Retirement begins with summoning Yuan Tiangang

The central courtyard, deep underground.

The torches crackled in the passageway, casting shadows that appeared to grow longer and shorter.

The air at the headquarters of the Bad Guys is perpetually filled with the heavy, solemn smell of rocks, metal, and old paper.

Inside the quiet room, Yuan Tiangang stood before a huge map of mountains and rivers, his gaze behind the iron mask as calm as an ancient well.

His finger slowly traced the location of Qingyang County on the map. Lin Feng and his group should have already arrived at the academy.

Just then, ripples silently spread through the air in the center of the quiet room.

Yuan Tiangang turned around.

At the center of the ripples, light coalesced and took shape.

As the light faded, a black-clad swordsman was already standing there.

His posture was somewhat peculiar—his left foot was slightly forward, and his right foot was slightly behind, as if the ground was not flat for him.

His black clothes, made of the most ordinary coarse cloth, exuded an extremely refined and aloof air.

The knife behind him had a black scabbard without any decoration, yet it was something that made people afraid to look at it for long.

His face was very white, as white as snow that never sees the sun, but the lines of his features were sharp as if carved by a knife.

His eyes, in particular, were astonishingly bright, as if they contained both extremely cold ice and suppressed unburnt fire.

Fu Hongxue's gaze fell on Yuan Tiangang's iron mask. After a slight pause, he raised his hand and clasped his hands in a fist salute.

The movements were somewhat stiff, but meticulous.

"Fu Hongxue greets the Commander-in-Chief."

The voice was deep and flat, like a frozen river in the dead of winter.

Yuan Tiangang nodded slightly.

He was no longer surprised by his lord's method of sending people away out of thin air.

"Did the lord send you?"

"Yes"

Yuan Tiangang sized him up for a moment.

At the first level of the Celestial Realm, the sword intent is concentrated but not released; he is a pure swordsman.

Such people are often as firm as iron, but they are also prone to obsession.

There is nothing urgent for you to handle at the moment.

Yuan Tiangang pondered for a moment,

"You can go out and explore first, familiarize yourself with the ways of the world. If needed, you can seek out Wen Tao or Jing Xinmo."

Fu Hongxue clasped his hands in a fist salute again: "Yes!"

He turned and walked towards the door. He stepped out with his left foot first, making sure it was firmly planted, and then slowly dragged his right leg to follow.

Although his gait was slightly lame, it possessed a calm and steadfast quality.

As soon as his figure disappeared outside the door, Yuan Tiangang was about to turn around when a slight ripple arose in the center of the quiet room.

This time, the commotion was minimal. A wisp of soft light quietly appeared, transforming into a lustrous white pill that gently landed in his palm.

There was a small piece of paper under the pill, with four characters written on it:

It can restore flesh to bones.

Yuan Tiangang's fingers trembled almost imperceptibly.

He stared at the pill in his palm for a long time.

The sound of breathing behind the iron mask was exceptionally clear in the silent room.

Finally, he raised his hand and slowly removed the mask he had worn for hundreds of years.

Beneath the mask lay a face that seemed to have been distorted and eroded by an invisible force.

The skin and flesh were ulcerated, with many deep depressions. The outline of the bones was unusually clear under the thin skin, and in some places, dark, inhuman textures could even be faintly seen.

He stared at the pill, then glanced at the four-character vermilion annotation.

What the lord bestowed.

Words can heal flesh and bones.

Without hesitation, he put the pill into his mouth.

The pill melted instantly upon entering the stomach, and a gentle yet powerful life force surged through the limbs and bones.

At first, there was nothing unusual, but after a few breaths, a strong tingling and itching sensation came from my face, as if thousands of insects were gnawing at my skin and flesh, or as if an invisible hand was reshaping my skin.

Yuan Tiangang stood with his hands behind his back, his body completely still.

The tingling and itching lasted for about ten breaths, then gradually subsided, replaced by a warm feeling like the gentle caress of spring sunshine.

He walked slowly to the bronze mirror in the corner of the room.

The mirror reflected that distorted, inhuman face.

But change is happening—the ashen complexion fades at a visible rate, turning into a healthy paleness; the depressions are filled in like soil, gradually becoming fuller and smoother; and those dark and terrifying lines quietly disappear, replaced by smooth skin.

In a short while, a complete human face appeared in the mirror.

Pale, thin, with thick, dark eyebrows, deep-set eyes, a straight nose, and thin, tightly pressed lips.

A dignified, aloof, and imposing face, exuding the authority of someone long accustomed to a high position. (Refer to the anime character model from the time of the Great General of the Tang Dynasty.)

Yuan Tiangang raised his hand and touched his cheek with his fingertips.

It feels warm, soft, and real to the touch.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a long time.

So long that the light and shadow in the room shifted by half a foot.

Finally, he turned around and walked back to the desk, picked up the cold iron faceplate that had been with him for hundreds of years, and ran his fingertips over every familiar wear mark on it.

After a moment of silence, he opened the hidden compartment under the table and gently placed it inside.

"Click!"

The hidden compartment closed.

