Zhi Xuan stepped into the Imperial City, immediately merging with the flow of bustling cultivators and merchants. Although the Hongmeng Empire had returned to Order, Zhi Xuan’s aura was far too prominent among the mortal crowd. His silver hair, bound by the Snow Phoenix Jade, felt like a torch in the midst of darkness.

  "Look, isn't that the fifth envoy?" whispered one of the cultivators who was buying a talisman, turning back to see Zhi Xuan walking slowly. "He brought a Dragon youth, and even Patriarch Zhu intervened to save him from the Shi Clan."

  "You know, I always thought he possessed something greater," replied the cultivator beside him, his face tense. "He seems... not to care which Path he takes; as long as he can walk, he will walk."

  "What do you mean?" asked the cultivator now holding his talisman, his tone full of curiosity.

  "I mean, look at him. Coming alone to the Imperial Plaza, showing the oppression of a Golden Dragon, and then being saved by Patriarch Zhu," explained the cultivator beside him again, his voice carrying respect but a hint of fear. "We haven't seen him fight at full capacity yet; I am curious how he will show himself on the Yao Gu Plain later."

  "Isn't that the Silver-Haired Devil?" whispered another cultivator, walking some distance behind Zhi Xuan. "He’s walking in the Imperial City alone? Is he insane?"

  "No, the Hongmeng Emperor has seen him and decided to take him in," replied the cultivator beside him. "Within the bounds of the Imperial City, no one can touch him after the decree of the five envoys."

  Zhi Xuan ignored the whispers creeping around him—whispers made of curiosity, fear, and subtle mockery. His divine sense caught every vibration of those voices, but his Sea of Consciousness remained as calm as an ancient lake at night. He knew that every step he took was now watched, and every action would be processed into a new legend. However, mortal legends meant nothing in the face of the Eternal Path.

  He continued to walk slowly, his steps measured, toward the market area in the eastern part of the Imperial City that he had caught with his divine sense—a place where information and hidden goods circulated. He needed something to cover the scent of blood from his Heavenly-Blood Body Law and his overly unique silver hair.

  "But wasn't it said that he has stepped onto the Demonic Path?" whispered a merchant at a tea stall, his eyes narrowing as he saw Zhi Xuan’s figure move through the crowd. "I heard he kills and absorbs blood to forge his body."

  "Demonic Path? Nonsense!" exclaimed the cultivator sitting next to him with a dismissive tone. "If he were truly a Devil, Patriarch Zhu Tian Sheng would not have moved. Those are just rumors spread by the Shi Clan to destroy his reputation. He is a Heavenly Kindness who liberated the Golden Dragon!"

  "Hmph. A Heavenly Kindness would not have eyes as blue as a cold ocean and hair as white as eternal ice," replied the merchant, leaning forward. "He might be an Ascetic lost on the Demonic Path, but he still possesses a thread of consciousness. That is the most dangerous kind, because he is unpredictable."

  "You are right," muttered the cultivator who had previously been dismissive, his face becoming tense again. "He is not like other Young Kings. Other Young Kings would flaunt their power. He just walks like that, and no one can measure his strength."

  Zhi Xuan kept walking, the whispers around him crawling beneath his feet like meaningless moss. He felt the traces of hidden divine senses, slipping from rooftops with golden tiles and from carved windows. He knew the spies of the Hongmeng Empire and perhaps other rats were watching him, trying to measure the depth of the Dao pool he hid.

  He entered an alley that split the market area, where the scent of spices mixed with the smell of forged iron and faint Spiritual Essence. The alley was much more crowded, filled with lower-level cultivators and merchants dealing in forbidden artifacts and hidden information.

  "Quick! Get out of the way! He is here!" whispered a young man in gray robes frantically, pulling the arm of his friend who was busy bargaining for Spirit Pills at a spice stall.

  "Who? The Crown Prince?" his friend asked with an annoyed tone.

  "No! The Fifth Envoy! Zhi Xuan the Silver-Haired Devil!" replied the youth, his eyes widening in fear. "I heard he comes from the Southern Continent, a place that is still a wilderness. His touch can drain blood until it is dry!"

  The Spirit Pill merchant, a cunning Five Element cultivator, immediately dropped his Spirit Pill. "Everyone! Do not look into his eyes! I heard his Soul was forged in a Sea of Slaughter!"

  The whispers spread like a plague. The merchants who were previously cheerful immediately bowed their heads or turned away. Those in the Five Element realm, whose foundations were still vulnerable, felt a wave of cold crawling up their spines—an instinctive response to the blood aura hidden within Zhi Xuan's Law.

  Zhi Xuan snorted softly in his heart. He knew that the rumors spread by the Shi Clan, although cleared by Patriarch Zhu Tian Sheng's intervention, had left deep seeds of fear. They did not fear his status; they feared the aura of destruction that arrived even without being released.

  He stepped toward a small stall hidden behind a pile of silk fabrics. The stall did not sell artifacts or Spirit Pills, but rather rolls of paper and small jade stones that looked worn. The stall was guarded by an old grandfather with a calm Soul Transformation cultivation, his eyes narrow and radiating hidden wisdom.

