hair was disheveled, and his expression was not visible.

Su Bai stood in front of him, three steps away.

The flame of the oil lamp flickered behind him, casting his long, large shadow on the wall, almost covering the entire surface. Yi Tianxing's shadow huddled in the corner of his own, as small as a blotch of ink.

"Yi Tianxing." Su Bai spoke, his voice echoing in the empty dungeon, bouncing back and creating overlapping echoes.

Yi Tianxing slowly raised his head.

The dark face looked particularly terrifying under the dim light, like a demon crawling out of hell.

But his eyes were calm, as calm as a stagnant pool, without the slightest ripple.

He looked at Su Bai for a long time.

Then he smiled.

The smile looked particularly eerie on his distorted face. His lips twitched, aggravating the wound and causing a few streaks of blood to seep out, dripping down his lips and onto his chest, spreading a small patch of dark red.

"You seem to recognize me? But I've never seen you before," he said, his voice hoarse.

Su Bai remained expressionless.

"Last time, Ning Yuechan, the siege was launched, and the gong sounded."

Upon hearing this, Yi Tianxing's expression changed.

"So it was you!"

That night, you hid in the shadows. I thought you were just an ant and didn't pay any attention to you.

He paused, tilted his head, and looked Su Bai up and down.

"I didn't expect you to be the jailer in the county town. However, you seem a bit timid. You're at the Divine Power Realm, yet you didn't come out to help your Lord Ning."

Su Bai remained silent.

Although Yi Tianxing misunderstood him.

But he didn't need to explain.