"A thousand-year-old ginseng and a dragon marrow?" Shi Min smirked, a sharp glint flashing across his eyes as he dismissed Rockie. Shi Min turned and strode purposefully toward the Samurai Man guarding the alchemy door. The weight of the task ahead pressed on his shoulders, but his steps remained steady.

After a brief discussion, Shi Min's voice dropped with finality. "Set the trap. Capture the Old Monk and interrogate him."

The Samurai Man bowed and vanished into the shadows.

Soon, the news of Solaris' father searching for rare medicinal items spread quickly through the underground networks. However, this was Russia—not China. Such rare ingredients were nearly impossible to find in the region, and even ordinary ginseng was a rarity. Yet it wasn't the elusive herbs that caught the public's attention.

It was the three hundred gold bars.

A fortune beyond imagination, circulating freely and unclaimed. The mere whisper of it ignited a frenzy. Mercenaries sharpened their blades, thieves plotted in darkened alleyways, and rogue cultivators emerged from their hiding places—all converging on the unfortunate Old Monk.

The Old Monk's young helper burst into the temple, still panting from exertion, sweat dripping from his brow. "Master!" he gasped out, gripping the edge of the altar for support. "Everyone is hunting you! There are people everywhere asking about the gold bars!"

The Old Monk visibly paled. His trembling hands clutched at his robes, and his knees buckled slightly. He was doomed.

Before dawn the next day, masked figures emerged from the shadows outside the Old Monk's quarters, their presence cold and suffocating.

The Old Monk barely had time to stir before his instincts screamed at him—danger.

He bolted upright in bed, his breath hitching in pure terror. His legs moved before he could think, scrambling backward, only to find himself cornered against the wall. His lips quivered, his aged face frozen with dread.

"Please! Don't kill me!" he croaked, his voice hoarse with fear.

One of the masked men chuckled, the sound deep and amused. "We have no intention of killing you. Just follow us. Quietly."

The Old Monk's body sagged in relief, his chest rising and falling rapidly. He blinked, processing their words—and then looked at them with an expression so oddly reverent that it unsettled the masked men. But there are only two words in the Old Monks mind together with the glittering eyes, 'My Saviour.'

"…." The masked figures exchanged glances.

'Why is this Old Monk looking at us with perverted eyes?' one of them thought, nearly cringing.

Still, they said nothing and escorted the monk into the night.

Meanwhile, the two servants were ordered to return to Solaris, their faces bloodied, their robes torn, and their injuries exaggerated to sell the cover story of an ambush.

The masked men, of course, didn't forget to confiscate the free gold bars.

When Solaris heard the report from his bleeding servants kneeling in front of him, trembling, his reaction was instant—pure rage.

"Imbeciles! Useless!!!" His voice thundered through the mansion, shaking the very foundations.

Solaris' breathing turned erratic, his eyes bloodshot, his fists clenched tight enough to draw blood. His vision blurred with fury, and before he could control himself, he had already smashed every fragile object within reach. Ceramic shattered, wood splintered, precious artifacts lay in ruins around him.

His body trembled violently from exertion, and before another word could leave his lips—darkness consumed him.

Solaris lost consciousness.

At the same time, the Old Monk sat across from Shi Min, his trembling hands clutching a cup of tea as if it were his final lifeline.

"You don't have to be afraid," Shi Min reassured, his voice calm but firm. "Tell us everything about Solaris, and we will protect you."

The Old Monk inhaled shakily, the years of torment weighing down on him, curling his spine. His eyes gleamed with unspoken grief, and his fingers tightened around the porcelain teacup.

The Old Monk exhaled sharply. Tears welled in his aged eyes. Then, with great effort, he stood, cupped his hands, and bowed deeply. "Thank you, Young Master," He whispered with deep gratitude.

And then, he began his story.

The Old Monk poured out the horrors he had witnessed.

The horrors of Solaris.

The deception.

The evil altar beneath the temple—an abomination tainting sacred ground.

The life of the young girls sacrificed.

And worst of all—the face-changing technique.

Shi Min remained still, unreadable. His fingers curled slightly on the wooden surface of his desk, his mind whirling, processing.

'Solaris is indeed the evil cultivator. Kim Kim was once again correct. And Solaris is neither weak nor simple. Anyone who knows face-changing techniques is a powerful cultivator.'

Shi Min's grip tightened. His brows furrowed.

This revelation changed everything.

On the third night, the inevitable happened, another wave of forces charged toward the alchemy doors.

Pharsa's eyes darkened when she witnessed yet another wave of falling corpses. 'The Raining Men' a grotesque repetition of the past nights.

'Can't they learn their lesson?' she thought angrily. 'It's a waste of human life.'

As if sensing her frustration, Mushu muttered, "They can't sit still anymore. It's already the third day. They know that if they don't act now, they won't have a chance to claim the pills and elixirs."

Pharsa pursed her lips, observing as Mushu's team continued clearing the battlefield, disposing of bodies like discarded chess pieces.

Then came the fourth night.

The heavens roared.

A deafening rumble echoed across the sky—one after another, the sound growing louder, more ominous.

A wave of fear rippled through those who heard it. Something primordial stirred in their bones, something instinctual—the undeniable power of a heavenly tribulation.

The masked man beside Mushu and Pharsa suddenly barked orders, his voice sharp. "Gather everyone inside! Madam is breaking through! Keep everyone safe! We will guard the doors!"

Six more Samurai landed in front of the alchemy door, their movements like spirits in the wind.

Mushu and Pharsa stiffened. Their gazes met.

'Heaven's tribulation… for producing such heavenly-defying pills.' The realization struck them with undeniable gravity.

They hurriedly ordered everyone to retreat indoors.

Shi Min, who had been in the study, felt the rumbling deep in his core.

His heart skipped.

Without a second thought, he bolted down the halls, his voice sharp and commanding. "Quick! Everyone, return to your bedrooms! Close all the curtains! Mom is breaking through! Paps, go and calm the twins! They'll be terrified once the lightning starts!"

Pharsa rushed in with Mushu, but Shi Min was already ahead. "Pharsa, stay with Chatty! Fatty, stay with Lily! Shun, stay with Ren! Go!" His voice was nearly a roar.

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