As they exited Guangtian Gate, Qi Yunke’s group wasted no time in the city. They quickly gathered Li Wenxun and others from the inn, then hastily left the city, setting up leather tents outside for a brief rest. Only then did Cai Zhao realize that Li Wenxun wasn’t alone; he had brought dozens of skilled disciples from his sect and several warrior monks from Changchun Temple. All were fully armed and vigilant, clearly stationed as backup on standby.
Though daylight had broken in the suburbs, the recent unrest at Guangtian Gate left the outskirts deserted. Once settled in the tent, Qi Yunke first asked Cai Zhao’s group about their recent experiences. This time, Cai Zhao dared not conceal much, truthfully recounting everything except details about the Purple Micro Heart Sutra.
Upon hearing about the Blood Swamp formation, Zhou Zhizhen’s fingertips trembled slightly as he reminisced: “That year, she suddenly came to me, excited, saying the so-called ‘witches’ of Luoying Valley’s ancestors might have hidden truths—so this was it.” The girl had said that old legends weren’t necessarily true, suggesting that good and evil in the world weren’t always clear-cut. However, the young Zhou hadn’t listened, merely smiling gently and cautioning her to avoid trouble. Many people and events only become clear in hindsight, leaving only regret and even a hint of resentment.
Hearing this, Qi Yunke coldly snorted, “Hmph, those Mu demons are all no good. They must have known about the connection between Blood Swamp and Luoying Valley, which is why they specifically brought the Cai family in! Pingchu was too honest and got completely fooled!”
While the two sect leaders were caught up in their emotions, Li Wenxun remained clear-headed, asking the crucial question: “Why did Mu Zhengyang take the night orchid mother plant twenty years ago? And why did Miss Cai later instruct the Blood Swamp survivors to destroy it?”
Cai Zhao calmly stated that this was still unknown, showing no signs of deception. Song Yuzhi glanced at her silently, while Fan Xingjia genuinely knew nothing: “We don’t know why the cult members insisted on going into Blood Swamp. The Siqimen people were still chasing us in the forest, so we didn’t dare go out.”
Qi Yunke continued his attacks: “That Mu must have some evil scheme, he’s just not telling you!” Cai Zhao earnestly replied, “You’re right, Master. Cult members are the most cunning; we can’t trust a word they say. By the way, how did you, Uncle Zhou, and Uncle Li end up coming to Guangtian Gate together?”
Song Yuzhi couldn’t help glancing at her again. Qi Yunke explained: “Actually, your Uncle Zhou and I had already invited Master Fakong. The night Guangtian Gate was in chaos, we three were already nearby. Ah we were just two days late.”
Cai Zhao frowned: “Yang and Song Xiuzhi had long-standing plans, colluding with outside enemies and scheming at every turn. Whether you arrived earlier or later, Master, they would have started the rebellion anyway.”
“Well said,” Li Wenxun strongly agreed. He had left the Qingque Sect only two days after Song, Cai, and Fan. “The day after Yuzhi and the others set out, I received an urgent report saying Siqimen had suddenly mobilized en masse, fully armed, rushing towards Guangtian Gate at night.”
The northern sects each had their own rules, and it was highly inappropriate to bring large forces into another sect’s territory unless facing an extreme threat together. Concerned about potential trouble for Qi Yunke’s group heading to Guangtian Gate, Li Wenxun immediately brought people to catch up.
Fan Xingjia’s eyes widened: “Right, those people chasing us had come from afar!” Li Wenxun continued: “I wanted to send a message by carrier pigeon, but I knew the Sect Leader and Master Zhou had left Peiqiong Manor. By my calculations, they were either on their way to Changchun Temple or had just left. Fearing the message might be intercepted en route and worried the Sect Leader might lack backup if fighting broke out, I decided to bring Zhuangshu and the others along.”
Cai Zhao had been nodding along, but something flashed through her mind at Li Wenxun’s last sentence.
Master Fakong said: “This old monk doesn’t know the reasons behind the Blood Swamp incident, but since it was Miss Cai’s instruction, she must have had her reasons. It’s good that the night orchid mother plant was destroyed. What’s important now is how to handle the current conflict. This old monk shouldn’t make decisions alone; we should hear Sect Leader Qi and Master Zhou’s thoughts.”
