Chapter 60: When Love Fades, the Azure Nether Opens a Path; When the Heart is Void, the Dao Becomes Ruthless (Part Five)
by GideonOn the twenty-third day of the eighth lunar month, during the transition from the Monkey to the Rooster hour, Feng Shulou brewed a bowl of medicinal soup and brought it to Linghu Xuantong’s tent.
Following Wen Jin’s instructions, he had deliberately added a harmless soporific to the medicine—enough to keep Linghu Xuantong unconscious for two full days and nights. This would allow Ye Zhaobai to take him away from the Wumeng Tribe and return safely to the Central Plains.
Linghu Xuantong was currently channeling his qi to heal his injuries. Not daring to disturb him, Feng Shulou left immediately after delivering the soup.
Before long, the azure sky was shrouded in dark clouds. The mountain wind swept fallen leaves away, bringing a gentle, lingering rain.
After finishing his meditation, Linghu Xuantong rose from his bed, straightened his robes, and prepared to take the medicine.
But just as he lifted the bowl, a faint, almost imperceptible scent of rotting flesh wafted through the air. Ignoring the soup in his hand, he immediately seized his sword and followed the stench of decay into the wild.
The Wumeng Tribe’s valley was a dense jungle teeming with venomous creatures. Even in autumn, the tracks of poisonous snakes and scorpions were visible everywhere. Linghu Xuantong deployed his Lightness Skill, darting through the forest and pushing forward against the rain. Soon, he reached the heart of a secluded valley.
Suddenly, three figures gathered by the stream just thirty feet away. Linghu Xuantong immediately held his breath and concealed himself behind a massive boulder.
He cautiously peeked out. Two of the figures had their backs to him, their identities impossible to discern. The third person, though visible, bore a face completely unfamiliar to him. Judging by his attire, he was a member of the Demonic Cult.
The rushing stream drowned out their conversation. Even with his keen hearing and sharp senses, Linghu Xuantong could not catch a single word.
Just as he tried to creep closer, a faint, putrid stench of decay wafted from behind him. He spun around in alarm, only to see a man holding an iron hook, his eyes vacant and lifeless, staring blankly at him.
Linghu Xuantong was stunned. After a few moments of shock, he finally managed to speak: “He Huanzhou? But you… you were already…”
Before he could finish, the three figures by the stream heard the commotion and rushed over. Yuan Ye’s eyes darkened with a cold, murderous glint as he commanded He Huanzhou, “Kill him!”
“Wait—” another man intervened, stopping him.
Linghu Xuantong instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword. He turned his gaze toward the two men beside Yuan Ye, a faint, mocking smile touching his lips. “So, it’s you two.”
Feng Shulou had just returned from delivering the medicine when Wen Jin seized his hand, his voice urgent. “Did my master drink the medicine? Did he suspect anything?”
“Rest assured,” Feng Shulou replied with a faint smile. “I delivered it myself. Martial Uncle Linghu won’t suspect a thing. He was channeling his qi to heal his injuries just now, so I didn’t dare disturb him. I left immediately after leaving the medicine.”
Wen Jin let out a silent sigh of relief. “As long as he doesn’t suspect anything. No matter what, we must send my master away tonight.”
Murong Qishu looked perplexed. “Why are you in such a hurry to send your master away?”
Beside him, Feng Shulou shared his curiosity. Two pairs of eyes fixed on Wen Jin. A flicker of anguish crossed Wen Jin’s face, but he forced a smile. “My master chased me all the way from Yandang Mountain to the Miao Frontier just to bring me back. But I cannot leave yet. This is the only way—to have Senior Ye Zhaobai escort him back to the Central Plains.”
Feng Shulou added, “Martial Uncle Murong has decided to attack the Demonic Cult tonight. Your mission as a spy is complete. Why not return to Yandang Mountain with Martial Uncle Linghu and live a peaceful life?”
“The attack is tonight?” Wen Jin had caught only the main point of his words, his face turning slightly pale. “Weren’t there still two days left?”
Murong Qishu replied, “Everything is ready. There is no harm in launching the siege on the Demonic Cult ahead of schedule.”
Feng Shulou also agreed with his words: “Indeed, the Demonic Cult has committed countless atrocities, murdering people without mercy. They deserve to be punished by everyone. Moreover, Lan Yulang slaughtered the Returning Cloud Villa, one of the Five Great Families. If he is allowed to act so recklessly, how can the Central Plains Martial World ever find peace?”
“That’s not true…” Wen Jin lowered his eyelashes and said softly, “Lan Yulang slaughtered the Returning Cloud Villa because Villa Master Ye had exterminated the Lan Family first. Besides, that Second Villa Master Ye is all gold on the outside and rotten wood within. If it weren’t for him, how would this storm have been stirred up?”
