"This spiritual power… how can it be so terrifying?"
"It feels like standing before a god."
The woman who spoke looked no older than a young maiden, yet her face was tense with deep fear. In truth, she had cultivated for more than four hundred years.
"Could it be… that Great Zhou Crown Prince?" she murmured. "Even if it's not him, I can't stay in Zhen'nan Pass any longer. It's too dangerous to make a move here."
After a moment's thought, she made her decision without hesitation and left the city at once.
She wasn't foolish enough to take such a risk.
Among the other Martial Sovereigns hidden within Zhen'nan Pass, some shared her caution, while others, unwilling to give up the enormous bounty, chose to remain hidden.
In the heart of the city stood the Red Moon Tower, the grandest pleasure house in all of Zhen'nan Pass.
The place was lively these days, far livelier than usual—because a new courtesan had arrived.
She was the talk of the city, and every night the halls overflowed with nobles, merchants, and soldiers desperate to catch a glimpse of her.
Before the guests, the courtesan smiled like a blooming flower. Her beauty was radiant, her every gesture soft and alluring. But when she lowered her gaze, a cold, sinister glint flickered in her eyes.
Suddenly, she stiffened.
She could feel that terrifying spiritual force sweeping across the city.
"I didn't expect someone in this Wasteland Realm to possess such immense spiritual power," she thought in surprise.
But after a moment, she calmed down.
The Wasteland Realm had no gods—she knew that much. Whoever this person was, they might have strong mental power, but their cultivation couldn't possibly match it.
There was no reason to be afraid.
Besides, her divine ability rendered her immune to attacks of spiritual force.
Down below, a group of guests sat watching her performance, their faces filled with intoxicated admiration.
"I didn't think such a pure and flawless beauty could exist in this world," sighed Zhou Chong, his gaze fixed obsessively on her pale, slender fingertips.
He and Fang Wunian had yet to leave Zhen'nan Pass.
At first, they had planned to depart, but when they heard that Chu Xianyin would be arriving, they decided to stay.
And then, after Chu Xianyin's performance, this new courtesan appeared—and even men of their status found themselves completely captivated.
As for the others, they were utterly enthralled, worshiping her as if she were a goddess descended to earth.
Fang Wunian's expression was solemn, though his eyes betrayed the same fascination. "Her gaze… it's like untouched snow. Even the purest snow lotus couldn't compare to her innocence."
Zhou Chong chuckled under his breath. "If only I could taste those lips just once—"
"Shut your mouth."
Fang Wunian's face darkened. "How can you harbor such filthy thoughts?"
"My fault." Zhou Chong slapped himself across the face. "I shouldn't have defiled Miss Xiaoxiao's name. A man like me isn't even worthy to lick the dust off her feet."
"No," Fang Wunian said coldly, "you're not even worthy to lick her feet."
Zhou Chong's face twisted, but he didn't dare argue. Fang Wunian's cultivation was far above his own—he could only grit his teeth and endure it.
Just then, a young man stepped into the brothel.
Zhou Chong froze. "That's—?"
The next moment, his eyes went wide. "It's the Crown Prince! Why would he come to a place like this?"
Fang Wunian frowned slightly.
"It really is His Highness the Crown Prince," someone whispered nearby.
"His Highness already has a beauty like Xu Qingxue by his side. Why would he visit a brothel?"
The attendants standing near them looked equally stunned.
Zhou Chong gave a greasy grin. "Heh, that's normal. Homegrown flowers never smell as sweet as the wild ones, after all."
Everyone glared at him. "Who said Miss Xiaoxiao is a wildflower?"
Zhou Chong shut his mouth immediately, his grin fading.
Meanwhile, Yang Cheng had already crossed the room and stepped up to the raised platform. His eyes locked onto the courtesan above.
"Ye Xiao," he said coldly, "your tastes are quite… unusual."
No matter how perfect her disguise was, she could never deceive Yang Cheng.
After all, the aura of a Martial Sovereign could not be hidden from his spiritual perception.
The courtesan covered her mouth and laughed, her voice like silk. "What are you talking about, young master?"
Her laugh was captivating, her every move enchanting. Countless men below fell under her spell in an instant.
But within, her mind was racing.
She had already recognized him—the Crown Prince of Great Zhou, the target she was sent to kill.
'So the one with that terrifying spiritual power just now… was Yang Cheng!'
Her heart sank.
