Chapter 24: Unannounced Guests Fly In, Watch the Waves Fall and Rise

Chapter 24: Unannounced Guests Fly In, Watch the Waves Fall and Rise

This Lotus Divine Palm was the highest skill within the Hundred Flowers Divine Palm. When executed, it was dignified and upright yet retained graceful elegance. Paired with one’s movements and footwork, it truly resembled a proud, blooming lotus—extraordinary beyond ordinary fare.

Ping’er’s Lover’s Spear technique, once unleashed, shared striking similarities with this palm style. Thus, their duel took on an air of martial dance. Every attack was perfectly synchronized; each stance flowed seamlessly, leaving no openings.

No wonder—their spear and palm arts shared the same origins, like two gourds growing from the same vine. During exchanges, even their thoughts seemed linked. To onlookers, the fight radiated an air of harmony, lacking hostility.

The crowd watched in delight. Their duel resembled butterflies dancing amidst flowers—flitting apart after brief contact, or crossing paths with wordless understanding. Blows that could have landed were always intentionally avoided, yet it seemed no mercy was given.

Outsiders couldn’t fathom it. Even Ping’er and Gu Fengchen were bewildered. What appeared coordinated was, in truth, their full exertion. When a palm strike or spear thrust stopped just short, it wasn’t inability holding them back, but the techniques themselves limiting how far they could extend. Advancing even a sliver more was impossible.

After dozens of exchanges, both grew uneasy. It felt as if their moves had been fully decoded—how else could they mesh so perfectly? Simultaneously, each feinted a move and leaped back, demanding:

“What spear technique is that?!”

“What palm art are you using?!”

Gu Fengchen knew mentioning Lady Xueyi would expose the White Lotus Sect’s covert ambitions for Mount Huang. Silently, he switched to Shaolin Sect’s Demon-Subduing Palm. Gathering Internal Energy, he struck. Though starting roughly ten feet away, his speed was lightning. By the time his palm force surged outward, he was within three feet of Ping’er.

Ping’er sensed the difference at once. This palm strike surged like a raging tide—irresistible. Anyone else would dodge; a clash meant shattered bones. Yet Ping’er held absolute faith in her spear technique. Ignoring the torrential force, she thrust her Lover’s Spear straight—aiming directly at the attack’s epicenter.

It pierced through his palm pressure like a needle-pointed needlefish through water, driving toward Gu Fengchen’s palm. He reacted instantly, seizing the spearhead. Knowing its lethality, he dared not relax. Channeling Internal Energy, he anchored his grip, then unleashed a relentless wave-like force crashing toward Ping’er.

Now immobilized, she could neither retract nor advance her spear. Trapped between them like a bar, she faced Gu Fengchen’s surging power head-on. Her Internal Energy couldn’t withstand his. Victory was his if he held the spear.

Then—the Lover’s Spear shattered.

It came in three sections—spearhead, shaft, and butt, each under three feet. Somehow, Ping’er activated hidden mechanisms, detaching the segments, a short fine chain flicking out to form a chain spear.

The shaft split, disrupting Gu Fengchen’s energy flow. His power vanished before reaching Ping’er. Ping’er counterattacked: using the butt as a spearhead, she stabbed. Gu Fengchen’s free hand caught it. Now he held both ends, leaving the middle segment clenched in Ping’er’s grasp—a deadly stalemate.

Undaunted, Ping’er swung her full weight onto the shaft. Using it as a lever, she coiled and kicked straight at Gu Fengchen’s heart. His arms were wide open to control the spear. As her feet struck forward, he could only arc his own legs upward—meeting kick with kick.

Leg techniques, however, weren’t his strength. Ping’er’s legs—thin and incredibly flexible—snapped out wildly from inhuman angles. Trained hard in Shaolin’s rigid stance work, Gu Fengchen lacked flexibility. Finesse overwhelmed force. He took multiple kicks to the chest and ribs; only profound Internal Energy kept his organs intact.

Even so, his qi roiled violently, surging like blood in his throat. Another kick, and injury was inevitable. Abandoning the spear was his only choice.

One violent heave—Ping’er went spinning through the air.

She somersaulted mid-flight. A sharp click-clack sounded. Landing, the Lover’s Spear was whole again.

No one saw how she reassembled it midair—just blindingly fast hands drawing thunderous applause.

Regaining her footing, she attacked before Gu Fengchen could advance. This time, her spear bloomed into countless plum blossoms. Thrusts now displayed at least five phantom points, making it impossible to pinpoint the true blade. Seizing it again? Hopeless.

Gu Fengchen staggered backward. This was untenable; counterattack was essential to regain initiative. But weaponry favored range. Her spear, nine feet long, pinned him over ten feet away. Unable to close in, he was a target. Using Lotus Palm would force another stalemate—a fight without end.

As he plotted, her spear thrust—uncharacteristically simple. This time, no illusions hid the true tip. If I seize it, he thought, yank it away before she breaks it, victory follows.

He moved to grab. Just before contact, Ping’er’s right hand jerked downward. The spear shaft bowed—archer-like—completely avoiding his grasp. Her move transformed the Lover’s Spear into a sickle-hook—the blade’s path now tracking downward, from heart to gut.

This twisted art let users bend the shaft with Internal Energy, redirecting the blade anywhere—even behind the enemy.

Gu Fengchen knew the danger. He’d seen Ling Ling perform it; almost impossible to block. Now Ping’er unleashed it equally ferociously.

The blade—serpent-quick—stabbed for his belly. Instincts took over. His Heaven-Defying Divine Art triggered in response: abdominal muscles contracted violently. His belly pulled back half an inch. He felt as if skin scraped spine, and guts crammed into some recess unknown.

Ping’er’s spear strike missed, an outcome she found unbelievable. Yet her reaction was lightning-fast. Drawing back her Internal Energy, the spear sprang back, its tip slicing towards Gu Fengchen’s belly. As the Lover’s Spear straightened from its curve, it effectively lengthened by several inches. The gap Gu Fengchen had shrunk into was now insufficient. This thrust would still rip him open.

Fortunately, Gu Fengchen was already in motion. Tapping his toes, his body shot backwards like a flash of lightning. Ping’er’s spear, having missed its target once more, showed not a moment’s hesitation. She closed in on Gu Fengchen like a shadow, the spear tip steadfastly aimed at his heart.

Gu Fengchen retreated so swiftly his feet scarcely seemed to touch the ground. With over a thousand spectators seated in the courtyard, the remaining space was already limited. The presence of the Sacred Altar in the center further narrowed the open area. Gu Fengchen could only retreat while circling this altar. Were it not for his exceptional lightness skill, he would surely have stumbled and been impaled by Ping’er’s spear long ago.

After circling twice, Gu Fengchen remained unable to break free from Ping’er’s pursuit. This girl, he realized with growing alarm, possessed not only divine spear technique but lightness skills utterly on par with her weapon mastery. His heart pounded with trepidation.

His gaze flickered towards Bai Jingjing. She wore an expression of intense anxiety, helpless to intervene and afraid to cry out for fear of distracting him. Beside her, Hua Yuehen mirrored the same worried look.

Seeing the two women so distressed over him, a surge of reckless courage swelled within Gu Fengchen’s chest. He thought grimly to himself: ‘I am a man standing firm under the heavens. How can I let women worry over me? Even if my life ends on this mountain peak, so be it!’

Courage fortified, strength followed. Gu Fengchen had retreated to the front of the Sacred Altar. He planted his feet abruptly, clasped his palms together, and slammed them towards the oncoming spear tip. Ping’er had been waiting for precisely this move. With a sharp motion of her arms, the spearhead instantly multiplied into six points, forming a plum blossom pattern that stabbed relentlessly forward.

Gu Fengchen had burned his boats; he would retreat not a single step further. If his palms failed to trap the spear tip, Ping’er would surely pierce his heart clean through.

His clasped palms struck towards the center of the spear flower.

The supposed plum blossom pattern consisted of five outer points encircling a central one. Gu Fengchen fixed his aim on this center point, convinced it was the true threat.

But he was wrong.

The true spear tip was not the central one. The Red Lotus Sect’s Lover’s Spear technique was unlike any other spearmanship. While most techniques placed the real spearhead amidst the flower’s center, this art deliberately concealed the lethal point among the outer petals. Unaware of this deception, Gu Fengchen fell for it.

