As for the events unfolding atop Cloud Crossing Mountain, Yin Shiren remained entirely unaware.
After all, he had no interest in eavesdropping.
Traveling swiftly via earth, he arrived at the mountain's base. Once there, he burst forth from the ground.
This was his first time using earth, and the experience had been novel. Strangely, it felt slightly different from the sensations recorded in Yin Shiren's memories.
Why that was, he couldn't quite explain.
But soon, he dismissed the thought entirely.
Now, Yin Shiren retrieved the stack of silver notes given to him by Qin Jiaxian. He examined them carefully—each one was worth a hundred taels.
"One hundred, two hundred, three hundred…" Yin Shiren counted.
He counted them one by one.
Before long, he finished. Sixty-six notes in total—six thousand six hundred taels.
Of course, Yin Shiren knew this wasn't all the silver Qin Jiaxian carried.
Still, he was satisfied. For now, this would suffice.
After all, Yin Shiren no longer needed to eat.
Since arriving in the Bitter Realm, he hadn't consumed a single bite of food, nor even a sip of water.
Yet, despite this, his body showed no signs of discomfort.
By now, he understood—he had achieved transcending mortal sustenance. No longer bound by hunger or thirst.
But this realization brought him no joy.
Because if I don't eat, I can't leave a certain 'gift' for the Grand Scholar.
This thought still gnawed at him.
Stowing the silver notes away, he deposited them into his pocket dimension—a spatial technique where, with a mere wave, objects vanished into a hidden void.
This art was a common practice among cultivators of sufficient skill.
Yin Shiren had known the method, but his foundations and comprehension had been lacking. He had never succeeded.
Yet for Yin Shiren, mastery came effortlessly.
However, the pocket dimension wasn't entirely secure. Only unimportant items should be stored within.
After all, a skilled spellcaster could pilfer from another's pocket dimension.
That was why figures like Qing Yangzi would rather discard crucial artifacts like the Dragon-Shattering Seal than risk storing them there.
But these silver notes? They mattered little.
What spellcaster would waste their time stealing mere money?
As he tucked the notes away, his gaze fell upon two blades within the pocket dimension.
One was a great saber—the Dragon Bone Sacred Blade.
The other was a broken weapon—the shattered remnants of Apocalypse Myth.
Yes, the fractured Apocalypse Myth was in his possession.
Yin Shiren knew that despite its broken state, this blade still had a role to play in the future.
Though sundered, its spirit endured, steeped in profound resentment.
In time, the calamity-bringer Li Huo would pass through Heaven's Burial Mountain, sensing an unyielding grudge. He would grant it rebirth, reviving the blade under his own malignant influence.
Thus, Apocalypse Myth would regain its former might.
Yet after Li Huo's demise, the blade would vanish once more—only to reappear later in the hands of Di Ming.
That was why Yin Shiren had claimed the broken blade before it could disappear.
Gazing at Apocalypse Myth within the pocket dimension, he willed it into his grasp.
The moment the blade touched his hand, the Death God's power within him surged violently.
"This—!" Yin Shiren exclaimed.
Alarmed, Yin Shiren released the blade instantly.
"Hah!" Yin Shiren grunted.
Simultaneously, he channeled his Buddha Essence and Desolation Dragon Aura, forcing the rampaging Death God's power back under control.
Under the twin pressures of divine and draconic might, the chaotic energy gradually stilled.
"Huu…" Yin Shiren sighed.
With the crisis averted, Yin Shiren exhaled in relief.
He understood—the residual power within Apocalypse Myth had resonated with the Death God's force inside him.
"After the Grand Scholar's death, why did this power come to me?" Yin Shiren muttered.
Staring at his system interface, he muttered the question aloud.
He was certain this sudden influx was tied to his system.
Originally, his body housed only Buddha Essence and Desolation Dragon Aura. The addition of Death God's power should have torn him apart.
By nature, the dragon's aura and the Death God's energy were incompatible—like fire and water. They should have clashed violently, destroying each other.
Yet within him, they coexisted peacefully.
Unless disturbed—as had just happened—the two forces remained separate.
This has to be the system's doing.
But the interface offered no explanation, leaving him baffled.
Eventually, Yin Shiren abandoned further speculation.
Still, he knew this issue had to be resolved.
Thanks to the Corpse Veil Art, even if his body exploded, he wouldn't die.
But leaving this instability unchecked was asking for trouble.
For now, he needed to calm his mind and stabilize his energies—lest the Death God's power stir again.
And to achieve that, he required a place of tranquility, where body and soul could relax.
With that thought, the golden avian spirit within him emerged, perching on his shoulder.
"Nothing pressing today. How about we visit a pleasure house and enjoy some music?" Yin Shiren suggested.
Yin Shiren grinned at the little Emperor Peng bird.
"There's even a talking female bird there. Care to meet her?" Yin Shiren added.
"Chirp!" the golden bird chirped.
The golden bird's eyes sparkled with keen interest.
Whether it was the music or the prospect of the talking bird that excited him was unclear.
"Then prove your worth," Yin Shiren commanded.
At Yin Shiren's words, the Emperor Peng launched from his shoulder, transforming midair into a massive golden raptor.
With a leap, Yin Shiren mounted its back.
Then, with a pointed direction, they soared toward the pleasure house.
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