Murong Qishu was stunned for a moment and hurriedly reached out to touch his forehead: “Xiao Jin, are you all right? Do you know what you are saying?”
“I know, of course I know,” Wen Jin said. “Senior Brother, Big Brother Feng, at this point, I no longer need to hide it. Lan Xiangru is none other than Lan Yulang. You have had dealings with him, so you must know he is not a great villain. The one who slaughtered Vice Minister Lan’s entire family back then was none other than Villa Master Ye Zongnan.”
Feng Shulou seized his hand in disbelief, his mouth opening to speak, yet no words came. After a long silence, he finally managed to utter a single sentence: “Xiao Jin, this is no matter to joke about.”
Murong Qishu froze, his brow furrowing deeply.
Wen Jin said, “Believe me or not, it is all the same. In any case, Lan Yulang’s current path was never his own choice. If Villa Master Ye had not colluded with the authorities to shield his younger brother who had slaughtered innocents, Vice Minister Lan’s family would never have met such a terrible fate. Perhaps… perhaps he would have already passed the imperial examinations, achieved great success, and never set foot in the martial world, let alone borne such a notorious reputation.”
A heavy silence descended upon the tent as the three men fell into a grim stillness.
The deadlock was finally broken when Ye Zhaobai lifted the tent flap and strode inside. “It’s already dark. What are the three of you standing around here for?”
Wen Jin glanced outside. Indeed, dusk had fallen, and a relentless autumn rain was falling amidst a bleak, chilling wind.
Ye Zhaobai said, “I intend to leave now. Young Hero Wen, I trust you will keep your promise and not make an enemy of my nephew.”
Wen Jin replied, “Senior, rest assured. This junior will remember his vow.”
Ye Zhaobai asked, “And where is your master?”
“Senior, please follow me.” Wen Jin led Ye Zhaobai to Linghu Xuantong’s quarters, but the space was empty. On the table sat a bowl of medicine, now completely cold.
The tent was small, with no place to hide. A chill ran down Wen Jin’s spine. He called out “Master” several times, but there was no answer. He had no choice but to head for Murong Yi’s camp.
Murong Yi was currently discussing a surprise attack strategy with the sect leaders. Yanxin had marked several key Demonic Cult defensive positions on the map that needed to be breached tonight.
Seeing the young man burst into the tent, Murong Yi closed the map and asked, “What’s wrong, Xiao Jin?”
Wen Jin scanned the crowd, still finding no sign of his master. Frowning, he asked, “Uncle Murong, do you know where my master has gone?”
Murong Yi replied, “I’ve been swamped with affairs today and haven’t seen your master yet.”
Feng Qiya added, “Your master is injured and has been resting in camp. He’s barely involved in the demon-slaying campaign—what, is he missing?”
Wen Jin paused before replying, “Perhaps he’s just gone out for some fresh air. I’m only a little worried because his medicine has gone cold.” With that, he cupped his fists and smiled. “Uncle Murong, Uncle Feng, Sect Leaders—this junior has intruded most rudely. Please forgive my insolence. I will take my leave.”
After he departed, the crowd resumed their deliberations on the strategy to destroy the demon, their voices a constant murmur.
Linghu Xuantong would never vanish without reason. This thought filled Wen Jin with dread. Fearing his master had met with some misfortune, he immediately ventured into the mountains, braving the rain to search for him.
At the beginning of the Hour of the Dog, Song Henian, the Sect Leader of the Hengshan Sect, led a group of disciples up an abandoned stone path to Cuifeng Mountain, breaching the Heaven-Seizing Cult’s southwestern defensive outpost.
Simultaneously, Grandmaster Shiyuan of Huaguang Temple led over one hundred and twenty monks to the North Peak, destroying the garrisons established there by the Li Fire and Xun Wind Altars. Upon receiving the signal flares from the Five Elements Banner, the Main Altar immediately prepared for battle.
Watching the five-colored signal flares illuminate the rainy night, Wen Jin’s heart burned with anxiety. He was torn between worry for his master and his concern for Lan Yulang. After a moment’s hesitation, he decided that finding his master must take priority.
Under the cover of night, the major factions of the Martial Arts Alliance launched a surprise attack, breaching three of the Heaven-Seizing Cult’s defensive lines. Now, hundreds of warriors had already stormed the Main Altar, gathering at Nuwa Square. The Four Great Priests, along with the various Banner Lords and Altar Lords, had long been waiting for them.
Lan Yulang descended from the sky, clad in white. The bone flute in his hand was poised to drink blood, radiating a chilling, oppressive aura.
