MSBITRS Chapter 96 V2

“Saying ‘no matter what kind of monster you are’ was meant to hint at the Mosquito Daoist—I don’t know your origin.”

“And deliberately using the phrase ‘this seat’ was to create a false impression.”

Li Changshou wasn’t sure if those words had any real effect, but saying something was still better than doing nothing at all.

As he watched the drifting ashes in the forest, Li Changshou couldn’t help but feel a bit helpless.

This whole situation…

He had only just recently passed his tribulation, and already he’d ended up crossing paths—albeit indirectly, through a puppet and a paper effigy—with a legendary beast of the Great Desolation, the Mosquito Daoist.

The Great Desolation was indeed far more dangerous than he had imagined…

Deep underground, a jade hairpin gently trembled, securing itself more firmly in Ling’e’s hair.

She lost…

She actually lost?!

Her Majesty had personally descended a strand of divine consciousness, and before she could do anything, she was incinerated into ashes?!

That person who called themselves “this seat”… Who could they be?

In a cave dwelling near Mount Ling on the western continent of Xiniu Hezhou, the Daoist Lady Wenjing abruptly opened her eyes, her expression dark and irritated. She waved her hand.

“Out!”

The two maidservants kneeling nearby didn’t dare breathe. They quickly rose and backed away with their heads lowered.

Wenjing adjusted her flowing gauze robes and sat up cross-legged, waves of emotion surging in her heart.

Who was that person?

Just moments ago, she had been watching the chaos unfold at Du’xian Gate with great amusement.

When she realized that the puppets she’d gathered were running low on power, she was naturally a little displeased.

What should’ve been a clean, one-sided suppression by her puppets had somehow turned into a disaster. Even after all her plotting, she’d only managed to inflict some casualties on Du’xian Gate—nowhere near enough to shake their foundation.

She was annoyed, but not overly concerned.

After all, it had been a simple, low-effort scheme.

But when her puppets started to fail on the main battlefield, she lost interest in watching.

Then, on a whim, she decided to check whether the Celestial Realm puppet she had dispatched had at least managed to wipe out the disciples of Du’xian Gate.

So, Wenjing shifted her focus to the old Daoist.

The moment her vision arrived, she saw that the Celestial Realm Daoist had been caught in a trap formation and bombarded by a killing array.

“‘Miserable’ doesn’t even begin to describe it!”

Why are all the puppets I pick lately so useless?!

Frustrated, Wenjing decided to take direct control and handle things herself.

But just as she moved her consciousness into the puppet, intending to unleash her wrath, the three so-called “True Immortal” cultivators simply incinerated her divine consciousness to ash…

Wait—that didn’t seem like actual living beings. Could it have been some kind of divine technique?

Could the one behind them be a true master?

In Wenjing’s vision, a flaming sigil burned into her memory—a final image carried back by her extinguished divine sense. She couldn’t shake it.

Who was this person?

Could he be, like me, using puppets to meddle in the affairs of the Human Sect?

Wenjing snorted coldly in her heart and forcibly erased the image, a slight, charming smile returning to her lips.

“This Du’xian Gate… is getting more and more interesting.”

“Hmm? So it’s you?”

Suddenly, Wenjing frowned as a man’s voice echoed strangely in her mind.

She heard him say:

“So, someone has obscured your destiny? No wonder I couldn’t figure out who you were halfway through my calculations.”

Who?!

Who’s speaking?!

Wenjing’s body shuddered. Her hands instantly failed to form any seals as blood-colored light surged across her body, forcibly extinguishing the voice.

But before she could deduce what had just happened, her vision blurred, and a strange, mysterious Daoist aura surrounded her.

At that moment, Wenjing felt something she hadn’t felt in countless years—

Fear.

A pure, primal fear from deep within her soul.

In a daze, she seemed to see a thick mist ahead. But just as she did, a shimmering veil of water appeared before her, obscuring her body.

She recognized it immediately: a manifestation of a great Dao technique. The water curtain was a saintly spell meant to conceal her fate.

And beyond the veil…

She couldn’t see through the mist at all.

From beyond the veil and within the fog, a figure approached. Though distorted by the water, Wenjing could vaguely see him raise his left hand, palm up. In his palm swirled two faint wisps of black and white energy, chasing one another endlessly, filled with profound mystery.

“Tsk.”

She heard that voice again. The man sounded amused.

“I borrowed a bit of power from my teacher’s Taiji Diagram and still couldn’t calculate who you are. Seems like you’re under the protection of a saint.”

Though distorted behind the veil, his form twisted and shifted, sending chills down Wenjing’s spine.

She was trapped—completely ensnared by a Daoist aura she could not escape.

Then he spoke gently:

“I am Xuandu, chief disciple under the Taishang Dao De Tianzun.”

“You, fellow Daoist, attempted to harm the lineage of the Human Sect without provocation—your intentions were vicious, and your means despicable. But this time, for the sake of the Saint who shields you, I’ll let you off.”

“But if you ever target our Human Sect again, even a small branch like Du’xian Gate…”

“The saint backing you may not be able to protect you.”

As he finished, the figure outside the water curtain chuckled softly, fading away with the surrounding mist.

Wenjing’s vision shifted. In the blink of an eye, she was back in her cave.

She looked down at her trembling hands, then inward at her Dao—

Both were shaking uncontrollably.

Far to the northwest of Du’xian Gate, tens of thousands of miles away—

Standing calmly atop a drifting cloud, Xuandu slowly opened his eyes.

“Senior Brother, how did it go?” asked the old Daoist at his side.