On the path to immortality, I can see destiny.

Zhao Fan followed the group, moving silently through the night.

The footsteps of the seven people were swallowed by the mountain wind, with only the occasional faint sound of pebbles breaking underfoot, which sounded particularly clear in the silence.

Zhao Fan walked at the back, his gaze fixed on the back of the young master in front of him. The figure was calm and composed, each step steady, as if he had walked this dark night road countless times.

After walking for about the time it takes for an incense stick to burn, Zhao Fan suddenly realized something.

Two pairs of eyes kept glancing at me unintentionally.

A young master from the front occasionally glanced at him as he turned to check the terrain, his gaze lingering on him for a moment before shifting away, as if it were an unintentional observation.

Another cultivator from the Zhou family at the front of the group, though he never turned around, Zhao Fan could sense that his divine sense was subtly enveloping the entire group, especially his own position.

Zhao Fan's heart tightened, but he remained calm on the surface, pretending not to know anything.

He continued walking, his gaze seemingly casually sweeping over the surroundings, but in reality, he was secretly memorizing every inch of the terrain.

After walking for a while, Zhao Fan suddenly felt that the scenery around him looked familiar.

It was a rocky slope, with large and small stones scattered on the hillside, gleaming with a cold, bluish-gray light under the moonlight.

He vaguely remembered that he seemed to have been here before.

Zhao Fan frowned slightly and continued walking forward.

After passing through the rocky slope, the terrain gradually opens up, and a dry stream meanders through the area, its bottom covered with pebbles smoothed by mountain torrents.

Zhao Fan's gaze fell on the stream, and his heart skipped a beat.

He remembered.

At the end of this stream, about thirty miles to the east, there is a mountain.

The mountain wasn't high, it was even considered short, but Zhao Fan remembered it very clearly; it was the place where Zhang Tie had set up the Blood Refining Array.

The ambush that nearly cost him his life, the tragic deaths of the three late-stage Qi Refining cultivators, and the Lin woman whose blood was drained by Zhang Tie.

He suppressed the turmoil in his heart and glanced at the line of people ahead.

The young master continued to walk ahead, his steps unhurried.

The Zhou family cultivators continued to lead the way, their direction clear, while the others followed silently, without raising any questions, as if they all knew where they were going.

Zhao Fan's heart sank little by little.

Their direction is all too clear.

It didn't feel like a search; it felt more like they had already decided where to go.

Could it be that mountain?

But on that mountain, there was nothing left except for that dried-up pond.

With the Blood Refining Array broken, Zhang Tie fled, and the Blood Coral disappeared after being fought over by Zhang Tie and the big man. The mountain was now a desolate wasteland.

Zhang Tie wouldn't be foolish enough to stay on this mountain.

Zhao Fan couldn't understand what this cultivator surnamed Zhou meant, so he could only continue following, his gaze always fixed on the increasingly familiar road.

Finally, after crossing a ridge, Zhao Fan saw the mountain.

Under the moonlight, the low mountain stood quietly, its summit outline exactly as he remembered it.

Zhao Fan almost stopped in his tracks.

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to keep up with the group, but his eyes were fixed on the mountain.

They really were coming here.

But what are they here for?

There are no demonic cultivators here, no Zhang Tie, nothing at all.

Zhao Fan's gaze fell on the young master of the workshop. The man remained calm, and his steps were even lighter, as if he was about to reach his destination.

The Zhou family cultivator still didn't turn around, but the divine sense that was faintly enveloping Zhao Fan seemed to tighten even more.

Zhao Fan already understood.

This trip is probably not related to the demonic cultivators, but rather to himself.

As Zhao Fan was thinking, he suddenly felt a strange movement coming from the spirit beast pouch.

The little one inside was restless and fidgety, scratching incessantly at the bag's walls with its claws and making low whimpering sounds.

Zhao Fan had never seen such a reaction before. Xiao Er would only get this excited when he smelled the medicinal herbs or encountered danger, but never so eager.

Zhao Fan's heart tightened, and he subconsciously reached out and pressed down on the spirit beast pouch.

There were people all around, and the divine senses of the Zhou family cultivators and the young master of the workshop were constantly scanning him. If he rashly released Xiao Er, he might attract unnecessary attention.

But the waiter's reaction was so strong that he clearly sensed something.

Zhao Fan gritted his teeth, but in the end he couldn't resist. He slowed down and, under the cover of night, quietly opened a corner of the spirit beast pouch.

A dark shadow darted out, moving so fast it was almost invisible.

"Waiter!"

Zhao Fan felt a surge of anxiety and quickly chased after them.

The group in front immediately stopped. The Zhou family cultivator turned around, his gaze sweeping over them like lightning, his brows furrowing slightly.

"What happened?"

"My spirit pet suddenly ran away for some reason."

Zhao Fan didn't have time to explain further, so he could only bite the bullet and say...

"Please wait a moment, senior, I'll go and retrieve it."

Without waiting for a response, he took off after them.

The Zhou family cultivator's eyes flashed, as if he wanted to say something, but was gently stopped by the young master.

"Fellow Daoist Zhou, let him go. I've seen that spirit pet before; it's a Blood Shadow Wolf cub. It's quite intelligent and must have smelled something."

The young master spoke in a gentle tone.

"We'll wait here for a moment."

The Zhou family cultivator glanced at him, nodded slightly, and then spoke meaningfully.

"Speaking of which, this Blood Shadow Wolf cub is quite precious..."

Zhao Fan didn't care about the people behind him. He followed the direction the waiter had run and chased him all the way up to the mountainside.

The waiter was too fast; Zhao Fan had to exert all his strength to barely keep up.

The blue light of his Cloud-Stepping Boots shimmered in the night, and the rocks beneath his feet crackled under his feet, but he paid no heed to any of that, his eyes fixed on the dark figure ahead.

Finally, the waiter stopped in front of a pile of rubble.

It crouched there, looking ahead without moving forward, only turning back to look at Zhao Fan.

Zhao Fan's heart sank.

He slowed his pace and approached step by step.

The moonlight shone on the pile of rocks, revealing the scene there.

It was a dried-up corpse.

The corpse was curled up among the rocks, its skin as dry as old tree bark, clinging tightly to the skeleton, making the whole person look withered.

Her hair was scattered on the ground, its luster gone, gray and white like withered grass.

But Zhao Fan recognized that dress.

These are Su Zixuan's clothes.

Zhao Fan's legs felt like they were nailed to the ground; he couldn't move an inch.

The face was so withered that it was unrecognizable, but the pair of small jade pendants on the earlobes still gleamed faintly in the moonlight.

Those belong to Su Zixuan; Zhao Fan had seen her wear them before.

Although Zhao Fan didn't particularly like Su Zixuan, seeing this scene now inevitably made him feel somewhat sad.

Just months ago, the two had met and exchanged greetings. Now, all that remains is a cold, lifeless corpse.

Not long after, footsteps came from behind.

Zhao Fan didn't turn around, but just by sensing the aura, he knew who had come.

The young master's voice rang out, tinged with surprise and sorrow.

"Fellow Daoist Zhao, these are... Miss Zixuan's clothes..."