He straightened his back and took a deep breath. This was the first time in hundreds of years across two lifetimes that he had breathed the cool underground air through his mouth and nose.

It feels unfamiliar.

But it's been a long time.

Northern Xuan Domain, Cloud and Mist Mountain.

In the main hall of the Soul Palace headquarters, Lord Yun Zhong sat in the main seat, dressed in white robes, his expression gentle and refined.

The prince and more than ten others stood solemnly, their auras deep and focused; they were all core members of the Soul Palace.

"The Sky Patrol Division has been making frequent moves in Yangui Prefecture, and three of its outer outposts have already been eliminated."

An elderly man in a black robe reported in a deep voice.

Yun Zhongjun tapped the armrest lightly with his fingertips: "The direction of Qingyang County?"

No changes reported yet...

Just as Yun Zhongjun was about to speak, his eyebrows suddenly twitched slightly.

He raised his hand to stop the crowd from speaking.

"That's all for today, everyone please step aside."

Although everyone was surprised, no one asked any questions. After bowing, they filed out.

The palace doors closed, leaving only the Lord of the Clouds alone.

He stood in the hall, waiting quietly.

A few breaths later, ripples spread across the space in front of them, and as the light swirled, a figure quietly appeared.

She wore a blue, fitted shirt, looking neat and tidy. A red ribbon tied around her forehead, and her black hair was lightly bound.

He carried two swords, one black and one white, and even before the swords were drawn, a faint aura of menace surrounded him.

Black and white Xuanjian.

His gaze swept over the furnishings in the hall, finally landing on Yun Zhongjun, where he gave a slight nod as a gesture of greeting.

Yun Zhongjun nodded slightly, a hint of understanding flashing in his eyes.

Our lord always sends people in this manner.

"The first-class Heavenly Net, the Eight Swords of the King of Yue, Black and White Mysterious Scissors."

Yun Zhongjun spoke slowly and calmly, as if stating an ordinary matter.

"I've heard so much about him, and today I finally get to meet him."

He used to belong to the Yin-Yang School and had a thorough understanding of information about various forces and many masters in the world.

The name of the Net is that of the king of assassins; the Eight Swords of Yue King are the ultimate weapons of murder.

He naturally knew the code name and characteristics of Hei Bai Xuan Jian.

Intelligence is intelligence, but seeing the real person in person is a first.

Upon hearing this, a sharp glint flashed in Xuan Jian's eyes, clearly surprised that the other party knew his background. However, he quickly regained his composure and nodded again, which could be considered as acknowledgment.

"Did the lord send you?"

"Yes"

"Would you be willing to stay at the Soul Palace for the time being?"

Xuan Jian did not answer, waiting for the next installment.

Yun Zhongjun smiled slightly: "From this day forward, you will be the Right Protector of the Soul Hall, with a rank equivalent to the Vice Hall Master."

Xuan Jian's expression remained unchanged, as if he had only heard a trivial remark.

Lord Yunzhong said no more and turned to leave the palace.

Xuan Jian followed silently.

Outside the hall, the crowd that had previously retreated had not yet dispersed. Upon seeing the hall master reappear, followed by the unfamiliar man in blue, they all looked puzzled.

Yun Zhongjun's voice was calm and resonated throughout the hall: "From this day forward, this Mr. Xuan Jian will be the Right Protector of my Soul Hall. His orders are my orders, and all of you must obey them."

The crowd erupted in uproar.

A burly man with a red face and a bushy beard stepped forward, his voice booming like a bell: "Palace Master! This man's origins are unknown, and he has not accomplished anything. How has he suddenly risen to such a high position? I fear he will find it difficult to gain the respect of the people!"

Although the others did not speak, their expressions also showed their disapproval.

Yun Zhongjun smiled without saying a word and looked at Xuan Jian.

Xuan Jian's gaze fell on the burly man.

The blue shadow vanished in the next instant.

Before everyone knew it, Xuan Jian was standing two feet in front of the burly man.

Without any visible movement, he pointed his right index and middle fingers at the burly man from a distance.

The burly man's expression changed drastically. His imposing body was struck as if by a heavy blow, and he flew backward for about ten feet before crashing into a stone pillar in front of the hall. When he slid to the ground, blood was flowing from the corners of his mouth, his face was as pale as paper, and his vital energy was sealed, rendering him unable to move.

The entire room fell silent.

Just a moment ago, the aura emanating from the man in blue was as deep and as cold as ancient ice.

That is... the power of a terrestrial deity!

The gazes of everyone looking at Xuan Jian had changed from doubt to fear, and they no longer dared to underestimate him in the slightest.

"Any further objections?" Yun Zhongjun asked calmly.

No one answered; they only bowed their heads deeply.

"Very good." Yun Zhongjun flicked his sleeve.

"Go your own way."

The crowd felt as if they had been granted a pardon and hurriedly dispersed.

Xuan Jian withdrew his finger and retreated behind Yun Zhongjun, his expression still indifferent, as if he had only brushed away a speck of dust.

Yun Zhongjun watched the crowd depart, a hint of satisfaction flashing in his eyes.