His palms snapped together with incredible speed, while Ping’er’s Lover’s Spear thrust forward with equal ferocity. Their clash was swift as lightning. A sharp crack echoed, followed by a sickening thud. Blood sprayed into the air.

Gu Fengchen’s palms had clapped empty air together, failing to trap the spear tip. The true lethal point had been the one at the upper left corner. With a downward pressure from Ping’er’s hands, the six phantom points instantly merged into one lethal reality. It slid close past his clapped palms and plunged deep into the hollow of Gu Fengchen’s left shoulder.

Luckily, it struck slightly low, tearing through the muscle below his shoulder joint without shattering the bone. The Lover’s Spear was lethally sharp. As blood blossomed, it had already completely penetrated Gu Fengchen’s shoulder, protruding grotesquely from the flesh of his back.

Bai Jingjing and Hua Yuehen screamed simultaneously, leaping to their feet and ready to rush forward.

Yet at that moment, Gu Fengchen merely snorted coldly and committed a horrifying act.

Though impaled, he did not retreat. Instead, he lunged forward, straight onto the spear! The tip, already embedded in his armpit, now skewered him entirely as he surged ahead, like a frog pierced through by a bamboo spear.

Ping’er gasped in shock, bewildered by Gu Fengchen’s intent.

His purpose was painfully clear: even wounded, he meant to win this fight.

Biting back excruciating agony, he strode forward with great force. The length of the Lover’s Spear protruding through his body grew longer with each step, bringing him relentlessly closer to Ping’er.

Ping’er finally understood his aim: he was sacrificing himself, enduring the impalement, to seize her spear from her grasp! Now, Gu Fengchen had indeed trapped the Lover’s Spear – not with his palms, but with his own flesh and bone.

This left Ping’er paralyzed. Her opponent was charging forward at the cost of his life, controlling her weapon by force of agony. If she didn’t abandon the spear, she could never block his attack. But trying to break the spear shaft now was impossible. Even if she broke it, the embedded tip would remain in his body. Yet, if she let go, he would claim her weapon. Cult Leaders of the Red Lotus Sect had always treated this spear as more precious than life itself, never losing it even in the fiercest battles. How could she face her followers, poised to ascend as Cult Leader herself, only to lose the Lover’s Spear immediately?

In that split second of hesitation, Gu Fengchen had closed the gap. His right palm swept up, crashing down towards Ping’er’s head.

Within that fleeting instant, Ping’er also resolved her will: even if wounded or killed, she would not relinquish the spear! Raising a single hand, she mustered every ounce of her strength to block Gu Fengchen’s descending palm.

Gu Fengchen, at this critical juncture, channeled the full force of his Heaven-Defying Divine Art into that strike. Its power was truly earth-shattering. It was not just Ping’er, a girl; even the most powerful combatants present, Du Qianlong or Wan Chongshan, might not weather it unscathed.

As the palms were about to meet, Ping’er’s life hung by a thread.

Just then, a melodious zither note wafted gracefully from the main hall. The tune was gentle, lingering, and exceptionally beautiful, utterly devoid of any harshness or agitation. It seemed like a tangible thing, entering clearly into the ears of everyone present.

Gu Fengchen jolted in profound shock. He recognized it! This was the very melody he had heard months ago, on the Fen River, moments after mastering the Heaven-Defying Divine Art and setting out to rescue Lian’er.

The one who had played it then was Ling Ling.

In that heartbeat, a vivid scene flashed before Gu Fengchen’s eyes: pouring rain, waves like shattered jade, twin boats sailing side-by-side downriver, Ling Ling seated at the bow in splendid robes, her beautiful eyes holding countless meanings, her zither music flowing like divine music from the heavens.

And now, the player in the main hall… was it Ling Ling?

Gu Fengchen’s mind was thrown into chaos as memories of his time with Ling Ling surged through him. How could he bring this palm strike down?

Ping’er had also heard the zither but paid it little heed. Seeing Gu Fengchen hold his strike back, she redirected her palm thrust from upward to straight ahead, slamming it squarely against his chest.

Coinciding precisely with the turmoil in Gu Fengchen’s spirit, his Internal Energy had dissipated entirely. Ping’er’s palm strike was akin to exploiting a weakness.

Luckily, Ping’er had only exerted fifty percent of her strength, withholding a full-power attack. Even so, the blow sent Gu Fengchen staggering back several steps, a mouthful of blood spraying forth.

Seizing the moment, Ping’er slapped the shaft of her spear. The Lover’s Spear shot straight out, piercing through Gu Fengchen’s body. Had his Internal Energy not been utterly depleted, Ping’er could never have propelled the spear with such force.

Watching the spear soar away, Ping’er leapt upwards, darting past Gu Fengchen to snatch it midair. She casually wiped the blood from its blade.

With both an external and an internal injury, Gu Fengchen swayed unsteadily but did not fall. Neither wound was severe. Ping’er’s palm strike hadn’t been powerful enough to inflict more than the blood-spitting shock, which subsided quickly without aggravating his old internal injuries. Thus, within the blink of an eye, Gu Fengchen steadied himself.

Now, the victory or defeat was clear—Gu Fengchen had lost.

Cheers erupted from the Red Lotus Sect.

Bai Jingjing and Hua Yuehen darted forward to support Gu Fengchen and escort him back to their group.

They helped him sit down and tore open his clothing. The spear wound was spurting blood, the flesh around it mangled and torn. Though it had only damaged the skin and muscle, it was nonetheless a penetrating injury, not insignificant by any means.

Those behind them quickly gathered around. Qing Fozi examined the wound and declared, “It’s manageable.” He then tapped several acupoints near Gu Fengchen’s shoulder to slow the bleeding. Producing a bottle of wound medicine, he instructed Bai Jingjing to firmly hold the edges of the wound. As the bleeding subsided further, Qing Fozi poured the entire contents of the bottle – a gray powder – onto the injury. Instantly, the blood began to coagulate, and within moments, the bleeding ceased.

Hua Yuehen, knowledgeable and experienced, recognized the extraordinary efficacy of the medicine and felt relieved.

Once the bleeding was staunched, someone brought a strip of white cloth, firmly binding the wound. Seeing Gu Fengchen’s composed expression, everyone finally exhaled in relief.

Gu Fengchen felt immense gratitude, yet an even deeper sense of remorse welled up. He addressed Qing Fozi, “Thank you, Daoist. I have merely let everyone’s expectations down.”

Qing Fozi chuckled, “Victory and defeat are common fare in battle. What matters is this? We’ll have countless chances yet; take it step by step.”

Hua Yuehen chimed in, “Exactly. Once you’ve healed, who’s to say you won’t make a comeback from defeat?”

While their comrades offered words of comfort, back in the Red Lotus Sect camp, Ping’er’s triumph over Gu Fengchen was met with great joy. The zither sounds had long since ceased, leaving the surroundings in utter silence.

Shen Rou strode purposefully into the center of the field. Cupping her hands respectfully towards all sides, she announced, “The duel has concluded. Are there any remaining within our Sect, or amongst the friends observing, who object to the Cult Leader’s succession? Speak now.”

Silence hung heavy within the Red Lotus Sect ranks; none responded. The onlookers remained equally mute. After a brief pause, Shen Rou declared, “Since no one steps forward, it signifies consent. Well then! The Succession Ceremony shall proceed as planned. We welcome the Cult Leader to ascend the dais.”

As her words faded, the percussion and music from both sides swelled once more, this time louder and more triumphal, akin to a victory anthem.

Gu Fengchen seemed not to hear it. The strains of that zither tune still echoed in his ears. The dazzlingly dressed attendants flitting past his vision went unnoticed—as if his mind’s eye could only see that one face of unparalleled beauty.

Bai Jingjing, having witnessed everything clearly, saw Gu Fengchen’s distant expression and asked softly, “Just now… it was her playing the zither… wasn’t it?”

Gu Fengchen looked at her blankly murmured, “I… I don’t know…”

Bai Jingjing said, “If not for her zither music, your palm strike would have struck that young lady down.” Gu Fengchen replied, “A fitting retribution, I suppose. When I wounded her at West Lake, it was an identical scene. Today, roles were reversed. Each action meets its reaction… perhaps this was heaven’s will.”