Zhou Zhizhen frowned, “The massacre of Hero Huang’s family and many villagers has become widely known after this uproar. The northern sects are known for their chivalry, so we must address this. However…”
Qi Yunke hesitated, then continued: “The difficulty is that if we pursue this to the end, it could severely weaken the northern sects. And now, with the cult…”
Master Fakong sighed lightly: “This old monk understands the two leaders’ concerns. I’ve heard that since purging the Nie-Lü rebellion, the cult has become more disciplined and open-minded, showing signs of resurgence. At this juncture…”
The three left their thoughts unfinished, speaking vaguely. Li Wenxun cut to the chase: “Then let’s deal with Siqimen first. Yang He’ying, that two-faced snake, wouldn’t be much help even if the cult attacked! We can put the Guangtian Gate internal strife on hold until Sect Leader Song wakes up and we hear what he has to say.”
All eyes turned to Song Yuzhi, who felt a mix of shame and anger. He spoke up firmly: “It’s my fault for lacking skill and being unable to uphold justice for my father and brother. I ask the elders to consider the bigger picture. The Guangtian Gate internal strife will be settled by the Song family.”
Li Wenxun coldly replied: “Good that you understand.” Qi Yunke patted his beloved disciple’s shoulder sympathetically: “Don’t be discouraged. Your master was called ‘useless’ for over a decade, but once I unblocked the ‘Heavenly Fire Dragon’ meridian, I made huge progress in an instant. Some setbacks aren’t bad for young people.”
Unlike Siqimen, Guangtian Gate was not only strong and influential, but most of its forces now supported Song Xiuzhi. With Song Xiuzhi having shifted all blame away from himself, it would be against northern sect rules for the Qingque Sect and Peiqiong Manor to forcibly intervene in Song family affairs. Simply put, resolving Guangtian Gate’s internal strife could only be done by the Songs themselves.
With major decisions made, everyone determined their next moves. Since they decided to punish Yang He’ying, Qi Yunke, and Zhou Zhizhen decided to thoroughly investigate evidence at Seven Bathing Mountain to convince Siqimen and the martial arts world. Master Fakong offered to accompany them, so Li Wenxun took his disciples to stay briefly at nearby Peiqiong Manor.
Song Yuzhi was eager to see his father, while Cai Zhao worried about her parents, so they naturally headed to Luoying Valley (actually, they also needed to find the Purple Jade Golden Mallow). Qi Yunke thoughtfully added Fan Xingjia to their group, saying, “Take good care of Sect Leader Song. If you have any questions, send a pigeon message to your Uncle Lei. Ah it’s best if Brother Song recovers soon.”
Fan Xingjia felt as if he’d been force-fed bitter herbs. After leaving the tent, he wanted to complain to Ding Zhuo, but Zhuangshu told him that Ding had received news from home about an elder on their deathbed who wanted to see Ding one last time, so Ding was either by the sickbed or attending the funeral.
Cai Zhao laughed heartily and sent the delicate Fan Xingjia back to rest in a small tent. After walking a few steps, she saw Master Fakong standing alone under an old withered tree. Noticing the old monk’s poor complexion, hinting at decay, she approached with concern to inquire about his health.
Master Fakong smiled and shook his head, “Young benefactor, guess how old this monk is?” Cai Zhao guessed from 63 to 78, but the old monk kept shaking his head. “Add up the ages of your parents and aunt, and you’ll be close.” The old monk carefully examined Cai Zhao, “When this monk first met your aunt, Miss Cai, she was about your age.”
Cai Zhao lowered her head and said in a muffled voice, “If only Aunt could have lived longer.” Master Fakong shook his head again, “This monk has lived long enough. My senior and junior disciples have all passed away, and all my disciples urge me to rest in the temple… Rest for what? To quietly wait for death? We’re all monks, everything is emptiness. Is there much difference between dying on a meditation cushion in the temple or in the wilderness?”
Cai Zhao smiled softly, remembering her uncle, Monk Juexing, once saying that Master Fakong was also a scruffy, unrestrained monk in his youth.
“So many heroes, whether brilliantly talented or commanding, have all withered away or retreated into seclusion, yet this mediocre monk still clings to life,” Master Fakong sighed. “My greatest regret now is not realizing Miss Cai’s intention to single-handedly kill Nie Hengcheng back then.”
