Lu was no stranger to Martial Emperor City.

  The last time he had seized the body of Young Master Tianxu, he had glimpsed the city from afar, so he was quite familiar with it.

  Now possessing Feng Yilou's body—though Lu had no idea why this man had crossed his path—at least his appearance had spared Lu a lot of hassle.

  His purple robe fluttered wildly in the wind and snow.

  With hands clasped behind his back, Lu descended the barren mountain. He didn't join the inner disciples of Martial Emperor City in their pursuit of Nie Changqing.

  Instead, he headed straight into the city on his own, intent on delving deeper into this world.

  What kind of world was this? Lu was curious. He knew it was a top-tier mid-level martial world, but the details eluded him.

  A top-tier mid-level martial world should be on the cusp of evolving into a high-level one.

  It would serve as a perfect benchmark for him.

  To understand a world, nothing beat exploring it step by step—except, perhaps, gleaning knowledge from books.

  Along the way, many purple-robed inner disciples ascending the barren mountain spotted Feng Yilou and froze.

  "Senior Brother Feng, why aren't you chasing that thief? You're heading down the mountain instead?"

  "Senior Brother Feng is being so low-key today—it's unbelievable!"

  "It's weird; Feng Yilou isn't even showing off his seven-revolution golden core?"

  ...

  Murmurs from the purple-robed inner disciples carried through the blizzard, making Lu's eyes twitch.

  Not flashy enough?

  Lu smiled. At his waist hung a jade pendant, the symbol of a Martial Emperor City disciple's identity, engraved with the body's name: Feng Yilou.

  He tucked away the token, hands behind his back, and leisurely descended the mountain.

  Even in Feng Yilou's body, Lu was still Lu. He did things his way, not bending to the original owner's habits.

  He wasn't fazed at the thought of being recognized.

  At the mountain's base, Lu glanced back, wondering if Old Nie had escaped the hunt.

  Du Longyang's bounty had pushed Nie Changqing halfway into hell.

  But that kind of pressure might just forge him stronger.

  Humming a tune, Lu dashed toward Martial Emperor City.

  Controlling his spiritual sense, he maneuvered the body, getting a feel for its power.

  His feet exploded against the ground, kicking up snow and mud as Feng Yilou's form streaked forward in a straight purple flash.

  Faint arcs of lightning danced in the air—that was the movement technique, Thunder Surge Art, swift as thunder.

  Movement arts tested control above all, making Thunder Surge Art ideal for mastering this vessel.

  The nearly fifty-li journey ended in no time.

  Lu looked up at the majestic Martial Emperor City, its overwhelming pressure radiating outward, leaving one struggling for breath.

  The entire city was a single powerhouse.

  Standing beneath its walls, Lu's robes billowed.

  Even the grandest city on the Five Phoenixes Continent—the Great Zhou Dynasty's imperial capital—paled in comparison, lacking this imposing might.

  The walls towered high, etched with strange patterns that reinforced their stability.

  Controlling Feng Yilou's body, Lu eyed the walls; lines danced in his vision as he simulated the formations.

  In his eyes, the arrays broke down like puzzle pieces.

  After a brief study, he saw through them. With the Preaching Platform's Eight Trigrams Array at his disposal, formations came naturally to him.

  Dismissing them, Lu prepared to enter.

  At the base, the massive gates stood unguarded.

  A curtain of array energy cascaded down like a veil.

  Lu raised a brow, realizing the city's array masters were utterly confident in their work.

  A smirk tugged at his lips. He raised a hand, fingers dancing as he tapped the gate's formation. In moments, he unraveled it, parting it like a curtain.

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  He strolled in leisurely.

  Martial Emperor City buzzed with life. Lu even spotted bizarre creatures—winged horses, griffin-like beasts pulling carriages as transport.

  His eyes lit up.

  Demonic beasts?

  Thoughtfully, Lu absorbed everything around him.