  The old man, who sat cross-legged on a woven mat, showed no reaction whatsoever as the crowd around him suddenly became suffocatingly silent upon Zhi Xuan's arrival. He merely blew dust off a tattered scroll. Zhi Xuan stopped in front of the stall, his upright body blocking the faint twilight light.

  "Senior," Zhi Xuan greeted, his voice hoarse and calm, not carrying even a hint of an Envoy’s arrogance. He ignored the old man's gaze that seemed to pierce through his Dao. "I am looking for an Artifact that can disguise me."

  The old man, called Old Sword by familiar customers, raised his head slowly. His eyes, though narrow and looking tired, radiated a shocking ancient light, as if he had seen thousands of cycles of life and death in the mortal world. He looked directly into Zhi Xuan's sapphire blue eyes, and then at the silver hair bound by the Snow Phoenix Jade. He snorted softly, a silent, hoarse laugh.

  "A very solid foundation, understanding destruction for birth," Old Sword murmured, his voice like the friction of precious old jade. "This old man has no disguise other than a bamboo hat."

  Zhi Xuan fell silent. He knew that Old Sword was no ordinary person. This grandfather, with his calm Soul Transformation cultivation and eyes radiating ancient wisdom, was able to see his Dao foundation, which had just been forged from destruction and rebirth.

  "A bamboo hat?" Zhi Xuan repeated, showing no disappointment. He was about to turn and leave, but was curious about the bamboo hat Old Sword mentioned. "Show me the bamboo hat."

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  Old Sword smiled thinly, a smile that carried a hint of amusement and wisdom. He raised his palm, and a very simple woven bamboo hat appeared, looking no more than a hat used by wheat farmers. There were worn brown marks that looked like soil clinging to every weave.

  "This hat," Old Sword began, his voice hoarse as he raised his palm slightly. "I call it the Ghost Veil."

  Zhi Xuan looked at the bamboo hat closely. Spiritually, the hat did not emit any fluctuations; it truly was just a tattered bamboo weaving. However, the aura emitted by Old Sword, and his enigmatic smile, made Zhi Xuan know that this object was far from mortal.

  "When you wear this," Old Sword continued, as he floated the bamboo hat to be worn, and immediately his face changed to look like Zhi Xuan's. "It will mimic the face of someone you desire to imitate. Everyone who looks at you will see what they expect to see, or what they least expect to see."

  Zhi Xuan narrowed his eyes, a spark of interest igniting in them. The figure of Old Sword, who previously had a wrinkled and narrow face, now perfectly mimicked his own face—young, with a firm jaw and cold sapphire blue eyes. The only difference was the silver hair still tied at the top of Old Sword's head, which now vibrated slightly because it was blocked by the bamboo hat.

  "Only you would come to this old man's small stall and seek a disguise," Old Sword hissed, his voice like Zhi Xuan's—cold and hoarse. "Therefore, this Ghost Veil can be considered your fate."

  Zhi Xuan nodded vaguely; he felt the Law within the Ghost Veil ripple—not a strong Law, but a cunning Law, a Law that would alter perception. This artifact did not change physical form but altered what was seen by the Sea of Consciousness of others, a disguise technique much better than a mere spiritual illusion.

  "Price," Zhi Xuan said, his tone direct.

  The old man laughed softly, a laugh that still mimicked Zhi Xuan's hoarse voice. He moved his finger, and his face returned to the form of a wrinkled old man. The bamboo hat floated in the air between them.

  "Divine Jade cannot buy it," Old Sword replied, his narrow eyes looking at Zhi Xuan seriously. "This old man lacks nothing, except... an unsolved riddle."

  Zhi Xuan raised his eyebrows slightly. He knew that a calm and wise Soul Transformation cultivator like Old Sword would not ask for Spirit Pills or Immortal Artifacts, but rather something related to the Dao.

  "What riddle?" Zhi Xuan asked, stepping a bit closer.

  Old Sword reached for an intricately carved jade stone from behind his mat. The jade radiated a faint ancient aura, as if it had been touched by thousands of years.

  "The Great Path—why does everyone chase after Immortality? Every step you take, every last bit of ground you tread upon, will it end on a grand throne or just in emptiness?" Old Sword leaned forward, his whisper filled with deep weight. "What is the meaning of Immortality, if Immortality only offers Solitude?"

  Zhi Xuan fell silent. That question, thrown by a Soul Transformation cultivator who had attained wisdom, was not a question about the Great Path; it was a Dao riddle, a testing of the Path he had taken. This question touched the core of the Eternal Dao—an endless pursuit ended by alienation.

  Zhi Xuan remained silent for a long time; he had no answer about the end of his path. He only kept thinking about moving forward, but never again thought about stopping or knowing what would wait in the time to come. Zhi Xuan closed his eyes, trying to dig deep into his consciousness to weave the answer he aimed for. However, everything yielded no answer.

  There was no definite answer in his mind, only possibilities, as if Immortality ultimately truly came with Solitude. Another question arose in his mind against his will: was he capable of releasing mortal promises? Was he capable of forgetting the past and standing at the end of his steps? Was he capable of leaving everything behind to tread upon True Immortality? There. Was. No. Answer.

