The road to the Central Region was getting worse.
The further east Han Feng advanced, the more the world seemed to lose its stability. It wasn't just the occasional presence of spatial rifts or the increase in spiritual disturbances. It was something deeper. Something that directly affected people.
Fear.
It was everywhere.
Small villages had been hastily abandoned, with open doors and bowls of food still on the tables. In some regions, corpses lay scattered on the roads, no one daring to approach to bury them. Even trade caravans, normally noisy and full of arguments, now traveled in silence, quickening their pace before nightfall.
Han Feng observed all this with cold eyes.
The Gu World had always been cruel.
But now…
it was becoming unstable.
And an unstable world was far more dangerous than one that was simply evil.
The sky was cloudy when he reached a small trading post built between two narrow canyons. The place was miserable: a few crooked wooden buildings, a nearly dry well, and dozens of weary travelers trying to rest before continuing their journey.
Han Feng entered without drawing attention.
His aura remained completely hidden. After recent events, he had become even more cautious. Not only because of the sects, but because he was beginning to sense something dangerous:
Some people could feel that something was wrong with him.
Even without understanding exactly what.
Perhaps it was the golden seal.
Perhaps the foreign flame.
Or perhaps the Celestial Diagram itself was beginning to alter his presence in the Dao.
As he walked among the travelers, Han Feng overheard fragments of conversation.
"The Gray Moon Caravan disappeared entirely…"
"Disappeared?"
"They found the bodies yesterday."
Another man lowered his voice:
"It wasn't Gu beasts."
— So who was it?
The man hesitated.
— Bloody Mountain Bandits.
Silence fell immediately.
Even Han Feng slowed his pace slightly.
The Bloody Mountain Bandits were known in parts of the Western Region. They weren't just common thieves. They were demonic cultivators specialized in massacring caravans, capturing survivors, and refining them into human Gu.
Cruel.
Efficient.
And intelligent enough never to attack forces too large.
Han Feng sat silently near a stone wall, listening.
A middle-aged woman spoke in a trembling voice:
— I heard they've become more violent since the fissures began.
— Everyone's more violent — another man replied bitterly. — The whole world is going mad.
Han Feng closed his eyes for a moment.
The sentence seemed simple.
But it was true.
When resources begin to dwindle, when spiritual energy becomes unstable, and the heavens shift… order quickly collapses.
And in the Gu World, without order, only carnage remains.
Late in the afternoon, a new caravan arrived at the station.
It was smaller than the others, composed of four black wagons and about twenty armed cultivators. The symbol engraved on the sides showed a red moon cut in half.
Han Feng observed discreetly.
The guards were strong by common standards. At least three were at the peak of Rank 3. The leader seemed to be an early Rank 4.
But what caught his attention wasn't that.
It was the smell.
Blood.
Even from a distance, Han Feng could smell it.
The wagons carried something alive.
Or something recently dead.
The travelers around immediately lowered their gazes, avoiding eye contact.
Fear.
Han Feng narrowed his eyes.
Demonic sect.
Probably human traffickers.
The caravan leader dismounted slowly from his horse. He was a tall man with a black eye patch and deep scars on his neck. His gaze swept over the travelers like a butcher choosing meat.
Then he smiled.
And the smile made the atmosphere grow colder.
"We need two more cultivators for temporary escort to Dead Stone Valley."
No one answered.
The man chuckled softly.
"Good pay. Or are you afraid?"
Still silence.
Han Feng immediately realized:
The problem wasn't fear of the mission.
It was fear of them.
The man with the eyepatch finally looked directly at Han Feng.
The two remained silent for a few seconds.
Then the man smiled more deeply.
"You seem capable."
Han Feng calmly replied:
"I'm not interested."
The man tilted his head slightly.
"Interesting… normally young people get nervous when I look at them."
Han Feng didn't answer.
The leader continued observing him for a few moments before laughing and walking away.
But his gaze remained strange.
As if he had noticed something.
That night, Han Feng left the station silently.
He didn't like that group.
Nor the smell coming from the carts.
The moon was high as he crossed a narrow region of dark stones.
Then—
his Celestial Diagram vibrated.
Han Feng stopped instantly.
His eyes grew cold.
Someone was following.
Three people.
Maybe four.
Hidden auras.
Experienced.
Han Feng showed no reaction.
He continued walking normally.
A few more minutes passed.
Then came the attack.
SHHHK!
A black blade emerged from the shadows, aiming at his throat.
Han Feng dodged at the last instant.
BOOM!
The stone behind him exploded.
Two other figures appeared simultaneously from the sides.
Assassins.
Fast.
Coordinated.
Han Feng immediately activated his movement Gu. His body turned into a black blur.
A flaming palm struck one of the attackers directly in the chest.
FOOOOM!
The red flame exploded.
The man screamed.
But something strange happened.
Instead of retreating…
he smiled.
Even while burning.
Han Feng felt an instant chill.
The man's body began to swell.
Self-destruction.
Han Feng retreated immediately.
BOOOOM!!
Blood and fire exploded in all directions.
The other assassins seized the moment to attack again.
Without hesitation.
Without fear of death.
Han Feng realized this instantly.
They weren't mercenaries.
They were fanatics.
A blade superficially cut his shoulder.
The cut burned immediately.
Poison.
Han Feng narrowed his eyes.
The primordial essence surged violently within his body, expelling some of the toxin as he counterattacked.
Two flaming needles pierced the darkness.
PUCHI!
One of the assassins fell.
But the third was already behind him.
Han Feng brutally spun his body and struck the man with a direct kick to the face.
CRACK!
The skull partially collapsed.
Even so…
the man still tried to attack.
He only stopped when Han Feng crushed his throat with red fire.
Silence.
The smell of blood spread.
Han Feng breathed slowly.
His shoulder burned from the poison.
He looked at the corpses.
Then he found the symbol.
A red moon cut in half.
The same as the caravan's.
Han Feng stood motionless for a few seconds.
Then he understood.
That leader had noticed something about him.
Perhaps it was his calmness.
Perhaps it was his strange aura.
Perhaps just paranoia.
But he decided to eliminate him preemptively.
Han Feng stared into the darkness ahead.
Demonic sects left no witnesses.
This meant one thing:
They were probably still nearby.
His gaze turned cold.
Very cold.
He disliked unnecessary trouble.
But he disliked being hunted even more.
Han Feng suppressed the remaining poison and silently advanced through the mountains.
Half an hour later, he found their camp.
The four black wagons were stopped between giant rocks.
And now he could hear clearly.
Muffled screams.
Living people inside the wagons.
Han Feng watched silently from above.
There were at least fifteen armed cultivators.
The one-eyed leader sat near a campfire, drinking calmly.
As if killing people was routine.
Han Feng stood motionless.
In the Gu World, excessive kindness was stupidity.
But leaving enemies alive was too.
And that group had already tried to kill him.
The wind blew slowly.
The red flame began to circulate in its primordial essence.
The golden seal pulsed weakly.
And, for a brief instant…
the golden lines of the Celestial Diagram gleamed.
Han Feng narrowed his eyes.
His control over the flame was improving.
No.
More than that.
The flame was changing along with him.
Down below, the man with the eyepatch suddenly stood up.
His face hardened.
He looked into the surrounding darkness.
Instinct.
Danger.
But it was too late.
Han Feng disappeared from the mountaintop.
And in the next instant—
the red hell descended upon the camp.
BOOOOOM!!