Chapter Fifty-Three

The Gate of Heavenly Mechanisms excelled above all else in the transmission of information. In less than the time it took to drink a cup of tea, the intelligence from the letter had spread among all the gathered immortal sects.

Duan Leng, the leading disciple who had come from Changhe Sect to offer support — a sect ranked in the lower-middle tier of the immortal sects — slammed his hand down hard on the writing table, shot to his feet, and a surge of fury rose from his flanks straight to his forehead, turning his face livid purple with rage: "So that's it — no wonder searching with the full strength of our sect for three years turned up nothing. So the mastermind behind everything we were looking for is a mortal!"

Three years ago, two of Changhe Sect's promising disciples had taken advantage of the Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation's opening to venture out and procure spirit pills and spirit medicines. But midway on the return journey, they were ambushed by a group of unknown cultivators. Everything they had procured — all the pills and resources — was plundered clean in a single strike. Both disciples were severely injured and had been bedridden to this day, never having regained consciousness.

Changhe Sect had been furious from top to bottom. They had devoted full resources to pursuing those cultivators and managed to capture only one. According to that person, someone had leaked information about what the Changhe Sect disciples were carrying — and it was that information that had driven them to act. But who had leaked it, that person did not know either.

Seizing resources in the cultivation world was common enough. Changhe Sect had assumed it was some cultivator from one of the immortal sects with ulterior motives, and had searched the whole of the cultivation world — to no avail.

Because from the very beginning, they had been looking in the wrong direction.

"Chu Rong!" Duan Leng clenched his jaw, the muscles of his face working in violent convulsions, his face twisted with savagery — as though he'd like nothing more than to drink this person's blood and gnaw their flesh: "I will make you pay with your life for my two Junior Brothers!"

In the same courtyard, Ling Quan — the second disciple who had come from Fengqing Sect to offer support — had gone an ashen, iron-gray color. His eyes were round with fury, bulging as though they might spring from their sockets, and he ground out each word: "Chu — Rong!"

Fengqing Sect occupied the mid-tier of the immortal sects, with disciples numbering double those of lower-tier sects. The sect was split into two lineages — left and right — and for more than a century, the left lineage had consistently overshadowed the right, holding a dominant position. The right lineage had been so weak it couldn't even produce a halfway-decent pill.

But over a year ago, for reasons no one could fathom, the right lineage's strength had surged dramatically, overturning the left lineage, and half a year ago had even split off from the sect entirely to establish its own independent faction.

The current Fengqing Sect was nothing but a hollow shell, its strength drastically diminished from what it had been.

Ling Quan had racked his brain and never imagined that the hand behind everything had been a single mortal!

…

One furious shout after another rang out through Zhengjing Courtyard. Every immortal sect member had veins bulging at their temples, eyes goggling, the fire in their gaze blazing like a consuming wildfire.

When everyone's fury had reached its peak, someone — no one knew who — said: "Chu Rong has done so many terrible things and brought chaos to the immortal sects — this absolutely cannot be allowed to stand!"

"Agreed!" Duan Leng was the first to second it: "A life must be given for a life taken — that is the law of heaven. Chu Rong must be made to pay!"

The person who had spoken first continued: "Chu Rong is Cen Yan's fiancé, and Cen Yan is of Qingyang Heavenly Sect — I don't believe the people of Qingyang knew nothing of this. Let us all go together to demand an explanation from Sect Master Lian!"

Fiancé?!

The immortal sect members drew sharp, collective breaths. When that registered, the fury already churning in their chests rose another full layer: "So that's how it is — no wonder a mortal managed to pull off so much. So there was someone backing him from behind!"

Ling Quan charged out of the courtyard at the head of the group: "We came in good faith to offer aid, yet Qingyang shelters the criminal who harmed the immortal sects — and may even be in it together, repaying our kindness with enmity! If Qingyang Heavenly Sect cannot give us an explanation, Fengqing Sect will not rest!"

"We will not rest!!" The immortal sect members echoed loudly, pouring out after Ling Quan in a wave. The entire group set off in the faint, still-dimming dawn light, marching in a tremendous force straight toward the main hall at the peak.

Only one person remained in the courtyard. Once everyone had gone far enough, he bent his back slightly and made his way to He Ting's door. As he moved, his outer robe shifted, revealing the yellow-and-white inner fabric beneath.

