"Boy, if you know what's good for you, get out of the way. I've got more important things to do than deal with you right now." The leader, the black iron tower of a man, grunted irritably at Leo blocking his path.

  "What are you after?" Leo asked.

  "Treasure hunting, obviously. Get out of the way, or don't blame us for being rude." The red-nosed man threatened. If Leo weren't at the Great Perfection stage, he would have attacked already.

  "In that case, turn back. The treasure here belongs to me now." Leo took a step forward, blocking their path.

  "Courting death!" The black iron tower man roared. Leo's cultivation was slightly higher, making him wary. But with eight of them, including four late-stage cultivators and three mid-stage, they had the advantage. He didn't want unnecessary trouble, but he didn't fear Leo either.

  "Thinking you can block the Black Wind Gulch Eight just because your cultivation is a bit higher? You've got a death wish!" The red-nosed man whipped out a spirit lash and cracked it at Leo's neck without warning, aiming to kill.

  Hum! A clear resonance emanated from the chamber behind Leo. A powerful aura surged through the secret passage.

  "A treasure is emerging! Kill him first, then claim it!" Sensing the artifact's formidable presence, the group's faces lit up with greed. They drew their weapons and charged.

  Leo's gaze hardened. A cold smile touched his lips. The artifact had been completed early—not even half an incense stick's worth of time had passed. Hann's forging skills were remarkable. A mere seventh-layer cultivator had actually succeeded in crafting a magic artifact.

  Facing the frenzied eight, Leo didn't draw his weapon. Instead, he pointed a finger.

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  "Ice Soul Mystic Sound!"

  "Not even drawing a weapon? Arrogant fool!" The eight were incensed, even as they prepared to kill him. Yes, his cultivation was higher, but he was alone.

  Ripples spread from Leo's fingertip, like water over stones, a stream through a gorge. A clear, tinkling sound washed over them. Only the black iron tower man, his cultivation higher, shook it off after a momentary daze. The others froze, eyes vacant.

  "Damn it!" Sensing danger, the black iron tower man raised his twin hammers to block. Several wind blades slammed into him, driving him back. Horror seized him. His hammers had saved him. The others wouldn't be so lucky. He glanced back.

  Thuds. Heads and limbs thudded to the ground. The red-nosed man and the other six lay dead, their bodies severed. Blood filled the passage. What kind of technique was this? His seven followers, dead in an instant! Uncontrollable terror gripped him. In all his years cultivating, he had never witnessed such horror.

  With a strangled cry, he turned and fled. This young man was too terrifying. Only distance could save him.

  Leo stared at his own finger, equally astonished. Ice Soul Mystic Sound—the innate spell from the Dharma Orb he had acquired from the Crystal Toad. A rare spiritual sense attack.

  After refining it, he had used it in the Moonwatch Mountains. It worked on weaker beasts and cultivators but seemed unremarkable. He had long neglected it. As an innate spell, it required no practice.

  Now, with his cultivation increased, its effect on these eight was devastating.

  Reflecting, he understood. The black iron tower man, slightly weaker, had shaken it off quickly. The others, mid and late-stage, weren't so lucky. Lost in confusion, they never had a chance to defend themselves. A few simple wind blades had ended them.

  "So much for being swarmed by low level cultivators."

  A slight smile curved Leo's lips. He had thought the Dharma Orb useless. Now, he saw its potential. Ice Soul Mystic Sound could be terrifying. He wondered what other spells lay sealed within the orb's remaining compartments. In the Qi Refining stage, only the first compartment opened. Perhaps at Foundation Establishment, the second would yield another spell.

  The fleeing man was slow. Catching him would take moments. In Wind Riding and Lightbody techniques, no one in the Palace could match Leo, with his dharma seals.

  "Fellow Daoist Hann, is the artifact complete?" Leo turned toward the chamber. Before he entered, a shadow fell on the ground. He stepped forward.

  A whip cracked. Leo grunted, staggering back, clutching his bleeding side. "What are you doing?"

  "What am I doing? Killing you." A thin, elongated shadow fell on the cyan stone floor. A face emerged—pale, sinister, aged. Hann. In his hand, the newly forged Demon Binding Rope. It trembled slightly, newly completed, not yet refined.

  Seeing the corpses littering the passage, Hann's face flickered with surprise. "I didn't expect you to be so formidable. Seven of those eight trash dead in moments. One fled. You're young, but your decisiveness and depth are unprecedented. I hoped they'd delay you while I refined this rope. You must have hidden skills. No matter. You still die."

  Hann laughed maniacally, a stark contrast to the kindly old man he had pretended to be.

  Leo clutched his bleeding wound, his face dark. "You lured me here to use my materials, baiting me with the promise of a forged artifact, then kill me? Was everything you told me a lie?"

  "Yes and no. You've been useful. I'll let you die informed." Hann's triangular eyes blinked.