Chapter 190
In Lingxi Valley, the Dan Sect, and the Zen Sect, those core powerhouses who had participated in the campaign against the Demon Sect were not surprised. They had long heard that a formidable ancestor had returned to the Sword Pavilion.
As for the specifics of his realm, opinions varied widely.
Some said he was at the Integration Stage, others claimed he had reached the Great Perfection of Integration, while some even suggested he was at the Void Realm. In any case, no fool would think that this ancestor of the Sword Pavilion was below the Integration Stage.
Just his presence there was enough to command respect.
The extent of his power was merely a matter of his mood.
“Ancestor, the Sword Pavilion is being a bit too aggressive. The Shaoyang Sect is a major sect after all; they’re not giving us any face, just for a mere dojo…” Daoist Qingxuan began, but he trailed off when he noticed his mother gazing dreamily at the figure holding a sword in front of the Sword Pavilion’s war chariot.
Even from behind the cloud curtain, her gaze seemed to stretch.
A bad premonition welled up in his heart.
Considering his mother’s unusual behavior lately…
He arrived at an absurd conclusion.
—His mother liked that ancestor of the Sword Pavilion?
“Qingxuan, what were you just saying?”
Daoist Qingxuan glanced at his mother and swallowed hard. “Nothing, nothing… I was just saying that the Shaoyang Sect is really shameless, trying to snatch the Sword Pavilion’s dojo.”
“Exactly.” Rong Qingyun snorted coldly. “From now on, we won’t sell any pills or artifacts to the Shaoyang Sect, and no disciple of Qingyun Sect is allowed to interact with those from the Shaoyang Sect. If anyone is caught doing so, they will be expelled from the sect!”
Daoist Qingxuan: “…”
That’s it, it’s basically confirmed now.
He clenched his fists, watching Chen Huai'an’s back, filled with rage and helplessness. He had imagined a thousand reasons for his mother’s change in attitude towards the Sword Pavilion, but he had never thought, nor dared to think, that it was because their family had been stolen from!
Lu Changtian also gazed at the flying boat, at the beautiful figure in a plain white dress standing beside the ancestor of the Sword Pavilion.
He wasn’t the only one watching; several others from Chixiao Peak were also observing.
“Is that Junior Sister Qingran?” Lu Changtian murmured.
Li Qingran had changed; she seemed almost unrecognizable.
It was as if she had been cut from an old piece of rice paper, now suddenly bursting with color.
That girl who used to bow her head and gather her skirt at the end of the corridor,
When did she become the spring breeze, stepping lightly with the sound of jingling bells?
He remembered how Li Qingran used to smile, her eyes always holding the moonlight that seemed on the verge of falling, like fish shivering beneath the thin ice of early spring.
When she served tea in front of Daoist Qingxuan, she would smile apologetically, and when scolded by the elders, she would hang her head, at a loss. Even when she sought him for sword guidance, she carried a hint of cautious flattery… But now, the girl standing beside the ancestor of the Sword Pavilion, smiling lightly, had her brows tinted with the crushed hues of dusk, her lashes bathed in a honeyed glow.
The hem of her moon-white skirt revealed lotus-pink embroidered shoes adorned with silver bells, her steps ringing with a cheerful jingle; that snow-white wrist, once hidden in the faded sleeves of a coarse robe, was now wrapped in golden threads and embedded with precious bells, shimmering with a delicate light as she polished the black-scaled sword sheath.
The red strings and bells on her wrists and ankles symbolized the anticipation of love.
Would she really wear these?
To attract whose attention?
His gaze instinctively fell on Chen Huai'an, the ancestor of the Sword Pavilion, but that seemed unlikely…
Yet this ancestor was also skilled in maintaining his youth; his handsome and imposing demeanor made Lu Changtian feel that his title as the most dashing in Qingyun Sect was a joke. Besides, Xu An and Duan Feng from the Sword Pavilion also looked quite impressive.
The more Lu Changtian thought, the more confused he became.
Nearby, a few of his junior brothers voiced their bewilderment.
Xiao Yifeng shook his head repeatedly. “Li Qingran seems to be doing quite well in the Sword Pavilion, right? Didn’t they say the Sword Pavilion was quite shabby?”
“Hmph, she’s just fond of dressing up, not learning anything good!” Yun Zimo tightened his grip on the sword hilt, his tone tinged with jealousy.
Zhang Hanxiao rubbed his eyes, finding it hard to believe. “She seems to be getting more beautiful… It’s like, like she’s even prettier than Junior Sister Mubai!”
“Shut your mouths!” Lu Changtian’s expression hardened as he turned around. “What kind of decorum is this? She’s no longer from Qingyun Sect, nor from our Chixiao Peak; she’s a disciple of the Sword Pavilion! Zhang Hanxiao, how could you compare her to Junior Sister and deliberately belittle her? How upset would Junior Sister be to hear that?”
“Brother, you’re right.” Zhang Hanxiao shrank back, forcing a sheepish smile.