Feng Qiya’s face contorted in shock and suspicion upon seeing him. “Young Master Lan, you…”
Lan Yulang offered a faint smile and cupped his hands in a formal salute. “Once, when my meridians were completely severed, City Lord Feng generously intervened, using the Heavenly Physician’s Nine Needles to sustain my life. This kindness, this debt of gratitude, I shall never forget.”
Murong Qishu and Feng Shulou had already learned of Lan Yulang’s identity from Wen Jin, so they showed no surprise. However, Feng Qiya, Ji Yuanfeng, and the others were left speechless by the Little Devil’s words, their faces flushed with fury.
Lan Yulang had deliberately revealed his true identity and brought up the healing of his meridians to sow discord between Fengyue City and the Martial Arts Alliance.
As expected, his words ignited a firestorm of whispers across the square.
“What? Fengyue City actually saved a member of the Demonic Cult!”
“Hmph, and not just any common demon, but the Cult Leader of the Heaven-Seizing Cult himself!”
“Feng Qiya, we respect you as the head of the Confucian Sect and a prodigy of the medical arts. If you cannot give the Martial Arts Alliance an explanation, you are no better than a collaborator of the Demonic Cult!”
“Yes, City Lord Feng, you must give us an explanation!”
Feng Qiya’s face flushed a deep crimson. If Wen Jin had not pleaded so fervently, he would never have used the Nine Needles to treat Lan Yulang—only to commit such a grave error and drag Fengyue City’s reputation through the mud.
Before he could even begin to explain, Murong Yi stepped in to defuse the tension. “Fengyue City has entered the world as a place of healing, upholding righteousness and combating evil for over a century. We have nothing to be ashamed of before the common people. It is well known that the Demonic Cult is cunning and excels at deception. City Lord Feng, with his benevolent heart of a physician, must have been momentarily deceived by this devil, leading him to mistakenly save his life. If City Lord Feng were truly colluding with the Demonic Cult, would you all be standing here so safely?”
Feng Shulou and Murong Qishu stared at Lan Yulang in silence, their expressions a complex mix of emotions.
Though Murong Yi’s words had quelled the crowd’s fury, the fact that the Heavenly Physician’s Nine Needles had saved a devil’s life remained indisputable. The disciples from the various major sects still regarded the people of Fengyue City with a hint of scrutiny.
A faint smile touched Lan Yulang’s lips, though it did not reach his eyes. “The defensive outposts of my Heaven-Seizing Cult’s North Peak have always been kept secret. Yet Alliance Leader Murong managed to send men to locate this place precisely and destroy the Li Fire and Xun Wind Altars. He must have received guidance from a true master.”
Murong Yi met his gaze with unruffled composure. “Those who sow injustice reap their own destruction. When you stained the Central Plains Martial World with blood, Cult Leader Lan, did you ever imagine this day would come?”
Lan Yulang sneered, “The Central Plains Martial World is ruled by petty men. If I truly wished to act, how could you have survived long enough to come here and spout such nonsense?”
“Alliance Leader Murong, do not waste your words on him.” Ji Yuanfeng, Deputy City Lord of Fengyue City, stepped forward, his voice cold. “Fengyue City’s only mistake was misjudging his character. Today, I, Ji Yuanfeng, will personally settle this debt.”
As he spoke, Ji Yuanfeng wielded the Judge’s Vermilion Pen. With the flow of True Qi, his long white hair billowed in the rainy night.
Ouyang Duxiu held her longsword across her chest and scoffed, “Why use a cleaver to kill a chicken? I can handle him myself—there is no need to trouble the Cult Leader!”
Ji Yuanfeng’s eyes flashed with a fierce light. With a sharp crack from the pen’s tip, his longsword suddenly unsheathed, thrusting straight for Ouyang Duxiu’s Shanzhong acupoint.
As the two clashed, numerous masters from the Hengshan Sect, Hidden Blade Sect, and Huaguang Temple charged into the fray. Wumeng Yuan and Wen Zhong immediately ordered the Holy Cult disciples to engage. In an instant, Nuwa Square erupted with the sounds of battle. Rainwater mixed with the blood of both the righteous and demonic factions, spreading across the ground.
Murong Yi and Feng Qiya exchanged a glance, then combined their swords in a single strike against Lan Yulang.
The night’s rain was not heavy, yet it showed no sign of ceasing. Wen Jin had searched the valley for two hours, his voice now hoarse and aching from calling out, yet there was still no sign of Linghu Xuantong.
A faint, ominous feeling stirred within him, but he quickly suppressed it with reason—his master’s swordsmanship was unparalleled; few in the world could harm him. He must be hiding somewhere out of spite, deliberately making him anxious to force him back to Yandang Mountain.
Wen Jin rubbed his reddened eyes and turned to run toward the Heaven-Seizing Cult Main Altar.
