Chapter 36

Night deepened, moonlight flowing like water.

Jiang Ye stood in the courtyard, the Qingstone beneath his feet, pierced by fallen leaves, still silent; the exhilaration of his newly attained Hua Jing still flowed through his limbs and bones.

Yet he did not return to his room to rest.

His mind was clear and empty, his blood and qi surging—this was the perfect moment to contemplate the fist art.

Previously, when he was on the verge of breaking through to Hua Jing while practicing the Five Animals Fist, he had vaguely sensed a deeper understanding of the Deer Form’s true essence.

Jiang Ye gently closed his eyes.

In a haze, he no longer stood in this small courtyard, but within a deep, secluded forest.

Moonlight filtered through the gaps in the branches, casting dappled spots of light.

Far away, a stream murmured; nearby, insects chirped softly.

He “saw” a deer—a venerable stag, its fur gray-brown, its antlers rugged—standing by the stream, drinking.

Its ears constantly turned, catching every faint sound carried by the wind.

Its nostrils fluttered slightly, discerning every elusive scent in the air.

Suddenly, a faint, almost imperceptible crack of a dry branch echoed from afar.

The old deer’s ears snapped upright!

Yet its body remained utterly still.

It did not flee, did not run, did not even turn its head!

It simply stood there, as if turned to stone, a shadow merged seamlessly with the forest.

All traces of its presence vanished.

Moments later, a dark shadow darted through the trees—a wolf hunting.

The wolf’s nose nearly brushed the ground, sniffing every inch of earth, yet as it passed within a few feet of the old deer, it remained utterly unaware.

As if the creature standing there was not a living deer, but merely a stone.

Jiang Ye’s spirit trembled violently.

Ancient words echoed in his mind: “The deer is most alert; when sleeping, it takes turns, antlers outward, guarding against unforeseen danger. When moving, even if tigers or wolves lurk beside it, if one cannot see its form or hear its sound, the deer becomes as wood and stone, its qi entirely concealed, silent as heaven and earth.”

A revelation, as if from primordial times, flowed like a stream into his mind:

【The Deer is not merely skilled in swift motion—it is the pinnacle of vigilance, attuned to heaven and earth, fused with all things!】

【When it moves, thorns cannot hinder it; when it stands still, tigers and wolves cannot detect it! Body follows intent, intent shifts with circumstance, neither contending nor disturbing, at peace with the world!】

【Your insight is extraordinary—you have transcended form to grasp the Deer Form’s true essence: Startled Deer Leaves No Trace!】

Even the system’s notification carried a faint, forest-like serenity, like a deer’s cry echoing from distant mountains.

Jiang Ye’s body still stood in the courtyard.

Yet his aura was changing at a visible rate—not weakening, not retracting, but… dissolving.

He could clearly feel a strange connection forming between himself and his surroundings.

The coolness of the Qingstone beneath his feet seeped through his soles into Yongquan.

He took a step.

No sound.

His step landed as if upon clouds—unbelievably light.

More astonishingly, though he moved, the sensation of dissolving into heaven and earth did not fade—as if it was not he who moved, but the world itself willingly accepting his motion.

He took another step, then two, then three… his speed increased, yet the utter silence remained unbroken.

Suddenly, he unleashed his power, his form accelerating like a night breeze sweeping through the courtyard.

His speed was astonishing—dozens of feet vanished in an instant—yet, strangely, not a sound was made.

Even as he passed the ancient locust tree, not a single leaf trembled.

Jiang Ye halted, lowered his gaze to his hands, then turned to look at the unmoving locust tree; his aged eyes held a look of awe.

What an extraordinary Startled Deer Leaves No Trace!

Without exaggeration, at his current state, even if he crouched outside a window watching someone bathe, they would never notice him.

The Tiger Form’s true essence granted him lethal force; the Monkey Form’s granted him transformative skill; the Deer Form’s granted him the power to survive.

Whether tracking, stealth, or covert observation, the Deer Form’s true essence would be his most reliable asset.

He subtly shifted his intent, and his aura reappeared—the sensation of dissolving into heaven and earth slowly receded.

Host: Jiang Ye

Lifespan: 95

Strength: Hua Jing (Initial Stage)

Destiny: Ascend to Divine Stairway【Effect 1: Extraordinary Insight!】

Mastered Wu Gong: Five Animals Fist【Perfected】

Mastered True Essences: Tiger Moves Like Illness, Spirit Monkey Thousand Transformations, Startled Deer Leaves No Trace

Jiang Ye glanced at the system and nodded slightly.

After breaking through to Hua Jing, he had gained another ten years of life.

Meanwhile.

In the Zhang family mansion of Anxi County.

Zhang He tossed and turned on his bed, unable to sleep.

The thought of his second son, Zhang Xu, brutally murdered in the street, with no trace of the killer, burned inside him like an unquenchable fire.