Lately, Mubai had stopped hanging around them. At first, they had eagerly tried to get close to her, but after a while, it lost its charm, and they naturally became less invested.
“By the way, where did Junior Sister go?” Yun Zimo looked around but didn’t see Mubai, so he asked Daoist Qingxuan.
Daoist Qingxuan was preoccupied with the matter of their family being stolen and was feeling irritable.
Hearing the disciples’ inquiries, he replied impatiently, “The entrance to the secret realm is about to open, and the three great holy lands will soon appear. Are you still fussing over Junior Sister? Look at your lack of ambition! A girl as big as Mubai can’t possibly get lost, can she? She’s not entering the secret realm; maybe she’s just bored and went to some mortal town to play. You can look for her after you come out of the secret realm.”
Lu Changtian and the others dared not contradict Daoist Qingxuan’s words, so they buried their doubts and worries in their hearts, waiting patiently for the entrance to the secret realm to open.
Meanwhile, on the Sword Pavilion’s side, after Zhang Tinghai of the Shaoyang Sect lost an arm, he completely lost the desire to provoke the Sword Pavilion.
What a joke.
If the ancestor of the Sword Pavilion could sever his arm without drawing his sword, what would happen if he actually drew it? Wouldn’t he be torn apart along with it?
He could only hide away, sulking with the disciples of the Shaoyang Sect, waiting on a mountain in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains, casting sinister glances toward the Sword Pavilion’s war chariot, clearly plotting something.
…
Deep within the Ten Thousand Great Mountains.
Inside a hidden grand formation.
Mu Baishuang set up a tombstone in front of the cave where the Young Master of the Heavenly Demon usually practiced.
She knelt amidst the scattered stones, her fingertips repeatedly tracing the four crimson seal characters “Tomb of the Young Master,” tears falling onto the still-drying bloodstains.
“You always said blood should flow on the blade, on the battlefield to restore the Heavenly Demon Sect.” She suddenly chuckled, her blood-stained nails piercing her palm, dark red seeping along the grooves of the inscription, covering the Young Master’s name. “But my blood will soak the entire Sword Pavilion!”
The Absolute Demon talisman burned in her sleeve, and the ghostly energy of the Nine Hells entwined with the silver bells in her hair.
As the last half of her severed hair fell before the tombstone, a chorus of wailing spirits echoed from deep within the cave.
She slowly turned around and bowed deeply to the old nun who had been standing behind her for a long time.
“Please, senior, perform the ritual for me!”
The old nun Lingpu gazed at the vengeful Mu Baishuang, a hint of barely perceptible delight hidden in her eyes. She spoke solemnly, “You must understand that using this method means sacrificing your soul to the Nine Hells, with no way back. You will surely die!”
“It doesn’t matter. If the Young Master is dead… I’ll die too.”
“Very well, I will perform the ritual for you, but remember, that ancestor of the Sword Pavilion is extremely difficult to deal with, and he is merely an avatar. I suggest you launch a surprise attack when the secret realm closes; amidst the chaos, it may yield unexpected results!”
“Yes, junior… will remember!”
…
…
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Chapter 205: The Three Great Holy Lands
Time passed second by second, and when the spiritual energy vortex within the bronze doors finally stabilized,
The two bronze doors suddenly trembled, and the surrounding floating mountains were drawn closer to the bronze doors by an inexplicable force.
The cultivators understood that the secret realm had opened; the small bronze door corresponded to the minor secret realm, with a purple spiritual energy vortex; the large bronze door corresponded to the major secret realm, allowing only cultivators at the Nascent Soul stage and above to enter, with a golden spiritual energy vortex.
This was because, at this time each year, the spiritual energy accumulated in the dragon veins below would open the passage between the Cangyun Realm and the ancient battlefield. The spiritual energy vortex served as a teleportation array; cultivators only needed to approach it to be transported to the ancient battlefield.
Although the secret realm had opened, no cultivators moved.
Everyone was waiting for the arrival of the three great holy lands.
Each year, the prodigies selected by the three great holy lands would enter the secret realm first; it was a rule.
Finally, with the sound of nine bells ringing, the clouds above the floating mountains roiled, gradually revealing three colossal phantoms.
In the western sky, a hundred-foot-tall Buddha sat majestically amidst the clouds, his enormous hand resting on his knee, cradling a hundred solemnly adorned Buddhist cultivators.
In the east, purple qi rose from the clouds, and on the Taiji Daoist platform, dozens of black and white-robed cultivators formed formations, their robes flowing with the rhythm of the Dao.
At the southernmost end, in the shimmering Qianye Lotus Pond, three hundred female cultivators in green robes stood on lotus platforms, their ethereal voices echoing endlessly.
All the cultivators from various sects, including the scattered cultivators in the Ten Thousand Great Mountains, fell silent, not daring to speak.
The three great holy lands—Fengjing, Zhenwu, and Yaotai—took their positions in succession.
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