How could the Treasure Seeking instinct have been triggered at this very moment? There might well be members of the Dark Night Rose hidden nearby... Zhang Yuanqing hurriedly said goodbye to the store attendant and burst out of the convenience store. Among the members of the Dark Night Rose, there must surely be the Night Wandering Deity. If Little Comedian happens to meet her—well, that would be a complete disaster. On this quiet, empty street, cars occasionally rush by, yet no sign of the intense battle unfolding at the school is visible—even in nearby residential buildings, many windows remain lit. In such a bustling city, it's hard to count the night owls, but none of them are drawn to the school’s action. After leaving the convenience store, Zhang Yuanqing followed closely behind Little Comedian from a distance. The Infant Spirit climbed to the intersection, raised his sparse tuft of hair, looked around, sniffed here and there, then finally confirmed a direction. He bowed low and swiftly crawled forward. Zhang Yuanqing had no choice but to speed up and follow at a comfortable distance. ... A cloaked High Monastic surveyed the lush forest with a voice hoarse: “The zoo projection… you’ve finally deployed this prop_type, old thing.” On the summit of a towering tree, Little Comedian sat upright, gazing deeply downward: “A 7th-level Day Wandering Deity—such a rarity even within Taiyi Gate. I have sensed your presence; it’s not one from Taiyi Gate then. If… ah, your time has come.” As they spoke, Fu Qingyang swept out a white afterimage across the ground, moving with pure bodily strength to cover over forty meters and arrive behind Black Uncommon. Fu Qingyang’s young master stood composed—like a cold, emotionless assassin—raising his bronze octagonal sword. At that moment, Black Uncommon's face betrayed profound fear. His limbs spasmed violently; he couldn’t decide whether to move left or right. His mind seemed frozen, unable to send signals to his body. Even the Evil Organization at the peak of Sage level felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness in facing Fu Qingyang’s single strike. Unavoidable—unavoidable! Black Uncommon acted instantly: his skin hardened into a thick layer of keratin, and he knelt deeply, exclaiming: “May I receive one bow!” With a solid thud, his forehead struck the ground, cracking the cement beneath. Fu Qingyang’s sword, mid-swing, suddenly froze. His face darkened with gray pallor—seeming contaminated by an invisible force. Wu Gu Magic—Depletion of Blessings! By name, Wu Gu Masters command both Wu and Gu techniques—both renowned for their eerie and deadly nature. The skill of Depleting Blessings is a level-6 active ability, capable of weakening the target’s fortune through rituals, kneeling gestures, or array techniques. Among these, kneeling is simplest to perform but offers only a mild effect. If given enough time, Black Uncommon could make Fu Qingyang suffer constant misfortunes—such as drinking cool water with difficulty, having trouble passing stools, and sleeping in restless disarray. The sword remained suspended in the air. As Black Uncommon maintained his kneeling posture, he rolled over sideways smoothly. Suddenly, slender red threads—like strands of hair—wrapped around his ankles. More and more extended outward—bunches, clusters—forming a mass of twisted tendrils. Master of Zhishake Palace hovered mid-air, her skirt swirling like that of an elegant demon-maiden. She said nothing throughout the entire scene—but her actions were merciless. “Creak… creak…” The red threads tightened steadily, cracking through Black Uncommon’s hardened keratin layer. Yet Black Uncommon was completely unaware of his own predicament. He only stared in rapt admiration at that radiant red figure—his beloved, perhaps. A clear, pure golden light descended upon him, purifying the Wu Gu Master—and causing her to roar with pain. But this also severed the red threads and dissolved the mental control over her. “Ah!” A burst of flames surged toward Master of Zhishake Palace. The Fire Master of Dark Night Rose deployed fire magic, striking a quick series of blows close to her form. The flames exploded in bursts; the red threads fluttered into the air. On the other side, just as Black Uncommon broke free from this state of mental absorption, he saw various animals surrounding him—fierce baboons with grinning jaws, majestic spotted tigers, towering elephants, and others such as lions, leopards, dogs, bulls, and bears. These creatures appeared hollow-eyed, expressionless—all pure projections—but possessing immense power. Then, a sudden chill rushed through Black Uncommon’s body—followed by piercing pain. A hyena launched a surprise attack from behind, biting into his navel sac. Fortunately, the keratinized skin held firm—only cracking slightly—and prevented him from suffering any financial loss. The hyena’s assault seemed to serve as an offensive signal; other animals surged forward in unison. “Hmph!” The cloaked High Monastic emitted a cold exhalation—the purpose of the Hundred Flowers Association elder was clear: eliminate Black Uncommon and return the Fallen Cup to Spirit Realm. No one could claim it otherwise. He drew a deep breath, spewing out thick