The night was deep.

At the Tian Jue Gate, in front of the Qian Yao Mountain Palace, blood was dripping everywhere.

Underneath the dripping blood was a formation drawn in blood. If one looked closely, they could even see some bone fragments mixed in.

This was the handiwork of the palace master of the Qian Yao Mountain Palace, Elder Qian Yao.

That pool of blood belonged to none other than his top disciple, Shen Changxue, who had returned from the secret realm a few hours ago, covered in injuries and empty-handed.

Due to the destruction of his Golden Core, he had lost all his cultivation and had become a useless person.

As if that wasn’t enough, he had failed to retrieve the urgently needed spirit herb—days ago, another disciple under Elder Qian Yao had been ambushed. To save him, they needed to obtain the ancient spirit herb from that secret realm.

With no spirit herb brought back, Elder Qian Yao had no other choice but to dig out Shen Changxue’s bones and skin him alive, using him as a sacrifice for the blood formation to save that disciple.

“This will do.”

Behind the palace gate, Elder Qian Yao of the Tian Jue Gate stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the door, his voice calm and unruffled. “The blood formation is complete; tomorrow, Dong’er will be saved.”

He wore a white robe, the edges splattered with blood.

Besides him, a few others stood nearby.

One person was grinning obsequiously, clapping his hands and chiming in, “This is excellent! When he wakes up and learns that Senior Brother Qian Yao has gone to such lengths for him, he will surely be grateful!”

Elder Qian Yao let out a sound of satisfaction from his throat, “That is certain; that child is one who knows gratitude.”

“Indeed, Senior Brother Qian Yao need not worry,” the man said. “You need not lose sleep over feeling guilty for this beast. To go to such lengths for a fellow disciple, surely dying without a burial place is also a form of blessing…”

“Yu Luan!”

Elder Yu Luan, who had been enthusiastically flattering, was abruptly interrupted by another person.

He showed an unhappy expression.

What he said was music to Elder Qian Yao’s ears. He was enjoying the moment, but with someone interrupting, Elder Qian Yao wasn’t too pleased.

The one speaking was Ling Ze, the only female elder and palace master in the mountain gate.

“I still find this inappropriate,” she frowned and said to the two.

“What is inappropriate?”

“Where is it appropriate?” she replied. “No matter what, he is still your disciple. You’ve raised him under your name for over twenty years, and you say you can just kill him? He took risks for his fellow disciples, do you feel no pity for him at all? Where is the compassion and great love of the immortals?”

“To see Dong’er die without saving him is compassion and great love?”

Ling Ze was momentarily speechless: “I never said to let him die without saving him…”

“Then what are you saying?” Elder Qian Yao said. “I have already acted; the matter is settled. There’s no point in saying more. Even if you talk about compassion, it’s just a pretense to absolve yourself of guilt.”

Ling Ze frowned.

She lowered her gaze, a flicker of an indescribable light flashing in her eyes.

“You will suffer backlash,” she said.

Elder Qian Yao let out a cold laugh, completely unconcerned.

The night grew deeper, and no one noticed the blood formation emitting a faint dark glow.

The mountain was high and the wind was strong, and no one could discern the unwilling sobs mixed in with the howling northern wind.