He almost moved forward out of instinct, the Soulbound Order tucked against his chest in the inner pocket burning hot.

“…Order Master, Order Master?”

Logan Sullivan jolted in shock, as if just waking up. He turned his head to look at the Judge who had grabbed him, the confusion in his eyes not yet cleared.

Unknowingly, they had walked to a flat open area, the ground covered in pristine, untouched snow. On one side stood massive boulders, each taller than a person, arranged according to the sixty-four hexagrams. Tiny whirlwinds occasionally swept by, lending the place a unique, almost solemn tranquility.

Judge seemed a bit uneasy. “Beyond here is the Kunlun Mountain Pass. We’ll trouble the Order Master to lead us up.”

Although Logan Sullivan couldn’t see William Sherman’s face, he could feel his gaze. Yet when he turned to catch it, William Sherman feigned indifference and looked away.

Logan Sullivan gave a bitter smile, patted Darrin Grant on the rear to get it off his shoulder, took out the Soulbound Order from his coat, and walked straight into the center of the stone formation.

With every step he took, everyone unconsciously held their breath. The wind stopped the moment he reached the center, leaving a long trail of footprints behind him—lonely and serene.

He stopped, suddenly closed his eyes, his profile as calm as a deep lake, and listened intently to the echoes from the Ten-Thousand Mountains.

North of the Red River, where heaven meets earth, lies the great hill of nineteen thousand, the ancient homeland of gods and men.

At the vast summit, one surveys the boundless world, the origin of thirty-six rivers and mountains, the axis of all things under heaven.

This is called Kunlun.

No one had taught him what to do, nor did Logan Sullivan ask. Yet somehow, he just knew, as if a voice had always been guiding him. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide, and wherever his gaze landed, the giant stones shifted with his will, mysterious as the movement of stars, dazzling to behold.

At last, someone couldn’t help but whisper, unsure who the person in the formation was. The murmurs spread, but William Sherman paid them no mind—his eyes held only one person’s shadow.

Despite the mismatched outdoor jacket and hiking boots, and his short hair tousled into a bird’s nest by the mountain wind, in William Sherman’s eyes, he strangely overlapped with the figure in blue robes from countless years ago.

Suddenly, William Sherman could no longer restrain himself. A swirl of black mist rose from his sleeve, enveloping Logan Sullivan and blocking everyone else’s view. Only he could see inside, as if the world held just the two of them.

William Sherman gave a self-mocking, bitter smile, recalling thousands of years ago—thinking that if only that person would look at him once more, it would be worth dying for him, yet also feeling unworthy to taint his gaze. Now, greedily, he wished that person could belong to him alone, unseen by anyone else.

Unbeknownst to him, a seed planted millions of years ago had already grown into an unbreakable inner demon.

Whether by nature or instinct, William Sherman had struggled against them since birth. Yet in the end, a single, unexpected encounter doomed him to eternal unrest.

The earth trembled. A distant rumble echoed from Kunlun Mountain. A bolt of heavenly lightning finally broke through the thick clouds, crashing down with unstoppable force. At the indistinct mountaintop, a strange mask flickered in and out of view—it seemed Spirit Mask was standing there, coldly overlooking the ground.

With a thunderous crash, stone pillars like imperial towers slammed down, instantly transporting everyone to the forbidden peak of Kunlun, the realm of the gods.

Before anyone could steady themselves, the black cat that had somehow climbed into Logan Sullivan’s arms suddenly let out a piercing cry. Following its gaze, everyone saw the ancient Primewood before them. Its gnarled trunk was half-dead, not a single leaf or flower remaining, exuding a heavy aura of death.

The black cat broke free from Logan Sullivan’s arms, and as it landed, its body rapidly elongated, transforming into human form.

Logan Sullivan had never known Darrin Grant could take human shape, and was momentarily stunned. The person before him had hair as black as crow feathers, tied long behind, and cat-like eyes that gleamed like precious stones, cold and brilliant. Yet when he spoke, it was still the familiar voice of Darrin Grant.

He… or rather, it, spoke in a deep voice: “Who dares to run wild on Kunlun Mountain?”

Before the words had faded, Darrin Grant stared at the nearly dead trunk, eyes already rimmed red.