streams of cool, icy energy. Within this chilled vapor, ghostly spirits swayed in the air—clawing and lunging into the animal group. The scene instantly spiraled into chaos—between the phantom animals and the spirit entities. When the Wu Gu Master witnessed this, her blood began to return to form—reconstituting herself into a human body. Then, she exploded—her body shattered into clusters of flesh that settled across the “forest.” These flowing remnants melted like oil, spreading over trees, flowers, and ground alike. The entire campus and forest were now contaminated—with a deep sense of decay. This is the skill of Wu Gu Masters in their Sovereign stage—one capable of corroding and polluting all things in existence. The phantom animal forms suddenly lost their source of power and began to disintegrate. At that moment, one fragment of flesh coalesced into human form—growing into a towering hand-shaped being. But the next instant, golden light swept over it—and extinguished the embodiment of the Wu Gu Master. A group of high-level Pilgrims now fought in chaotic melee. Black Uncommon collapsed to the ground. His left leg and right arm were torn open with blood streaming freely; his clothing shredded into fragments; his keratin layer cracked—his body bleeding profusely. He emitted a low, resonant chuckle: “You want the Cup, don’t you? Fine. Here it is—I won't play games anymore.” With a gesture of his hand, he reached into the void and extracted a finely crafted crystal cup. The cup’s surface was covered with cracks—its liquid within deep red like blood—and floating within this crimson wine, a golden glow swayed gently—like a miniature sun. The golden radiance passed through the glass, casting a rose-gold hue. In an instant, the entire battlefield fell silent—all eyes turned toward the crystal cup, deeply captivated. On the summit of the great tree, Little Comedian gazed at the cup and sighed: “Ah… so it is. I never thought the Demon King had secured this object—only one step away from reaching the summit now.” A fragment of flesh solidified into a human form—the Wu Gu Master’s eyes blazing with desire: “The Judge of Mystical Eyes did not die in vain—ah, indeed not…” Black Uncommon, with great effort, tossed the Cup high into the sky and cried out: “Seize it! Whoever captures it shall claim it!” That cup, shimmering with rose-gold radiance, ascended steadily—the crowd’s eyes fixed upon it. At the tree's peak, Little Comedian leapt, transforming into a celestial crane with wings stretching two meters wide. She launched herself toward the Cup. Popping and rushing—clusters of flesh from beneath the trees coalesced upward, forming an immense hand that reached skyward to grasp the rising cup. Even earlier than them, however, was the cloaked High Monastic—he appeared silently before the Cup and extended his arm. At this very moment, a sharp, clear cry sounded—unexpectedly arriving first—the sound rolling outward in ripples. The cloaked High Monastic, the crane, and the massive hand all showed signs of stiffness. No one could resist the Musician Skill’s voice. Master of Zhishake Palace stood atop the teaching building, raised her head to cry out. Her red gown fluttered wildly—her trailing red threads stretched upward like arms, aiming directly at the High Monastic of Dark Night Rose. She was uninterested in the Cup. The red threads wrapped tightly around him, instantly immobilizing him into a state resembling a cicada cocoon. Then, golden light burst forth through the gaps in the thread web—carrying the cloaked monastic through the bonds. Master of Zhishake Palace lifted her hand; her sleeve slipped, revealing delicate jade arms—she snapped her fingers with a crisp sound. Those melted red threads seemed to be reborn—restored instantly—and rewrapped around the High Monastic tightly. At this moment, one white figure and one glowing red light ascended together, weaving through the air toward the Cup. “Boom!” The flames surged ahead—faster than the white figure. Fu Qingyang’s face remained calm. With one hand holding his sword, and the other reaching into space, five colors of light burst forth—black, white, blue, red, yellow—and settled behind him. “Rustle… rustle…” The five beams waved in the wind, evolving into five banners embroidered with green pine trees, white tigers, mountain ranges of flame, and water patterns. In an instant, Fu Qingyang transformed into a general on stage—dressed completely in flags. “Roar!” Five banners pulsed gently—their light forming a vibrant, colorful tiger that strode forward, its paws blowing strong winds, leaping to bite the fiery blaze above. One person and one tiger—interwoven—descended together. Fu Qingyang caught up and secured the Cup ahead of everyone else. “Excellent!” The crane exhaled human words: “Quickly place it into your inventory.” The massive hand formed by the Wu Gu Master roared angrily, advancing toward Fu Qingyang. At this moment, the High Monastic again severed the red threads—yet instead of stepping forward to act, he only smiled coldly. Suddenly, an odd occurrence happened—the crystal cup held by Fu Qingyang dimmed its light and transformed into a simple glass cup. The blood-formed hand paused in mid-motion. The crane rolled