Chapter 344

Time flew like a shuttle, and before he knew it, three more years had passed.

That night, inside the governor's mansion in Jingzhou.

In a quiet study, a middle-aged man with a large belly sat at his desk, intently reviewing a thick stack of official documents.

Suddenly, the closed wooden door slammed open from the outside with a loud clang.

A gust of wild wind rushed in, and a hazy figure appeared like a ghost at the doorway.

"Who are you?"

The middle-aged man, mid-review, startled and leapt to his feet.

"Governor Jiang, I hear one of your clan elders was once a senior elder of the Thousand Bamboo Sect, yet you remain a mere mortal—have you never felt resentment?" The hazy figure coughed lightly and shuffled into the study, revealing a Daoist clad in a gray Eight Trigrams robe, a long sword strapped to his back.

Around fifty years old, his frame was gaunt, his face ravaged by illness, as if a single breeze could knock him over.

"Who are you, sir? What do you mean by that?"

The portly man snapped back, voice sharp: "Don't you know the Thousand Bamboo Sect has long forbidden its immortals from interfering in Jingzhou's civil affairs? No contact with any official is permitted!"

"Heh, the Thousand Bamboo Sect?"

"They can't even save themselves now—why should they care about you mortals?"

"I've no time for words. If you obey my orders, I'll spare your family. If not, tonight will be your family's last." The sickly Daoist spoke slowly, eyes unblinking.

"The Demon Luo Sect? Or the Black Soul Sect?" The portly man's eyes flashed as he asked.

"Oh? You know the name of our Holy Sect? Not entirely foolish, then. Indeed, I hail from the Black Soul Sect. Submit to us, and I'll let you live. Otherwise, someone else will take your place as governor of Jingzhou." The sickly Daoist didn't answer directly, but coughed again. A second gust of wind swept through the doorway, and another figure appeared.

This new figure was portly, his face and attire identical to Governor Jiang's—yet his expression was utterly blank.

"Soul Swap! Li Tao's Corpse Substitute!"

Governor Jiang's pupils shrank at the sight.

"Heh, I've shown ample sincerity. What is your answer?" The sickly Daoist stared at Governor Jiang, his gaze as cold as a venomous snake.

Governor Jiang glanced at the impostor, then at the Daoist, and suddenly laughed. "Bring them in."

The moment the words left his lips, both walls of the study exploded outward. Two gray-robed figures emerged, each flicking their sleeves—two blue bamboo swords shot out.

One vanished in a flash, piercing straight through the impostor's chest, dropping the body instantly.

The other blue sword struck the Daoist's face with a sharp clang—only to be halted by a sudden crescent moon shadow materializing before him.

"Blue Bamboo Sword… Thousand Bamboo Sect."

The Daoist's back-slung sword now rested in his hand. His sickly face had transformed—eyes blazing with light, he spoke slowly, his aura unmistakably that of a Qi Condensation cultivator at the peak.

"Thousand Bamboo Sect, Fang Jian."

"Thousand Bamboo Sect, Fei Yidao."

The two gray-robed figures each uttered their names coldly, then unleashed their full Qi Condensation late-stage auras. Simultaneously, they formed hand seals—the two blue bamboo swords spun in midair, dissolving into countless sword shadows that slashed toward the Daoist.

"Qi Condensation late-stage? How dare you flaunt yourselves before me!" The Daoist roared with laughter. His sword trembled once, and a second full moon shadow coalesced from its blade, crashing into the incoming sword shadows.

The two Thousand Bamboo disciples sneered. The blue bamboo sword shadows twisted again, swelling into two colossal blades, each over ten feet long, crossing downward to cleave the moon.

A thunderous boom erupted.

The moon shadow shattered on contact, shards flying like razor blades in all directions.

The two giant sword shadows recoiled.

The two disciples gasped—light shields flared across their bodies, blocking every flying shard.

In that brief pause, the Daoist shot backward like a bolt, flipping his hand midair to reveal a yellow talisman, which he slapped onto his chest.

"Whoosh."

A violent wind howled, sand and stones whirled—then the Daoist vanished completely.

"Wind-Dashing Technique! Chase him!"

The two disciples, enraged, dashed outside. One raised his hand—a miniature blue bamboo boat shot out, swelling rapidly with the wind.

Both leapt aboard and sped off in pursuit.

Around the study, silence returned instantly.

Governor Jiang stared at the corpse on the floor, then at the chaotic entrance, and exhaled deeply. His tense expression eased slightly.

After a moment's hesitation, he stepped outside and gazed toward where the bamboo boat had vanished.

At that instant, the void rippled behind him—a crimson short sword materialized, silent as death, stabbing toward his back.

"Snap."

Governor Jiang didn't turn. His arm moved behind him, catching the blade in his palm.

The blade glowed crimson, wriggling like a fish between his fingers—but could not budge an inch.

"Blood Concealment Technique… You're the Crimson Beauty."

Governor Jiang turned, staring at the motionless corpse on the ground. His face was expressionless—but his fingers tightened.

"Crack." The crimson blade snapped in two. The broken fragments dissolved into specks of bloodlight and vanished.

"You're not Governor Jiang… yet you recognize my secret technique. Are we old acquaintances?"

The corpse on the ground sat up silently, its form and appearance shifting instantly into that of a young woman clad in a blood-red gown.

She appeared no more than twenty, yet her features and demeanor bore a striking resemblance to Lin Xiaofeng, who had perished in the Jialan Secret Realm.

She smiled sweetly at Governor Jiang, yet deep in her eyes lay a trace of solemnity.

"Qi Condensation peak… after all these years, still no Foundation Establishment. It's truly hard for a lone cultivator to reach that stage." Governor Jiang's gaze swept over the red-gowned woman, his face twisting with something strange. Then, in a flash of white light, his attire and face changed—now a young man in a blue robe, twenty-five or six, ordinary features, but towering in stature: Wang Yu.

The woman on the ground was none other than the Crimson Beauty, one of the Four Fiends of Lanshan, who had slaughtered the entire crew of the Iron Arrow years ago. Yet after all these years, her appearance had barely changed—only slightly older.

"You look familiar… No—you're a Foundation Establishment cultivator!"

The Crimson Beauty's eyes flickered over Wang Yu's face, her brow furrowed. She quietly extended her spiritual sense—then her face turned ashen. Without hesitation, she crushed a crimson talisman hidden in her sleeve.