Chapter 1003: Countless Doubts

"Thank you, Your Majesty!"

Han Wuxian suppressed the myriad doubts in his heart and respectfully clasped his fists.

No matter how much unsaid meaning lies in the words of Emperor Baocheng, at least he offered a clear direction. Moreover, he promised to keep an eye on Yan Xirou's whereabouts, which for him—alone and like searching for a needle in the ocean—was undeniably a lifeline. Even if it costs him the search for the Star Sea Map, any clue to Yan Xirou is worth it.

"Take this token for now," the emaciated Emperor Baocheng flicked his thin finger, and a warm jade light drifted toward Han Wuxian. It was a jade talisman engraved with the Gen Dao Imperial Dynasty's dragon pattern, slightly warm to the touch and faintly imbued with a trace of dragon qi.

"With this token, you may obtain supplies and intelligence at any official post within the Gen Dao Imperial Dynasty, and it can serve as proof that you act on my orders. When you leave the Nan Ting Mountain Region, you may pass unimpeded."

"Thank you, Your Majesty!" Han Wuxian took the token; it felt heavy in his hand, not merely a convenience but an invisible shackles binding him to this unfathomable emperor.

"Go. The Dongxing Sea Region lies far, with treacherous storms; take care of yourself." Emperor Baocheng waved his hand and closed his eyes again, the heart‑pounding dragon aura receding as if the conversation had drained much of his energy, or perhaps he simply sank back into deep contemplation or waiting.

Han Wuxian lingered no longer, turning away from the palace garden suffused with decay and secrecy. Stepping through the gates, the blinding sunlight and the clamor of Huang Du assaulted him, yet could not dispel the gloom and weight in his heart.

He hurried through the bustling streets, his mind rapidly sorting the information he had just received:

Qinghe Fairy's identity: a Xuan Gen Dao cultivator, the third princess of the Gen Dao Imperial Dynasty!

That dual identity alone brims with contradictions and stories.

Seven hundred years ago? Eight hundred? The dates don't match—did Emperor Baocheng misremember? Or does Qinghe Fairy experience a different flow of time while trapped in the secret realm? Or perhaps there is another hidden truth? The emperor's tone toward his daughter—nostalgia? guilt? some sort of… detachment? The phrase "in name, she is my daughter" is especially thought‑provoking.

"Dongxing Sea Region, Shengming Sect!"

This information is crucial. Yet the Shengming Sect now rivals the massive North River Tianhan Palace; how could a Golden Core Cultivator like himself get close?

Not to mention probing for—or even obtaining—such a vital treasure. Could the so‑called "Grey Mist Yanluo" clue supplied by Emperor Baocheng be a key? Or a trap?

When Emperor Baocheng heard the name Yan Xirou, his pupils contracted and his breath rippled for an instant—Han Wuxian caught it! The other party definitely knows something! Moreover, he recalled the emperor's mention of Shengming Sect relentlessly hunting Grey Mist Yanluo…

A terrifying thought rose uncontrollably in Han Wuxian's mind: Could Yan Xirou be that five‑realm arch‑enemy, "Grey Mist Yanluo"?

The notion made his heart seize, almost suffocating him.

No, impossible!

Yan Xirou is mysterious, but she… how could she be that infamous pot‑demon?

Yet the emperor's reaction, and Yan Xirou's ability to divert the Xuanmen pursuers, intertwine the clues like cold vines coiling around his thoughts.

"Huh…" Han Wuxian exhaled a long breath of foul air, forcing down the churning emotions. Whether ahead lies a dragon's pool or a tiger's den, or a ten‑thousand‑foot abyss, he must press forward!

His primary task now: recover his injuries as quickly as possible, strengthen himself, then head to the Dongxing Sea Region!

He lingered not in Huang Du, proceeding straight to an official post. With Emperor Baocheng's token, he secured a secluded cultivation chamber and a batch of fine healing pills and Spiritual Stones to restore his spirit energy.

He needed time to digest the insights from the secret realm, to consolidate the power sparked by life‑and‑death crisis, and to let his arm wounds fully heal.

Seated cross‑legged in the chamber, Han Wuxian retrieved the jet‑black crystal core he had taken from the bone‑eating poisonous lizard dragon.

Pure darkness and poison energy swirled within, clashing with the light‑path spirit energy in his body, even subtly repelling it. Yet he did not discard it; instead, he carefully sealed it away. The item is priceless and might prove unexpectedly useful at a crucial moment.

He closed his eyes and looked inward to his dantian.

The golden light‑path core, after the secret realm's eruption, appeared somewhat dimmed, yet its heart had become more refined, like tempered gold. He began to circulate his technique, guiding spirit energy to flow slowly through his meridians, repairing his damaged body while comprehending the true meaning of the light‑path principles of "purging evil," "incinerating," and "speed" as displayed in battle.

In the Sea of Knowledge, the tattered star map marked by Qinghe Fairy, annotated with several ancient Xing Xu sites, faintly glowed, as if resonating with some distant beings.

Time slipped away quietly amid healing and cultivation.

Days later, Han Wuxian emerged from the chamber. His complexion had regained its rosy hue, his eyes' divine light subdued, his breath steadier and more refined than before. Though his arm wounds still bore some lingering risk, they no longer hindered movement or combat.

More importantly, his command over his own power seemed to have deepened a notch.

He did not seek out Emperor Baocheng again.

All that needed to be said had been said; further contact might only breed unnecessary suspicion. He directly used the official post's teleportation array to leave the core of the Gen Dao Imperial Dynasty, embarking on the long journey toward the edge of the Nan Ting Mountain Region and onward to the Dongxing Sea Region.

Long after Han Wuxian's departure, Emperor Baocheng remained seated, gaunt as a stone statue. Dusk gathered on all sides, casting a somber veil over the garden.

From the shadows, a ghost‑like figure silently materialized, kneeling respectfully: "Your Majesty."

"Follow him," Emperor Baocheng's voice was hoarse and low, bearing an undeniable authority, "Ensure he reaches the Dongxing Sea Region alive, entering the Shengming Sect's sight. If necessary… you may 'assist' him, letting his 'value' be seen by the Shengming Sect. But remember, only observe; unless absolutely forced, do not interfere with any of his actions, and never reveal your identity."

"Understood!" the dark silhouette replied, its form melting back into the shadows, vanishing.

Emperor Baocheng slowly raised his withered hand, his fingertip lightly tapping the void; a wisp of extremely faint, almost imperceptible grey‑mist aura flickered at his fingertip and vanished. He watched the dissipating breath, his cloudy old eyes swirling with profoundly complex emotions.

There was cold calculation, a trace of barely perceptible apprehension, and even… a hidden, ineffable… anticipation?

"Yan Xirou… Grey Mist Yanluo… Han Wuxian… Light‑Path principles… Star Sea Map…" he murmured softly, each name seeming to bear heavy karma, "the lingering debt of the Xuan Gen Dao… Qinghe's obsession… and the secret behind the 'gate'… all tangled together. Very well, let this 'light' illuminate the long‑dormant 'mist.' See how much ripple this stagnant pool can stir…"

He slowly closed his eyes, the garden sinking into absolute stillness, only the night wind's mournful sigh through the withered branches—like the lingering echo of the cataclysm seven hundred years ago, persisting endlessly. Beneath the deep palace, a faint tremor, as if from the earth's depths, whispered, clearer than before.