Cai Zhao remained silent.
“To be frank, this monk was afraid then. Nie Hengcheng’s minions were everywhere, running rampant. I only wanted to protect the disciples in Changchun Temple, shrinking back, forgetting my duty to slay demons and protect the world.”
Cai Zhao lightly mocked, “Even the powerful Sect Leader Yin of the Six Sects forgot his duty and became a coward. How could the weak Changchun Temple be blamed? You shouldn’t feel guilty, Master.”
Master Fakong sighed for a while, then suddenly said, “Actually, years ago, this monk happened to see that Mu Zhengyang benefactor on a night journey in the wilderness.”
Cai Zhao was startled.
Master Fakong continued, “At that time, Miss Cai had been in a fierce battle somewhere, sustaining serious injuries, but her spirit was high. Beside her stood a tall young man with a blood-red mark on his neck. This benefactor claimed his surname was Yang, his face covered in blood that he refused to wipe off. I knew he didn’t want to reveal his true appearance. After offering Changchun Temple’s medicine for wounds, we parted ways.”
The old monk turned his head, smiling as he gazed at the young girl, “Although this Mu benefactor may not be a good person, in this monk’s view, his feelings for your aunt may not have been entirely false.”
Cai Zhao became alert: “You only met briefly, not even seeing his face. How can you know so much, Master?”
Master Fakong sighed, “Though it was a brief encounter, even a blind person could see that Mu benefactor’s care and protection for your aunt.” — Even after many years, he still clearly remembered those fierce, beast-like eyes, cold and guarded, yet strikingly beautiful; only when looking at Cai Pingzhu did those eyes show any warmth.
“For a monk, you seem to know quite a lot,” Cai Zhao couldn’t help but quip. Master Fakong shrugged, “Can’t be helped. In this world, men and women who believe they’ve suffered from love often seek refuge in monasteries. Your mother was the same, though she didn’t end up joining; instead, she turned Xuankong Temple upside down. As abbots, we naturally need to understand more. Otherwise, when couples come storming in with anger, it’s our peaceful Buddhist grounds that suffer.”
Cai Zhao chuckled, “Master, you must live a long life. Interesting monks are rare these days.” Master Fakong smiled gently, “After saying all this, this old monk wants to say… Young Cai, when you return to Luoying Valley, take a good look around. You might gain new insights.”
Confused, Cai Zhao asked, “What do you mean, Master?” Master Fakong sighed softly, “Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between attachment to one’s homeland and inability to let go of the deceased. Miss Cai has been gone for four or five years now. Young Cai, you have a long life ahead; don’t let inner demons constrain your spirit.”
Cai Zhao laughed, “Aren’t you overthinking, Master? Everyone knows I love a comfortable life – good wine, delicious food, entertaining opera, and pleasant days. What inner demons could I have?”
Master Fakong didn’t explain further, just shaking his head, “Your great-uncle, the late Hero Cai Changfeng, traveled the world. He often said, ‘True friends can be found anywhere; where the heart is at peace is home.’ This old monk offers you these words today.”
Cai Zhao was still standing there, lost in thought when Fan Xingjia came to call her for lunch. After the meal, Qi Yunke gave some final instructions to his three disciples – Song, Fan, and Cai – before mounting his horse. They all departed in different directions, their horses’ hooves kicking up dust on the country roads.
On a distant hilltop, a tall, slender young man in flowing robes stood motionless, his garments billowing in the mountain wind like the shadow of a giant demon. He silently watched the two groups below head in different directions.
You Guanyue looked into the distance for a while, then said softly, “Master, judging by their direction, Miss Zhao seems to be heading back to Luoying Valley.” Mu Qingyan’s eyes were deep and unreadable, showing no emotion.
Shangguan Haonan hurried up from behind, saluting, “Master, Elder Yan has arrived. He not only brought many documents but also said he’d discovered something important. Should we now…”
“No rush,” Mu Qingyan replied calmly, his tone distant and cool. “I can guess what Elder Yan has discovered. For now, let’s go meet the eldest young master Song.”
“Now?” You Guanyue was startled, “In broad daylight?” Shangguan Haonan asked curiously, “What’s wrong with daytime?” You Guanyue stammered, “Didn’t Miss Zhao say last night that it’s not easy to escape from Guangtian Gate during the day?”
