“Half an incense stick’s time,” Seer Mirror suddenly spoke.

Le Gui blinked. “What?”

“You stared at his back for half an incense stick’s time,” Seer Mirror said, its tone full of amusement. “What, have you really fallen for him? No longer want to be queen?”

Le Gui ignored its teasing. Instead, she recalled how she had once glimpsed into Di Jiang’s memories, where he had asked the mirror if there was anyone in the world who could challenge him.

The mirror had answered no but had added that a genius would emerge in the future—though still slightly inferior to him.

A genius…

Le Gui’s eyes flickered slightly. After a moment of silence, she asked, “Seer Mirror, don’t you think he is quite special?”

“Special enough to make you fall for him?” Seer Mirror retorted.

Le Gui: “…”

That confirmed it. This thing knew bits and pieces about everything but never the full picture.

Seeing her silence, the mirror sounded surprised. “Wait, did I actually guess right?”

Le Gui took a deep breath, then reached into her robes and pulled the mirror out.

Seer Mirror had been stuffed inside her clothes for two days. Just as it was about to bask in fresh air and decide what flower to transform into today, it heard her sweet yet dangerous voice.

“If you keep talking nonsense, I will bury you.”

The Seer Mirror: “….”

Though it often spoke with a sharp tongue, it knew that Le Gui could not possibly have developed feelings for someone else in such a short time. Realizing the seriousness of her threat, it wisely chose to keep quiet.

“What should we do next?” Le Gui stood at the bustling foot of the mountain, feeling a rare moment of uncertainty.

“Find the master,” the Seer Mirror responded.

“Where do we look?” Le Gui asked.

Just as the Seer Mirror was about to say, “How would I know?” two young girls in white robes passed by and let out a startled gasp.

“Is it true? The sect masters of Qianjiang Mountain and Luozhi Palace were both killed?” one of them covered her mouth in shock.

Le Gui and the Seer Mirror fell into silence.

The second girl nodded. “Not just them. Several other esteemed cultivators as well. Anyone who fought him inside the Soul-Destroying Formation was slaughtered. The blood flowed everywhere, turning into a rain of crimson that fell halfway down the mountain. A Golden Core cultivator was so terrified he lost his mind on the spot.”

“That is outrageous. Is there really no one who can stop him?”

“The Soul-Destroying Formation was forged with the combined power of two realms, yet it could not even harm him. Who else could stand against him? Even the Emperor of the Immortal Realm has remained silent these past few days, staying inside the Dengtian Pavilion with that person…”

As the girls walked away, the Seer Mirror swallowed its earlier response and gave a new one. “We should head to the Dengtian Pavilion.”

Le Gui: “…” Thanks, but I am not deaf.

“So this is what he meant by unfinished business—settling old scores,” the Seer Mirror mused. “If that is the case, why bring you into the tournament? He could have just come alone.”

“He said he wanted to change things up.” Le Gui rubbed her arms, sensing danger in her situation.

The Seer Mirror, however, grew excited and urged her to set off at once.

“Where is the Dengtian Pavilion?” Le Gui asked.

“At the mountain peak,” the Seer Mirror replied.

Le Gui paused and looked up.

Cangmang Mountain lived up to its name. Though it had been temporarily renamed Miaomang Mountain, its towering peak stretched endlessly into the sky, making its new name feel like a joke.

A quarter of an hour later, Le Gui used the silver she got from selling her robe to buy a simple cloth dress. With the remaining money, she found herself standing in front of a street vendor selling fried cakes.

“An upper-grade magical robe traded for a mere three thousand taels of mortal silver, not even a single spirit stone. You are beyond foolish,” the Seer Mirror sneered.

“Shopkeeper, how much for a fried cake?” Le Gui asked the vendor.

“Ten taels each,” the vendor replied, blatantly overcharging.

“Ten taels could buy your life,” Le Gui said flatly.

The vendor: “….”

The Seer Mirror: “……”

“Look at me properly. I am a mortal, not some rich and foolish cultivator,” Le Gui scoffed.

Nearby cultivators, who indeed were rich and often foolish, turned their heads at her remark. Other vendors exchanged glances, silently urging the man to deal with her quickly before she caused more trouble.

“…They really are ten taels each, but seeing how a mortal girl like you came all this way, I will give you one for free,” the vendor said, quickly packing one for her.