  Zhi Xuan opened his eyes slowly. His sapphire blue eyes now radiated a rare doubt, a ripple that had never appeared in the midst of a storm of destruction. He did not answer, but instead just exhaled and had no answer to throw at Old Sword. Rather, he began to question the meaning of Immortality. Yet still, his mind found nothing.

  "I do not have an answer for you, Senior," Zhi Xuan replied calmly, although there was a faint resonance of doubt in his voice. He looked into Old Sword's eyes; the honesty in his uncertainty was far weightier than thousands of complex lies. "Immortality... I have not even touched the hem of its robe. I only know that every step I take, regardless of a grand throne or emptiness, is a necessity. I do not walk to arrive; I walk because I must walk."

  He exhaled, the weight of that confession feeling like carrying a mountain. "As for Solitude, it is merely an illusion created by those who fear walking alone. If Immortality is Solitude, then I will pierce through that illusion by creating the karmic threads that bind me, until Immortality itself cannot separate me from the path I have traveled."

  Zhi Xuan raised his hand, touching the Snow Phoenix Jade that bound his silver hair; he loosened the collar of his robe slightly and revealed the red silk fabric with star embroidery on his left arm. That action was an unspoken answer; that the mortal threads he planted were his shield against Eternal Solitude.

  Old Sword fell silent. His narrow eyes narrowed further, scanning the sincerity and doubt clashing in Zhi Xuan's sapphire blue eyes. He was not looking for a complex Dao answer, but the honesty of a newly forged Dao.

  Zhi Xuan, despite challenging destruction, still held tight to the threads of mortal karma, which made him different from ancient ascetics hungry for pure immortality. A clearer hoarse laugh now came from Old Sword. He nodded vaguely, his hand tightly holding the carved jade stone.

  "Not walking to arrive, but walking because one must walk," Old Sword murmured, the words repeated with a tone of understanding. "Good. You still have a mortal heart, Wilderness Devil. Your answer, although it did not solve the riddle, has solved the mystery within yourself."

  Old Sword released the carved jade stone back onto his mat. He raised the bamboo hat floating between them and floated it gently into Zhi Xuan's hand. The bamboo hat felt light, but the coldness of the weave immediately seeped into Zhi Xuan's palm, bringing a sense of something cunning and hidden.

  Zhi Xuan caught the Ghost Veil, feeling the subtly rippling Law of perception within it. He clasped his hands and bowed deeply. "Thank you for your generosity and Dao guidance, Senior."

  Old Sword merely nodded, his eyes closed again. "Go. Your journey is still long. Do not let mortal eyes hold back your steps. And never forget the threads you have planted."

  Zhi Xuan nodded. Without wasting time, he pulled the Ghost Veil onto his head, channeling a bit of his essence. As the tattered bamboo hat covered his silver hair, the cold aura and faint blood scent he had been hiding immediately vanished, replaced by the aura of a simple Wandering Daoist, with an ordinary face that did not attract attention. His striking silver hair now felt like ordinary black hair in the eyes of others.

  The perception of the crowd in the alley immediately changed. The merchants who had been bowing in fear suddenly became rowdy again, as if the figure of Zhi Xuan who had just stood there were empty air. Some cultivators who glanced at him only saw him as a young man in dark robes looking for Spirit Pills or Artifacts, a common sight.

  Zhi Xuan walked with his face hidden behind the Ghost Veil, tilting his face slightly down. To those around him, he merely looked like a man with a striking tall build, appearing like a calm and mortal wanderer. Within his Sea of Consciousness, Xiao Die crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly as she observed Zhi Xuan.

  "Senior, I can still see you," Xiao Die said innocently, her twin braids bouncing gently. She turned to Ao Sheng who was beside her. "Isn't that right, Big Brother Golden Dragon?"

  "I... I am not sure, Xiao Die," Ao Sheng murmured, his voice in the Sea of Consciousness sounding cautious. He rolled his golden eyes, which possessed ancient vision that pierced through illusions. "I see... a shadow. His figure outside feels like a shifting mist. That Law does not disguise the form, but confuses the Soul."

  Ruo Xianxue, who had returned to sitting on a branch of the Demonic Tree of Life, laughed hoarsely. "A cunning Artifact. It is not a physical illusion, Little Dragon. It will only deceive perception. You and the Heavenly Moth, you are not bound by the mortal chaos outside, so you can feel its dishonesty."

  Zhi Xuan took a short breath. He ignored the whispers from within himself. Most importantly, the Ghost Veil had successfully deceived the Imperial spies and cultivators who feared him. The hat had given him mortal freedom.

  He stepped away from Old Sword's stall. His steps were now faster and no longer burdened by the need to control every creeping whisper. He returned to the bustling crowd, looking for a stall that sold information about the outside world—especially places that were morally decayed.

  His divine sense swept the crowded alley area. Finally, he found a place. In the darkest corner of the alley, under a worn red paper lantern, stood a small stall selling fermented wine. The stall looked dirty and dilapidated, but Zhi Xuan felt a flow of spiritual energy neatly hidden within it.