Hearing this, Bai Jingjing felt a pang of sorrow, her heart lamenting, You still can’t forget her, after all…

Now, accompanied by the resuming music, Ping’er folded the Lover’s Spear and handed it to Shen Rou. Shen Rou dispatched someone to wipe it clean while Ping’er washed her hands and changed back into her previous attire. Only then did she step slowly towards the Sacred Altar.

This time, there were none to bar her way.

Ping’er ascended to the highest tier. Suddenly, the music ceased. Ping’er raised her hands towards the sky and proclaimed:

“Red Lotus blooms, auspice descends,

Divine guardians, light extends.

Shine upon this frame of strife,

Soothe this wounded vessel of life.

Preserve my Sacred Sect,

Blessed with endless might and breadth.”

As she finished, all members of the Red Lotus Sect knelt and bowed in unison, their voices ringing out, “Hail the Cult Leader upon the dais…”

Many factions and unaffiliated martial artists surrounding the Sacred Altar, having pledged allegiance to the Red Lotus Sect, now stood. They joined in applause, adding their congratulations. Then, from the heights of the Main Hall, countless colored ribbons and silks rained down, mingling with the ceremonial music, transforming Bright Summit into a vibrant, jubilant spectacle.

The rite progressed. Ping’er offered reverence to the heavens, then to the earth. Finally, it was time to pay homage to the Sacred Relics. The Red Lotus Sect revered two artifacts: the Lover’s Spear and the Twin Lotus Wrist Talisman. Gu Fengchen had placed the Wrist Talisman into its casket upon the Sacred Altar before his duel with Ping’er. Shen Rou now opened the casket, reverently lifting out the talisman and presenting it to Ping’er. Ping’er’s gaze shifted towards Gu Fengchen; she met his eyes, offering a smile and a slight nod of acknowledgment.

At this moment, her smile held no hint of mockery, only deep gratitude. Gu Fengchen returned it with a kind smile of his own.

Putting on the wrist talisman, Ping’er raised her arm high and declared, “This holy token has been lost for several decades. Its return to our sect today is a sign of great prosperity for us. And for all of this, we must thank Master Gu. I hereby declare the Red Lotus Sect and Broken Heart City have forged an alliance and shall never harm each another.”

The people of the Red Lotus Sect cheered enthusiastically once more. Yet the Broken Heart City side remained silent. Hearing this, Gu Fengchen merely gave a faint smile and said to Hua Yuehen, “Well then, I can rest assured to step down.”

Hua Yuehen whispered lowly, “But it might not be over. Even if the Red Lotus Sect leaves us be, the Four Great Clans haven’t said the same.”

Just then, Shen Rou presented the box containing the Lover’s Spear, offering it reverently to Ping’er. Ping’er bowed deeply four times towards the spear and proclaimed, “I, upon becoming the 15th Cult Leader, beseech the mighty souls of all previous Cult Leaders to inhabit this spear and protect our Holy Sect, that it may endure unbroken through the ages.”

Finished speaking, Ping’er took out the three segments of the spear. With two sharp ca-clacks, she assembled them into the complete Lover’s Spear. Holding it horizontally, she bowed towards the heavens.

Once this bow was completed, the entire ceremony would enter its final stage. Ping’er would descend the Sacred Altar, be escorted by her followers into the Main Hall, and take her seat, marking the conclusion of the Succession Ceremony.

But just as Ping’er bowed towards the heavens, right as she leaned forward, a figure shot down from atop the Main Hall of the eastern wing! This person moved with the speed of lightning and a shooting star. The instant he appeared, he had already landed upon the Sacred Altar.

Ping’er, leaning forward, couldn’t see the figure. Yet this man, upon landing, reached out and with a thump, grasped the Lover’s Spear that Ping’er held firmly in both her hands.

The event was utterly sudden. No one expected an ambush, nor did anyone know what the intruder intended.

Though in the midst of bowing, Ping’er only felt the sunlight above dim suddenly, as if someone had lunged towards her. Just as she was about to look up, the newcomer had already seized the spear shaft. Startled, Ping’er instinctively tightened her grip. When the man pulled, he surprisingly failed to wrest the spear from her.

Yet Ping’er’s position was extremely disadvantageous. Kneeling before this man was awkward beyond reason. How could it be that the newly ascended Leader of the Red Lotus Sect was kneeling before a stranger! Therefore, Ping’er’s immediate thought was to stand up.

Planting her knees firmly, Ping’er sprang up. Meanwhile, the man opposite, unable to snatch the spear, casually raised his palm and struck directly at her face. The two were too close; Ping’er had nowhere to dodge. She gathered her full internal energy into her palm and met the attack head-on.

Boom! Their palms collided.

A sharp cry of pain was heard. Ping’er was actually sent flying off the Sacred Altar by this single palm strike!

Shen Rou and the others, momentarily unprepared when the man first landed on the Altar, rushed forward now. Seeing Ping’er flung down, Shen Rou swiftly reached out and caught her.

At the same moment, Xue Wuhen, peerless in lightness skill, flashed onto the Sacred Altar. None could clearly see how he ascended; he neither leapt nor stepped, gliding upwards instead.

The intruder on the Altar had just knocked Ping’er away and seized the Lover’s Spear when Xue Wuhen arrived. Xue Wuhen raised his fist, unleashing his supreme skill, the Divine Void Valley Art, striking towards the man.

The intruder seemed utterly dismissive. Holding the Lover’s Spear in one hand, his eyes scanned the weapon intently. With his other hand, he merely raised his palm casually to meet Xue Wuhen’s incoming fist.

Thud! Fist and palm clashed. Xue Wuhen felt the opponent’s internal energy surge forward like a mountain. His punch had used seventy percent of his strength, yet it was completely inadequate. His fist was forced back. Alarmed, he hastily brought his other hand up, summoning one-hundred percent of his power to block the palm strike. But he still couldn’t resist.

The force of that single palm struck both of Xue Wuhen’s own fists back towards his own chest! Xue Wuhen, a seasoned fighter, knew instantly that his internal energy was vastly inferior to the assailant’s. A head-on clash would mean death or severe injury. He had no choice but to kick his feet backward, using the momentum of the opponent’s strike to glide down off the Altar. To onlookers, his ascent seemed like a glide, his descent like flight—a technique both exquisitely graceful and unnervingly strange. A collective gasp of admiration rose from the crowd despite themselves.

Admiration aside, everyone understood that in terms of pure martial prowess, Xue Wuhen was no match for this man. Therefore, all eyes turned towards this strange intruder.

He wore black garments and a black hood drawn over his head, revealing only his eyes. No one recognized him.

Shen Rou shouted loudly, “Who are you? Attacking suddenly with no provocation! What do you intend?”

She too could see this man possessed extraordinary, unparalleled internal energy, far above any ordinary master. Yet the ambush was undeniable, not something the Red Lotus Sect could fabricate to cover up their Cult Leader being sent flying. This reasoning held water.

The black-clothed man didn’t answer. He just stared fixedly at the Lover’s Spear in his hand, entranced as if mesmerized.

Ping’er, defeated in one blow and having lost the sacred spear before the assembled heroes and her own followers, couldn’t swallow this disgrace. Her delicate face flushed crimson. Shaking off Shen Rou’s hand, she vaulted back onto the Sacred Altar, determined to retake the Lover’s Spear.

Pure fists and feet, however, were no match. Shen Rou saw this clearly. She signaled beside her, and immediately someone handed her an iron spear. Catching it, Shen Rou hurled it towards the Altar and called out, “Cult Leader! Use your weapon!”

Ping’er, having clashed directly with the black-clothed man, knew his strength all too well. Seeing the iron spear flying towards her was precisely what she needed. She caught it mid-air, before her feet even touched the Altar, and instantly thrust the spearpoint towards the black-clothed man’s left flank!

The black-clothed man still didn’t turn. As the iron spear threatened to impale him, his left hand darted out like an eagle’s talon. Thwack! He seized the spearhead.

Ping’er felt as if her thrust had struck an iron mountain—immovable, unyielding. Unable to pierce through or pull the spear back, she managed due to her experience in such predicaments. Seeing the weapon immobilized, she twisted her body, springing directly in front of him. She spun her legs in a ferocious windmill-like motion, kicking relentlessly at the masked intruder.

The masked man seemed entranced, utterly absorbed in viewing the Lover’s Spear. It was as if the spear itself held some fatal beauty, luring his soul away. As long as Ping’er’s frantic kicks weren’t aimed at vital spots or intended to maim, he simply let them land. He took several blows without reaction, treating them like a breeze brushing his body or moonlight washing over him, accepted with indifference.