A smile tugged at Mu Qingyan’s lips. “…Pathetic,” he murmured.
At Guangtian Gate’s Sacred Hall, Song Xiuzhi gazed greedily at the grand, black domed ceiling and the square obsidian floor, symbolizing the round sky and square earth. The high altar was dotted with candles, like a sea of stars. Above were layers of memorial tablets for Guangtian Gate’s sect leaders and their wives from the past two hundred years, along with renowned elders.
When Yin Qinglian was alive, Song Xiuzhi wasn’t allowed to enter this place. After her death, he could only stand at the edge during ceremonies, while Song Maozhi and Song Yuzhi flanked their father Song Shijun in the prominent center.
“Hehehe…” He stared fixedly at Yin Qinglian’s tablet, letting out an almost maniacal low laugh. “Song Maozhi of great reputation, Song Yuzhi of deep wisdom – such grand aspirations, such pleasing names. Yet they’ve all become my defeated opponents, hahaha…”
“That’s not untrue,” a clear male voice suddenly rang out, laced with amusement. Song Xiuzhi immediately became alert, shouting harshly, “Who’s there? Show yourself!” He simultaneously pulled down a mechanism at the corner of the table, triggering a shrill bugle call outside.
Dozens of guards stationed outside the Sacred Hall burst in, some with bows and arrows, others wielding gleaming swords and blades. Mu Qingyan stood calmly in the center of the hall, “Why such a commotion, Young Master Song? I merely wish to ask you two questions. Please dismiss these guards.”
Song Xiuzhi coldly replied, “Righteousness and evil cannot coexist. Guangtian Gate has nothing to say to the demonic cult!”
“Righteousness and evil?” Mu Qingyan laughed, “I haven’t falsely accused my siblings, of causing their deaths, nor have I colluded with outside enemies to harm my father. Between us, whose hands are stained with the blood of their flesh and blood? No matter how well you speak or how cleanly you shirk responsibility, it’s just self-deception. Do you think the world doesn’t know what kind of person you are?”
Mu Qingyan, already known for his sharp tongue, held nothing back, his words cutting to the bone. The surrounding guards exchanged glances, unable to ignore what they’d heard.
“You-!” Song Xiuzhi’s jaw tightened, his gaze venomous. “Demonic cult fiend with your glib tongue, I’ll execute you today and rid the world of a great evil!” With a gesture from him, the guards shouted fiercely and attacked in unison.
Mu Qingyan laughed loudly, his palms striking out repeatedly. His sleeve wind and energy whirled wildly, like an invisible force surging toward the guards. The hall filled with the clanging of metal, and when the guards finally steadied themselves against the fierce wind, they were shocked to find their weapons shortened – sword tips missing, blade points gone, arrowheads vanished…
Mu Qingyan turned back, his sleeve rising to grasp at the air. A crystal oil lamp exploded next to Song Xiuzhi’s face, hot oil splashing onto his face and clothes. Song Xiuzhi stood frozen, terrified.
Mu Qingyan’s wide sleeves fell, his energy receding. He seemed to transform back into a refined young master admiring flowers and the moon. He spoke calmly, “I asked the guards to leave for your own good, Young Master Song. If you don’t wish it, I can ask in their presence – may I ask, was the person who told you about Seven Bathing Mountain wearing black and masked…”
Before he could finish, Song Xiuzhi hastily ordered, “All guards withdraw, close the hall doors, and everyone move twenty paces away from the Sacred Hall!” The guards hesitated but eventually obeyed, retreating outside.
In the vast, silent Sacred Hall, only Mu and Song remained. Song Xiuzhi’s eyes were dark as he asked hatefully in a low voice, “What do you know?!”
Mu Qingyan paced leisurely in the hall, hands behind his back. “Several months ago, you suddenly learned that Yang He’ying was creating corpse puppets in Seven Bathing Mountain, so you went there personally. In that mountain, you met Yang He’ying ‘busy’ at work, and you two like-minded individuals immediately hatched a vicious plan.”
