Xi Sheng spoke first, his tone serious but controlled.
"Haha, there's no need brother," he said, giving a short, strained smile. "I just want to tell you—we're gathering again. This isn't optional anymore. It's for everyone's survival. There are only three weeks left."
Zhao Zhiyu looked at him for a moment, then nodded.
"All right."
He followed Xi Sheng through the familiar corridors, the air heavy and damp. When they reached the gathering room, everyone was already there.
The door closed behind them with a dull metallic sound, sealing the six of them inside.
The atmosphere was tense in a way that hadn't been there before. Before, escape had been an idea. Now, death had a date.
Xi Sheng stood at the center again, but this time there was no enthusiasm, no pretense of confidence. His shoulders were straight, his jaw tight.
"We all know why we're here," he began. "If we fail, we die. If we succeed…" He paused. "We might still die later, but at least not now."
That earned a few bitter chuckles.
Mei Ling crossed her arms. She was calm, as always, her eyes sharp and watchful.
"Let's not waste time. Liu Qiang—Anointed Realm, seventh layer. We are all first layer. The gap isn't small. It's enormous."
Zhao Zhiyu listened quietly. His thoughts were steady.
'Seven layers higher… If we face him directly, we won't even have time to react. We will be dead meat in a minute...'
Another man, broad-shouldered and restless—Chen Yu clicked his tongue. "So what now? We jump him together? Six immortals versus one? Even if he's stronger, numbers matter."
Xi Sheng shook his head immediately.
"That's naive. At his level, he can kill us before we coordinate. We don't know his techniques, his senses, or his temperament. A frontal fight is suicide."
Zhao Zhiyu agreed silently.
'Numbers only matter when the gap isn't absolute...'
Mei Ling stepped forward slightly. "We need information first. Like habits, schedule... where he cultivates. Where he relaxes. Where he lowers his guard."
Xi Sheng nodded. "Right. We need to find his weakness to be exact."
Chen Mu frowned. "And who does that? If he notices someone watching him—"
"I can," Zhao Zhiyu said calmly.
The room went quiet.
Xi Sheng turned toward him, surprised. "You?"
Zhao Zhiyu met his gaze without hesitation. "I'm better suited for it than most of you. I don't need to get close... I think..."
He didn't explain further, and no one pressed him.
The strange, unsettling presence he sometimes carried was enough explanation.
Xi Sheng accepted it. "All right. Zhao Zhiyu handles observation."
A thin young man sitting near the wall—Fang Jie, nervous and soft-spoken, raised his hand slightly.
"Even if we know his habits… how do we kill him?"
That was the real question.
Xi Sheng exhaled slowly. "We don't fight him at full strength. We don't fight him when he's ready."
Mei Ling continued seamlessly, her voice cool. "We weaken him first as much as possible. Poison. Traps. Mental disruption. Anything that limits his awareness or reaction time."
Zhao Zhiyu's eyes narrowed slightly.
'Poison… If only my physique were awakened.'
Chen Mu hesitated. "But will poison even work on someone at the seventh layer?"
"Not to kill," Mei Ling replied. "To distract or to slow his circulation and get his attention into it. To disrupt his Hun flow for even a moment."
Xi Sheng added, "And that moment is all we need."
He spread the rough map on the table again.
"There's a narrow cultivation chamber here. Only one exit. If we can lure him inside we can control the battlefield."
They began assigning roles.
As they talked, Zhao Zhiyu remained mostly silent, listening.
'This isn't a plan to win,' he thought. 'It's a plan to gamble everything on one mistake.'
And yet…
It was the only realistic option.
Xi Sheng finally looked around the room.
"Mistakes can happen but we need to trust each other to fulfill their role."
No one argued.
Zhao Zhiyu leaned back slightly, his thoughts steady but cold.
'Talking is really exhausting... I picked to be an observer to avoid much more dangerous role, of course, I also need a plan if somehow my plan didn't work...'
The meeting ended without relief, only a shared understanding.
They weren't allies bound by trust.
They were survivors bound by fear.
Zhao Zhiyu did not leave immediately.
Instead, he let Mei Ling walk ahead and activated Shadow Stalking.