Le Gui calmly held up three fingers.

The vendor gritted his teeth and added two more.

Le Gui did not take advantage of him. She tossed a few copper coins onto the counter before taking the fried cakes and walking off to find a quiet spot.

The moment she took a bite, she nearly cried.

“So many days… so many days!” she choked. “I finally get to eat mortal food again!”

“Was it really worth it?” The Seer Mirror sounded unimpressed. “Did you sell your robe just for a bite to eat?”

“Of course not. Did you not hear what those people were saying…” Le Gui suddenly stopped, growing cautious.

“Go on,” the Seer Mirror said. “I have placed a sound-blocking enchantment around us. No one will hear unless they are within three steps of you.”

Reassured, Le Gui continued, “Did you not hear? His Lordship arrived and killed so many people. He is making enemies left and right. My robe may seem ordinary among the sea of white garments from Wuyou Palace, but there is always someone sharp-eyed enough to recognize it. If they do, what do you think will happen to us?”

Though this tournament was said to be about friendly competition, the fact that killing and stealing jade tokens were allowed in the rules showed it was far from peaceful. If someone killed her and buried her body, Di Jiang might never even know what happened.

The Seer Mirror had not considered this angle. After a moment, it admitted, “I thought you just wanted fried cakes. I did not expect you to have any sense at all.”

[Actually, I really just wanted fried cakes. If I had known they would give them away, I would not have sold the robe.]

Le Gui sniffed, clutching her fried cakes as she continued eating.

Hearing the sound of her chewing, the Seer Mirror suddenly made a faint gulping noise. “Is it good?”

“Delicious. Do you want some?” Le Gui offered generously.

The Seer Mirror hesitated. “…I am a mirror. How would I eat?”

“Then maybe you could smell it?” Le Gui suggested.

The Seer Mirror did not reply, so Le Gui took advantage of the quiet moment and pressed a piece of fried cake against its surface.

A moment later, a tulip bloomed within the mirror’s reflection.

“Did you smell it?” Le Gui asked.

The Seer Mirror paused. “…Yes.”

Le Gui chuckled, continuing to munch happily. The mountain air was crisp and cool, carrying the scent of damp greenery. Leaning against a sturdy tree, she watched young female cultivators excitedly discuss embroidered sachets, feeling completely at ease.

“Sometimes, I really do not understand you,” the Seer Mirror suddenly said.

Le Gui blinked. “What?”

“Are you full now? Should we go find the master?” It changed the subject.

Le Gui sighed. “I would love nothing more than to go right now. But you know my foot. Even after two days of rest, though I can walk normally, climbing that mountain is going to be exhausting.”

“You just don’t want to find him because you’re too busy playing,” Seer Mirror stated bluntly.

Le Gui said, “I heard that at night, there are flower vendors selling all kinds of flowers, fresh and vibrant, still in bud. Don’t you want to take a look?”

Seer Mirror: “…..”

“If you really don’t want to, then forget it. We’ll leave soon.”

“…Actually, he only said to find him after registering, but he never specified that it had to be immediately after,” Seer Mirror replied in a deep, low voice.

Le Gui lowered her head and looked at the tulip reflected in the mirror.

A perfect case of collusion.

Night fell in the blink of an eye. Inside the Dengtian Pavilion, the once-revered Emperor of the Immortal Realm and the esteemed sect leaders now stood in two orderly rows along the grand hall, as if they were mere sentinels on duty.

The celestial dancers, who had been performing nonstop for three days, were utterly exhausted—several of them nearly stumbled in their movements. The musicians’ hands were on the verge of bleeding, their trembling fingers barely able to produce a coherent melody.

Yet, the man reclining on the soft couch remained unmoved, his eyes closed, showing no intention of calling for a stop.

Just when the musicians thought they would collapse from exhaustion, the man suddenly opened his eyes.

“Leave,” he ordered.

“Yes, Your Lordship.”

Fearing he might change his mind, the musicians scrambled to flee. As their hurried footsteps echoed through the hall, the remaining immortals, including the Emperor of the Immortal Realm, watched them with a hint of envy.

Ignoring the others still present, Di Jiang leisurely poured himself a cup of wine, yet did not drink it. Instead, he toyed with the cup in his hand.

It’s already this late. Why haven’t they arrived? Could they have been foolish enough to get lost?