But under so many watchful eyes—and with Xue Jianming standing right there, no less—Wei Zhao could hardly say anything to him. He settled for a glance, and their eyes met.

"Martial Granduncle, are you certain you want to take them into the Ancient Minor World?" Xin Yi'an asked, seeking confirmation. At that moment, besides Leng Leng, those preparing to teleport with Wei Zhao included Qiu Lingshan, Ying Ziyu, Wu Chengtian, Zhao Qilei, and Zhao Qiwu. As for Chen Yuxuan, Yu Bing, and the others, after weighing the matter back and forth, they had chosen to stay behind.

Chen Yuxuan and Yu Dake remained to look after the unconscious women.

"No good?" Wei Zhao raised an eyebrow.

"No, no, no—how could it be no good? To suddenly gain so many promising seedlings with boundless potential is a blessing for our Cangwu Sect of North Island! We're overjoyed; how could it be no good!" Xin Yi'an could not hide his excitement. During the earlier Ancient Trial Grand Tournament, he had seen Qiu Lingshan and the others' outstanding performances with his own eyes. In terms of potential, they far outstripped the likes of Lie Yingzu and his kind. These were the true seedlings worthy of great expectations.

"Good, then." Wei Zhao nodded, and at once took his leave from Yu Bing and the others. Together with the other Ancient Alliance disciples, they entered the teleportation formation, and the transmission began shortly after.

In an instant, the whole crowd teleported through. The scene before them shifted—everywhere they looked was a vast expanse of cloud sea, and beneath their feet stood a towering mountain that pierced the sky. The teleportation formation was situated right at its summit.

The other Ancient Alliance disciples showed nothing unusual; after all, this was their home, and it was from here that they had teleported out in the first place. But to Qiu Lingshan and the others, everything felt utterly new. This was their first true journey across realms!

"These clouds are rather fierce." Wei Zhao observed them for a while and frowned slightly. The mist here reminded him somewhat of the sea fog of Yunjie Island—it severely impeded divine-sense perception. Even he could not sense very far.

"Fierce is an understatement. This is the Cloud Mountain and Mist Sea, the most famous spot in all the Ancient Minor World—a veritable forbidden zone. What you see now is already the thinnest it gets. On an ordinary day, you couldn't even see your own feet coming in, let alone teleport up the mountain. The clouds run so deep you lose all sense of where you are," Xin Yi'an explained.

"Oh? Then how do we proceed from here?" Wei Zhao asked.

"Down the mountain. There are flying spirit beasts prepared at the foot—those who should return to Middle Island will go to Middle Island, and we who should return to North Island will go to North Island," Xin Yi'an said.

Xin Yi'an led the way, and the others followed silently. Though visibility barely reached a few meters, the mountain's perilous terrain made the descent far from easy. For all that everyone present was at least a competent Foundation Establishment cultivator, one careless step onto unstable rock and a person would likely be done for on the spot.

Even though everyone hugged the inner side of the path as much as possible, it was hardly foolproof. The mountain wind was savage; one misstep and you would be blown clean off. Every step demanded utmost caution. To have survived the peril-ridden Ancient Trial grounds only to perish here on the way back—that would truly be a death without peace.

The mountain path was narrow, and the group was inevitably strung out into a long line. They could not be too far apart, or they would lose the trail of those ahead; nor could they be too close, for when the wind picked up, a careless shove could easily cost someone their life.

Wei Zhao and the others kept close behind Xin Yi'an and the other Cangwu Sect disciples of North Island. Wu Chengtian had originally brought up the rear, but once Wei Zhao realized that Xue Jianming was following behind them, he deliberately traded places with him.

That fellow Xue Jianming clearly meant no good. If he truly tried something in a place like this, even Wei Zhao might not be able to react in time. The threat had to be nipped in the bud.

"Scram!" Wei Zhao's voice stamped itself abruptly into Xue Jianming's mind, giving the man such a start that he nearly missed his footing and died on the spot.

Xue Jianming shot Wei Zhao a look of bitter resentment, but the lingering dread of the soul-snatching hand still haunted him. He truly lacked the courage to fall out with Wei Zhao at a time like this, and so with a sullen snort he retreated to the rear.

After Xue Jianming withdrew, the one who closed in behind was none other than Bing Wushuang.

"Well? The gu poison hasn't flared up yet?" Wei Zhao asked via divine-sense transmission, his tone unreadable. This was the first time he had spoken with Bing Wushuang since returning from the Ancient Trial grounds.

"No," Bing Wushuang replied. After last time, when he had watched Wei Zhao and Duanmu Yu be kicked into the River of Divine Consciousness, he had worried over it—only to find the gu poison far more stable than expected, with not the slightest sign of eruption.

"Seems the old man's craftsmanship is better than mine. If I had been the one to plant the gu, you might well have died of poison by now," Wei Zhao said flatly.

The words made Bing Wushuang's heart pound with alarm, though he betrayed nothing on his face. Keeping his expression unchanged, he seized the moment to ask what concerned him most: "Under what circumstances will it flare up?"

"That depends on when I decide to let it flare up. You needn't worry about that—unless you play the bystander to someone's death again." Wei Zhao paused, then said with a faint, ambiguous smile, "How did that half stalk of divine-consciousness grass serve you?"

Bing Wushuang was instantly stricken with terror. He would sooner have died than imagine that Wei Zhao could know of this!

In truth, if Wei Zhao's initial ignorance of the matter had been forgivable, then once he learned from Xue Jianming's own mouth that Bing Wushuang had taken half, failing to notice would have made him far too dull.

Xue Jianming was no fool. After obtaining the divine-consciousness grass, he would never have flaunted it before anyone—least of all a formidable rival like Bing Wushuang. That Bing Wushuang had received half the grass proved that he must have witnessed Xue Jianming obtaining it in the first place. Which meant he had witnessed with his own eyes the scene of Xue Jianming kicking Wei Zhao and Duanmu Yu into the River of Divine Consciousness—and from first to last, he had not lifted a finger to stop it.

"I..." Bing Wushuang opened his mouth, but in the end offered no excuse. He was not a man of glib tongue, and what Wei Zhao said was the truth besides; forced denials would only smear the picture darker.

"My patience is not the best, but I have a measure of it yet. Not again." Wei Zhao's voice carried a warning. His subjugation of Bing Wushuang had rested entirely on coercion and inducement; between them there was no real loyalty or trust to speak of, so an incident like this was hardly surprising. Wei Zhao would not abandon so important a piece as Bing Wushuang over it—but at the very least, he had to give him a warning strike, lest the man take a yard where an inch was given.