"Good. You may get lost now. Best you never show your face before us again, and don't you dare harbor any crooked designs on any one of us—because I can take your life whenever I please, and it would be as easy as turning my hand."

Xue Jianming did not dare make a sound, nor did he dare leave behind so much as half a harsh word. At these words he turned and ran without a second thought, vanishing from sight in the blink of an eye.

The others exchanged glances at the sight, and Duanmu Yu could not help speaking up: "You really just let him go?"

To all of them, letting Xue Jianming walk away was an utterly foolish decision. Wei Zhao ought to have been perfectly clear about the hidden dangers such a course would breed—surely he was not so softhearted as to be bound by a woman's mercy?

True, the divine-consciousness grass was precious, but that was precious to other people. To a man who already possessed a **** of divine-consciousness grass, what did a mere half stalk of it amount to? Plainly, it was nothing but a pretext Wei Zhao had used to set the fellow free.

Seeing the strange looks on every face, Wei Zhao could not help but laugh. "Rest easy. My brain hasn't turned to water yet. There are my own reasons for sparing his life."

Letting Xue Jianming go was a decision Wei Zhao had reached after deep deliberation, and there were two reasons for it.

And the second reason was more important and more immediate than the first, because he could not kill Xue Jianming.

That was right—Wei Zhao had indeed mastered the improved Soul-Hooking Hand, and it was indeed enough to deal with any Golden Core primordial spirit. But a true casting of the Soul-Hooking Hand consumed an enormous amount of divine-consciousness energy, and if that energy could not be replenished in time, the likely outcome was the collapse of his own primordial spirit.

Of course, the roots of the divine-consciousness grass contained vast divine-consciousness energy, but this was not at all the same as the Star-Ink Charcoal. The energy of the Star-Ink Charcoal could be replenished at any time, anywhere; every fraction of the divine-consciousness grass's energy, however, carried a tempering effect. That meant it could not be used for rapid replenishment—it could only be absorbed little by little amid agonizing torment.

So the divine-consciousness grass could only serve for ordinary cultivation, never for on-the-spot recovery. Wei Zhao could not take that risk, and that was why he had cowed Xue Jianming thoroughly and then let him go. It was not that he would not—it was that he could not.

"My thanks…" Ling Tianyou might also have regretted letting Xue Jianming go, but this was not a matter he had any say in. All he could do was remember the debt he owed Wei Zhao, and at the same time remember Xue Jianming's great kindness—which he would settle at leisure once they returned to the small world of antiquity.

"Think nothing of it. Let's go." Wei Zhao smiled and at once led the others to activate the teleportation formation. There was a flash of light, and they were back at the Transit Archipelago.

"Martial Grand-Uncle, you've returned!" Xin Yi'an had been keeping watch nearby, and at the sight of Wei Zhao and the others he hurried to greet them. By now most of the other disciples of the Antiquity Alliance had come back as well; none had gained anything worth the name, and one and all they had gone off dejected to rest.

"Nothing to be done. We had no choice but to come back," Wei Zhao said with a wry shake of his head. Had the other one-way teleportation formation not been shrouded in toxic gas and thus unusable, he would never have brought everyone back so early.

"Then… what do you plan to do next? You'll be returning to the Cangwu Sect of North Island with your disciple, I suppose?" Xin Yi'an asked cautiously.

He had long wanted to ask this question. For the Cangwu Sect of North Island, Wei Zhao, this grand-uncle by convenience, was naturally someone to be invited back if at all possible. Setting his strength aside, the man carried in his head the complete heart methods of the antiquity era—an incomparable treasure for the whole of the Cangwu Sect of North Island, one that simply could not be left to lie fallow.

"Of course." Wei Zhao nodded. He had originally had no such intention, but ever since learning that the Center was preparing to extend its tentacles into the small world of antiquity, he could not afford not to go and see for himself.

After all, he now knew of the mortal enmity between his own house and the Center. Back on Cloud Terrace Island, ignorance had excused him well enough; but now that he had caught up with the small world of antiquity, he must do everything in his power to check the Center's expansion.

All of it, of course, would best be done in secret. Wei Zhao did not yet wish to cross swords with the Center head-on; the time for that had not come.

Still, when it came down to it, if matters reached the point of no alternative, tearing off the mask was not out of the question. The Center's power on Cloud Terrace Island was unfathomable, but in the secular world it was considerably weaker—a fight was not necessarily unwinnable.

"Good, good. Your disciple will write to the sect's high elders at once and have them prepare to receive Martial Grand-Uncle with all due honor," Xin Yi'an said excitedly.

"No need to make a great to-do of it. By the way, when do we set out?" Wei Zhao asked.

"A few more days yet. Once this teleportation formation is covered by seawater again, your disciple will arrange for everyone to teleport back together," Xin Yi'an said.

"Good." Wei Zhao led the others back to the Cangwu Sect of North Island's private islet—partly so that everyone could rest and recover, healing wounds and restoring strength as needed, and partly so that he could make some arrangements.

This time, the group had gained one more member: Duanmu Yu.

Duanmu Yu could not yet be wholly counted as one of their own, but her bond with Wei Zhao had already surpassed that of ordinary companions—they were true comrades in life and death. Wei Zhao had deliberately called her over this time for a very simple purpose: to sit down and divide the spoils.

The two of them had agreed from the very start that if they found divine-consciousness grass, they would split it evenly. And now, in the space of Wei Zhao's jade pendant lay an entire immense root, along with the half stalk he had just extorted from Xue Jianming—though compared with the root, that little bit scarcely counted for anything.

In front of everyone, Wei Zhao brought the whole root out and set it before them, where it loomed like a small hill. Even the Coldfell party, who had heard the description on the road long since, could not help swallowing hard in unison at the sight.

"Which half do you want?" Wei Zhao looked at Duanmu Yu and said.

"You really mean to give me half?" Duanmu Yu could scarcely believe it. From first to last, her only contribution had been to provide the clue to the divine-consciousness grass—nothing more.

Everything else had been done for her by Wei Zhao. Not only had she been of no help, she had been saved by him twice in succession. By any measure of feeling or reason, she could no longer insist on an even split; she would even have found it acceptable had Wei Zhao swallowed the whole thing himself. Yet she had never expected that he truly meant to share it with her.

"Wasn't that the agreement?" Wei Zhao shrugged. Had Duanmu Yu been no good sort, he would have felt not the slightest pressure in taking it all for himself. But judging by her conduct so far, she was a thoroughly reliable friend. He could cheat anyone under the sun, but never a friend, never one of his own.