Wang Yuanjing sat alone in his room, carefully coiling incense. Despite the noisy rain outside, his hands remained steady. His movements were more delicate and gentle than a young lady applying makeup, and his breathing was so soft and distant that not a single speck of incense powder stirred. Such refinement was expected of a man from a noble family.
After preparing the incense burner, Wang Yuanjing rose to pour himself a cup of tea. No servants attended him inside or outside this dwelling. He had always enjoyed solitude, even as a child, to the point where he could no longer distinguish whether he truly loved tranquility or the status and honor it brought. In a large family teeming with children and grandchildren, having a quiet, elegant courtyard to oneself signified the family’s recognition and esteem—his wet nurse had often encouraged him with these words when complaining about the crowded environment.
Thus, after joining the Taichu Temple, Wang Yuanjing always chose the most secluded place as his residence whenever possible. This habit led Wu Yuanying, who loved lively atmospheres, to tease him for living like a hermit.
Suddenly, Wang Yuanjing felt a sharp pain in his hand. Looking down, he saw that the teacup had cracked, leaving a thin line of blood on his pale palm. He carefully arranged the ceramic shards on the table before going to the inner room to fetch some medicine.
For Wu Yuanying, such a minor flesh wound would have been dismissed with a quick lick. However, Wang Yuanjing treated his body with the utmost respect, believing it was a gift from his parents. This attitude extended to his martial arts practice. Despite his superior skills, he always fell short of his junior, Qiu Yuanfeng, in actual combat.
Master Cang Huanzhi had once sighed, worried that his good-natured disciple might be at a disadvantage. After all, in the martial world, where danger lurked at every turn, only the bold survived. Ironically, Wang Yuanjing ended up outliving both his fellow disciples.
As he emerged from the inner room, lost in thought, Wang Yuanjing suddenly froze. A young, handsome man in black sat quietly in his former seat, smiling at him. It was Mu Qingyan, the new leader of the demonic cult!
Wang Yuanjing’s pupils contracted sharply as he instinctively reached for the sword on the wall. Mu Qingyan casually flicked his left hand, sending an empty teacup flying towards him. Wang Yuanjing had to dodge quickly.
“Please calm down, Sect Leader Wang,” Mu Qingyan said with a smile. “If I wanted to ambush you, I wouldn’t be sitting here waiting. To be honest, I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”
In the long history of conflict between the Six Orthodox Sects of Beichen and the demonic cult, there were occasional moments of calm amidst the usual life-and-death struggles.
Wang Yuanjing suppressed his alarm and replied politely, “Cult Leader Mu, you’re too kind. I hardly deserve such respect from one so accomplished at a young age.”
Aware of the two eavesdroppers under the eaves outside, Mu Qingyan exchanged pleasantries with Wang Yuanjing before asking, “It’s simple. Who’s the person pulling your strings behind the scenes?”
The summer rain was abundant, and Taichu Temple was surrounded by grass, trees, and bamboo groves. The sound of raindrops on leaves and bamboo, combined with the croaking of frogs and chirping of insects, conveniently masked the breathing of Cai Zhao and Fan Xingjia hiding outside.
Wang Yuanjing felt as if he’d been hit in the face with a handful of incense ash, unsure how to react. “I… I’m not sure I understand your meaning, Cult Leader Mu.”
“No? Then let me be clearer,” Mu Qingyan said. “Who ordered you to explore the layout of the Chang family fortress’s formation?”
Wang Yuanjing suddenly lunged for the sword on the wall, his movement so fierce that he momentarily left his back exposed.
Hidden under the eaves, Cai Zhao observed this reaction and became more convinced of Mu Qingyan’s deduction. He exchanged a knowing glance with Fan Xingjia, who broke out in a cold sweat. As a clever person, Fan Xingjia recognized that this was exactly how someone would react when falsely accused.
In the brief moment, the junior disciples exchanged looks, the two men inside had already exchanged seven or eight blows.
Wang Yuanjing managed to grab his sword but was struck on the left shoulder, stumbling back several steps before regaining his balance. However, his opponent didn’t press the advantage to finish him off.
Breathing heavily, Wang Yuanjing shouted angrily, “Mu, what do you want? I may be your enemy, but I don’t fear you! Even if you kill me today, you won’t tarnish the name of our Taichu Temple!”
