While Wang Jian and his handpicked retinue flew south towards the promise of chaos and treasure, the seeds of a far more insidious threat were quietly taking root within the very heart of the Mystic Peak Sect they had left behind. The Silent Puppet Guild's silent invasion was proceeding with a chilling, flawless precision.
The Flesh-Woven Mimic, wearing the face, the memories, and the authority of the now-deceased Senior Brother Zhao Wuji, had integrated perfectly back into the fabric of the sect. In the weeks following his return, he performed his duties with a diligence that earned him quiet praise, his interactions with his peers a perfect echo of the real Zhao Wuji's personality. No one suspected a thing.
One morning, the mimic received his daily assignment from the Outer Sect's Deacon of Armaments, a stern, harried-looking man named Deacon Li.
