Chapter Thirty-Nine: This Rule Is Not in the Sect's Code

Chapter Thirty-Nine: This Rule Is Not in the Code

A blazing sun seemed to slowly approach from outside the gate, radiating brilliance.

Golden robes.

Flowing black hair.

A refined and handsome face, yet a body both sturdy and tall as a mountain; elegance blended with an aura of dominance. His eyes resembled two pieces of black jade, their depths flickering with a subtle, sharp light. His very presence was as imposing as vast mountain ranges.

This was Gu Xijin, the only disciple of this generation whom everyone called Senior Brother.

…

It was Fang Junmei’s first time seeing Gu Xijin in his life, and just this first encounter made him feel a strange sensation—as if his pupils were opening, his soul quivering uncontrollably.

This man’s bearing was simply too extraordinary, too aloof.

He was someone that Fang Junmei must surpass to become a stronger opponent!

Even Fang Junmei himself could not say why, but after seeing this man, he felt an urgent need to surpass him, to defeat him. Perhaps, on the path of the sword, there could be only one person at the summit!

For a moment, Fang Junmei’s heart surged with grand waves, yet outwardly he remained utterly still.

…

Gu Xijin walked in with hands behind his back, bearing the awe of all present, his steps calm and unhurried. His aura was even stronger than Fan Lanzhou’s.

At this moment, Gu Xijin was also observing Fang Junmei, his gaze unfathomable, carrying an air of detached scrutiny.

Fang Junmei looked back at him, their eyes meeting.

After a few breaths, Gu Xijin withdrew his gaze expressionlessly and turned to the elder, saying, “You two have violated the sect rules. Go to the Hall of Punishment and report yourselves, and receive your penalty. If you exaggerate or conceal anything, get out of Peach Blossom Valley.”

His voice was lofty, seemingly impartial.

“…Yes, Senior Brother.”

The elder, after his eyes flashed rapidly, gritted his teeth, gave his assent with a bow, and walked out.

Fang Junmei, however, did not move. He was naturally displeased—this incident was clearly instigated by the other party, who had struck first. If he hadn’t retaliated, he’d already be dead. Was he not allowed to defend himself?

Moreover, Gu Xijin must have noticed the events in the hall earlier and had not intervened, only speaking up after Fang Junmei took action—a deliberate calculation.

“What’s your objection? Why don’t you go?”

Gu Xijin, seeing Fang Junmei’s lack of response, barked coldly.

Fang Junmei’s gaze flickered, a bitter smile crossing his lips, and he nodded slightly, “As you wish.”

With that, Fang Junmei strode toward the door, naturally refusing to bow.

“It’s the rules that decide!”

Gu Xijin’s expression turned cold as he stared at Fang Junmei’s back. “And—you ought to address me as Senior Brother.”

“Sorry, that’s not in the rules.”

Without turning his head, Fang Junmei walked away.

Inside and outside the hall, the cultivators who heard Fang Junmei’s words felt their scalps tingling—was this boy rebelling? Throughout the Peach Blossom Sword Sect, perhaps there was not a single peer who dared speak to Gu Xijin like this.

No, there was one!

Older cultivators or those who knew more couldn’t help but recall someone, their gazes growing complicated.

At this moment, Gu Xijin’s gaze at Fang Junmei was even more complex—not merely sullen, but tinged with a deep, painful memory. What lay buried in that memory, none could see.

In his eyes, he saw not Fang Junmei, but another—another from the same Unmoving Peak.

The atmosphere in the hall chilled instantly.

Everyone felt as if Gu Xijin had become a human-shaped storm, his aura stirring restlessly.

All hearts were uneasy, none dared make a sound.

“You lot—don’t you need to cultivate? Always loafing about here!”

Suddenly, Gu Xijin turned and barked at the cultivators in the hall, his voice like thunder.

Many trembled at the sound.

“Yes, Senior Brother, we’ll go cultivate right away.”

Someone replied shakily, scrambling toward the door, others following suit.

Seeing them scatter like loose sand, lacking courage, Gu Xijin’s expression grew even colder.

Soon, only a few stewards and Gu Xijin remained in the hall.

Gu Xijin’s expression gradually returned to normal. He discussed a few matters with the stewards before leaving.

…

The Hall of Punishment was also on Steward Peak. Fang Junmei walked slowly, and when he arrived, he saw the elder who had attacked him already stripped to the waist, bound to a wooden stake in the square, undergoing the lash.

No one was allowed to use their spiritual power.

The whip was not ordinary, but crafted from vine roots found in Sunset Mountains, bristling with fine, sharp thorns. Each stroke tore flesh and spilled blood.

When Fang Junmei arrived, the elder’s body was already covered in wounds, blood streaming, looking utterly miserable. No telling how many lashes he’d endured.

Yet the man was tough, uttering not a sound, only gritting his teeth and glaring fiercely. When he saw Fang Junmei, his gaze darkened.

The whip moved not by human hand, but lashed in midair of its own accord—either it was sentient, or controlled by someone.

“Are you Fang Junmei? I’ve heard about the incident. You’ll receive twenty lashes, same as him. No spiritual power allowed, or your punishment is tenfold.”

While Fang Junmei watched, a voice reached his ear.

At the entrance of the hall to the north, a burly, mountain-sized middle-aged man reclined comfortably in a wide wicker chair as if basking in the sun. Seeing Fang Junmei arrive, he spoke coldly.

This man was fat, with a big head and tiny eyes, looking somewhat comical, but his expression was as cold as steel, his aura nearly rivaling the legendary Sword Immortal Chunyu Qian. It was unclear if he was one of the Ten Sword Immortals or some other master.

Guessing the elder hadn’t exaggerated, Fang Junmei asked no questions. He removed his upper garment and casually walked to another pillar, which was also entwined with vines. Like little snakes, they wrapped around his outstretched arms.

The burly man said nothing. He flicked his hand at his waist, sending another vine whip flying toward Fang Junmei. It landed a few feet away, then lashed down hard.

Blood splattered.

A long gash was torn open instantly.

Fang Junmei frowned slightly, but showed no other reaction. Having passed Chunyu Qian’s five trials, how could he not endure such pain?

Second lash!

Third lash!

…

Nearby, the elder finished his twenty lashes first. When it was over, he bowed to the burly man and left.

Fang Junmei, after twenty lashes, also bowed and departed.

Returning to the task hall, he found only a few stewards left, none of the idle disciples. Glancing around, Fang Junmei walked over to the green-robed elder who had assigned him his last task.

“Junior Brother Fang, how does the taste of the Ghost Vine Whip suit you?” the elder asked with a smile, teasing but not unpleasant.

Fang Junmei had already used medicine to stop the bleeding. After dressing, he showed no sign of injury, not even in his gait. He nodded slightly, “If you’re curious, Senior Brother, you can try it yourself.”

Everyone in the hall laughed.

The green-robed elder also shook his head with a grin. When Fang Junmei approached, he grew serious. “You’re here to report your Windshadow Sand task, right? How much did you obtain?”

Fang Junmei smiled without a word, handing him an unrefined storage pouch.

The elder took it, sent his spiritual sense inside—and was instantly stunned.