Chapter Nine: I Just Arrived Myself
Chapter Nine: I Just Arrived
The place where he now found himself was a broad, level expanse of grass, utterly distinct from the mountains he had traversed earlier. The traces of human handiwork were evident, though already marred by disorder—vines creeping over the land, signs that it had been left untended for some time.
His gaze stretched into the distance, where a vast plaza of shattered stone sprawled out. In the north of the plaza lay the ruins of what once appeared to be a grand gatehouse, now demolished and scattered.
Luofu! Sword Sect!
Once, these four formidable characters must have been carved together, but now they were split across two massive stones. Beside them lay two skeletons, charred and blackened, as though the victims had been burned alive.
Fang Junmei’s heart leapt in alarm.
This must be the very mountain gate of the Luofu Sword Sect he had been seeking!
But why had it been so thoroughly destroyed? Who was responsible?
What was the current state of the sect beyond these gates?
Fang Junmei’s thoughts raced as he peered further ahead. Beyond the plaza, past the shattered gate, a scene of utter ruin unfolded before his eyes—a vision of the world’s end.
Amidst verdant mountains, fragments of ruined walls and the blackened scars of fire were everywhere. Strips of cloth, like tattered sails, fluttered between cliffs, and broken suspension bridges hung limply, their ropes severed.
Never before in his life had Fang Junmei laid eyes upon a cultivation sect. Though now reduced to devastation, the remnants of towering structures, their imposing grandeur, and the breathtaking artistry carved into cliffs and precipices still made his gaze tremble in awe, leaving him speechless. It was beyond imagining that such works could be wrought by mortal hands.
He stood transfixed for a long while before forcing himself to regain composure.
Such a massacre, the extermination of an entire sect, could not have occurred quietly. And yet, throughout his months on this mountain, he had sensed nothing—no sound of battle, not even a distant echo. It must have happened long ago; surely, there was no longer any danger here.
After a moment’s thought, Fang Junmei could not suppress his shock and began to walk forward, step by step.
...
He pushed through tangled grass.
He walked the broken mountain path.
No one hindered him. No voices broke the silence.
Thus, as a mere mortal, Fang Junmei stepped directly into the ruins of a cultivation sect, and the sight that greeted him was seared into his memory.
Blackened bones, shattered skeletons, rivers of blood already turned dark and thick, stained the land everywhere. A foul stench fouled the air, as though he had entered the very depths of hell.
The once-level ground was pitted with enormous craters, blasted open, the bottoms layered with congealed blood and scattered with broken bones. Skulls with hollow eyes stared blankly into the sky.
The grand halls, once magnificent, were now unrecognizable ruins, many blackened by fire. For those who came to slay, how could arson be absent?
Who knew how long had passed since this slaughter? Flesh and blood had long since vanished, yet weeds had not grown to cover the carnage. It was as if the souls of the dead still wandered here, singing a mournful dirge for justice denied.
The mountain winds moaned, their wailing like the cries of the departed.
“Eradicated… the sect has been utterly wiped out…”
Standing amidst the corpses, Fang Junmei’s expression was grave. All his dreams and fantasies about immortals, so beautiful and alluring, were shattered against this cold, hard reality.
He could never know who had done this. Even if clues remained, they were beyond him. As for the immortals of the Luofu Sword Sect, he could only mourn them in his heart.
For himself, he felt nothing but frustration. After so much hardship, after braving death so many times, he had finally found the Luofu Sword Sect—only to discover it destroyed. It was a cruel blow.
His face twisted into a bitter grimace.
After some thought, he began to search among the bones.
Though profiting from the dead had an ill sound, if it could help him set foot on the path of immortality, Fang Junmei would not shy away. These things were now unclaimed—why cling to empty scruples?
...
Before long, he found several broken swords, already rusted and useless.
The sun was setting, painting the ruined Luofu Sword Sect in a blood-red glow, casting an even more tragic and sorrowful pall over the scene.
Ragged and bloodstained, Fang Junmei searched among the bones, looking no more out of place than the corpses themselves.
Suddenly, he heard something. His ears twitched; he looked up at the sky.
Whoosh, whoosh—
A sound like a hundred blades slicing through the air came from the clouds above the mountain. Within it were faint echoes of bird cries and beastly roars, strange and haunting.
At first, it was faint, but it quickly grew louder and clearer.
Fang Junmei stared into the sky, rooted in astonishment, his face showing utter disbelief.
From the clouds, figures began to descend—men and women, young and old, each exuding an extraordinary presence and unfathomable power.
Some stood upon clouds.
Some rode streaks of sword-light.
Some strode through the empty air.
Some rode on spirit birds or fantastical beasts. There were nearly a hundred of them, clearly all immortals of legend. From their positions and the directions they came, it was clear they belonged to four separate groups.
For the first time, Fang Junmei witnessed such a grand spectacle. He was utterly dumbstruck, unable to speak.
The newcomers surveyed the ruined Luofu Sword Sect, many showing shock and grief on their faces. After a moment, all eyes fell upon Fang Junmei.
For the first time, Fang Junmei stood center stage in the world of cultivation.
And in this moment, he found himself the focus of countless sharp, probing gazes. A chill ran through him, as though a thousand arrows were piercing his heart.
...
The blood-red sunset bathed the ruins, illuminating Fang Junmei amid the wreckage, and shone upon those immortals gazing down at him.
A mighty wind swept through, buffeting Fang Junmei until he swayed, looking all the more bedraggled and forlorn.
“I just arrived as well!” he muttered bitterly, barely audible, knowing full well that in this situation, a grave misunderstanding was inevitable.
The surrounding immortals heard his words clearly, yet not a one relaxed their expression.
“Wretch, of which of the five demonic sects are you? How dare you commit such a monstrous slaughter?”
Someone finally broke the silence.
The speaker was a youthful man among the group standing upon sword-light, one of the four factions present.