After leaving Night Watch, Stirling went back to the dojo. He told Master Kim he would be away for a few days.

  Master Kim said little. He reminded him that things outside were not like Farfield City, so he should be careful.

  Stirling nodded repeatedly and returned to his room. He changed into regular clothes and added a layer of hemp wadding underneath.

  It was fall, and the weather was getting colder. Ordinary samurai, with their abundant energy, weren't afraid of the cold. But ordinary people had already changed into rather thicker clothes.

  Stirling dressed like this to better conceal his identity as a samurai. Otherwise, anyone who looked would see that Stirling was a samurai if he wore thin clothes.

  Stirling left the dojo and walked south on East Street. Soon, he reached the city gate again.

  It was dawn, and the guard on duty was pulling the winch, gradually opening the heavy city gate.

  Outside the city gates, a long queue had already formed for those seeking entry. Most were refugees fleeing the city, but there were also merchants and slave owners.

  Stirling watched this scene and sighed inwardly.

  In Farfield City, regular folks became food for the Yearning Palace. They faced daily torment as they tried to meet the Yearning Palace's needs for worship and growth.

  Still, people kept coming here from outside. This showed how desperate the areas beyond Farfield City, in fact, were.

  Tightening his pack, Stirling arrived at the city gate. He handed the Night Watch's pass to the guard.

  In Farfield City, people could come and go as they liked. However, they needed official permission to leave.

  The merchants in the area mostly had passes from the kingdom government.

  Farfield City was like a gaping maw. It swallowed everyone who entered, skin and all, leaving no bones behind.

  Unlike the long lines entering the city, very few people left. After passing identity verification, Stirling headed towards Rock Village.

  Stirling was now a samurai at the Refining Viscera Realm, a shift from his past. Traveling at full speed, with his blood and aether surging, he could cover over a hundred miles in half a day. If he included traveling at night, he could reach Rock Village in a single day.

  Stirling saw many pedestrians near the city, so he kept his usual pace for now. He took out the Quick Sand Map and now and then unfolded it to examine it.

  The farther he went from Farfield City, the more desolate the surroundings became. Stirling once again felt the desolation and despair of this chaotic, post-apocalyptic land. But this time, his gaze was calm, his mind serene, even tinged with a hint of excitement.

  The next morning, Stirling, wearing a human skin mask, stood at the entrance to Rock Village. He glanced at the quicksand map, confirming that nothing was amiss before taking a step forward.

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  The transparent membrane that had earlier enveloped Rock Village was gone. Stirling stepped into the village without obstruction.

  Before he knew it, most of the once orderly houses were dilapidated, their doors tightly shut. The early autumn wind whipped weeds at random along the dirt roads.

  "Was the blood sacrifice over?" Stirling wondered. He continued on, soon arriving at Old Larry's house.

  The house was now mostly burned down. Stirling peered through the broken door. He saw only burned ground and fallen beams. A wave of slight sadness washed over him. Regardless, the couple had pulled him back from the brink of death. It's just that after being corrupted by malice, they were no longer human. Killing those two terrifying monsters wasn't a sin after all.

  The scene of his life-or-death battle with Monk Green flashed through his mind. This victory against an overwhelming rival freed him from fear, marking his transformation from boy to man.

  Stirling turned and walked on, pushing open the door of the next hut.

  Inside, two desiccated corpses lay on the floor of the main room.

  The corpses' hands looked like claws, with all nails falling off. Their faces showed deep pain. It was clear they had suffered a lot before dying.

  Stirling had no wonder at strange sights. Born in a chaotic world, people are worthless as weeds. Death may be their only way out. He didn't linger and continued walking.

  Shortly, Stirling reached the end of the village.

  Stirling searched every corner and found no survivors. Everyone had died; their bodies had dried up in their homes.

  Clearly, Monk White had performed a blood sacrifice on the entire Rock Village and left with the statue.

  Stirling looked still at the empty village and walked along the path behind it.

  This path was of course the one Stirling had taken with the villagers to climb the mountain.

  Back then, it took them most of the day to reach Ulan Temple. This time, Stirling made it to the foot of the mountain in just over an hour.

  Stirling took out the Sand Map, glanced at it, and, seeing no red crosses, strode up the mountain.

  As he reached the halfway point, the Ulan Temple appeared. Its dark bricks and red paint made it look like a giant beast in the forest.

  Rare bird calls broke the silence, deepening the forest's spooky vibe.

  Stirling ascended steadily up the stone steps, and after a short while, arrived at the temple gate.

  The temple gate was ajar. Stirling stood at the entrance and listened. After a moment of serenity, he slipped inside.

  It was midday, and the temple was as tranquil as when Stirling had last visited. Sunlight shone on the bare floor tiles, but offered no warmth.

  Stirling held a Malice-Slaying Bead face down in his left hand. His right hand rested on the hilt of the blade at his waist. He tiptoed towards the temple's back courtyard.

  In the back courtyard, the gigantic statue of the monk stood in the center. The stone was cracked and looked ready to collapse.

  A thick, foul stench now came from the statue. It smelled of dead fish and shrimp by a lake.

  "It seems Monk White is gone," Stirling guessed. He then returned to the courtyard and entered the main hall he hadn't visited before.

  As Stirling entered the hall, he saw three faceless statues. Each statue had a closed-eyed human face on its chest.

  "Disgusting demonic!" Stirling scoffed, continuing his exploration deeper into the hall.

  Behind the statues was a long, narrow corridor.

  Following the corridor, Stirling arrived at a small, open courtyard.

  There were three side rooms in the courtyard. Stirling guessed that this was where Monk White and his men had rested.

  "Hope I can get something with malice."

  Stirling looked at the rooms before him, a glint of eagerness in his eyes. He picked the door on the left. He pushed it open with his machete. Then, he entered step by step after checking for any movement inside.

  Stirling checked all three rooms carefully but found nothing interesting. This left him a bit disappointed.

  However, he hadn't come away empty-handed.

  Stirling held a small porcelain bottle. It contained hair and clothing fragments he had collected from the three rooms.

  Then, Stirling put down the bundle he had been carrying. He laid it flat on the ground, opened it, and took out a quill and ink.

  After a moment, Stirling dipped the quill in ink. He wrote "Monk White's Trail" on the bottle and then stared at it, hushed.

  [Currently required lifespan for enhancement: 4 months and 15 days. Enhance now?]