The Sect Leader, Ancestor Yun, was a man of grand visions. His ritual site atop the Azure Peak was a marvel of obsidian and blood-jade, designed to channel the life force of ten thousand disciples into a single point of transcendence.
Han Zhao, meanwhile, was a man of practical plumbing.
"The 'Social Invisibility' effect is currently at 88%," Han Zhao whispered, adjusting the straps of his waterproof leather vest. "If I move at a steady pace and don't make eye contact with any statues, I should be as noticeable as a passing breeze."
[System Warning: High-level 'Truth-Seeking' formations detected at the entrance of the Azure Peak.]
[Recommendation: Use the 'Subterranean Flow' method.]
Han Zhao sighed. He looked at Su Lian, who was currently tucked into a hollowed-out bookshelf on the third floor, stabilized by a 'Breath-Halting Needle' he'd "borrowed" from the medical archives. She was safe for now, as long as the library didn't burn down.
"Sewer it is," he grumbled.
He didn't just walk into the sewers. He used 'False Path Manipulation' to convince the drainage grates that they were already open, slipping through the iron bars without disturbing a single cobweb.
The sewers of a cultivation sect weren't just filled with waste; they were thick with "Alchemical Run-off"—the failed experiments of a thousand pill-makers. The water glowed a sickly, neon green and smelled like a fermented lightning strike.
[Passive Gain: 'Toxic Immunity' proficiency increasing...]
[Warning: Mutation risk detected. Please do not lick the walls.]
"I'm a librarian, not a beast," Han Zhao muttered, holding his breath as he waded through the waist-high sludge.
Using the 'Nameless Longevity Script', he drew his Qi inward, condensing it until his physical body felt as light as a shadow. He began to run—not on the water, but through it, his silhouette blending with the ripples.
He reached the "Anchor Point" directly beneath the ritual altar. Above him, he could hear the low, rhythmic chanting of thirty-six Elders. The very earth was trembling with the weight of the coming sacrifice.
Han Zhao reached into his vest and pulled out the Azure Dragon Core, still disguised as a bundle of boring tax records.
"System, if I swap the Core for a high-density 'Spirit-Exploding Talisman' optimized for maximum smoke and minimum lethal damage, what are the odds of the ritual failing?"
[Calculating...]
[Odds of Ritual Failure: 99.2%.]
[Odds of Ancestor Yun noticing the swap immediately: 0.04% (due to 'Social Invisibility' infusion).]
[Odds of you getting home in time for tea: 72%.]
"Good enough."
Han Zhao began the work. He didn't use a hammer or a chisel. He used 'Dust-Settling Breath' to gently vibrate the stone ceiling, creating a microscopic fissure. Then, using a thread of "Shadow-Qi," he levitated a fake "Core"—a perfectly crafted replica made of solidified archival ink and a very loud firework—up into the altar's housing.
He pulled the real Core back down into the sewers.
Suddenly, the chanting above stopped.
"The Core... it feels... different," a cold, ancient voice boomed. Ancestor Yun. "It smells of... bureaucracy?"
Han Zhao froze. He didn't breathe. He didn't think. He activated Level 3 of the 'Nameless Script': 'Void of Identity'.
For ten seconds, Han Zhao ceased to be a person. He became a stone. He became the smell of the sewer. He became a historical footnote that no one had bothered to read.
The divine sense of a Nascent Soul expert swept through the sewer pipes like a scouring fire. It passed over Han Zhao's head, registered a "particularly large clump of moss," and moved on.
"It is merely the resonance of the blood-lock," Ancestor Yun concluded. "Continue! The hour of transcendence is upon us!"
Han Zhao didn't wait for the encore. He tucked the real Azure Dragon Core under his arm and sprinted back through the neon-green sludge.
He emerged in the library's basement ten minutes later, smelling like a chemical fire but remarkably alive. He didn't even stop to change. He went straight to the third-floor bookshelf, grabbed Su Lian (who was still unconscious and very light), and headed for the "servant's tunnel" he'd mapped out weeks ago.
As he reached the edge of the sect's outer perimeter, a massive BOOM echoed from the mountaintop.
A pillar of thick, black smoke—smelling faintly of old paper and ink—erupted into the sky. It wasn't a pillar of light; it was a pillar of "Confusion." The ritual had backfired, turning the life force meant for the Ancestor into a massive, sect-wide "Memory Fog."
[Task Complete: Sabotaged the Blood Sacrifice.]
[Reward: 10 Years of Longevity.]
[Bonus: The Sect Leader has forgotten why he was angry.]
[Current Life Expectancy: 92 Years, 215 Days.]
Han Zhao stood at the treeline, looking back at the Blue Cloud Sect. The "fog" would keep them busy for days. By the time they cleared their heads, he and Su Lian would be a hundred miles away, living as "Unremarkable Travelers."
"Ninety-two years," Han Zhao whispered, adjusting the unconscious woman on his shoulder. "I'm practically a teenager in cultivator years."
He turned and walked into the forest, his footsteps leaving no trace on the fallen leaves.