At that moment, countless ghostly beasts seemed to sprout from the earth, feeding on the roots of the Primewood, suddenly bursting forth and swarming the ground, their cries sharp and shrill.

A wild wind swept by, and Spirit Mask’s enormous face appeared in the thick clouds, spanning thousands of meters, blocking out the sky and sun. Suddenly, a strange smile appeared on his face.

Then, his mountain-sized limbs and body loomed in and out of the perpetual mists atop Kunlun. One hand formed a spell, the other reached behind him. A cauldron, dozens of stories tall, floated up, spinning rapidly, stirring a violent wind that hurt everyone’s ears.

Someone cried out in alarm: “Soulforge Cauldron, it’s the Soulforge Cauldron!”

Spirit Mask’s hand suddenly swung out from behind, without warning, wielding a giant axe that came crashing down mercilessly.

Logan Sullivan was shoved aside by someone, stumbling several steps before regaining his balance. The bloody wind from the axe made it impossible to open his eyes. The giant axe, like a mountain ridge, was abruptly blocked by a thick-backed straight blade, three feet three inches long.

Beneath the axe, the Soulwarden looked like an ant holding up a thousand pounds. The fierce wind tore a small slit in his robe sleeve, revealing pale, slender hands. Then, with a soft sound, the Soulwarden twisted his wrist, and a corner of the giant axe cracked off.

He then shifted his body and, with a clear metallic clang, the giant axe bounced upward three feet, a narrow crack spreading along the break. The axe crashed to the ground, splitting a nearly hundred-meter-long chasm atop the snowy mountain. Countless ghostly beasts, not yet emerged from the earth, perished beneath their master’s axe.

“Soulforge Cauldron.” After this heart-stopping first clash, the Soulwarden said in a low voice, “You’re insane.”

Chapter 73 Virtue Quill …

“I’m not insane. Since you’ve taken the Terra-Spike, so be it. Sooner or later, you’ll bring it to find me. But the Virtue Quill—I must have it. Once two of the four pillars are broken, half the sky will be overturned, and nothing in this world can stop me.” Spirit Mask finally spoke, his dark gaze sweeping the crowd. “You came, fine. But you brought all these rabble—are you afraid you’ll betray them on the spot?”

His words struck indiscriminately, as if slapping everyone present.

Spirit Mask’s gaze shifted to Logan Sullivan, his smile growing even more sinister. “Oh, so the Order Master is here too. No wonder.”

Darrin Grant’s expression turned cold, but as soon as he took a step, Logan Sullivan yanked him back by the hair.

Logan Sullivan put on a fake smile, one hand gripping Darrin Grant’s hair to keep him from running wild, the other reaching into his pocket for a cigarette.

Even in human form, Darrin Grant retained a cat’s instinct when grabbed by the fur, swiping at Logan Sullivan with a paw. Without claws, it only left a faint white mark. He noticed Logan Sullivan’s hand was icy cold, and couldn’t help but pause.

“Don’t make trouble, you fat idiot.” Logan Sullivan called out those three words to an ethereal “person” without the slightest incongruity.

Darrin Grant: “What’s wrong with you?”

Logan Sullivan gently exhaled a smoke ring. His lips were now bloodlessly pale, but his eyes still shone with startling brightness. His fingers unconsciously rolled the cigarette as he whispered to Darrin Grant, “I’m a little nervous.”

Darrin Grant’s eyes widened.

Logan Sullivan glanced to the side. “The Underworld is followed by the Crow Clan, the other demon clans keep to themselves, the Arhats from the Western Paradise… who are those over there, Daoists?”

After Spirit Mask’s earth-shattering axe strike, the crowd had already split into groups.

“Either they’re highly respected, or they’ve ascended and gained divine status,” Darrin Grant said. “But none of them have the right to interfere in this duel. Without you leading them, they couldn’t even get up here. Of those who dare to fight here, besides those two, I’ve only seen the one with the serpent’s tail.”

Human face, serpent body—a goddess and emperor of ancient times, Lifesmith.

Snowflakes began to fall from the gloomy sky. The hideous ghostly beasts and all manner of gods and spirits stood in stark opposition, ready to clash at any moment.

Darrin Grant turned away from the Primewood, forcing himself to calm down, and said to Logan Sullivan, “You’d better step back a bit.”