I walked the winding path to Elder Chen Yong's residence, my mind still sorting through everything I'd learned at the sect library. The morning had been productive, if unsettling. I'd spent hours poring through ancient texts, obscure references, and cautionary tales about blood arts and Heaven's Mandate. And surprisingly, much of what Ke Jun had told me appeared to be true.

Blood arts were forbidden primarily because they distorted the natural order. All cultivation methods affected the world in some way, that was unavoidable. The manipulation of qi, the refinement of spiritual energy, the creation of inner worlds, all of these processes left subtle marks on reality.

But blood arts went further, twisting the fundamental essence of life itself. Blood wasn't just a physical substance; it was a carrier of life force, spiritual energy, and karmic connections. When cultivators manipulated blood essence, especially through forbidden methods, they weren't just bending reality, they were tearing at its fabric.

"It's like the difference between diverting a river and poisoning it," I murmured aloud, recalling a passage from one of the ancient texts. "Regular cultivation redirects energy. Blood arts corrupt it."

The texts had described how extensive blood cultivation could create "dead zones" where spiritual energy became tainted and unusable. These areas would gradually spread if left unchecked, like a disease infecting the world itself.

In the most extreme cases recorded, entire valleys had become uninhabitable, with plants withering, animals fleeing, and even non-cultivators experiencing nausea, headaches, or worse simply by entering these corrupted regions.

The description sent a chill down my spine as I recalled my own experience at the shrine in Floating Reed Village. Before Ke Jun's resurrection, the valley had been exactly like those ancient accounts - completely drained of life, as if some malevolent force had consumed every spark of vitality from the land itself.

Which was exactly why Heaven's Mandate took blood cultivation so seriously. It wasn't merely about enforcing arbitrary rules, it was about preserving the very foundation upon which all cultivation was built.

However, I'd also discovered interesting nuances that confirmed another of Ke Jun's claims. Many common cultivation practices technically involved blood in ways that weren't classified as forbidden "blood arts." The distinction seemed to lie in how the blood was used and whether it was "distorted" in the process.

For example, some alchemists incorporated tiny amounts of the cultivator's blood into pill concoction to enhance efficacy, this practice was considered perfectly acceptable. The Iron Vein Sword Path required disciples to temper their weapons with a drop of blood to establish a spiritual connection, this was also deemed conventional. Even some healing techniques involved blood manipulation for accelerated recovery.

And then there were combat applications, often used by desperate cultivators seeking a temporary advantage. These techniques typically involved burning one's own blood essence for a rapid power boost in dire situations. While such methods frequently resulted in meridian damage or even cultivation regression for the user, Heaven's Mandate permitted them because they only harmed the practitioner without corrupting the fundamental nature of blood essence itself. Unlike true blood arts that twisted and distorted blood's inherent properties, these self-sacrificial techniques merely consumed it - foolish perhaps, but not forbidden.

What set true blood arts apart was the intent to fundamentally alter blood essence, whether one's own or another's, permanently changing its nature for power. This corruption created a distinctive spiritual signature that Heaven's Mandate could detect, the "distortion" Ke Jun had mentioned.

"It seems he was right about the minor uses," I admitted to Azure as we passed the herb gardens. "Though the line between acceptable blood usage and forbidden blood arts is surprisingly thin in practice."

"Which is why it's so dangerous," Azure cautioned. "One misstep and you're on Heaven's Mandate's list."

Speaking of Heaven's Mandate, my research had revealed fascinating details about the mysterious organization. Unlike traditional sects with sprawling mountain complexes or hidden valleys, Heaven's Mandate was quite literally positioned above the cultivation world. Their headquarters, if such a mundane term could apply, floated high above the Central Continent, a magnificent floating island complex visible only to those with sufficient spiritual sense.

The most intriguing aspect was how Heaven's Mandate selected its members. According to the texts, there existed a position called the "Heaven's Voice". An individual who served as a direct conduit for Heaven's Will itself. This person, whose identity changed periodically, received divine guidance about threats to the world's balance and potential recruits for the organization.

I couldn't help but wonder if this "Heaven's Voice" was truly as autonomous as the texts suggested. My experiences in the Two Suns World made me wary. Was this another situation like the Saint of the Blue Sun Academy?

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In that world, the Saint appeared to be a holy conduit of divine will, but was actually being manipulated and controlled by malevolent cosmic forces. The Blue Sun wasn't a benevolent guide but a puppeteer using the Saint to advance its own agenda. I hoped the "Heaven's Voice" position wasn't similarly compromised, with some entity using the representative as a pawn while masquerading as "Heaven's Will."

As for the members themselves, they came from wildly diverse backgrounds. While all were exceptional talents, "geniuses that made other geniuses look like fools," as one account colorfully put it, their pre-recruitment attitudes toward cosmic order varied dramatically.

Some had been righteous sect disciples, others rogue cultivators, and a few had even walked demonic paths before being chosen.