“You’re going to deny it until the end? Fine, let’s lay it all out,” Mu Qingyan said, standing with his hands behind his back. “I was there the night the Chang family fortress was massacred. It was indeed Nie Zhe’s Tiangang Dishā troops who carried out the attack, but someone else led them to the fortress.”
He continued, “The Chang family’s maze formation requires changing its core every four years, rendering all previous paths useless. This means that the guide must have deciphered the maze within the last four years. However, since Lady Cai Pingshu’s death three years ago, Master Chang has rarely left the mountain, with all food and water sourced locally. So how did this guide manage to decipher the maze?”
Wang Yuanjing replied coldly, “What about you? You spent a year recovering in the Chang family fortress. Surely you had time to figure out the formation.”
Mu Qingyan smiled, “Over a year ago when I escaped injured from the Youming Bamboo Path, I didn’t stumble into the Chang family fortress. Instead, I left a message at a secret location agreed upon by my father and Master Chang, waiting for him to see the signal and bring me up the mountain. I was unconscious when I ascended, so I couldn’t have learned about the maze formation.”
Wang Yuanjing retorted, “Master Chang is dead now. You can say whatever you want.”
Mu Qingyan smiled faintly, “I know very well that I’m not the ‘guide,’ and deep down, you know it too. It’s just the two of us here, so there’s no need to deny it.”
Wang Yuanjing exploded in anger, “Deny what? I’ve never even been to the Chang family fortress! How could I possibly guide the demonic cult there?”
“You didn’t need to go up the mountain to guide them,” Mu Qingyan said calmly. “While it’s true that Master Chang rarely left the mountain in the three years following Lady Cai’s death, he did bring one outsider to the fortress several months before her passing—Luo Yuanrong!”
Wang Yuanjing’s expression changed dramatically, his face freezing.
“At the memorial ceremony for the Beichen ancestors, Luo Yuanrong clearly stated that over three years ago, she was severely injured in another argument with Qiu Yuanfeng about Wu Yuanying’s whereabouts. Master Chang saved her. However, given that Master Chang and Taichu Temple weren’t particularly close, it seems too coincidental that he happened to be passing by to save Luo Yuanrong.”
Mu Qingyan stared intently at Wang Yuanjing’s changing expression. “It must have been you, Sect Leader Wang, who brought the injured Luo Yuanrong to the foot of Wuan Mountain. We can easily verify this by asking the disciples who saw you to take the injured Luo Yuanrong away.”
Wang Yuanjing’s face turned pale.
Mu Qingyan continued, “The Luoying Valley has a unique medicine called ‘Tracking Incense.’ If the person who takes it resists with their inner power, they’ll emit a special scent for two hours that can be tracked by hounds. Zhao Zhao also told me that Taichu Temple is the most skilled in medicine and alchemy among the Six Orthodox Sects. If Lady Ning could accidentally obtain ‘Tracking Incense,’ Taichu Temple should be capable of producing it as well.”
“You gave the injured Luo Yuanrong something like ‘Tracking Incense,’ then reluctantly brought her to Wuan City. Master Chang, being kindhearted, took Luo Yuanrong up the mountain for treatment. I even suspect that you secretly instigated the argument between Luo Yuanrong and Qiu Yuanfeng!”
Wang Yuanjing maintained a facade of composure, forcing a smile as he said, “That’s all hearsay and nonsense! If I had figured out the Chang family’s maze formation over three years ago, why would I wait until now to massacre them?”
“Because of the wide stream surrounding the fortress,” Mu Qingyan said slowly. “The Tracking Incense from Luoying Valley becomes undetectable to hounds once it crosses the water. I imagine the scent on Luo Yuanrong’s body would be affected similarly.”
“When Luo Yuanrong was injured, you only discovered the general location of the Chang family fortress upstream of that stream. To ensure a successful strike without alerting anyone, the mastermind didn’t act rashly. Instead, they sent people disguised as woodcutters and mountain dwellers to secretly scout the area. After three years of effort, they finally mapped out the terrain and layout of the fortress before leading the attackers up the mountain,” Mu Qingyan said, staring at the middle-aged man opposite him. “Am I wrong, Sect Leader Wang?”