once, returning to her original form—her expression one of surprise. “Hahaha…” The fire-master who had just been knocked over erupted with laughter. Black Uncommon, now seated on the ground, laughed too: “What is there to laugh about?” The fire-master mocked: “I laugh at Fu Qingyang’s lack of strategy—I laugh at the Wu Gu Master’s lack of foresight. What do you find amusing?” Black Uncommon replied: “I laugh at the Master of Zhishake Palace’s lack of vision, and at the old person—Dog Elder’s lack of wisdom.” Little Comedian returned to the tree-top, her face serious: “Mystic enchantment?” The cloaked High Monastic smiled faintly with a hoarse voice: “Indeed—that is merely my little trick. Alas, if Fu Qingyang were in Sovereign level—the vigilant eye of an scout—she would have seen right through this illusion at once.” Wu Gu Master gathered all the blood fragments and reformed her body, her eyes blazing red: “Black Uncommon, if you do not retrieve the Fallen Cup, then you shall perish. I will ensure it returns to Spirit Realm.” Black Uncommon scoffed: “So you lack wisdom—do you really believe that by killing me, the Fallen Cup can return? Do you truly think the current me—is my true form?” The Wu Gu Master paused—considering—then suddenly realized—it was clear. “Dual body form of a Wu Gu Master…” This technique involves using one’s own blood to blend with one's soul-enshrined pests, forming a shell that breathes and pulses like one’s original self. For most Wu Gu Masters, the value is limited—the cost to establish such a form is significant—diminishing their strength for several months before it can recover to peak levels. Given Black Uncommon’s upcoming negotiations with the Dark Night Rose—he could not afford to waste his martial prowess! Fu Qingyang nodded slightly—he had just realized something: “Your method of exchange with the Dark Night Rose differs from what we anticipated.” Black Uncommon chuckled proudly: “Indeed—worthy of a scout. Correct—the method of today is to use this dual body form, signing a contract with the High Monastic. Only after that agreement is finalized will I bring my true self and the Cup here. “The world is full of dangers—I must remain cautious. I never expected you would find us here—not even in such an unexpected manner—having been outwitted by all of you! “Though losing this dual body will weaken my true strength, the Dark Night Rose already holds the contract document—the transaction may now take place at any time—even without needing to return to Place. “The next time you wish to intercept us early—you’ll find it much harder. No one can stop me from securing the Cup—and becoming the second Judge of Mystical Eyes.” Fu Qingyang paused—silent, contemplative. The trust deficit between the Dark Night Rose and Black Uncommon had been restored through the contract—it now allows them to conduct a secret exchange at any future time, in any location. Tonight, the opportunity has slipped away—now it cannot be interfered with again. A missed victory. “The contract document…” The Hundred Flowers Association elder murmured softly. With resignation: “Well then, Wu Gu Master, Master of Zhishake Palace—we can no longer stop them. Let us join forces and defeat them—as a significant blow to the Dark Night Rose.” … One kilometer away from Songhai Third Primary School, in a quiet alley, a silhouette wearing a baseball cap and mask lies pressed against the wall, resting with closed eyes. Suddenly, he opens his eyes, cradling in his palm a finely crafted crystal cup—its surface etched with fine cracks. Within the deep crimson liquid, a miniature sun rises and sinks slowly, drifting gently. Two forces intertwine and counteract each other, forming a delicate balance. A rose-gold glow illuminates his face: long-limbed, with sharp features, strikingly unattractive yet instantly recognizable—clearly the Dark Night Rose. "Only one more transaction remains..." The Dark Night Rose exhales slowly, her mood complex. She hadn’t anticipated being surrounded and intercepted by official forces. Though the deal had been disrupted and one of her duplicates lost, the Sacred Cup remained intact—the losses were acceptable. Thus, caution proved effective: as long as she maintained sufficient vigilance, risks could be silently managed. As for whether the head protector of Dark Night Rose would survive—she no longer deemed it a matter of concern. "Unfortunately," she says, her gaze fixed on the drifting miniature sun within the cup, "such a precious artifact has fallen into the hands of Dark Night Rose." Having been present at the scene herself, she fully understands the magnitude of this sun’s power. Should she manage to hold both objects simultaneously, she would confidently stand among the strongest figures in the organization's three main branches. But now—she must choose one, or risk gaining nothing at all. At that moment, as though sensing something, her eyes shift from the Sacred Cup and drift toward the alley entrance. Warm yellow light spills down the lane—the entrance is empty, yet within her awareness, she faintly perceives a small wailing spirit resting nearby, its dark, glossy eyes fixed upon her. Gazing back at her in quiet astonishment. The Dark Night Rose: "???" ...