Whatever Heaven's Mandate offered these individuals had apparently been substantial enough to secure their absolute loyalty. The texts hinted at glimpses of "higher truths" or access to "cultivation beyond cultivation," whatever that meant.

"What I find most reassuring," I told Azure as we approached Elder Chen Yong's cottage, "is that they don't seem interested in the day-to-day squabbles of the cultivation world. They only intervene when someone threatens the world's development."

"Which means you're probably safe as long as you don't try to create a blood wasteland," Azure replied dryly.

What the archives hadn't contained was any significant mention of world walkers. I'd searched for such references when I first began cultivating the World Tree Sutra, finding only vague myths and legends. This absence wasn't surprising, even my master, a Life Realm expert, seemed unaware that the World Tree Sutra enabled world walking.

Among all the cultivators I'd encountered, only Ke Jun appeared to know for certain. I made a mental note to ask him about that particular knowledge gap during our next conversation. For now, though, it was time to seek answers from a more trustworthy source.

As a cultivator at the Life Realm, Elder Chen Yong had many residences. This was my first visit to this particular cottage, it sat on a quiet hillside, partly obscured by ancient pines. Unlike the grand pavilions where most elders resided, my master preferred this simple dwelling with its small vegetable garden and modest wine cellar. The building itself was constructed from dark wood with blue-tiled eaves, and a thin wisp of smoke rose from its chimney, indicating he was home.

I paused at the stone path leading to his door, taking a deep breath to organize my thoughts. I had several questions that needed careful framing.

First, I wanted to verify whether cultivators truly could use others as mediums to access the Celestial Trade Nexus, without revealing my connection to the blood statue. Second, I was curious about additional uses for the Moonlit Dew Flower beyond its standard application, especially given the City Lord's desperate attempt to acquire it. Third, I needed to convince the elder that the Masked One was a serious problem, one that required the involvement of Heaven’s Mandate itself.

I approached the simple door and knocked three times. A moment passed before Elder Chen Yong's voice called out.

"Enter. The door isn't locked."

I pushed the door open to find my master seated at a low table, surrounded by scrolls and formation diagrams. A small teapot steamed beside him, filling the room with the fragrance of mountain herbs. He wore simple gray robes today, with his hair tied loosely at his nape, his usual appearance when not playing the role of a wine merchant or representing the sect officially.

"Master," I bowed respectfully.

"Sit," he gestured to the cushion across from him. "I've been expecting you."

I settled into position, my spine straight but not rigid. "You have?"

"Of course." He refilled his wine cup from the ceramic jug. "After our discussion with Madam Butterfly, it was only a matter of time before you'd have more questions." He reached for the teapot and a spare cup. "Tea? I find it helps clear the mind for serious discussions."

"Thank you," I said as he poured the amber liquid into cup.

Elder Chen Yong lifted his wine cup and tilted his head back, taking a long drink that drained nearly half the contents in one go. He lowered the cup with a satisfied exhalation and fixed his slightly reddened eyes on me.

"So, what burning questions have brought my disciple to my doorstep this early?" The wine cup dangled casually from his fingers as he waited for my response, his expression a mixture of curiosity and mild amusement.

I sampled the tea, letting its complex blend of flavors roll across my tongue before speaking. "I came across some interesting historical accounts suggesting that certain cultivators found ways to access the Nexus through... alternative methods. Specifically, using others as mediums."

The hint of amusement vanished from my master's face. He studied me intently, as if trying to peel back layers of intention behind my question. Finally, he released a deep sigh.

"There are indeed such reports," he said, his voice lowering. "It's a frowned-upon method, primarily because the 'medium' is typically a captured cultivator forced into service. The practitioner essentially hijacks another's spiritual sense or their inner world spirit to create a proxy connection."

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral while inwardly confirming that Ke Jun's claims had been accurate once again. "I see. So, it's considered unethical, but not necessarily forbidden by Heaven's Mandate?"

"It falls into a gray area," Elder Chen Yong explained, leaning back slightly. "The practice itself doesn't damage the world's foundation the way blood arts do, but it often involves coercion or worse. Any sect with a shred of righteousness would ban it, though I'm sure less scrupulous organizations turn a blind eye."

I hesitated before asking my next question, carefully watching my master's expression. "Has anyone ever... volunteered to be a medium? Perhaps for mutual benefit?"

Elder Chen Yong looked at me strangely, his brows drawing together in a way that made the fine lines around his eyes deepen. "Volunteer?" He let out a short, sharp laugh. "Only someone either desperate or insane would volunteer their spiritual sense or inner world spirit for something like that. The process is intrusive in ways you couldn’t imagine. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious about the historical accounts," I replied smoothly, taking another sip of tea to mask any tell-tale expressions.

I didn't respond further, but inwardly I reflected that Ke Jun could easily be both desperate and insane. After all, he was only a fragment of a once-powerful cultivator, seemingly willing to risk everything to free his main body from enslavement.

What wouldn't a shattered piece of consciousness do to become whole again?