He was certain this was tied to Liu Qingshi and Su Chen; his teeth clenched with rage: “Xu’er, I will avenge you…”

Suddenly.

Creak.

A soft sound echoed in the silent room.

Zhang He froze.

He snapped open his eyes, pupils contracting in shock, instinctively glancing toward the door.

The door had opened—somehow, without his noticing.

A dark shadow entered the room, unhurried, as if strolling through his own backyard, showing none of the stealth of a night intruder.

Moonlight streamed in behind him, casting his silhouette into a blurred, eerie outline.

What shattered Zhang He’s spirit was the figure’s hand—holding someone like a chicken, dangling limp.

The man’s head lolled, limbs slack, clearly unconscious.

It was his eldest son, Zhang Tao.

“Tao’er!!!”

Zhang He’s body erupted in gooseflesh, pupils shrinking to pinpricks; he instinctively roared to alert others.

But the shadow moved faster than a ghost.

Zhang He saw nothing—only a blur—and suddenly, a cold, withered hand clamped over his mouth like an iron clamp, smothering his scream before it could escape.

Zhang He didn’t even see how he moved; he only felt a blur before a cold, withered hand clamped over his mouth like an iron clamp, stifling the scream that had already risen to his throat.

He struggled desperately, but the hand’s strength was immense—unyielding.

He could only stare wide-eyed at the face inches from his own.

An old man, around sixty, half his hair white, face gaunt—but most chilling was the long, jagged scar across his face.

The scar slanted from his left brow, splitting his face down to his jaw, like a centipede coiled upon his skin, grotesque and terrifying.

Now, those cloudy eyes, gleaming with sinister light, looked down upon him, lips curled in a faint, mocking smile.

“Master Zhang, please calm yourself. Don’t shout.”

The old man spoke in a chilling tone, “Or I’ll send you to join your son right now.”

With that, he slowly released his grip on Zhang He’s mouth.

“Huh... huh...”

Zhang He gasped for air, chest heaving.

But he did not cry out.

No wonder he had led the Zhang family for years—in this bizarre, terrifying situation, he forced down the terror threatening to burst from his chest, compelling himself to calm.

He steadied his composure, voice low: “Who are you? Why come at this hour? And why take my son?”

“Who I am? Doesn’t matter.”

The old man grinned, the scar on his face writhing as he spoke, more monstrous than ever: “I came tonight because I need Master Zhang to do me a small favor.”

The old man grinned, his facial scar writhing as he spoke: “I’ve come in the dead of night to ask Master Zhang for a small favor.”

Zhang He growled.

The old man leaned closer, voice dropping lower: “Tomorrow night, I need you to help open the eastern city gate.”

The old man leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower: “Tomorrow night, I need Master Zhang to help me open the eastern city gate.”

Zhang He’s heart jolted—he suddenly understood. His voice trembled slightly: “You’re from the Seven Kill Sect...”

The old man replied with a sly expression: “You could say that.”

A cold dread, unlike any he’d ever known, shot from his feet to the crown of his head.

The Seven Kill Sect—the demonic sect that struck terror into all who heard its name—had come to his door.

He drew a deep breath, his face stiff: “You overestimate me, Elder. I’m merely a lowly merchant...”

He took a deep breath, his face stiffening as he said, “Senior, you overestimate me—I’m just a lowly merchant...”

"A lowly merchant? Master Zhang, you're too modest."

The old man, with half-gray hair, chuckled darkly:

"I’ve already checked—everyone in Anxi County knows the Zhang family’s power."

"Besides, if you don’t want to help, that’s fine—too bad your son will suffer terribly."

As he spoke, he flicked his wrist, sending a soft yet sinister force into Zhang Tao’s body.

Zhang Tao, still unconscious, shuddered violently, his eyes snapping open as he let out a muffled moan.

"Uhh... uhh..."

He had awakened, but could not utter a sound.

He stared at Zhang He, tears welling in his eyes—silent, hopeless pleading.

"Tao'er!!!"

Zhang He saw clearly—Zhang Tao’s mouth had been crushed, no wonder he couldn’t speak.

In that moment, his face held not only shock and rage, but an unshakable terror.

He didn’t understand why he had been so cursed.

Yesterday, his second son Zhang Xu was brutally killed in the street; today, the Seven Kill Cult had come to his door, demanding he become an inside agent.

He was plunged into a fear and despair he had never known.

To agree meant aiding the Seven Kill Cult in breaching the city—a crime so grave the Qingqing Sect would never forgive it.

Afterward, even exterminating his nine clans would be too lenient!

But if he refused to be the inside agent...

He and his son would not live through the night.

Zhang He, famed for his deep composure, now felt as if he had fallen into hell, unable to choose.

"Master Zhang, I don’t have much time—I’ll give you only ten breaths to decide."

The old man spoke with a chilling smile, like a death knell.

"Ten, nine, eight, seven..."

Zhang He seemed to age ten years in an instant, his back hunching, voice hoarse: "I agree."