"Gate Master." The person lowered his voice: "Everything has been carried out according to instructions."

He Ting gave a casual couple of waves, indicating he should withdraw. The warm, handsome face curved with a smile laden with meaning: "A good show has begun — naturally it cannot be without an audience. Come, let us go and watch."

He Ting led his attending disciples and walked out of Zhengjing Courtyard at an unhurried pace.

The commotion in the courtyard was so great that of course Jing Heng was not unaware.

He bent two pale, long fingers and rubbed the pads together slowly. His bloodless lips moved faintly, releasing a sound that was either mockery or surprise — a soft, scornful laugh.

No wonder Xu Ziyang had done those things. Someone like Chu Rong — no manner of treatment could be considered excessive. Well then, he needn't hold back any sentiment either.

Jing Heng's eyes went cold and eerie. He set his hand down, and with the calm, unhurried gait of someone strolling a garden, he led his two medicine boys and walked out as well.

Yun Tan had also heard the commotion. He pressed his palms together, his celestially beautiful eyes casting downward. Three times he quietly intoned: "What transgression."

What Chu Rong had done involved so many of the immortal sects — this matter was unlikely to come to a peaceful end.

Yun Tan turned his distinctly-knuckled fingers over his sandalwood beads in thought, then after a moment, raised his foot and followed after the others.

Only the Qingxu Sect members remained in the courtyard, motionless.

Nan Xingye's sharp brows were knit together. A shadow fell across his cold, austere face. So it was true that one couldn't judge a person by their appearance — Chu Rong was that kind of person.

Did the Immortal Venerate know Chu Rong's true face?

Nan Xingye turned his head toward the Qingxu Sect disciples: "You stay in the courtyard. There is no need to get involved. Wait for my return."

"Yes!" The Qingxu Sect disciples bowed in acceptance of the order.

Main peak.

In the main hall, Lian Ci and He Ming had gone without sleep all night, their faces drawn and grim. They kept casting worried glances at Cen Yan. With dawn nearly upon them, what were they to do? Could they really only watch as the Immortal Venerate destroyed Cen Yan?

Cen Yan stood in the hall, head slightly bowed, lost in thought. His face still carried some of the lingering, bewildered emptiness that hadn't fully dispersed.

Pei Zhan stood to one side with arms folded. He took in everyone's expressions, a contemplative light passing through his gilded eyes. If Cen Yan died, would the Heavenly Dao Marriage Bond between him and Chu Rong be automatically voided?

A strange quiet spread through the hall, each person with their own thoughts.

At that moment, a clamoring din arose from outside the hall — loud and forceful enough to feel as though it might blast the hall's roof off.

Lian Ci's mind was already a tangle of knots, and his expression darkened at once. He demanded in a sharp voice: "What is happening outside? Why all this uproar?"

The disciple standing guard at the hall entrance heard the command, hurried to investigate, and returned after a short while in a panicked rush, his expression alarmed and unsteady, even his voice shaking as he spoke: "Reporting to the Sect Master — the immortal sects have brought people and are heading toward the main hall. They say — they say…"

At this hour, before the time set for discussing the baleful energy — what were all the immortal sects coming to the main hall for?

Lian Ci frowned in puzzlement, pressing for an answer: "They say what?"

The disciple swallowed, steadied his startled heart, and finished the rest: "They say they want to demand an explanation from Qingyang!"

"Demand an explanation?" Lian Ci was completely bewildered. He Ming, Pei Zhan — even Cen Yan — all turned to look at the guard disciple.

One after another, everyone wanted either an account or an explanation — what was happening?

The sect had only just forced the Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation open a few days ago, and in the past century or so had had little to do with the immortal sects. Out of nowhere, suddenly demanding that Qingyang give some explanation?

"Sect Master Lian, stop playing dumb!" Ling Quan — tall and broad — stormed into the hall with wide strides, his face dark and hostile as he fixed Lian Ci with a glare: "The people of your sect have been sheltering the true culprit — how could you not know?"

Sheltering the true culprit?

Lian Ci's mind was entirely occupied with how to save Cen Yan, and Ling Quan's charge slammed into him and left him somewhat dazed.

