Wei Zhao nodded. The man's astonishment was hardly surprising. Duanmu Yu was a famous name in the Yeling Sect, and she was widely regarded as the one destined to take up the reins of leadership in the future. Even if an ordinary person wanted to curry favor with her, they likely would not have the chance.

"Might I ask your honored name?" the middle-aged man asked once his surprise had passed.

"Wei Zhao," he said. After a moment's thought, he added his origins: "The Cangwu Gate of North Island."

Both were among the Ten Minor Sects and Clans. The Cangwu Gate of North Island and the Yeling Sect could not be said to be on especially good terms, but there had always been some connection between them; putting forward this identity should smooth the way somewhat.

"You are Wei Zhao?" The middle-aged man's reaction only grew stranger.

"What? Have you heard of me?" Wei Zhao was briefly taken aback, but he soon let it go. After the events in the secular world, his name was already known to all. When these people returned, they would inevitably share interesting tales with their fellow disciples, so it was hardly surprising that the man had heard his name.

"Hmm..." The middle-aged man nodded with a peculiar expression, then said no more. Once they had reached shore, he led Wei Zhao to the main entrance of the water pavilion, instructed him to wait there, and hurried inside to announce him.

A short while later, the middle-aged man emerged, but Wei Zhao did not see Duanmu Yu.

"Follow me," the middle-aged man said with a glance at Wei Zhao, then led him into a narrow path beside the pavilion.

Wei Zhao looked it over and could not help but be astonished. At the end of the path was a long flight of steps—not leading upward, but downward. More importantly, it was exceedingly deep and secluded, plunging dozens of meters down; by his estimation it likely reached all the way to the lakebed.

That was not all. At the bottom was another long tunnel, and they walked through it for the time it would take two sticks of incense to burn before the middle-aged man suddenly stopped. "Eldest Senior Sister is just ahead. Go in."

"She lives here?" Wei Zhao frowned slightly. Ahead was an iron door, and what lay beyond it was not yet clear, but surely no normal person would enjoy living in such a deep, secluded place. During his time with Duanmu Yu before, he had never noticed any such peculiar taste.

"For the time being, yes," the middle-aged man said noncommittally.

"Then I thank you." Wei Zhao nodded. He had certainly sensed something strange about this, but the whole purpose of this trip was to see Duanmu Yu, and since the man said she was inside, there was no reason for him to shrink back now.

Without thinking too much about it, Wei Zhao pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, Wei Zhao immediately understood what was strange about it: a formation!

It was unquestionably a formation, and unless he was mistaken, one designed specifically to trap people. Upon realizing this, Wei Zhao's first reaction was not to frown but to feel an urge to laugh. He had barely arrived at the Cangwu Gate of North Island when he was tricked into a Heaven-Reaching Formation, and now that he had come to the Yeling Sect, he had walked into yet another formation, one apparently of no low grade as well. What kind of fate was his?

"Wei Zhao? What are you doing here?" Duanmu Yu's delighted voice came quickly from ahead. It was a chamber of moderate size, fully furnished with tables, chairs, and all the rest, and Duanmu Yu was sitting on the bed in a daze. When she heard the door open, she had thought it was one of her fellow disciples, and only when she saw Wei Zhao's face did she realize who it was. Her joy was immediate and vivid.

"It's not often I come to Middle Island, so I thought I'd look you up," Wei Zhao said with an offhand smile. He glanced back at the iron door, now shut again, then looked Duanmu Yu over carefully and said with some feeling, "A few months apart and you've grown quite thin. What's this—a closed-door retreat for weight loss?"

"Pfft!" Duanmu Yu had a bellyful of things to say, but at these words she burst out laughing. "Weight loss is weight loss—what would anyone need a retreat for? Besides, where exactly am I fat?"

However much of a tomboy she might be, in the end she could not escape a woman's nature. Duanmu Yu would never tolerate becoming a pudgy girl, and besides, she had never had anything to do with the word fat in the first place. At most her figure was somewhat athletic—and the sort of athletic that was light and graceful.

"Then why did you pick such a bizarre, uncanny place to retreat? Or is this where you normally live—your boudoir?" Wei Zhao smiled. After the trials of the Primordial Era, the bond between them had imperceptibly grown close. It was not quite the same as with Leng Leng and the others, but they spoke like old friends of many years, with no need for formalities.

"Does it look like one?" Duanmu Yu rolled her eyes at him in amusement. Though the place was fully furnished, it entirely lacked the little decorations a girl's boudoir ought to have—there was not even a decent mirror. However much of a tomboy Duanmu Yu was, surely she could not do without a mirror altogether. What girl's boudoir had no mirror?

"Not really, though with your style it's not out of the question," Wei Zhao said, baring his teeth in a grin.

"I'm not that careless," Duanmu Yu scoffed, then explained, "This is a confinement room, used specifically for locking up disciples who have broken the rules."

"What rule did you break?" Wei Zhao asked.

"The Spirit-Conscious Grass," Duanmu Yu said, spitting out three words.

"How is that breaking any rule?" Wei Zhao was even more puzzled.

"I don't know why either. Word that I had obtained the Spirit-Conscious Grass reached the sect's higher-ups, and someone openly demanded that I hand it over. I refused," Duanmu Yu said calmly.

"Hand over the Spirit-Conscious Grass? Your Yeling Sect has rules like that?" Wei Zhao frowned. Generally speaking, whatever rare treasures a disciple obtained during trials belonged to that disciple alone; there was no such thing as handing them over to the sect. The secular world had no such practice, neither did Cloud Terrace Island, and neither did the Primordial Small Jianghu. Otherwise it would be a crushing blow to the disciples' motivation—who would be willing to risk life and limb for rare treasures then?

"No, but this situation is special. The Spirit-Conscious Grass is no ordinary rare treasure, after all," Duanmu Yu said, shaking her head. That was what she said, but the notion of simply handing the Spirit-Conscious Grass over was out of the question. Loyalty to the Yeling Sect was one thing; surrendering without principle what ought to be hers was another.

"By the way, who told you about the Spirit-Conscious Grass in the first place?" Wei Zhao asked suddenly.

"My master." Duanmu Yu paused, then caught herself. "You suspect my master is the one behind all this?"