Chapter Seventy-Two: Sacrifice and Seizure

Dao Sansheng and his companions had just crossed the stone bridge, caught in a throng so dense that it was nearly impossible to move forward. Li Zihong’s cheeks puffed with anger, and she punched Chao Xiong, who was right in front of her.

“If you hadn’t dawdled, we wouldn’t be stuck like this. We’ve waited over an hour just to cross this bridge. Now the opening ceremony is nearly over. Dao Sansheng was hoping to see his sister, but now everything’s ruined.”

Suddenly, Chao Xiong felt a sharp pain in his back from the punch—Li Zihong had used spiritual energy. He looked up just as a group of people soared overhead.

“Look! Isn’t this the trading conference? Flying is forbidden here—violators are executed. How are they flying?” he exclaimed, pointing skyward.

The crowd, previously focused on their steps, now all looked up. More than a dozen figures came flying toward them, eyes scanning the masses below as if searching for something, their attention unwavering.

“Senior brother, did you see Chen Xiaofeng? He slipped into the crowd and vanished. How can we find him among so many people? It’s like searching for a needle in a haystack,” someone said, gesturing helplessly toward the dark sea of people below.

“There are a lot of people, yes, but we have orders from our sect to find him. We just spotted him, and he ran. Our senior brothers will soon arrive to assist.”

In the crowd, a middle-aged man in black, his boots tinged with blood, pushed toward the interior of Zixian City. His face was haggard, skin yellow and parched, and the crowd jostled him about, nearly toppling him.

Dao Sansheng and his companions pressed onward, and Chao Xiong collided right into the black-clad man. The impact cleared space around them, and the man fell to the ground. The blood on his boots caught the eyes of those flying above.

“Senior brother, look! That’s Chen Xiaofeng!” someone shouted, pointing to the man’s boots, the blood visible to all.

The group swooped down from the sky.

The black-clad man on the ground was desperate. He had already used Blood Escape once—there was no way to flee again. But thanks to a fortunate encounter in the past, he had learned demonic arts. Now, he could only resort to soul transfer. After scanning the crowd, a tiny figure identical to himself flew from his spiritual sea.

Seeing this, the people who had landed panicked. Shouts, curses, and trampling ensued, turning the scene into chaos. Dao Sansheng quickly squeezed toward the edge of the frantic crowd.

He didn’t notice that the tiny figure, seeing him as the first to try to escape, dove straight into his spiritual sea. Dao Sansheng’s spiritual sea was at the level of a mid-stage Foundation Establishment cultivator. The little figure was surprised, but having already abandoned his original body, there was no turning back. Escape meant certain death; his only hope was to fight for survival.

“None of you can leave!” the group on the ground encircled those who hadn’t escaped, letting no one slip away, intensifying the panic.

People around them went wild, some fleeing forward, others backward. The once-crowded street opened up, and Dao Sansheng, Chao Xiong, and Li Zihong squeezed into Zixian City.

Having contained the crowd, the leader gestured to those who had just left. “Watch everyone carefully. If anyone faints or sits down to meditate, arrest them all!” With a wave, the group dispersed.

Dao Sansheng sensed something amiss in his spiritual sea. Apparently, the intruder had entered his mind. He couldn’t sit down to meditate now—if he were discovered, it would mean certain death.

“Kid, I advise you to yield control of your body. Otherwise, both of us will die here. If you resist, they’ll notice for sure. Be smart,” the stranger’s soul floated above Dao Sansheng’s own, scanning him.

Dao Sansheng smiled. “Soul Disc, it’s your turn. Handle this gently—your master needs to go shopping at the trading conference. Remember, be gentle, you’re a girl after all.”

Within seconds, a girl in a deep green gown appeared before Chen Xiaofeng’s gaze. At first glance, she seemed ordinary, though her mischievous expression and big sparkling eyes gave her a lively air.

“I’ll be gentle. Soul Disc will obey master,” she replied sweetly.

Before she finished, Chen Xiaofeng’s consciousness faded, the soft, melodious voice echoing in his ears, making him want to listen forever, reluctant to lose such beauty.

After a while, Chen Xiaofeng awoke, startled, staring at the girl in terror. He turned and bolted, not looking back, leaving a trail of shadows in Dao Sansheng’s spiritual sea.

“You’re not getting away so easily. Master will blame Soul Disc if you do,” she murmured, clapping her hands and chanting:

“Dear friend, I welcome you into my dream, listen as I sing a song of the jungle.”

At her words, Chen Xiaofeng, nearly out of Dao Sansheng’s spiritual sea, stopped at the edge and fell, landing on the central island, where he slept soundly.

In his dream, Chen Xiaofeng returned to the first time he entered Zixian Palace. After testing, he was declared the disciple with the best spiritual roots. Upon joining the sect, his master told him:

“Xiaofeng, you are the most outstanding disciple of this generation, destined to compete with your senior brothers and sisters for the Palace Lord’s position.”

Confident, Chen Xiaofeng listened to his master. What he didn’t realize was that this marked the start of his hellish life—the period he would come to hate most. In the dream, everything began anew.

Dao Sansheng, looking and acting like a normal person, hurried with Chao Xiong and Li Zihong toward the central plaza of Zixian City. Overhead, disciples from Zixian Palace and other sects flew by, monitoring every movement below.

“Brother Dao, something big must have happened. Should we still head to the plaza?” Zhao Jinqian caught up from behind, pointing anxiously at the squads of patrolling disciples overhead.

“You finally made it—I was afraid you’d been lost at the stone bridge,” Chao Xiong said, patting Zhao Jinqian’s shoulder. At last, someone was willing to talk. Dao Sansheng always ignored him, and Li Zihong would punch him if he so much as looked at her.

“He never talks. Zhao, let’s chat,” Chao Xiong said, placing his hand on Zhao Jinqian’s shoulder.

Dao Sansheng turned. He had just watched Soul Disc subdue the intruder in his spiritual sea and now had time to speak.

“Chao Xiong, are you sure you don’t want anything? If you don’t, that’ll save me trouble—I won’t mind at all,” he said, offering Chao Xiong a sincere smile.

Chao Xiong hurriedly removed his hand from Zhao Jinqian’s shoulder, rushing to place it on Dao Sansheng instead, smoothing Dao Sansheng’s breath with his other hand.

“You’re generous, but I still want my things—I’ve been waiting for days, hoping for Foundation Establishment pills. Selling out your teammate at a time like this, how shameless!”