The battle had raged for a long time, with countless casualties. Murong Yi and Feng Qiya had exchanged over a hundred moves with Lan Yulang, yet they still couldn’t gain the upper hand. The Kun Chapter of the Azure Nether Heart Scripture that Lan Yulang practiced completely countered their swordsmanship; even without using the Mayfly Silk, he could handle them with ease.
After another dozen or so fierce exchanges, Lan Yulang sneered, “Does your swordplay also stem from the Azure Nether Heart Scripture?”
Feng Qiya replied, “The Seven-Fingered Sword Immortal is our grandmaster. What is strange about my martial brother and me knowing the Azure Nether Heart Scripture?”
Lan Yulang parried their swords aside with his bone flute and continued, “If you had mastered the complete cultivation method, I would find nothing strange. But the techniques you two seniors are using are riddled with flaws—it’s as if you’ve cobbled them together from stolen fragments.”
Murong Yi’s gaze sharpened, his sword glow suddenly turning lethal. “Impudent fool!”
Lan Yulang knew their cultivation methods were abnormal, but he had no time to dwell on it. He could only focus on the enemy.
Just then, a poisonous mist suddenly surged out of the rainy night, striking terror into the hearts of everyone in the square. Two black figures seized the chaos, striking like lightning toward Lan Yulang’s back.
The poisonous mist came with fierce momentum, instantly claiming the lives of dozens.
Ouyang Duxiu immediately held his breath, stuffed a medicinal pill into his mouth, and shouted to the crowd, “It’s Mo Changling’s Heart-Eating Worm Poison! Everyone, take the medicine quickly!”
The disciples of the Heaven-Seizing Cult took out a medicinal pill and swallowed it as instructed, but many others died before they could take the medicine. In contrast, the members of the Martial Arts Alliance remained completely unharmed. Ouyang Duxiu gritted his teeth and snarled, “So you’ve colluded with the Tianxing Sect! Is this how the righteous path conducts itself?!”
Murong Qishu had taken the pill Feng Shulou gave him and was temporarily unharmed. But after hearing Ouyang Duxiu’s words, he and Feng Shulou both turned to look at Murong Yi, their eyes filled with disbelief.
Feng Qiya snapped, “What are you two staring at? Is the Enchantress’s word really worth such scrutiny?”
Sensing an attack from behind, Lan Yulang immediately dodged and played a sharp note on his Bone Flute, using its internal force to repel his powerful foe.
Yan Wuhen and Yuan Ye failed to land their strike. They immediately joined forces with Murong Yi and Feng Qiya, attacking from all sides and cornering Lan Yulang in the midst of the battle.
Murong Qishu asked, “Father, have you truly conspired with the Tianxing Sect?”
Yuan Ye smiled. “The Tianxing Sect and the Martial Arts Alliance share a common enemy. We simply happened to meet. This is hardly a conspiracy. Young Alliance Leader, you should not tarnish your esteemed father’s reputation with such accusations.”
Lan Yulang’s gaze fixed on Yuan Ye, his voice cold. “So, after you defected to Mo Changling, you used the Heaven-Seizing Cult’s defense map to collude with the Martial Arts Alliance. Was it you who notified them to launch this attack?”
Yuan Ye replied, “The Cult Leader is truly astute. A pity, however, that you’ve learned this too late.”
As the words fell, the four combined their strength in a strike against Lan Yulang. He leaped into the air, flipping mid-flight to land on the palm of the Nuwa Statue, where he immediately unleashed several strands of Mayfly Silk.
Yuan Ye instantly called out to He Huanzhou. Two iron hooks tore through the air, deflecting the lethal threads.
The group seized the opening to attack again, but suddenly, ten thousand streaks of pure, yang-infused Sword Qi shot down from the sky, halting Murong Yi and the others in their tracks.
A figure in green now stood beside Lan Yulang, his sword tip resting on the ground, its blade gleaming with a cold, sharp light.
When they recognized the newcomer’s face, everyone froze in shock. Murong Yi took a step forward and demanded, “Xiao Jin, what are you doing?”
Wen Jin remained silent, the hand gripping his sword trembling slightly.
Murong Qishu opened his mouth to speak, about to move toward Wen Jin, but Feng Shulou stopped him. “Don’t be impulsive.”
A chill flashed in Feng Qiya’s eyes as he asked in a low voice, “Did you know this Devil’s true identity all along?”
Wen Jin still said nothing.
Feng Qiya spoke again. “Wen Jin, are you betraying your master to side with the enemy of the Central Plains Martial World?”
Wen Jin’s lips trembled. After a long silence, he finally spoke. “Uncle Feng, Uncle Murong… I am sorry.”
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