Wang Yuanjing suddenly burst into laughter, almost gasping for air. “You’re killing me! Ha ha! What a joke! Me, killing Chang Hao? Massacring the entire Chang family? Ha ha ha! I have no grudge against the Changs. Go ahead, tell everyone, and see how many people believe the nonsense of a demonic cult member like you!”
Outside the window, Fan Xingjia turned his head, mouthing “He’s wrong” to Cai Zhao. Cai Zhao pinched him in response, silently mouthing back, “Shut up and listen carefully.”
“You did have a reason to kill Master Chang,” Mu Qingyan shook his head. “But it wasn’t your idea. The person behind the scenes was blackmailing you.”
Wang Yuanjing laughed even harder, almost doubling over—a very impolite gesture for someone usually so refined. “Blackmail? Ha ha ha ha ha! I come from a respectable orthodox sect. I’m above reproach. What could be used to blackmail me?”
“Of course, it’s about Wu Yuanying.”
The laughter stopped abruptly. Wang Yuanjing looked like a chicken with its neck in a vise, terror flooding his face as he recalled Wu Yuanying’s gruesome state—limbs severed, nose cut off, tongue removed, and eyes gouged out.
He mumbled, “No, it was me who went to Dinglu Mountain. It was Qiu Yuanfeng who captured our senior brother. It was him…”
Mu Qingyan calmly replied, “I’m not talking about the Dinglu Mountain incident, but the later attack by the Six Sects on the Youming Bamboo Path.”
A lightning bolt lit up the sky, followed by a deafening thunderclap. The light rain suddenly turned into a downpour, masking any sounds Cai Zhao and Fan Xingjia might make.
Wang Yuanjing staggered back several steps until his back hit the wall. He stammered, “You, you, you’re trying to trick me!”
Mu Qingyan stepped closer, hands behind his back. “The maze formation changes every four years. For the past three years, hardly any outsiders entered the Chang family fortress. Even those making purchases had to undergo multiple checks. The only exception was Luo Yuanrong, who recovered there for half a month.”
“I couldn’t understand why the peace-loving Sect Leader Wang would harm the Chang family. Then, a friend’s words enlightened me—Sect Leader Wang, someone has leverage over you.”
Wang Yuanjing trembled against the wall, his face ashen.
Mu Qingyan softened his tone, speaking gently, “That year, when Yin Dai ordered the Six Sects’ elites to attack the Youming Bamboo Path, your Taichu Temple was assigned to the rear. Soon, everyone got separated. You found yourself lost in a valley filled with towering stone pillars, surrounded by fierce beast statues. In your confusion, you stumbled into one of the caves…”
Outside, the wind and rain howled. Wang Yuanjing seemed to be reliving that nightmarish evening.
Towering stone pillars cast heavy shadows, with stone walls obstructing vision at every turn. Countless cave entrances loomed, each guarded by a grotesque stone statue—it felt like being in hell.
He had been terrified, frantically searching for a way out.
“Sect Leader Wang, those fierce beast statues at each cave entrance were Bixie,” Mu Qingyan’s voice continued. “The eight-clawed Bixie, capable of traversing heaven and earth, leaving nowhere to hide… Yes, that place was one of our cult’s outer prisons. Each cave had iron bars and cells inside, used to imprison enemies we weren’t sure how to deal with yet.”
“That night, to fend off the Six Sects’ attack, most of the jailers had been reassigned to the south. The Eight-Claw Sky Prison happened to be unguarded. Your luck was better than Guo Gui’s—he entered the wrong cave and was captured by the remaining cult members. But you, Sect Leader Wang, had clear passage with no one to stop you.”
“You stumbled through the pitch-black cave, with iron cells on both sides—some empty, others containing rotting corpses. As you walked, you suddenly heard the violent clanging of chains. You rushed to the iron door where the sound came from and, peering through the narrow window, you saw a familiar face—someone you all thought was dead…”
“Don’t say it! Don’t say it!” Wang Yuanjing screamed in anguish.
Outside, Fan Xingjia seemed to guess what was coming. He turned to Cai Zhao, his eyes filled with fear and horror.
Cai Zhao patted his shoulder reassuringly.