But his hand still tightly gripped Ping’er’s Iron Spear.

Gu Fengchen felt this person’s fighting style seemed familiar, as if he had encountered it somewhere before, though he couldn’t recall exactly. Just then, he suddenly caught a strange scent.

It was the smell of gunpowder smoke.

Everyone’s gaze was fixed on the duel atop the Sacred Altar, paying no mind to this scent. Even those who noticed it thought nothing of it. But Gu Fengchen was different. He remembered Gongshu Mo’s words that night, claiming a hundred catties⁠⁠ of gunpowder had been buried beneath the Sacred Altar to blow up the Leader of the Red Lotus Sect.

Where was Gongshu Mo?

Gu Fengchen swept his eyes around but couldn’t see him. Earlier, Gongshu Mo had been beaten severely by him, vomiting blood and barely able to speak. With no one aiding him, where had he gone?

As this thought crossed his mind, Gu Fengchen stood up and looked towards the back. He spotted Gongshu Mo crawling behind the crowd, right beneath the corner of the Main Hall, holding a fire starter in his hand.

This was bad. He had ignited the gunpowder.

In the novel’s hidden details: Gongshu Mo, as the Gate Master of the Mechanism Gate, had overseen the construction of this altar for the Red Lotus Sect. That’s how he managed to bury the gunpowder undetected. Deeply knowledgeable about ignition, Gongshu Mo had run a fuse through an iron pipe leading from the gunpowder to beneath a specific floor tile at the hall’s corner. Seizing a moment when attention was elsewhere, he lifted the tile and lit the fuse inside the pipe.

The iron pipe connected directly to the hundred catties⁠⁠ of gunpowder inside the Sacred Altar. Once ignited, anyone atop it would certainly be blown sky-high. Gu Fengchen could not afford to delay.

He had no wish for Ping’er to die. Secretly, he hoped Ping’er would become the Cult Leader, not Ling Ling. Gu Fengchen felt that if Ling Ling were leader, her responsibilities would drastically increase, leaving him little opportunity to be near her. This was a selfish thought.

He had no time to ponder further. Once lit, the explosion was imminent. Without warning anyone, Gu Fengchen suddenly shouted, “Get down… the Altar is about to explode!”

Even as he yelled, he leapt into action. Ignoring his own wounds, he pushed off with the tip of his foot and vaulted onto the Sacred Altar.

The assembled heroes froze at his shout, confused by his words. The two combatants on the Altar paid no heed, locked in their fierce struggle. Gu Fengchen dashed forward and reached for Ping’er’s shoulder. Mistaking his intent as hostile aid, she swung her palm back, striking hard at his face.

Unable to dodge, Gu Fengchen seized her shoulder and jumped backward. Smack! The slap landed squarely on his cheek. He hadn’t mustered any defensive Internal Energy, so his face swelled instantly and painfully.

He ignored the pain, gripping Ping’er’s arm as he jumped down, abandoning her Iron Spear in the process.

At that moment, the masked man snapped his head up. Seeing them leap down, he seemed to realize something as well. He sniffed the air sharply, his eyes suddenly changing expression. With a tiger’s pounce, he too leaped off the Altar.

Then, the base of the Sacred Altar thundered with explosion.

A massive blast wave shattered the Altar into dust. Countless clods of earth shot skyward, raining down like a mud storm. Fortunately, the structure, built mainly of compacted red earth with few blue tiles, produced less lethal debris. Yet, anyone standing upon it would have been torn to shreds.

The explosion was utterly unexpected. As the Altar disintegrated, many in the crowd were struck by flying earth and stone. More threw themselves flat; those unable to quickly raise protective energies covered their heads with their hands. Immediately, chaos engulfed the scene.

Pulling Ping’er with him, Gu Fengchen had already leapt clear before the blast. When the explosion hit, he shielded her body with his own, channeling his Heaven-Defying Divine Art to repel the crashing earth and stone hurtling towards them. Prepared and protected by his Internal Energy, he sustained no new injuries. Pin’er, beneath him, remained unharmed.

After the roar of the explosion faded, Gu Fengchen sprang to his feet. Looking for Gongshu Mo, he saw the man stumbling up, trying to flee around the corner of the hall.

Initially, Gu Fengchen hadn’t intended to kill Gongshu Mo. First, the man was grievously wounded, too weak even to speak. Second, Gongshu Mo was still a leader of the Red Lotus Sect; his fate ought to be decided internally. As an outsider, Gu Fengchen couldn’t just overstep his authority.

Seeing the escape attempt, Gu Fengchen shouted, “Stop him! He planted the explosives!” Xue Wuhen blurred into motion, appearing behind Gongshu Mo. “Stay put!” he commanded, sealing Gongshu Mo’s acupoints with a thrust.

Xue Wuhen’s Divine Void Valley Art was formidable. Already severely wounded and unable to muster energy, Gongshu Mo froze instantly. Xue Wuhen sneered, “Trying to blow up our Cult Leader? Cold-hearted devil.” Grabbing him by the neck, he prepared to drag him back.

Suddenly, Gongshu Mo choked out a muffled groan. His eyes bulged grotesquely, like a fish thrown ashore. His throat rattled, trying to form words, but no sound emerged. Like a punctured bladder, his entire frame slumped and wilted.

Startled, Xue Wuhen looked down. A Sleeve Arrow, coated in dark, shimmering poison, was buried deep in Gongshu Mo’s belly.

Struck in a vital spot, even without poison, it would have been fatal. With the lethal toxin, Gongshu Mo died without another sound.

Furious, knowing someone had silenced him, Xue Wuhen spun towards the crowd. Yet chaos reigned: some were just rising, others crouched low, some moaning in pain. The scene was far too disordered to possibly discern the hidden assassin. With Gongshu Mo dead, whoever stood behind him was beyond discovery.

Ping’er stood and ordered her followers to tend to the injured, assisting them away for care. Xue Wuhen contemptuously flung Gongshu Mo’s corpse onto the open ground.

But the crowd’s attention swiftly returned to the black-clad, masked man. He had escaped the Altar unscathed. Ignoring the surrounding chaos completely, his gaze was rooted persistently to the fallen Lover’s Spear.

Xue Wuhen was in a foul mood. Seeing that the masked man persisted in playing dumb, he flashed forward and appeared right before him, shouting: “You there! Return that spear at once!”

Suddenly, the masked man threw back his head and unleashed an earth-shattering roar toward the sky. The sound resembled the wretched screech of a howling monkey mixed with a horse’s whinny. Infused with supreme Internal Energy, the roar echoed down the mountain slope. To the listeners, it felt like tiny knives scraping inside their ears. Many couldn’t help covering their ears, unable to bear the sound.

Hearing this roar, Wan Chongshan, who had remained silent all this while, suddenly turned pale. He pointed at the masked man, stammering in shock: “You… you…”

As he spoke, he stepped forward, walked right up to the masked man, and slowly raised his hand to remove the hood covering the man’s face.

The crowd was bewildered, thinking to themselves—did Wan Chongshan recognize this person?

Seeing Wan Chongshan reach for his hood, the masked man surprisingly didn’t dodge. Instead, he shifted his eyes away from the Lover’s Spear and fixed them on Wan Chongshan’s face. His gaze held a deep confusion, as though he recognized Wan Chongshan yet couldn’t recall who he was.

Finally, under the collective gaze of the crowd, Wan Chongshan lifted the mask from the man’s face.

A collective gasp of astonishment rippled through the crowd. Everyone widened their eyes in disbelief.

For standing before them, this supposed ‘masked man’, did not look human at all.

He resembled a giant ape, with coarse black hair covering his entire head and face—bare only around the eyes, making his appearance even more terrifying.

Seeing this person, Wan Chongshan showed no surprise. Instead, a gentle smile spread across his face. Softly, he spoke: “My son, why have you come?”

Only when they heard him call out “my son” did the crowd realize: this was his son, Wan Xiaolou.

Indeed, most present knew of Wan Xiaolou. Being Wan Chongshan’s son made it impossible not to know his name. Yet Wan Xiaolou was notoriously elusive, almost never seen in public. The Wan family offered no explanation, leading many to suspect Wan Chongshan was deliberately cultivating an aura of exclusivity around his son to make him seem superior. Witnessing this now, they understood this wasn’t the Wan family’s design—the Wan heir truly had an ‘unspeakable’ reason to stay hidden.