The technique was simple in principle and strict in limitation. It did not make him invisible. It only reduced presence, sound, rhythm, and intent—allowing him to blend into another's shadow as long as he followed a target.
Any mistake in breathing, foot placement, or awareness would still expose him. How effective it was depended entirely on the user.
He followed her through the corridor, matching her pace, lowering his steps, letting the dim torchlight stretch their shadows together.
'Let's see how strong she is...'
They had only gone a short distance when she stopped.
"What do you want?" Mei Ling said calmly.
!!
Zhao Zhiyu halted at once, his presence surfacing.
His brows rose slightly.
'So she noticed right away… She's sharper than I thought. Or maybe I'm not proficient yet, it only have minor achievement level...'
He stepped out from behind her shadow.
"You sensed me?"
She glanced at him briefly. "Your intent shifted. It was subtle, but it changed."
He nodded, accepting that answer. There was no point denying it.
"I wanted to ask about the Crescent Moon Sect," Zhao Zhiyu said. "Do you know anything about it?"
At the name, Mei Ling paused. Her expression grew more serious.
"It was a highly regarded assassin sect about a century ago," she said. "One of the top five on this continent. During the Great War, it vanished. No one knows if it was destroyed or dissolved."
She looked around the corridor before continuing.
"Now it's appearing again, but this version feels incomplete. The techniques are much weaker than in records. Resources are thin. They're rebuilding—or using us as replacements."
Zhao Zhiyu absorbed the information in silence.
'That explains why most of the techniques we were given felt crude.'
Mei Ling turned back to him. "Now it's my turn. Did you really follow me just to ask that?"
"Yes," he replied honestly. "I needed clarification. And information."
She studied him for a moment, then waited.
"There's another thing," Zhao Zhiyu added. "Is there a way to obtain poison here? Something similar to the poisoned food we were given when we first arrived."
Mei Ling nodded slowly. "There is. There's a department dedicated to poison development. They don't train assassins directly, but they support them."
She hesitated, then said, "I can try to get some for you."
Zhao Zhiyu was genuinely surprised.
'She's agreeing too easily.'
He looked at her carefully. "Do you want something in return?"
A faint smile appeared on her lips. "Naturally. I'll ask for a favor later."
He accepted that without protest. "Fair."
After a brief pause, he added, "One more thing. I really lack real fighting experience. Would you be willing to be my sparring partner?"
Mei Ling considered it. Her eyes traced him up and down, thoughtful rather than judgmental.
"That's not a bad idea," she said. "Experience matters more than raw strength at our level."
She nodded once. "I agree."
Relief passed through Zhao Zhiyu, subtle but real.
'At least there's someone I can speak to like this.'
Still, his guard did not lower.
Mei Ling stopped him before he could turn away.
"I have a condition," she said evenly.
Zhao Zhiyu looked at her, confused. "What condition?"
"You don't tell anyone about our sparring," she continued. "And you don't fall in love with me while we train."
He froze for half a breath.
'…What?'
For a moment, he genuinely did not know how to respond. His mind stalled, trying to understand how that had even become a concern. He recovered quickly and nodded once.
"...Okay, I guess."
She studied his reaction, then added calmly,
"Just so you know, even if I'm considered a beauty, I'm not interested in men. I prefer women."
'What?'
That left him feeling even stranger.
'This conversation took a direction I did not prepare for.'
Still, he did not comment. He simply acknowledged it with another nod.
His gaze lingered briefly—unintentionally, taking in her appearance. Mei Ling had sharp, composed features rather than soft ones.
Her eyes were narrow and steady, carrying a quiet resolve that made prolonged eye contact uncomfortable. Her face was clean, unadorned, and calm, the kind of beauty that did not seek attention but could not avoid it.
Her posture was straight, disciplined, and her presence carried a restrained intensity, as if violence and restraint were perfectly balanced within her.
Zhao Zhiyu realized he was staring and shifted his gaze away.
'I really shouldn't have asked…'
He straightened his back, his expression hardening into a neutral mask.
"I respect your preferences." Zhao Zhiyu said with an 'Ok' hand gesture.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his steps controlled, his mind already distancing itself from the awkwardness of the exchange.
'She sure is a weird one...'