After defeating Feng Tuo, a Nine-Star Mystic Lord, with a single sword, Yan Zhen felt his condition was still excellent. He took Long Ying’s hand and headed to Mist Lord Peak.
Mist Lord Peak was perpetually shrouded in thick fog, which grew denser the higher one climbed. Whether disciples, attendants, or elders, everyone there carried an air of mystery.
They had barely landed on the peak when the surrounding mist surged violently, instantly disorienting both Yan Zhen and Long Ying.
In that moment of confusion, a silent killing intent struck at Yan Zhen without warning, sending a chill down his spine. He immediately summoned the Rootless Earth Spirit Fire, condensing a thick, flame-shaped Stone Shield behind his back.
Clang!
A dagger wrapped in mystic power stabbed into the Stone Shield, penetrating about an inch deep and slicing through Yan Zhen’s clothing, but it failed to touch his skin.
Boom!
Purple Lightning flashed. A thick bolt of electricity raced along the dagger and coiled around the attacker, blasting him away in an instant and revealing his form.
The young man wore a mask, had gray hair, and was missing one eye. Yan Zhen couldn’t help but think of a certain novel-obsessed ninja, though the resemblance was only superficial—the faces were completely different.
This was the chief disciple of Mist Lord Peak, Yin Sha. Though only a Mystic Lord, he had successfully assassinated a Mystic Ancestor.
Yan Zhen frowned and said, “Even if Mist Lord Peak specializes in this sort of thing, ambushing a fellow disciple doesn’t sit right, does it?”
Long Ying, still holding his hand, bared her teeth. “Yeah! Don’t think a mask lets you forget basic martial honor!”
After landing, Yin Sha sheathed his dagger and cupped his fists. “Lord Yan Zhen, since you withstood this one’s assassination, I concede defeat.”
How straightforward… It seemed the sword that had defeated Feng Tuo earlier had left him intimidated, prompting this quick decisive strike to avoid humiliation.
Ye Qingtian could stand to learn a thing or two from Brother Yin Sha.
For the record, although the Fog Supreme was a shadow of the Demon Domain Lord, her disciple Brother Yin Sha had a clean background and a healthy mindset, with no ties to the Demon Domain.
The brief clash between Yan Zhen and Yin Sha didn’t draw much attention, but Yan Zhen still sensed a few faint gazes from within the fog fixed on him. Once they realized he had noticed, the observers quickly released waves of goodwill.
“Since Brother Yin Sha puts it that way, I won’t impose any further,” Yan Zhen replied, returning the gesture with cupped fists. Then he led Long Ying away from Mist Lord Peak.
Just as his beautiful master had predicted, he had won two matches today. The Mystic Lord Realm posed no real threat to him anymore. Now, only three Mystic Ancestors remained.
At Jialan Peak’s Glazed Cave, Mentor Yu Xuan and Aunt Shui Bailan had gathered dossiers on the remaining three chief disciples at the Mystic Ancestor Realm.
Though Yan Zhen had foreknowledge from the script, he still pored over the materials carefully.
After reviewing them, his plan matched the script: he would start with Qingren Peak’s chief, Qingkong Hai.
Thunder God Peak’s chief, Lei Zhenyu, was a disciple of the Thunder Supreme. He followed a hybrid path of mystic cultivation and body refinement—a total berserker who fought with brutal close-quarters combat. Battling him would require time to recover afterward.
By comparison, Qingkong Hai was easier to handle. Qingren Peak’s techniques appeared to blend offense and defense seamlessly, but their true strength lay in exceptional recovery and high resistance to other attributes. In essence, he was a tanky support—no real damage output. Victory was just a matter of time.
Cloud Immortal Peak’s chief, Xiao Fang, was the trickiest.
On the surface, Xiao Fang was only a Two-Star Mystic Ancestor, but he was actually at Three-Star, far stronger than the other chiefs!
Cloud Immortal Peak had always been like this—seeming laid-back and carefree, ignoring worldly affairs, yet fiercely competitive in secret. Everyone there was cunning, proudly calling it “the true essence of the clouds: unfathomable and ever-changing.”
Two days of the seven-day period had passed, leaving five. First, Qingkong Hai; then Lei Zhenyu. Rest for two days to recover, and finally face Xiao Fang.
That night, after spending time with the women, Yan Zhen returned to his room. Just as he prepared to retreat into the Fire Refining Starry Sky, the space around him rippled. A portal tore open on its own, and his white-haired, white-robed Saint Lord Master emerged gracefully from the Bitter Sea World, her expression filled with compassion.
“Yan’er.”
“Saint Lord Master?!” Yan Zhen was caught off guard. “Is something the matter?”
Jialan Fairy sat elegantly on the bed, her hands emerging from her sleeves to rest folded on her lap, holding down the hem of her floor-length skirt.
A halo glowed behind her head, and tiny white lotuses bloomed and faded around her, enhancing her solemn, sacred aura.
She was clearly a top powerhouse!
“There’s no need to be tense. I just came to check on you, Yan’er,” Jialan Fairy’s voice carried the gentle compassion of a holy mother. “You’ve performed splendidly these past two days—even more brilliantly than in your previous life. Which of the remaining three peaks do you plan to challenge tomorrow?”
“I was thinking Qingren Peak first.”
“I thought as much. But don’t go easy on Sunny Supreme’s disciple just because you dislike her. We’re all fellow disciples—get along well, alright, Yan’er?”
“Uh, Saint Lord Master, I’m not that petty,” Yan Zhen said, a bit speechless. “I don’t start trouble unless provoked.”
“That’s the best mindset.” With that, Jialan Fairy patted the spot beside her. “Yan’er, come sit.”
Bewildered, Yan Zhen obeyed and sat next to his Saint Lord Master. She then gently pulled his upper body down, pillowing his head on her lap.
Yan Zhen froze, unsure of her intentions.
“Don’t move.” As she spoke, Jialan Fairy lifted his legs onto the bed, settling him into a comfortable recline. “In our previous life, we never did this. You were never close to me, Yan’er—your eyes were only for Chen Xi.”
“Saint Lord Master…”
“I’m not blaming you. I just felt a little lonely.” Her eyes brimmed with tender affection, shifting her from the nurturer of all beings to a mother doting on her one child. “I’m your master now too, Yan’er. You can rely on me more—not everything has to go through Chen Xi. I want to pamper you as well.”
At those words, Yan Zhen’s cheeks flushed visibly, the color spreading all the way to his ears.
Seeing him fall silent, Jialan Fairy asked, “Does Yan’er not want this?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to—it’s just so sudden.” He didn’t dare move. “And I’m not a child anymore.”
“Hehe, you’ve certainly grown up. But in your master’s eyes, my disciple will always be a child.”
“That makes no sense at all.”
“What about this?”
A Mystic holy law enveloped Yan Zhen. Suddenly, he felt his body shrinking until he appeared no older than seven or eight. His eyes widened in disbelief.
“Saint Lord Master?!” he yelped. “Why’d you turn me into this?!”
A hint of amusement entered her eyes. “To make you more honest, of course—little Yan’er is far cuter like this.”
Yan Zhen tried to struggle but found himself completely immobile. She hadn’t bound him, yet he simply couldn’t rise. He could only blink up at the pure, holy mother’s pristine and beautiful face.
Under her soft, affectionate gaze, Yan Zhen’s heart gradually calmed, and he finally gave up resisting.
“Remember to change me back later, or I won’t be able to fight tomorrow.”
“Is Yan’er angry?”
“Not angry~”
“But your lips are pouting.”
“…No, they’re not.”
“Yan’er~”