Bearing such an appearance, how could he possibly appear in public?

Wan Chongshan gazed at his son, but his intuition screamed that something was terribly wrong. Otherwise, why would his son’s eyes hold such confusion? In truth, there had been no news of Wan Xiaolou since he departed months ago with Zhuge Ren and Nangong Yue for Goddess Peak. Wan Chongshan had asked Zhuge Ren about it once. The reply came that after descending Goddess Peak, Wan Xiaolou vanished, though he was definitely unhurt. Knowing his son’s temperament—his wanderings a constant trait—Wan Chongshan hadn’t worried overly much. As long as his son remained unharmed, there wasn’t a place under heaven he couldn’t tread. Wan Chongshan held absolute confidence in his son’s martial prowess.

But months stretched by without a trace, without a word. Doubt began to niggle at Wan Chongshan. Unease settled in his heart. He’d decided that once the Red Lotus Sect’s grand ceremony concluded, he’d dispatch searchers. Yet here, on Bright Summit itself, his son appeared as though summoned by the gods—a sudden manifestation that sent waves of rapturous joy crashing through him.

Du Qianlong and his wife, along with Nangong Yue, also expressed delight at his arrival, gathering around to inquire after him. But Wan Xiaolou remained utterly mute, only staring dumbly at Wan Chongshan. Thinking his son was bashful in such a crowd, Wan Chongshan reached out to guide him back to his seat.

However, the moment he grasped Wan Xiaolou’s arm, he felt resistance—his son, deliberately holding back, unwilling to follow. Familiar with this stubborn streak, Wan Chongshan paid it little mind. His eyes then caught sight of the Lover’s Spear still clenched tightly in Wan Xiaolou’s grip. Realizing his son had finally shown himself in public, it was imperative to return the spear. The Four Great Clans couldn’t be seen as thieves holding stolen goods, besmirching their reputation.

Thinking this, he smiled gently at his son: “Come now, Xiaolou, give the spear to me…”

Wan Xiaolou didn’t obey. He just stared wide-eyed. Wan Chongshan repeated the instruction. Still, no movement. A flicker of anger ignited in Wan Chongshan. How dare his son defy him like this—in full view of everyone!

His tone hardened to a command: “Xiaolou!”

A flicker of something like clarity sharpened Wan Xiaolou’s expression. Seizing his moment, Wan Chongshan’s hand shot out, grasping the shaft of the spear. “Release it! Give me the spear!”

Suddenly, a cold, murderous glint flashed deep within Wan Xiaolou’s eyes.

The crowd watched this father-son drama unfold, utterly transfixed. Cold sweat broke out in some palms—for they, too, sensed the killing intent radiating through the air.

Seeing Wan Xiaolou stubbornly clutch the spear only fueled Wan Chongshan’s fury. Channeling decades of training in the Eagle Claw Technique, he gave the Lover’s Spear a powerful wrench towards his own chest! Such force would have wrenched the weapon free from almost any other man; failing that, it would have hauled both weapon and wielder forward. Yet, astonishingly, Wan Xiaolou hardly swayed under the tremendous pull.

Wan Chongshan knew his son’s skill was comparable to his own—no vast difference developed in mere months. How was it possible he couldn’t budge him?

At that instant, Wan Xiaolou’s face contorted. He threw his head back and unleashed another monstrous, inhuman shriek. With a violent twist of his wrists, the entire spear spun like a whirlwind! Wan Chongshan knew instantly—if he didn’t let go, his entire arm would be wrenched behind his back. He had no choice. He released his grip and leaped back, roaring: “Animal! What are you doing…”

His words choked mid-sentence. Excruciating pain exploded in his lower belly, followed by an icy tendril of coldness surging upward.

He looked down slowly. The gleaming Lover’s Spear’s tip had completely sunk into his abdomen. Only the long shaft remained visible. His blood was already gushing freely down the weapon’s blood groove.

Wan Xiaolou… my son… you stab me?

Unthinkable grief and rage warped Wan Chongshan’s face into a grotesque mask.

The witnesses saw everything clearly: Wan Xiaolou reversed his grip on the spear, bringing the lethal tip forward. Without a flicker of hesitation, he thrust with devastating force—plunging the spear deep into Wan Chongshan’s belly.

The sudden incident left everyone stunned, for no one expected Wan Xiaolou to turn against his own father and strike with a lethal spear thrust.

The hall plunged into a deathly silence, as quiet as a graveyard deep in the night. Even the sound of Wan Chongshan’s blood dripping to the ground could be heard.

Wan Xiaolou gently shook his head, his eyes regaining their vacant stare.

It was then that the first cry of shock finally rang out, escaping the lips of a Jianghu woman.

Instantly, the crowd erupted into chaos. Du Qianlong and his wife, along with Nangong Yue, had been stunned by the spear thrust earlier. Now, they snapped out of their daze and roared in unison, “Wan Xiaolou… what have you done!”

Wan Xiaolou paid no heed. Suddenly swinging his single arm, he hoisted his father into the air. With a forceful fling, Wan Chongshan, trailing a spray of blood, was sent hurtling several zhang away. He crashed onto the roof of the side hall with a sickening thud, shattering countless tiles upon impact.

Already grievously wounded and near death, this fall robbed him of his last gasp of life. Wan Chongshan stretched out his hands as if trying to grasp something, but darkness finally claimed his vision.

Thus, Wan Chongshan, renowned as the mightiest Gate Master among the Four Great Clans, perished at the hands of his own son. And to his last breath, he never understood why Wan Xiaolou killed him.

As soon as Wan Xiaolou hurled his father away, the blood showering down enraged him like a maddened lion. He swung the Lover’s Spear as if it were a mere staff, forcing everyone around him back a full zhang.

Though unskilled with the spear, he now possessed immense strength. Infusing Internal Energy into the shaft, every sweep of the weapon sent anyone or anything it touched flying, truly like a tiger crashing into a flock of sheep.

Du Qianlong, relying on his own Internal Energy, brandished his Qiulong Staff and desperately blocked the incoming blow of the Lover’s Spear. A loud clang echoed as Du Qianlong felt his entire arm convulse violently; the flesh between his thumb and forefinger split open, blood running down. His Qiulong Staff nearly flew from his grip. He cried out, “Damned boy, have you lost your mind!”

Wan Xiaolou threw his head back and let out a wild, deranged laugh. He charged into the mass of martial masters, wildly swinging and sweeping his spear staff without pattern or care.

Though the plaza before the hall was spacious, the sheer number of people gathered made it slightly crowded. Wan Xiaolou’s spear and body moved like a black dragon churning the sea, and in moments, countless were struck and injured.

Seeing this, Gu Fengchen shook off his own wounds. He shouted, “Fall back everyone! Let me handle him!” The crowd, desperate for someone to subdue the madman, was only too glad to comply, receding like a tide upon hearing his words.

Bai Jingjing grabbed his arm firmly, trying to stop him from advancing. Angered, Gu Fengchen channeled a burst of force, easily shaking off Bai Jingjing’s grip, and strode forward. Ping’er called out behind him, “You are injured…”

Gu Fengchen was not unaware of his wounds. But he was deeply troubled; a far more crucial matter required investigation. Thus, his own injuries became secondary.

His doubt was simple: when he sparred with Wan Xiaolou months ago, the man possessed formidable Internal Energy, but it was nowhere near this level today. There had to be a specific reason for such an increase.

Watching Gu Fengchen charge towards him, Wan Xiaolou’s eyes flashed with intense hostility. Abruptly, he swung the Lover’s Spear in a sweeping arc aimed at Gu Fengchen’s waist.

Gu Fengchen didn’t retreat. Dropping into an iron bridge stance, he let the spear shaft whistle over his head. Then, activating his qinggong, he closed the gap, rushing directly into Wan Xiaolou’s guard. He thrust out a palm strike, targeting Wan Xiaolou’s chest.

Though crazed, Wan Xiaolou was by no means stupid. Seeing the incoming palm, he released the spear with one hand and roared ferociously, striking out with his own palm at full force.

Engaged in close combat, palm against palm, there was no longer room for trickery or evasion.

Gu Fengchen’s Internal Energy was renowned throughout the land. Though injured now, it diminished not his might. Wan Xiaolou, appearing utterly deranged, displayed an unfathomably deep well of energy. With two such powerful contenders facing each other palm-to-palm, predicting the stronger was impossible; only the outcome would tell.

