The newcomer wore black robes, his face gaunt, and a three-foot-long blue beard hung from his chin. Standing there, he seemed to merge with heaven and earth itself—anyone nearby would unconsciously overlook him, as if he were invisible.
Even though Ian Song had taken a ton of Frost‑Soul Pills and had insanely strong soul power, when the old man hid in the surroundings, Ian could only barely sense his presence—he couldn’t pinpoint his exact location at all.
It was only because the elder stepped into his formation that Ian could finally get a clear look at his face.
Lying on the bed, Ian pretended to be sound asleep, but inside he was busy guessing which faction this black‑robed old man belonged to—was he sent by the imperial court? Or by Vergil Beigong?
Or maybe he was from whoever was backing Mooncaller?
Earlier, Vergil Beigong, Brandon Nangong, Camellia Highgate, and Mooncaller all watched the fight from the shadows, but none escaped Ian’s notice. His five Demon Race subordinates had leaked a bit of aura, but regular people wouldn’t sense it at all.
“The formation in this residence is actually set up pretty well,” the black‑robed elder remarked, strolling casually through the manor. Every step he took spanned a hundred meters, and he looked so relaxed it was as if he were just wandering his own backyard.
After circling the entire estate, the black‑robed elder frowned slightly. “Why aren’t they here? Where could they be hiding?”
He was under orders to investigate the Demon Race experts in Ian Song’s manor.
But after searching every corner of the estate, he still hadn’t found any sign of those so‑called Demon Race experts.
“Could it be false intel?”
The black‑robed elder started to doubt. “No, the reports from those juniors said the five Fusion experts weren’t in the manor at all. Did they escape ahead of time? Impossible—this senior arrived last night. There’s no way they could slip away right under my nose. Unless they ran before I got here. Pretty cautious… Looks like I’ll have to start with that kid instead!”
With a flicker, the black‑robed elder appeared right inside Ian Song’s bedroom.
Ian, lying on the bed, instantly tensed up inside. Is this old guy here to assassinate me?
Thinking that, he quickly reached out to the Divine Temple—if the old man dared to attack, Ian would escape into the Divine Temple, even if it meant exposing his secret.
“Ahem, ahem!”
Just as the black‑robed elder formed a hand seal, about to send a technique into Ian’s body, two soft coughs suddenly sounded in his ear.
The black‑robed elder was instantly startled, and his soul power shot out to cover the entire estate.
“Kid, stop searching. You won’t find me no matter what!”
The voice rang out again, calling him ‘kid’ directly. The black‑robed elder felt extremely weird—after all, he’d lived over ten thousand years, and it had been ages since anyone called him a kid.
Even though the mysterious voice claimed he couldn’t be found, the black-robed elder still refused to withdraw his divine sense, searching every inch of the room.
"Old brat, that's enough. The kid on that bed is someone I've taken a liking to. If you dare harm him, don't blame me for breaking the rules and giving you a lesson!"
The voice rang out again.
But the black-robed elder still couldn’t find any trace of the speaker.
"Impossible! I'm a mid-Tribulation cultivator—even late-Tribulation experts can't hide from me!" Suddenly, the elder's expression changed as a thought struck him. Could it be... an immortal?
Aside from an immortal, he couldn’t imagine anyone who could speak to him so stealthily, while remaining completely undetectable.
"Senior, who are you? Mind telling me your name?"
The black-robed elder projected his voice in all directions.
"Heh, old brat, my name isn’t for you to know. Now get lost!" the voice teased.
"Senior, are you just putting on a show?"
The black-robed elder pressed further, though his heart was starting to race with unease.
Smack!
An invisible slap landed squarely on the elder’s face, leaving five bright red fingerprints.
"Forgive me, senior! Forgive me! I know my mistake!"
Panic flashed across the black-robed elder’s face. He hadn’t even sensed how the slap landed; if the senior could strike him without warning, he could just as easily kill him unnoticed.
"Get lost! If you dare set foot in this manor again, I’ll kill you!"
"Yes, yes! I’m leaving right now!"
The black-robed elder didn’t hesitate. He vanished in a flash.
Once outside the Song Residence, he immediately activated the Shift-and-Move Art and fled at top speed.
In a side room of the Song Residence, an old man turned over in his sleep and muttered, "Since that kid’s pretty sensible, I’ll help him chase off those few pests too."
Not far from the Song Residence, a blue-robed elder sat cross-legged in a civilian house.
Smack!
Out of nowhere, an invisible slap landed on his face.
"Who’s there?!"
The blue-robed elder was stunned. He was an early Tribulation cultivator, yet someone had snuck into his room and slapped him without a sound.
"Old brat, get lost! If you dare show up within ten li of the Song Residence again, I’ll kill you!"
A voice sounded directly in his ear.
"Coward hiding in the shadows, come out!" the elder roared, completely enraged by the slap. His divine sense spread out, searching for the attacker.
"You little punk, how dare you curse at me!"
Smack smack smack smack!
Several more sharp slaps rang out. The early Tribulation elder couldn’t dodge at all, and his cheeks swelled visibly. What’s worse, his true essence couldn’t disperse the swelling.
Finally, he realized the one slapping him was a true powerhouse, far beyond his reach.
"Forgive me, senior! I’ll leave right now—and I swear I won’t show up here again!"
Anyone who’s reached the Tribulation realm is sharp as can be—so he vanished on the spot.
"Smart move!"
The voice continued to ring in his ear.
On a rooftop nearby, a white-robed elder sat cross-legged, the space around him twisting and warping. Even sitting in plain sight, no one could see him.
Bang!
Just then, an invisible foot slammed into the white-robed elder’s chest.
As an early Tribulation cultivator, he was shocked to find he couldn’t control his body at all—he tumbled straight off the roof.
"Old brat, what are you doing climbing rooftops in the middle of the night instead of sleeping? Trying to peep on people in bed? Go home and get some rest!"
A teasing voice echoed in his ear.
The white-robed elder regained his composure, shot into the air, and said in a deep voice, "Which senior is playing tricks on me?"
"Tricks, my ass! Get lost!" the voice snapped.
The white-robed elder’s face darkened, and he hurriedly withdrew his scattered divine sense—he couldn’t detect the source of the voice at all.
"Thank you for sparing me, senior. Farewell!"
With a flicker, the white-robed elder vanished without a trace.