“After returning to Guangtian Gate, you had someone casually mention Seven Bathing Mountain to Song Maozhi. The more he itched to go, the more you tried to stop him. Song Maozhi finally couldn’t resist and went off alone to recruit forces. Once Song Maozhi had stirred things up, Yang He’ying ordered his men to kill all of Song Maozhi’s newly recruited forces in one night, then used Guangtian Gate’s techniques to kill the long-imprisoned Yellow Sand Gang members, thus completing the scheme.”
“A few days later, Yang He’ying ‘discovered’ the tragic deaths of Hero Huang’s family and came to Guangtian Gate demanding an explanation. Then, you faked an assassination attempt and accusingly pointed out Song Maozhi’s suspicious recent behavior… That’s about it, right?”
As he spoke, Mu Qingyan observed Song Xiuzhi, noting his changing expressions and the fear and doubt in his eyes. He knew he had hit close to the truth.
Song Xiuzhi struggled to maintain composure. “How do you know all this? Did… did Yang He’ying tell you?”
Mu Qingyan replied coolly, “I’ve always been suspicious of how an illegitimate son with no power or influence could orchestrate such an elaborate scheme. It’s not that you lack cunning, but that you lack sufficient manpower and informants.”
“Have you finished mocking me?” Song Xiuzhi said coldly. “Guangtian Gate’s leaders have always taken multiple wives and concubines, producing many children, then choosing the most outstanding to be the next leader. There’s no distinction between legitimate and illegitimate children. Why shouldn’t I compete for the position?”
“Of course, you can compete. I even admire you for it,” Mu Qingyan chuckled. “However, if we truly followed Guangtian Gate’s rules, the most outstanding Song family member of this generation should be Song Yuzhi, not you. Even with his old injuries, you’re still no match for him.”
Song Xiuzhi’s face flushed. “Martial skill isn’t the only criterion for leadership. Song Yuzhi has been pampered since childhood, looking down on everyone. How could someone like him lead Guangtian Gate well?”
“What admirable ambition!” Mu Qingyan clapped unenthusiastically. “Let’s get back to the main point—Seven Bathing Mountain is a hundred miles from Guangtian Gate. You wouldn’t know what happened there without reason. So, someone must have come specifically to tell you about Yang He’ying’s activities.”
“What I want to know is this: who was the person who came to inform you?”
Song Xiuzhi’s pupils constricted as he vividly recalled that night’s strange encounter—the black-clad figure of unfathomable skill, slowly and solemnly revealing Yang He’ying’s atrocities in Seven Bathing Mountain.
“To be honest with Cult Leader Mu, I truly don’t know that person’s identity.”
Mu Qingyan stared at him coldly, like a predator eyeing its prey’s neck, saying nothing. The silence held an intimidating power.
Song Xiuzhi, well aware that this demonic leader far outmatched him in skill and wouldn’t hesitate to take his life on a whim, began to sweat. “At this point, I have no reason to cover for that person. I don’t know their identity. I only knew their martial arts were extraordinary, their movements ghostly, and they were completely covered. I couldn’t discern anything about their martial arts background.”
Though disappointed by yet another similar result, Mu Qingyan had been prepared for it. He pressed on: “Was the idea to frame Song Maozhi and seize the leadership position your own, or did the masked informant suggest it?”
Song Xiuzhi’s eyes flashed with pride as he stated, “It was my idea.”
Mu Qingyan seemed somewhat surprised. “You heard about Seven Bathing Mountain and immediately came up with such an intricate plan?” His expression seemed to say: If that’s true, you’re a bloody genius at scheming!
Sensing the implication, Song Xiuzhi felt both embarrassed and angry. “So what if I did?! With careful observation over the years, many things become apparent.”
He continued, “Song Maozhi is arbitrary and tyrannical, yet Father constantly favors him. The three clan elders have long been dissatisfied, and deeply unwilling to see Song Maozhi succeed as leader! Yang Heying is vindictive and narrow-minded. Father, priding himself on chivalry, has never been cautious with his words and actions, severely offending this petty man.”
“Guangtian Gate may seem prosperous, but it’s fraught with hidden crises. Sadly, Father and Maozhi are too arrogant to notice or guard against this! With Yuzhi unable to return from Qingque Sect, if I didn’t step up to be the villain, should we wait until the Song clan members completely fall out and cause full-scale internal strife?”