Most in the crowd expected the clash of palms to unleash an earth-shattering roar. Some even covered their ears, dreading the blast.

But the result left everyone utterly confounded.

When their palms met, there was not a sound. Silence, absolute and profound.

Not only was the crowd astonished, but the two combatants themselves were even more shocked. Their astonishment arose not merely from the lack of sound.

Gu Fengchen had channeled every ounce of his formidable Internal Energy for this strike. While not enough to cleave mountains, smashing stone tablets would have been effortless. Yet, the instant his palm connected with Wan Xiaolou’s, his immense force felt like it plunged into a bottomless abyss—vanishing without a trace, like mud dissolving into the sea.

Gu Fengchen recalled hearing of such a thing. Long ago at Shaolin Temple, his master had told him: if you strike an opponent with all your might and your force feels like plunging into an immense ocean, it means your adversary’s skill surpasses yours by at least tenfold.

Only then could the opponent effortlessly dissolve your power into their own, rendering it null and void. It was like a stream merging with the ocean, having absolutely no effect. The situation before him perfectly matched this description. Could Wan Xiaolou’s skill truly have reached such terrifying heights?!

The realization washed over him, draining the color from his face.

Yet, when Gu Fengchen looked up at Wan Xiaolou, he saw a flicker of stunned realization on Xiaolou’s face as well, mirroring his own.

He had no way of knowing that Wan Xiaolou’s mind was reeling with the same shock—his own palm force felt swallowed by an immeasurable ocean, vanishing without a trace.

Gu Fengchen immediately retreated a step after exchanging palms, crossing his arms protectively before his chest to guard against the coming attack. For, according to reason, if his opponent’s internal energy surpassed his own by tenfold, he would surely exploit the moment when Gu’s momentum was spent and new strength had yet to renew. Having exerted himself too fiercely in the previous blow, Gu Fengchen’s energy was now flagging. He would be hard-pressed to withstand a follow-up strike.

Yet, when Gu Fengchen retreated, Wan Xiaolou also stepped back, stretching one palm forward, his eyes fixed on Gu Fengchen as if beholding some unknown creature.

At this moment, Gu Fengchen faintly understood. His opponent’s internal energy wasn’t vastly superior. Their palm strikes had collided, and both energies had neutralized each other, vanishing without effect.

Since mastering the Heaven-Defying Divine Art, Gu Fengchen had never encountered such a situation. What inner art could possibly rival his Heaven-Defying Divine Art?

Gu Fengchen’s thoughts raced. Suddenly, he surged forward, unleashing another palm strike. Wan Xiaolou raised his own palm to meet it. The second clash echoed the first precisely. It was as though these two warriors fought entirely devoid of internal energy. In other words, their inner power held no sway over each other.

A spark of understanding flashed through Gu Fengchen’s mind. He recalled the night after he and Qing’er had seized the treasure at West Lake and sought shelter in the wilderness. Wan Xiaolou had suddenly appeared, capturing the Yang Guan Thief. At that time, Qin Tangguan had been poised to interrogate the Thief about something. Gu himself had speculated that this something must be the Heaven-Defying Formula.

Could it be… that the Heaven-Defying Formula had fallen into Wan Xiaolou’s hands?!

Meaning, he too had cultivated the Heaven-Defying Divine Art!

Because Gu Fengchen and Wan Xiaolou shared the same inner art, this phenomenon occurred.

In that instant, Gu Fengchen was almost certain: Wan Xiaolou practiced the Heaven-Defying Divine Art. He bellowed suddenly, “The Heaven-Defying Divine Art! You practice it too!”

The shout shocked everyone present.

Ping’er and Xue Wuhen had both experienced Wan Xiaolou’s internal energy firsthand. Hearing Gu Fengchen’s cry, they exchanged a glance, hearts shaken profoundly.

Gu Fengchen continued his shout, “You seized the Heaven-Defying Formula, cultivated the Heaven-Defying Divine Art… You killed the Earthly King, Qin Tangguan…” He finally understood why Qin Tangguan, before dying, had stubbornly insisted it was Gu who attacked him.

Qin Tangguan’s fatal wound hadn’t been from a weapon, nor poison. He had been fatally injured by immense internal energy. Given Qin Tangguan’s profound internal cultivation, in this world, the only art capable of such a feat, aside from the Heaven-Defying Divine Art, was none other. And to Qin Tangguan’s knowledge, Gu Fengchen alone in the martial world had mastered it. He needed no deep thought to conclude it was Gu’s handiwork.

But now, seeing clearly, a second person had cultivated the Heaven-Defying Divine Art. When he injured Qin Tangguan, he must have been masked. Qin Tangguan couldn’t recognize him, identifying the culprit solely by his martial technique.

Ping’er and the leaders of the Red Lotus Sect reacted with stunned alarm. Lei Yin had already informed them and brought back Qin Tangguan’s body. After examining the body, they unanimously determined the injury came from the Heaven-Defying Divine Art, suspecting Gu Fengchen. Yet those within the Sect familiar with Gu faintly doubted, though the evidence seemed irrefutable, evoking silent sighs. Now, it appeared Gu Fengchen truly had been wronged. The murderer of Qin Tangguan was surely this being, Wan Xiaolou, who seemed neither man nor beast.

He had slain his own father. What atrocity was beyond him?

As Gu Fengchen’s shout faded, Shen Rou cried out in turn, “This man commits regicide and patricide! Acts only fit for beasts! Every righteous martial artist under Heaven has the duty to execute him. Do not let him escape!”

Now, not only the Red Lotus Sect but also members of the Four Great Clans surged forward to surround him.

Du Qianlong and his wife were close friends with Wan Chongshan. Witnessing Wan Chongshan killed by his own son’s spear was beyond horrifying. Since arriving at Bright Summit, this “Young Master Wan” hadn’t spoken a word. His first action was to seize a spear. Had Wan Chongshan not attempted to wrest the Lover’s Spear from his son’s grip, he might still be alive. It showed how deeply important this spear was to Wan Xiaolou—important enough to murder his own father to retain it.

Grieving bitterly over Wan Chongshan’s brutal death, the Du couple resolved to slay Wan Xiaolou before his father’s body, sacrificing him to appease the dead man’s spirit. Before Shen Rou even finished shouting, husband and wife lunged forward, confronting Wan Xiaolou together.

Du Qianlong wielded his Qiulong Staff, switching to a different technique. He avoided clashing the staff directly against the spear shaft, fearing the force might knock it from his hands. Though appearing crude, once engaged, he proceeded with utmost caution. Meanwhile, Long Xielan circled warily on the periphery. Clenching her jaw, she drew several poisoned needles into her palm.

Taking advantage of Wan Xiaolou’s stalemate with Du Qianlong, Long Xielan flicked her wrist sharply. Three poisoned needles shot towards Wan Xiaolou’s back.

By now, any notions of status or seniority had evaporated. Everyone deemed Wan Xiaolou less than human. A beast requires no such distinctions. Thus, no one found Long Xielan loosing poisoned needles from behind him the slightest bit objectionable.

Wan Xiaolou focused solely on fending off Du Qianlong’s Qiulong Staff. Though he’d nearly disarmed Du moments earlier with his spear shaft, everyone then was still unaware of his supreme internal power. Having disarmed Ping’er and Xue Wuhen, yet neither being noted for their internal energy, Du Qianlong had indeed been slightly overconfident. Now engaged properly, Du unleashed his martial expertise with the Qiulong Staff—not brute force smashes, but techniques of leverage, entanglement, pressure, and deflection: all ways of using skill to overcome overwhelming strength. Thus, despite Wan Xiaolou’s superior internal energy, subduing Du Qianlong was no simple matter.

Du Qianlong tangled Wan Xiaolou up head-on while Long Xielan struck from behind with poisoned needles. Wan Xiaolou seemed utterly oblivious to the latter threat.

All three poisoned needles struck Wan Xiaolou’s body.

Long Xielan’s poisoned needles were renowned throughout the land. A single hit could supposedly fell a man instantly into oblivion. Yet today, these three needles proved ineffective.

Perhaps it wasn’t the poison that failed. The needles didn’t penetrate Wan Xiaolou’s flesh. They merely struck his outer garments and tumbled harmlessly to the dust.