Neither the Qingming Sect's intelligence nor her own investigations had mentioned this.
Even so, she didn't panic.
"Ye Xiao," Yang Cheng said softly, his voice calm but laced with steel, "you can stop pretending."
Yang Cheng's voice was calm and steady. "Your goal is to assassinate me. Go ahead—make your move."
The entire hall fell silent. Everyone turned to one another, confused.
Miss Xiaoxiao was such a pure, delicate woman—like an innocent white rabbit. How could someone like her possibly be an assassin?
"This honored guest," the courtesan said softly, her voice trembling like a frightened bird. "You must be mistaken."
"Your Highness," one man spoke up, "I also believe you've misunderstood Miss Xiaoxiao."
"Yes, Miss Xiaoxiao could never be an assassin."
Several others nodded in agreement, eager to defend the courtesan.
But before the words had even faded, the three alluring women standing behind the courtesan suddenly attacked without warning.
Swish! Swish! Swish!
From their wide sleeves shot out silken bands, like gleaming ribbons of light, instantly wrapping tightly around Yang Cheng.
"Yang Cheng," the courtesan's voice turned cold, her soft expression hardening into steel. "You're far too confident. That arrogance will be the reason you die here tonight."
Yang Cheng's gaze didn't waver. "You think that's enough to kill me?"
The courtesan sneered. "These silks were spun from the Heavenly Brocade Silkworm's thread—their toughness rivals that of an imperial weapon…"
She didn't even finish the sentence before Yang Cheng moved.
[Divine Ability · Shrinking the Earth to an Inch]
His figure flickered strangely, vanishing from within the silk bindings. The next instant, he reappeared right in front of the courtesan.
Bang!
Yang Cheng's fist struck her square in the face.
Though her reflexes were fast, she couldn't dodge. The blow landed hard, crushing her nose and shattering her disguise.
In an instant, the illusion melted away. The delicate beauty's face warped into that of a coarse-skinned, sharp-eyed middle-aged man, his features cruel and twisted.
The men who had been infatuated with "her" beauty moments ago felt their stomachs churn.
"Ugh!"
The sound of retching echoed across the hall. Zhou Chong couldn't hold it in and vomited right on the floor.
He remembered what he'd said earlier—that he wanted to lick the courtesan's feet—and the thought made bile rise in his throat.
The sight before him now was nothing short of horrifying—like watching a burly uncle with unwashed feet wear a woman's dress.
"Yang Cheng, I underestimated you," Night Owl growled. His form blurred as he smashed through the window and leapt into the night.
"Trying to run?"
Yang Cheng reached out, grabbing the silk ribbons still floating midair. The silks snapped taut, transforming into three streaks of silver dragons that shot out into the darkness.
The air rang with the shrill sound of twisting silk—sharp, piercing, louder even than the beat of the city watchman's gong.
Outside, Night Owl was instantly ensnared by the three ribbons.
But the next second, his body twisted violently—and morphed into a massive black serpent that slipped toward the gaps in the silk.
"Hmph."
Yang Cheng pressed off the ground with the tip of his foot, soaring upward like a gust of wind.
The silks in his hand tightened, weaving themselves into a half-formed web across the air. Just as the serpent tried to slither through the opening, the net snapped closed.
The black serpent writhed wildly, its scales gleaming like blades. Each movement struck against the silk with sharp metallic clinks—ding ding ding!—as if blades were clashing on steel.
"Hahaha! Yang Cheng, even gods can't catch me. Do you really think you can?"
The serpent's voice was manic, laughter hissing between its fangs.
But before the echo faded, the serpent's body split open at the seven-inch mark. From within slithered a second shadow—a dark figure that instantly transformed into an old man selling candied fruit.
Without hesitation, he blended into the street vendors and bolted down the alley.
Yang Cheng landed lightly on the stone street. He didn't use [Shrinking the Earth to an Inch] again—it consumed too much spiritual energy.
Instead, he stepped forward, channeling power through his feet. The stone beneath him cracked, spiderweb lines spreading outward.
His body moved like a drifting willow leaf, light yet swift.
In just a few steps, he caught up to the fleeing old man.
The old man turned his head sharply—and the wrinkles on his face vanished. In an instant, he transformed into a young girl with twin buns, her eyes gleaming coldly.
From her sleeves shot out two short bronze swords, each barely an inch long, glinting with deadly light.