  Ideas for upgrading the Five Phoenixes Continent.

  Upon entering, he reined in his spiritual sense a bit. The city teemed with powerful auras, none weaker than Du Longyang's.

  Exposure wasn't a big deal, but finding another decent body afterward would be a pain.

  So, he played it cautious.

  "The Scripture Pavilion of Martial Emperor City..."

  Lu's eyes flickered. That was his target. As a top force in this world, its pavilion might hold the texts he sought.

  "It's him—the ninth on the Human List, Feng Yilou!"

  "Didn't he leave the city to hunt that stowaway? Why's he back? Heading to the Scripture Pavilion? I heard Feng Yilou tries to enter every time but fails miserably. How does he have the nerve to keep trying?"

  "The Scripture Pavilion is no joke. Only Nascent Soul cultivators get one free browse through its shelves."

  Whispers rustled around him.

  Lu ignored them at first, but the pavilion details piqued his interest.

  He shifted, his form leaving trails of lightning-like arcs in the air.

  The next instant, he appeared beside a gossiping purple-robed disciple.

  "You know how to enter the Scripture Pavilion?"

  Lu asked faintly, staring at the disciple.

  The man jumped, terrified—realizing he'd badmouthed Feng Yilou right to his face. His heart sank.

  He dropped to his knees with a thud, face pale with fear.

  "Senior Brother Feng, spare me... I shouldn't have gossiped..."

  Lu was speechless. The original Feng Yilou must have had a nasty temper.

  "Answer me."

  Lu patted his shoulder gently.

  The disciple trembled. How could the ninth-ranked on the Human List not know how to enter? The guy who failed challenges repeatedly?

  This was obviously an excuse to pick a fight. Right or wrong, a beating was coming.

  Still, he answered honestly.

  "The Scripture Pavilion has a challenge for entry. Inner disciples must defeat the guardian elder to gain access."

  Lu narrowed his eyes.

  He hadn't inherited Feng Yilou's memories, so this was news.

  Challenge the guardian elder?

  Elders were Nascent Soul realm—meaning Golden Core challengers had to bridge that gap.

  The odds were brutal, barring most disciples entirely.

  Lu smiled.

  He ignored the kneeling, shivering figure.

  Was he really that petty?

  Watching Lu walk away with hands behind his back, the disciple was stunned. With Feng Yilou's infamous temper, a thrashing was expected.

  But he just... left? Casually, like the question was genuine.

  But... everyone knew the rules. Why ask?

  The disciple was baffled.

  Entering the inner sect, disciples eyed Feng Yilou with fear laced with disgust.

  Lu didn't mind. Feng Yilou had clearly burned bridges—but it kept annoyances at bay.

  He grabbed another disciple, asked for the pavilion's location.

  In the terrified response, Lu got directions, patted the shoulder amicably—and scared the poor guy into collapsing.

  Lu arrived at the Scripture Pavilion.

  It was a vast, exquisite tower—vermilion walls, glazed eaves, blue bricks and green tiles exuding grandeur.

  Somewhat secluded, even desolate.

  Stepping through the vermilion walls, he crossed a wide plaza of blue bricks, stairs sprawling up to the pavilion's base.

  His gaze landed on an old sweeper on the stone steps.

  Ancient, white-haired and bearded, hunched over, gently brushing. Dust and leaves danced under the broom, swirling into the dustpan like a dragon.

  Impeccable control.

  "Feng Yilou, back again?"

  The old man looked up. Lu paused—the sweeper was blind, eyes milky and vacant.

  "Seven-revolution golden core, but your control is abysmal. You're nowhere near ready for the pavilion... Come back at nine revolutions."

  He resumed sweeping.

  Lu smiled. "I wish to browse the pavilion. What are the terms?"

  The sweeper paused, slowly raising his head, turbid eyes "gazing" toward Lu.

  "I'll suppress my strength to seven-revolution golden core. Beat me, and you enter."