Long Xielan stared, aghast, her mind reeling. Could this person’s internal power truly be so profound? Had he truly achieved the legendary protection of the Golden Bell Shield and the iron-wrapping body?

In the martial world, there had always been those who mastered the Golden Bell Shield and the Iron Shirt arts. Yet these two external disciplines differed. When deployed, the Golden Bell Shield rendered the entire body as hard as metal, impervious to blades and spears. However, once invoking this art, the practitioner could not move even half an inch, nor could they release any breath; they must maintain a meditative state. Hence, the Golden Bell Shield was essentially an art for enduring blows.

The Iron Shirt was somewhat different. This art involved circulating internal energy to a specific body part, hardening it like steel, without encompassing the whole body. The advantage over the Golden Bell Shield was the ability to move freely. The disadvantage was that while one part gained immense strength, the rest of the body remained unprotected.

Both external arts were well-known across the land. If Wan Xiaolou practiced the Golden Bell Shield, it would be impossible for him to wield his spear against enemies while actively maintaining it. If he practiced the Iron Shirt, how then could he know Long Xielan aimed for his heart?

This thought flashed through Long Xielan’s mind, solidifying her resolve. She decided to try shooting at him again.

Wan Xiaolou seemed oblivious to the danger behind him. He continued to swing his spear wide, forcefully repelling all attackers. Seizing the moment, Long Xielan launched another three poisoned needles, this time aimed at his right leg.

If Wan Xiaolou truly practiced the Iron Shirt, he would need to channel his energy beforehand. No one except Long Xielan herself knew where the needles would strike. Wan Xiaolou could never possibly foresee channeling his qi to his right leg to block them.

Yet, to Long Xielan’s utter bewilderment, these three poisoned needles met the same fate as before they could not penetrate Wan Xiaolou’s body, merely bouncing off his clothes and clattering to the ground.

The poisoned needles were useless. Wan Xiaolou’s internal energy was exceptionally profound! Who could possibly subdue him?

More skilled fighters surged forward to surround him, but Wan Xiaolou, wielding his Lover’s Spear, created an impenetrable zone five feet around him. The only tactic left was to wait until his internal energy was considerably depleted before launching a fierce assault. All the fighters present understood this perfectly. Thus, while their attacks seemed ferocious, they conserved their own strength, focusing solely on draining Wan Xiaolou’s energy.

Just then, a signal flare shot up from the mountainside. This flare was peculiar; its ascent was accompanied by a piercing shriek that rattled eardrums and set teeth on edge.

Hearing this sound, Wan Xiaolou suddenly snapped to alertness. He glanced around, surveying the paths, then strode quickly towards the stone steps leading downhill.

Xue Wuhen shouted, “He’s trying to escape! Surround him!”

Everyone grasped Wan Xiaolou’s intent. That shriek was likely a signal calling him. It seemed reinforcements must be waiting below. If those external forces managed to fight their way up the mountain, eliminating him would become even harder. As one, they blocked the road down the mountain.

Even with astonishing abilities, Wan Xiaolou couldn’t break through the blockade of hundreds of heroes and escape downhill. However, this shift in focus meant most heroes concentrated on blocking his descent, drastically reducing the attackers around him. As the pressure diminished, Wan Xiaolou suddenly threw his head back and bellowed. With a whistling sweep of his spear, he forced those near him back several steps. Then, like a tiger leaping, he sprang onto the roof of the main hall.

There lay Wan Chongshan’s corpse. Wan Xiaolou glanced down, seeming to ponder something, a trace of confusion flickering across his face.

Seeing him diverge so unexpectedly, everyone froze in surprise. Shen Rou abruptly grasped his intention and shouted, “He means to flee down the back mountain!” Enlightenment dawned on the heroes. They instantly scattered and surged towards where he stood.

But by then it was too late to stop him. Wan Xiaolou cast one last look at his father, then turned with indifference, leapt from the main hall, and in just a few strides reached the edge of the rear cliff. He plunged straight down.

The heroes rushed to the cliff edge and peered down. Wan Xiaolou, agile as an ape, flickered amongst the rocks a few times before vanishing into the dense forest below. The back mountain had no proper path, only thick tangles of wild vines sprawling over an extremely steep, supposedly impassable face. But this posed no obstacle to Wan Xiaolou. Since childhood, he had lived alongside beasts, becoming an expert climber. Now, gripping vines hand over hand, he swung downward with effortless grace, descending like a falling leaf.

Seeing pursuit was futile, Shen Rou could only stamp her foot, silently cursing her oversight. When Wan Xiaolou appeared, there had been no warning; clearly, he had scaled the back mountain too. Everyone had concentrated on sealing the main road down, neglecting the treacherous rear slopes.

With Wan Xiaolou gone, the heroes exchanged dismayed glances, overcome by a profound sense of failure.

Suddenly, a heart-wrenching sob tore through the air. Du Qianlong had carried Wan Chongshan’s body down from the hall and laid it on the ground. He and Long Xielan now wept over the corpse, with Nangong Yue offering earnest but futile words of comfort beside them.

Wan Chongshan’s eyes remained wide open, his face etched with profound grief and confusion. Even in death, he seemed unable to comprehend why his own son would turn against him.

No tragedy on earth compares to this.

A grand and momentous Succession Ceremony had ended like this. A bitter taste lingered in everyone’s mouth. The members of the Red Lotus Sect experienced particularly conflicting emotions. The loss of the Lover’s Spear was their paramount concern and deepest shame. Ping’er directed Shen Rou to manage the matters on the peak while she led Gui Qulai and others in pursuit down Mount Huang to reclaim it.

Gu Fengchen also wanted to chase, but his injuries, agitated by the previous exertions, began bleeding anew. His wound was severe, a through-and-through penetration. The medic Qing Fozi had to remove the already bloodied bandages, reapply medicine, and bind the wound once more.

Meanwhile, Du Qianlong and his spouse suppressed their crying. Shen Rou ordered that the finest coffin be brought immediately to encoffin Wan Chongshan according to their sect’s rites for transport down the mountain. Suppressing her grief, Long Xielan thanked Shen Rou. She then escorted the coffin, leading the members of the Four Great Clans down Bright Summit.

Most of the heroes on the mountaintop had already dispersed. Gu Fengchen looked towards Hua Yuehen. Knowing he wasn’t ready to leave, Hua Yuehen said, “Let’s wait. It’s still early anyway, and the path down is crowded right now. No need to jostle with everyone.”

Gu Fengchen nodded gratefully. His gaze swept the main hall again, yet he still saw no sign of Ling Ling.

Shen Rou approached, offering thanks to Gu Fengchen and explaining the previous misunderstanding regarding Qin Tangguan. Gu Fengchen smiled faintly. “That’s inconsequential now. May Heaven simply grant that our new Cult Leader recovers the Lover’s Spear, preventing it from falling into the hands of evil.”

Bai Jingjing, noticing the thinning crowd, asked Shen Rou, “Why was Sister Ping’er succeeding? What about Cult Leader Ling?” Shen Rou smiled without answering directly. “That is our Sect’s internal affair, not suitable for outsiders. You’ve all endured much today and rendered our Sect a great service. Seeing that City Lord Gu is incapacitated, I suggest resting a few days before departing.”

Hua Yuehen replied, “Our party is large; we won’t stay on the peak. We will proceed downhill and don’t require assistance.” Shen Rou said, “Very well. As long as you are within Mount Huang’s boundaries, our people are stationed along the route. Should you need anything, simply ask.”

Gu Fengchen expressed his thanks, then rose and led his companions down Bright Summit.

Arriving at the foot of the peak, they had walked less than ten miles when the sky darkened entirely. Hua Yuehen saw that this place, devoid of village or lodging before or behind, was truly a desolate, remote wilderness. With a sigh, he had no choice but to arrange to camp on the spot.

For this journey, the group from Broken Heart City had brought tents and provisions, just in case. Now, these came in handy. At Hua Yuehen’s command, the sounds of hammering stakes and setting up tents soon echoed in all directions.

Before long, the group had pitched about thirty tents. The female disciples had quickly set about preparing food, both roasting and boiling, releasing wave upon wave of enticing aromas.

Gu Fengchen, despite his injury, could move without hindrance. However, his wound was freshly dressed, and convention forbade him from drinking wine. He could only restrain himself, swallowing his saliva dryly. Bai Jingjing tore off half a lamb leg for him; Gu Fengchen took it and ate some.

