Chapter Eleven: The Righteous Tianhe

Chapter Eleven: Tianhe’s Righteous Demeanor

Whoosh—

The air was split by piercing sounds.

Finger lights and sword gleams shot in from all directions. After a succession of crashes, those four streaks of light shattered into nothingness, and the four-foot longsword was sent flying, its surface now riddled with cracks, its glow rapidly fading.

The young man in blue robes, whatever injury he’d suffered, suddenly coughed up a mouthful of blood, his body swaying violently, nearly tumbling out of the sky.

“We have yet to ascertain whether he is involved in the massacre of the Luofu Sword Sect. How can you injure someone at will? Have you forgotten the rules of our Peach Origin Sword Sect?” The elder with the golden crown turned, his voice cold as he rebuked the young man.

This time, the young man’s arrogance deflated completely. He dared not utter a word, yet his hatred for Fang Junmei only grew deeper.

Many of the other powerful cultivators present inwardly scoffed at the golden-crowned elder. Where was your sense of justice just now? Everyone knows what you’re after.

Suddenly—

Before the elder’s words had even faded, he reached out toward Fang Junmei, as if seizing something from the air.

With a rush of wind, Fang Junmei was pulled toward him, landing firmly in his grasp a moment later.

Having seized Fang Junmei, the golden-crowned elder declared loudly, “Everyone, let us not forget why we came to Luofu Mountain. Our business is urgent. Even if this mortal is somewhat entangled in the matter, he cannot possibly know any great secrets. Besides, he has already been injured by one of our disciples. Let our Peach Origin Sword Sect take charge of his questioning.”

He struck the pose of righteous indignation.

Shameless!

The other factions all darkened at his words, cursing him inwardly. Not only had he snatched the man under their noses, but he now invoked the tragedy at Luofu Mountain to silence their protests. No wonder he was known as the most cunning old fox among the Five Great Immortal Sects.

Even his own companions looked awkward and abashed.

But with the man already in his hands, and given that their purpose was indeed to investigate the Luofu Sword Sect’s destruction, it would be petty to cause a scene over a mere mortal. To avoid losing face, everyone could only swallow their discontent.

“Junior brother, take them and search for any survivors or other clues, and go a bit farther toward the mountain’s outskirts,” the golden-crowned elder said to those at his side, ignoring the looks from the others.

“Yes, Senior Brother,” replied a stout old man beside him. He quickly instructed the younger disciples to disperse and search in a designated direction.

The leaders of the other three groups likewise ordered their companions to search in other directions.

...

Soon, only four figures remained at the very heart of the ruins: the golden-crowned elder of the Peach Origin Sword Sect; a graceful young matron riding a bluebird; a scholarly man standing on a cloud; and a burly man suspended midair.

“It has been at least a month since this massacre,” the golden-crowned elder said, pulling out a pill and placing it in Fang Junmei’s mouth before tucking him under his arm and addressing the other three with a serious expression.

Cunning though he was, he acted decisively when it came to business.

The other three, momentarily forgetting about Fang Junmei, nodded in agreement. They were all seasoned cultivators; from the degree of decay on the corpses hidden in the grass, they could roughly estimate the time that had passed.

The young matron sighed softly, her tone melancholy. “In the end, we were still too late. With the Luofu Sword Sect wiped out, the fragile balance between Daoist and Demonic Sects in the Great River Kingdom is bound to collapse. The Five Great Demonic Sects, having seized Luofu’s resources, will surely grow stronger. Even if our four sects join forces, I fear we will no longer be able to resist.”

She was alluring yet dignified, her beauty tinged with a maiden’s freshness despite her matronly air. Her sigh evoked a natural sympathy.

“Not necessarily,” the scholar standing atop the white cloud spoke calmly as soon as she finished. He was a man in his middle years, refined and scholarly, with a gentle demeanor that made him seem approachable. Yet only those who had dealt with him knew how formidable he truly was.

After speaking, he didn’t look at the others but gazed at the surroundings.

“May we hear Brother Guo’s opinion?” the golden-crowned elder asked.

The scholar, surnamed Guo, glanced at him with a meaningful smile. “Since Brother Tianhe asks, I shall answer.”

The golden-crowned elder nodded for him to continue.

“The Luofu Sword Sect was no minor clan—their mountain-guarding formation was formidable. Even if the Five Demonic Sects joined forces, they must have paid a heavy price to achieve such a massacre. Your old friend, Daoist Luo, was said to be at the late Dragon Gate stage, just half a step from the Mortal Exchange realm. With his fierce nature, he would never go down without dragging many enemies with him. The Demonic Sects must have suffered grievous losses. It will be some time before they can recover. As for the cultivation resources they seized, it will take time for those to have any real effect.”

Scholar Guo spoke with calm logic and clarity.

The other three nodded repeatedly, agreeing with his analysis.

“Our two sides—Daoist and Demonic—each with five great sects, have maintained balance for over ten thousand years. Have you considered why they would suddenly break this equilibrium?” The burly man, who had been silent, finally spoke.

He was powerfully built, his face bristling with a wild beard. Rough in appearance but keen-eyed, he was clearly a man whose sharpness lay beneath the surface. Arms crossed and chest out, he exuded an imposing presence.

At his words, the scholar and the matron both frowned in thought, while the golden-crowned elder’s eyes flashed, though he said nothing.

“It seems Brother Tianhe knows the reason,” the burly man remarked, watching their reactions and addressing the golden-crowned elder.

The elder sighed. “Only some speculations.”

“Please enlighten us, Brother Tianhe,” the burly man replied respectfully.

After a moment’s consideration, the golden-crowned elder released a white, translucent barrier, enveloping all four of them before speaking.

Outside the barrier, no sound could be heard. Observers saw only the shifting expressions of the four faces within, their looks growing more and more grim.

The discussion lasted for nearly half an hour.

When the barrier finally dissipated and time had passed, the search parties returned from all directions. None had found a single survivor or any trace of a clue—the enemy had been ruthlessly thorough.

“Since we have found nothing, let us each return to our sects. We must be vigilant in case anything changes,” the golden-crowned elder said. “As for this mortal youth, I will bring him back for questioning myself. I trust none of you object?”

The three others’ faces darkened again.

Fang Junmei may have been present, and his background was suspicious, but as a mere mortal, it was unlikely he knew any important secrets. Now that he was in Tianhe’s hands, there was no point in arguing further. They might as well let him have his way.

All three nodded in reluctant agreement.

“If you learn anything, Brother Tianhe, be sure to inform our three sects,” Scholar Guo said.

“Of course,” the golden-crowned elder replied coolly.

After a few polite farewells, the parties departed. Once alone, the golden-crowned elder cast a spell, conjuring flames to cremate the scattered bones—an act of minimal consolation for the dead.

...

When Fang Junmei regained consciousness, he was in a room, lying on a bed.

The lamps burned brightly, indicating it was night, and from beyond the walls the sound of rain could be heard—a rainy night.

His gaze was hazy for a moment, but as memory of the day’s events returned, his eyes sharpened. In a flash, his right hand reached for his waist.

His waist was empty.

“Your sword is already broken. Even if it were whole, with your paltry mortal sword skills, whom could you possibly defeat?”

A calm, leisurely voice sounded nearby.

Fang Junmei turned. There, standing by the window, was the tall, slender figure of the golden-crowned elder in Daoist robes—the very same Tianhe of the Peach Origin Sword Sect.