He Ming's expression was equally baffled. He looked Ling Quan over twice and spoke up: "If this old one recalls correctly, you are Fellow Daoist Ling Quan of Fengqing Sect. Fellow Daoist Ling, please don't be agitated. What you're saying, this old one genuinely cannot follow. Is there perhaps some misunderstanding?"

"Misunderstanding?" Ling Quan laughed coldly, turning his head to look at He Ming. He was naturally loud-voiced — it resounded like an ox's bellow, filling the interior and exterior of the main hall: "Fengqing Sect was instigated to the brink of fracture and collapse. Is Elder He going to dismiss that with one light word — 'misunderstanding'?"

"That is not what this old one meant." He Ming had heard something of what had happened to Fengqing Sect, and expressed his sincere sympathy: "Only — when Fengqing Sect's incident occurred, Qingyang Heavenly Sect was still sealed inside the Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation and could not have gotten out at all. Something so entirely unrelated — how can Fellow Daoist, with nothing more than your own two lips, pin it on our sect?"

"So Qingyang Heavenly Sect is unwilling to admit it." Duan Leng entered the hall close behind Ling Quan, the curve of his lips contemptuous, his eyes like knives, cutting across every member of Qingyang's group in the hall: "Then what of my two Changhe Sect disciples, who were severely injured and have never woken — do you admit to that?"

"And there is also what happened to my sect…"

"And my sect…"

The immortal sects filed into the hall one after another, each recounting crimes and grievances they demanded be addressed. The vast main hall filled with people quickly, and the doorway was packed without a crack of space.

Lian Ci's expression shifted. His palm instinctively gripped the armrest of the head seat. He looked out at the faces full of fury, the malicious light glinting in pair after pair of eyes — and felt a chill run down his spine.

One look was enough to see that these people had not come with good intentions.

This was utter nonsense. Qingyang's standing was too low — the immortal sects had never deigned to associate with Qingyang. How could they have offended this many sects? What were these people trying to do — strong-arm Qingyang Heavenly Sect into admitting to unfounded charges?!

Lian Ci turned his head slightly, exchanging a meaningful look with He Ming.

He Ming gripped his white beard tightly. The expression on his face was grave. One hand slipped quietly behind his back, and he took out a transmission talisman, sending word to the sect's disciples to come to the main hall to protect the sect.

Pei Zhan lowered his folded arms. His fingers began to curl one by one. Quietly, he began to channel the spiritual energy within him. His extraordinarily handsome face wore its rare expression of full seriousness — through the night, much of his expended spiritual energy had recovered, and he had enough to put up a fight.

The atmosphere in the hall grew steadily more tense, as though even the movement of the air had begun to slow.

In about half a quarter of an hour, the disciples from inside and outside the sect had all assembled at the outside of the main hall, sealing the entrance in an airtight formation.

"Does Sect Master Lian intend to shelter the culprit to the very end?" Duan Leng turned his head to look, then let out a snort of contempt. Those disciples outside who hadn't even begun to gather spiritual energy into their bodies — he paid them no mind whatsoever.

That sound of mockery landed like a slap, making Lian Ci's face burn with embarrassment.

But thinking of the unresolved matter of the baleful energy — the sect still needed these people — he forced the fury back down again, pulled the corners of his mouth into a shape, and said in as pleasant and accommodating a tone as he could manage: "Everyone, please calm down. Qingyang has also been plunged into crisis — this Sect Master understands your feelings very well. Only — if you want Qingyang to give you an explanation, you must at least let this Sect Master understand what exactly has happened, must you not?"

"Hmph — still pretending. Fine, then let Duan be charitable and make sure you know exactly what you're being condemned for!" The mockery in the curve of Duan Leng's lips deepened. He put one hand behind his back and recounted the intelligence he had heard in full: "Three years ago, two of Changhe Sect's disciples met with trouble. We traced it to someone who had tipped off their attackers, deliberately revealing their whereabouts. And as chance would have it — before those two disciples ran into trouble, they had encountered Chu Rong. And there had been words exchanged between them."

"And here is an even greater coincidence." Ling Quan took over: "Over a year ago, the right lineage of Fengqing Sect — which couldn't produce a single decent pill — suddenly saw a dramatic surge in strength. And coincidentally, Chu Rong had also been in contact with members of the right lineage."

