A few days later.0

Within the Black Lotus Cult, a man with disheveled hair and red-rimmed eyes—drained by exhaustion—hurried into the great hall. Even before he fully crossed the threshold, his ragged, furious voice rang out0

“PENG MI! YOU BROKE YOUR WORD!”0

Each syllable tore from his throat like bellows fueling a fire. He stormed into the hall, where a man in black robes—embroidered with a black lotus crest—smiled faintly. Or rather, his features were born smiling, so even when he tried to look serious, his gentle expression never entirely vanished.0

This was Peng Mi, the vice cult master of the Black Lotus Cult. Some claimed he had already reached fourth rank; others believed he was still stuck at fifth. No one was certain. He practiced poison arts and professed Buddhist faith, both with unsettling enthusiasm.0

The intruder was Zhu Ban. From the fact that Zhu Ban had once forged a quasi-domain spirit artifact for Peng Mi, it was clear the two were more than casual acquaintances, perhaps even close allies. Whether they had always been so or only recently become so, who could say?0

Seeing him in such a state, Peng Mi dropped all pretense. Standing and stepping down from his seat, he pressed his hands...0