These words had been bottled up in Song Xiuzhi’s heart for a long time, but he couldn’t reveal a single word to anyone. As Guangtian Gate’s most ‘humble and indifferent’ young master, how could he not only fail to warn his father and brothers but also have long-standing plans? Now, facing his mortal enemy from the demonic cult, he could finally speak freely.
Mu Qingyan seemed to understand. “Indeed, given Song Maozhi’s character, even if the three clan elders could tolerate him, their young followers might not.” He continued, “So you’re saying that your collusion with Yang He’ying, framing Song Maozhi, collaborating with the clan elders, and scheming for the leadership position were all for Guangtian Gate’s greater good, without any personal motives?”
Song Xiuzhi was momentarily speechless, a mix of shame, anger, and resentment rising in his heart. Suppressing his anger, he spoke politely, “Cult Leader Mu’s reputation precedes him. Even within Guangtian Gate, we’ve heard of you. Although the northern sects and your cult have been at odds for two centuries, the Mu family built their empire themselves. It’s truly lamentable that the Nie uncle and nephew usurped power for decades. Who wouldn’t applaud you for reclaiming your family’s legacy and avenging your ancestors!”
“While I can’t claim to be entirely selfless if it weren’t for Song Maozhi’s incompetence, Father’s favoritism, and my poor mother…” Song Xiuzhi’s voice broke as he continued, tears falling, “She was just a lowly maid in Guangtian Gate, but Yin Qinglian couldn’t tolerate her presence! Just a few years after giving birth to me, Yin Qinglian claimed she was ill and moved her to a suburban manor. Soon after, she said my mother had died from illness. It wasn’t until later that I learned… learned…”
“Yin Qinglian poisoned her? Slowly tortured her to death?” Mu Qingyan helpfully supplied.
“Exactly!” Song Xiuzhi exploded with rage. “My mother was gentle and weak-willed. How could she refuse when ordered to serve the young master? What fault was hers?! If she hadn’t left a final message hidden in her pillow, I’d still be in the dark!”
Hearing this, Mu Qingyan suddenly burst into laughter. “Hahaha, you so-called righteous sects always need to find a self-righteous reason for your actions! For the greater good, for your mother’s blood debt… If Song Maozhi were truly virtuous, if no one in Guangtian Gate opposed him if your mother had died naturally, would you then obediently serve under Song Maozhi?”
He stopped laughing, his gaze as cold as frost. “Stop pretending! The only reason you carried out this chain of schemes is that you want to be the leader, you want power!”
For the first time since reaching adulthood, Song Xiuzhi was berated to the point of blushing, yet he couldn’t refute it.
“Also, I’ve never looked down on Nie Hengcheng,” Mu Qingyan said emphatically. “On the contrary, his ability to seize power and win the genuine support of most cult members came from his hard-fought prestige. I greatly admire that!”
As he spoke, he walked towards the door. Song Xiuzhi stepped forward, hesitantly asking, “Is that all you wanted to know? Nothing else?”
Mu Qingyan raised his left sleeve, pushing it towards the main door. He turned back and said, “I’ve learned what I wanted to know. Asking anything else wouldn’t yield answers you’d know.” He paused, then smiled, “Young Master Xiuzhi, let me give you two more pieces of advice—it doesn’t matter why you did these things. What matters is that you must hold onto the power you now have. Don’t let it go, even if your father returns! If you can hold it firmly and for long enough, years from now, you’ll be Guangtian Gate’s legitimate leader. By then, you could throw Yin Qinglian’s memorial tablet into a pig trough, and no one would dare speak up!”
Song Xiuzhi’s emotions surged as if his deepest ambitions had been stirred. He couldn’t help but ask, “Cult Leader Mu, is holding great power truly so wonderful?” — Is it worth it, even if it means causing the deaths of one’s father and brothers?
As he spoke, the main doors of the Guangtian Sacred Hall had begun to open slightly, revealing the guards lined up in three rows twenty paces away. Through the widening gap, bright daylight gradually penetrated the dim hall, illuminating the exquisite reliefs on the black jade walls. The tall young man stood backlit, half in light, half in shadow.
“Wonderful doesn’t begin to describe it,” he raised his dark eyes, slightly dazed by the daylight. “With boundless power, you can have anything you want. You’ll never lose anything again, never be powerless again.”