…

As one immortal sect after another stood up to speak, everyone's gaze in the hall involuntarily converged on Cen Yan.

Lian Ci gripped the armrest with white knuckles. Qingyang Heavenly Sect's Mountain-Guarding Grand Formation opened once every two years, and from opening to closing there was a two-month window during which disciples could freely come and go.

Three years ago, the formation had indeed been opened.

Over a year ago, it had opened again.

In terms of timing, it all matched up.

Suddenly, Lian Ci recalled the evidence Cen Yan had submitted four months ago. Some of it had indeed involved parties outside the sect. But since all of Chu Rong's charges had been overturned by the Truth Pearl, the matter had been dropped, and he hadn't paid much attention to the evidence afterward.

But now, matching everything up one by one, Lian Ci believed somewhere between seventy and eighty percent of what Duan Leng had said.

He Ming had also looked over that evidence and knew clearly that Duan Leng's words were not groundless. He ground his teeth, the roots of them aching with fury. Chu Rong!

Another fine piece of work done by Chu Rong!

Chu Rong was nothing but a plague!

Pei Zhan had come out of seclusion relatively late, and everything regarding what had happened four months ago had reached him only through word passed among the sect's disciples, plus a few scenes he had seen in the memories of the spy. Many of the details he didn't know clearly.

But Pei Zhan narrowed his gilded eyes, watching the reactions of He Ming and Lian Ci, and his heart gradually sank. Had Chu Rong really done all these things?

The dense, piercing gazes from all sides were like silver needles being driven into Cen Yan's body. He stood motionless, his face deathly pale, his chest heaving, his breath coming in short, painful spasms, the fingers hanging at his sides trembling uncontrollably.

Chu Rong's evidence was something he himself had collected — no one knew better than he did whether what Duan Leng said was true or false. He even knew why the right lineage of Fengqing Sect had seen their strength surge so dramatically.

Over a year ago, unable to find a treatment for Chu Rong's condition no matter how long he searched, he had given him a life-preserving spirit pill.

The pill was of a mid-grade — for a mortal, as long as there was still a breath of life remaining, it could preserve that life. But if a cultivator took it, their cultivation would leap upward by a level in the short term.

Ha.

Cen Yan thought he must have been an idiot. He had actually felt guilty over someone like Chu Rong, spending an entire night second-guessing himself over and over, repeatedly doubting Senior Brother.

He had even wondered whether he had truly wronged Chu Rong four months ago. Yet Duan Leng's words were like a blow to the head, scattering all of his supposed self-awareness to pieces.

Cen Yan's emotions plunged and surged violently. In his sea of consciousness, the spot of light erupted with an unprecedented intensity of brilliance. The coiled purple mist writhed frantically — crack, crack — and two more long fissures split open.

He Ming was pained to see Cen Yan's state. He turned to face the hostile gazes of the immortal sects directly: "All of this was done by Chu Rong. It has nothing to do with Qingyang Heavenly Sect — no one in our sect had any knowledge of it!"

"Elder He, things have come this far — there is no point in keeping up the pretense." A strange light flickered in He Ting's eyes. His smile was half-formed but carried no warmth. His tone was perfectly pleasant — yet somehow conveyed a pressure without cause.

"What do you mean by that, Gate Master He?" He Ming looked at He Ting in surprise. Hadn't the Gate of Heavenly Mechanisms always maintained a neutral stance? Why was He Ting targeting Qingyang?

He Ming's brow knitted, his tone taking on some weight: "The Gate of Heavenly Mechanisms holds countless intelligence reports from the entire cultivation world. The Gate Master should be perfectly clear that every word this old one has said is true."

He Ting let out a light laugh, looked around at the surrounding immortal sect members, and turned the matter back in a few words: "Elder He is joking — you shouldn't be saying this to me. The question is whether they believe you."

He Ming looked around at them in turn. Nan Xingye's brow was slightly furrowed, his expression cycling through multiple shifts that were difficult to read.

Jing Heng, his skin pallid, stood among the crowd. His face — difficult to place as male or female — betrayed no discernible emotion.

Yun Tan had his eyes half-closed, bearing the air of someone wholly untouched by worldly matters.

As for the rest of the immortal sects, they glared with obvious hostility — as though they could tear him apart.