“It was Wu Yuanying,” Mu Qingyan said flatly. “I’ve checked the records. Wu Yuanying was tortured into a human-pig during Nie Zhe’s chaotic reign when bored subordinates amused themselves with cruelty. When Nie Hengcheng was still around, he should have been fine.”
Wang Yuanjing collapsed to the ground, trembling. The fear of exposure gripped him tightly.
“You must have been overjoyed to see your senior brother alive, eager to rescue him,” Mu Qingyan’s tone was slow and gentle, yet deeply malicious. “Oh, right. At the Northern Chen Ancestor’s memorial ceremony months ago, everyone saw Wu Yuanying—tortured for over a decade into barely human form.”
“The Eight-Claw Sky Prison used ordinary iron chains. Wu Yuanying was severely injured, his acupoints sealed, unable to break free. But you, Sect Leader Wang, were unharmed with your sword. You could have easily rescued him.”
“Sect Leader Wang, why didn’t you save Wu Yuanying then?”
Mu Qingyan’s expression suddenly darkened. “Because you wanted to become the Taichu Temple’s leader.”
Wang Yuanjing curled up in the corner, his face contorted with pain.
In that dark, damp cave prison, he had initially been overjoyed to see Wu Yuanying chained and gagged. But the next moment, an evil thought gripped him, like a demon whispering in his ear—
“You joined Taichu Temple first, yet he became the senior disciple when you formally accepted the master.”
‘He’s been suppressing you for half your life. Do you want that to continue?’
‘With the master dead, the uncle-master crippled, and junior brother Qiu Yuanfeng’s qualifications and skills inferior to yours, you’re guaranteed to be the next leader as long as he’s gone!’
‘Man for himself, heaven and earth destroy.’
‘Don’t you want to bring glory to your ancestors, return home in splendor, and make those who looked down on you see your worth?’
“You don’t need to do anything. Just quietly walk away…”
As he stepped back, moving away from the iron door, the wild joy in Wu Yuanying’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by disappointment and anger.
Wang Yuanjing thought his senior brother must have understood.
Amidst the frantic, desperate clanging of chains, he fled from the cave without looking back, abandoning the senior brother who had treated him like family since childhood, as well as his conscience. In the end, he successfully found his way out.
Outside the window, Fan Xingjia was stunned by this terrible history, his entire body cold and stiff as a wooden statue.
Cai Zhao kept a straight face, silently vowing to kill Wang Yuanjing, this despicable man, to uphold justice—even if Mu Qingyan revealed the mastermind behind it all.
“What a pity…” Mu Qingyan said mockingly. “When you returned to Taichu Temple, your uncle-master and junior brother had already conspired together. Cang Qiong secretly passed on most of his skills to Qiu Yuanfeng. In the subsequent leadership duel, Qiu Yuanfeng defeated you like a dog, snatching the position of sect leader. You gained nothing, yet someone held leverage over you. Talk about a loss disguised as a gain! Ha ha, ha ha ha ha ha!”
Wang Yuanjing frantically tried to explain, “I… I didn’t mean to. I was just confused for a moment…”
“No need to explain to me. I have no interest in judging the character of you Northern Chen disciples,” Mu Qingyan waved dismissively. “Master Chang showed me great kindness. I must avenge the Chang family! The person blackmailing you has been colluding with Nie Zhe for years and surely has their power base. You’ve been wary of Qiu Yuanfeng in Taichu Temple for over a decade, which shows it’s not him.”
“Now, tell me who that person is. I’ll kill them to avenge the Chang family and remove the one holding leverage over you. Isn’t that a win-win situation?”
A glimmer of hope appeared on Wang Yuanjing’s pale, ashen face. “R-really?”
“Of course! I have no connection to Wu Yuanying, let alone any interest in the petty squabbles of your Taichu Temple,” Mu Qingyan helped Wang Yuanjing slowly stand up, persuading him word by word. “Tell me who it is, Sect Leader Wang, and you’ll be free…”
“Alright, alright, that person is… Ah!”
Wang Yuanjing’s eyes suddenly bulged, his face frozen, a trickle of blood appearing at the corner of his mouth.
Mu Qingyan looked down to see a sharp sword tip protruding from Wang Yuanjing’s chest—a long sword had pierced through the wall, impaling Wang Yuanjing.
“Someone’s outside!” he shouted.