After everyone had eaten, Hua Yuehen invited Gu Fengchen into a tent to rest. He arranged hidden sentries outside to guard against potential ambushes and then instructed everyone to sleep for the night.

Soon, only the embers of the campfires remained visible outside the tents. No one was in sight; everyone had crawled into their tents to sleep. Yet, in the shadows, pairs of watchful eyes occasionally flashed, observing movements around them.

Gu Fengchen lay alone inside his tent, closing his eyes to rest. Waves of tearing pain radiated from his wound, agitating him into restless unease.

This trip to Mount Huang held profound regret for Gu Fengchen. He had harbored the hope that perhaps he’d get to see Ling Ling again, one way or another… perhaps even learn she had forgiven him. Now, he was leaving disappointed. With this parting, he wondered when he might ever see her again—what year, what month? Perhaps never again.

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, he found sleep utterly inaccessible.

Gu Fengchen quietly got up and slipped out of his tent. Above him stretched a boundless sky filled with stars, the Silver River like a belt. All around, the silence was profound, broken only by the soft chirping of unseen insects in the grass. Autumn frost was already gathering, the weather turning much colder. Yet, to Gu Fengchen, it wasn’t the coldness of the air that pierced deepest; it was the chill within his own heart.

He tightened his clothes around him and walked a few dozen paces away, settling down beneath a large boulder. He raised his gaze toward the Bright Summit.

Through the veil of night, a faint glimmer of light could still be perceived upon the Bright Summit. Gu Fengchen understood. From this day onward, the flaming torches atop the Bright Summit, belonging to the Red Lotus Sect, would never be extinguished. And where was Ling Ling at this moment? Was she still playing that zither song?

Gu Fengchen’s heart clenched with a dull, persistent ache.

At that very moment, a distinct note of a stringed instrument suddenly drifted through the night air ahead. It seemed distant yet simultaneously near as if whispered next to his ear, clearly projected by means of Internal Energy.

Gu Fengchen jolted in surprise, standing up straight. He strained his ears, but the music vanished. Had he imagined it? Just as he was about to sit back down, another zither note sounded. This time, he heard it distinctly, unmistakably—someone was playing the zither not far ahead.

In that instant, Gu Fengchen felt his blood freeze within his veins. He recognized this sound instantly. It was Ling Ling’s zither music.

Gu Fengchen stood and began walking toward the source of the music. Not far away, a figure rose silently from the shadows and whispered, “City Lord… be cautious, it might be a trap…” It was one of the hidden sentries Hua Yuehen had posted, sent to warn Gu Fengchen. Gu Fengchen waved him off, signaling he should ignore him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and walked steadily into the enveloping night.

From a nearby tent, Bai Jingjing emerged and, seeing Gu Fengchen heading off alone, made to follow him. Unexpectedly, a hand extended silently and gently grasped her arm. Realizing it was Hua Yuehen who held her, Bai Jingjing whispered, “Sister, I…”

Hua Yuehen spoke softly, quietly, “Let him go alone.” Panic flared in Bai Jingjing, “That person… it sounded like Leader Ling…” Hua Yuehen nodded, “It was certainly her. But even if you went with him… what good would it do?”

Bai Jingjing froze momentarily.

Hua Yuehen smiled understandingly. “Trust me. Since he has married you, he won’t abandon you. I have confidence in this man.”

Bai Jingjing sighed, a quiet sound filled with pain, “I have confidence too… but… I still worry…”

Hua Yuehen chuckled softly. “Women rarely feel confident about their husbands. But this brother Gu of ours… he is unlike other men.”

Bai Jingjing watched in silence as Gu Fengchen’s silhouette faded into the night. Her eyes held both deep affection and poignant sorrow.

Gu Fengchen traced the echoes of the zither music. Slowly, step by step, he walked on. After rounding a bend in the mountain path, a small mountain stream appeared ahead. Its clear waters burbled and murmured over the stones, a gentle, fragmented sound, its music soft in the night air. Upon an immense dark bluish rock beside the stream sat a person, their back turned unmistakably to him. The figure faced the flowing water, head bowed intently over a jade zither resting upon their knees.

It was clearly a woman. Her robes were pure white as snow, her unbound black hair cascading like a waterfall down her back.

Gu Fengchen’s heart began to pound like a frantic deer caught inside his chest. As he drew near, step by light step, soundless as shadow, he approached the woman from behind and came to a hesitant halt just a pace away. Yet, for the life of him, he could summon no words.

The woman heard him approach and abruptly stopped her playing. She did not turn to face him. Only the softest of sighs escaped her lips, a breath barely more than the ripple of a leaf into the quiet.

That sigh was faint, incredibly soft. But to Gu Fengchen, it struck with the force of a thunderclap exploding in his ears. Without the shadow of a doubt, the one who uttered that sigh was Ling Ling.

Yes, it was her. She had come to find him.

Gu Fengchen felt as though his knees were disintegrating; his legs trembled violently, threatening to collapse beneath him as he stood rooted to the spot.

Ling Ling carefully placed the zither upon the broad surface of the rock. Then, unhurriedly, gracefully, she rose to her feet. And finally, she turned around.

Beneath the spectacular brilliance of the starlit canopy, Ling Ling appeared exactly as he remembered. Her eyes sparkled like captured stars; her skin was luminous as fine snow; the curve of her waist remained impossibly slender. She stood tall and graceful upon the boulder, a vision akin to a pristine white lotus in glorious, perfect bloom.

Gu Fengchen stared as though transfixed, utterly speechless. In the past, he hadn’t fully appreciated just how stunning Ling Ling’s beauty truly was. Yet now, meeting her again after so many trials and transformations, he couldn’t quite grasp why, but she seemed even more breathtaking than before.

He could only gaze, captivated, utterly forgetting to speak.

Ling Ling saw him gaping at her, his gaze unmistakably filled with infinite affection. Unconsciously, a flush of shyness warmed her heart, blooming vividly on her cheeks. She averted her gaze, eyes lowering demurely to the ground.

In the past, Gu Fengchen would never have dared act rashly before such a lady. He would have meticulously observed proper decorum, perhaps stepping respectfully back before speaking. But now, from the very depths of his being, a surge of powerful, undeniable impulse erupted. Seeing Ling Ling blush with such bashful charm, he was seized by an irresistible urge. Suddenly, decisively, he took three large, swift strides forward, closing the gap between them. Both his hands shot out, seizing her shoulders, his grip strong, almost desperate.

Ling Ling started violently, shocked by his sudden action. In that instant of surprise, she forgot to evade. She could only lift her head to look directly at him. Her wide eyes held a flicker of instinctive alarm… yet beneath that, undeniably, lay a strange, unexpected yearning, a trembling anticipation.

Gu Fengchen’s gaze locked intensely onto her face for just one searing moment. Then, without a word spoken, he clasped Ling Ling fiercely into his arms. He clung to her so tightly, as though the slightest loosening of his embrace would allow her to instantly slip from his grasp forever and vanish into the night, leaving him alone once more.

Neither spoke a single syllable. Only the silent, ancient constellations witnessed their embrace. Only the murmuring stream persisted, flowing endlessly beneath their feet, its quiet music the sole accompaniment to the intense quiet of their union.

They remained locked in that crushing embrace for a long while. Slowly, Ling Ling became aware of a warm wetness at the edge of her hairline, near his shoulder. Pulling back just slightly to understand the source, she opened her eyes fully. A fresh stain of crimson was blossoming anew on the bandage wrapped around Gu Fengchen’s shoulder. Fresh, vivid blood soaked through the white cloth, darkening it even further in the starlight.

She tilted her head upwards to meet his gaze. With the gentlest push, like a breeze against a branch, she freed herself just enough from his encompassing hold. Gu Fengchen finally slackened his arms, releasing her. Ling Ling then lifted a slender hand, delicate as jade, her fingers extending. With infinite tenderness, she touched the soaked fabric above his wound. A faint, melancholic whisper escaped her lips: “You… is it still painful?”

Gu Fengchen shook his head emphatically. “Not pain from the wound. The pain… it lives within my heart.” Ling Ling’s expression clouded visibly, dimming with visible sorrow. “Did this injury… did I inflict it upon you?” Her voice quivered slightly. Gu Fengchen answered, firm and quiet, “No, no. This wound is payment I bear willingly. Even death atop that peak… would have been justice. I… deserved the outcome, every part…”