He Ming's throat caught. The blood in his entire body seemed to freeze. He fell silent, as though he had lost his voice — it was plain that these people were not going to let it go.

"Enough!" Lian Ci slapped the armrest sharply, his tone heavy: "There is no need to speak in riddles. What exactly do you all want?"

Cultivation resources?

Then they had come to the wrong place entirely. Qingyang Heavenly Sect had barely any left — there wouldn't be enough to divide among this many people.

Duan Leng narrowed his eyes, his pupils contracting, his gaze as cold as a venomous serpent. An undisguised savagery crept across his face: "An eye for an eye."

That demand was too broad. Lian Ci waited for Duan Leng to continue: "Either the entirety of Qingyang Heavenly Sect bows and begs our pardon — or Cen Yan's life is taken in place of his fiancé's, to repay the debts Chu Rong owes — or Chu Rong is handed over to us, to be dealt with as we see fit."

The moment those words fell, the disciples both inside and outside the hall erupted into uproar. They had done nothing wrong — why should they bow and apologize to anyone without cause?

Cen Yan's life? Even more impossible — that was not even worth considering.

Handing over Chu Rong was something that could theoretically be done — but with the marriage bond still on Chu Rong, anything that happened to him would affect Cen Yan as well.

Looking at it this way, it seemed none of the demands could be agreed to — yet the current situation left them no room to choose.

Lian Ci's knuckles cracked as he squeezed them. His expression flickered. He was silent for a long time, then looked toward Cen Yan below: "Yan'er — why don't we hand Chu Rong over."

He Ming opened his mouth, instinctively about to object. His peripheral vision caught the surging hostility of those in the hall, and he closed his mouth firmly again.

These people had a grievance with Chu Rong. If Chu Rong was placed in their hands, what chance would he have of surviving?

Pei Zhan acted according to his own inclinations and didn't place much weight on the others' notions of good and evil. Whether Chu Rong was wicked or virtuous — his ultimate destination ought to be the dragon-scale jade pendant.

Pei Zhan stepped forward to make Lian Ci take back his order, when the disciples outside the hall dropped to their knees all at once, speaking in unison: "Please, Senior Brother Cen, hand over Chu Rong!"

The emotion in Cen Yan's eyes trembled violently. He drew a slow, deep breath and lifted his head. His refined, transcendent face had gone white. Even his thin lips had lost their color: "…Very well."

His gaze swept across the immortal sects one by one, and he said each word with deliberate weight: "I can hand over Chu Rong — but you will have to capture him yourselves."

Pei Zhan's tall frame went still. He turned sharply to look at Cen Yan, his eyes going cold.

Wusong Residence.

Yun Zhi was carefully carrying a food box toward the main gate when the corner of his eye caught the dimming sky not far away. His dark face changed in an instant, and the food box in his hands fell to the ground with a clatter.

The lid flew off, and the steaming food inside scattered across the ground, its clean fragrance drifting further and further away.

But Yun Zhi had no attention to spare for any of that. He sat down hard on the ground, one hand pointing to the side, his legs refusing to obey him, shaking uncontrollably like a sieve: "So — so many people."

Every one of them sword-riding, tall and imposing, with dark and menacing expressions — clearly none of them with good intentions. And judging by the direction they were heading — they were coming straight for Wusong Residence.

Young Master!

Yun Zhi snapped to his senses as if waking from a dream. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling and lurching, and charged toward the main gate, shouting as he ran: "Honored Immortal — something terrible has happened!"

Wusong Residence had a restriction on it. Yun Zhi skidded to a breathless stop before the water-membrane barrier. He was about to shout himself hoarse when an invisible force seized him by the shoulder and collar and pulled him inside.

Yun Zhi hit the ground in a heap. Before he'd even figured out what had happened, a cold, expressionless voice came from above his head: "Go in. Keep a good watch over him. Don't let him come out."

Yun Zhi recognized who had spoken, and immediately nodded his head vigorously, accepting the order with full respect.

Yun Zhi heaved himself to his feet again, swaying, and ran toward the only room in the residence where candlelight was still burning. The door was open. He looked in and spoke before he'd fully caught his breath: "Young Master, it isn't safe outside — you must not under any circumstances—"

The rest of the words died the instant he caught sight of who was sitting at the bed's edge.