  The blind sweeper said.

  Lu nodded, drawing a collapsible spear from his back pack. The tip clanged against the ground.

  The sweeper lowered his head, sweeping on.

  Bristles whispered over the steps.

  Lu, in Feng Yilou's body, flicked the spear up, eyeing the elder.

  "Here I come."

  The sweeper didn't react, sweeping calmly.

  Lu grinned, tapping the spear tip lightly on the ground. "I'm really coming now."

  Thunder arcs flashed. Feng Yilou's form vanished, reappearing amid afterimages.

  The sweeper stiffened, head snapping up, hair and beard whipping in the gust.

  His broom shot up.

  A spear had thrust down unnoticed, laced with piercing intent!

  Crack!

  The broom flew. The elder's aura surged; he retreated steps, shattering blue bricks with each.

  "You..."

  Shock rippled through him.

  This was Feng Yilou?

  His senses confirmed the aura, even the soul—unchanged.

  "You've been hiding your strength?"

  The elder grew solemn.

  Lu thrust again mid-air.

  He knew no fancy moves—just speed, bolstered by Thunder Surge Art. One thrust.

  As the saying goes: In all martial arts, speed reigns supreme.

  No spear mastery needed—if it was fast enough.

  Dragging the spear one-handed, Lu stomped lightly. Lightning crackled.

  He vanished again.

  Blind but spiritually sharp, the elder felt the pressure—from a Golden Core junior, no less.

  He stuck to seven-revolution strength, too proud for more.

  Outside the pavilion, disciples peeked covertly.

  Gasps escaped at the fight.

  Unbelievable.

  Feng Yilou challenging again—and dominating the guardian elder!

  Were their eyes playing tricks?

  At Martial Emperor City's peak, Du Longyang opened his eyes mid-meditation.

  Puzzled, he glanced toward the pavilion. The battle there surprised even him.

  "Feng Yilou again—using the old blind man as a whetstone."

  Du Longyang chuckled.

  He had high hopes for the kid.

  But his expression darkened.

  The hunt for Nie Changqing dragged on without success. In his senses, disciple auras winked out—dead.

  Counter-killed by the stowaway.

  Dozens of Golden Cores chasing a fresh one-revolution... and losing so many.

  Was the intruder that strong, or Martial Emperor City's Golden Cores that weak?

  Same realm, but worlds apart.

  This void gate crasher had iron will, power, potential.

  "If he survives, a latent dragon on the Human List."

  Du Longyang sighed.

  As he did, the pavilion fight ended decisively.

  Lightning flashed.

  The blind elder stepped back.

  A spear grazed his cheek, embedding in the ground.

  Blood trickled down.

  Peeking disciples held their breath, excitement blazing.

  He... won?

  An inner disciple beat the elder?

  History made!

  Senior Brother Feng... this strong?!

  Beating an elder meant top-three Human List strength, at least!

  He'd been hiding it all!

  The hunched elder picked up his broom, coughing. "First two floors are yours to browse. Third... absolutely not. No damage, no theft—or death without mercy."

  He resumed sweeping.

  Lu folded the spear, ignored him, and pushed the ancient doors. Creaks echoed with ageless timbre.

  As Lu entered...

  Du Longyang appeared.

  "He won?"

  He frowned at the blind elder.

  A nod.

  Du Longyang eyed the spear mark.

  "No spear intent, but speed amplifies the thrust... Unorthodox, yet rivaling nine-revolution power."

  "Feng Yilou... he has the makings of the Human List's top!"

  Du Longyang marveled.

  Gazing at the pavilion, eyes hopeful: "Let him find something this time... It's been far too long since Martial Emperor City claimed the Human List's peak."

  Eavesdropping disciples spread the word. Soon, it swept the city.

  Inner disciple Feng Yilou—poised for the Human List's top!

  And now...

  Lu, in Feng Yilou's body, stepped into the Scripture Pavilion.