Ning Family

Within the Yun Clan's ancestral hall courtyard, Yun Long sat cross-legged with his eyes closed.

His breathing was long and steady, as though he were deeply immersed in cultivation.

In truth, his mind had long since spread outward, sensing the situation beyond Evergreen Valley.

He had not released his Spiritual Sense. It was not yet time to expose his strength.

For days now, Evergreen Valley had been surrounded by spies planted by the various clans of Wanfang Lake.

Those prying gazes clung like maggots to the bone, unbearably irritating.

The figures of Xiantian realm martial artists flickered in and out of sight among the woods and behind the rocks, too numerous to estimate.

From time to time, one or two waves of Spiritual Sense unique to Qi Refining Stage cultivators swept past like venomous snakes before quietly concealing themselves again.

The air was saturated with the heavy, oppressive stillness before a mountain storm.

The Cheng Family's marriage proposal convoy from Donghu City dawdled until the afternoon before finally setting out.

Carriages, horses, servants, guards, and gifts formed a long procession.

The convoy slowly advanced toward Evergreen Valley.

The curtain of one carriage was lifted by the wind at one corner, revealing a scarlet bundle inside.

It was the embroidered ball Cheng Ningcui had thrown several days ago.

Only now, it was stained through with long-dried blood, giving it an eerie, darkened hue.

Cheng Mingyue sat inside the carriage beside his wife.

The carriage was not particularly spacious, yet its atmosphere had frozen solid like ice.

The husband and wife were both ashen-faced and silent as cicadas in winter, even deliberately keeping their breaths exceedingly light.

That was because another person was seated within the small carriage.

A withered old man in gray robes sat there with his eyes half-open and half-closed. He was Mo Wenjian, a Qi Refining Stage cultivator of Donghu City's Mo Family.

He was already one hundred and forty-three years old, with cultivation at the peak of the Sixth Level of Qi Refining.

After a long while, Mo Wenjian's dry lips moved faintly.

"After all these years, through three generations, the Cheng Family still hasn't produced a single person with a Spiritual Root."

His voice was calm, devoid of any discernible emotion.

"If you must blame someone, blame your own rotten fate. You cannot blame anyone else."

The Cheng Family's marriage proposal convoy bound for Evergreen Valley moved slowly.

The carriage wheels rolled over the official road, kicking up clouds of dust, while the servants' and guards' footsteps seemed especially heavy.

The afterglow of the setting sun was like spilled blood smeared across the western horizon, sketching the outlines of the distant mountains ever more darkly.

With twenty li still remaining before Evergreen Valley, night rapidly descended.

The curtain of night, like a monstrous beast that chose its prey and devoured it, was opening its blood-filled maw.

Ning Yongrui stood atop an inconspicuous hillside, his robes stirring faintly in the evening breeze.

He silently watched the Cheng Family convoy crawl along like a snail, yet not a single person stepped forward to stop it.

The other two families of Wanfang Lake both wished to sit atop the mountain and watch tigers fight. Neither wished to be the first bird to stick its neck out.

Were they truly going to watch helplessly as the Cheng Family marched brazenly into Evergreen Valley?

Were they not afraid that what the Yun Clan possessed would fall into the Mo Family's hands?

The corner of Ning Yongrui's lips lifted into a faint smile whose meaning was difficult to discern.

The sky was about to turn completely dark.

It seems tonight's bloody dispute will ultimately have to be stirred up by my own hand.

With that thought, Ning Yongrui no longer deliberately restrained his aura.

His figure flickered. Like a ghost, he appeared soundlessly a hundred zhang before the Cheng Family convoy, blocking its path.

Inside the fairly spacious carriage at the front of the convoy, Mo Wenjian's withered eyelids twitched faintly.

His half-lidded eyes abruptly shot forth two beams of sharp light, as though they could pierce the carriage and stare directly ahead.

"Hehe, Commander Ning."

Mo Wenjian's voice was dry and hoarse, like two rotten logs rubbing together, yet it clearly reached the ears of everyone outside the carriage.

"This old man truly did not expect that the first one unable to hold back, the first to jump out and play the leading bird, would be your Ning Family."

He did not hurry to reveal himself, remaining seated in the carriage as he continued, "Come to think of it, ever since your Ning Family set foot in Wanfang Lake over forty years ago, this place has never known true peace."

"As Wanfang Lake's commander, Commander Ning, you must have investigated the Yun Clan's background more thoroughly than anyone. Perhaps you had already made contact with them long ago?"

Mo Wenjian abruptly changed tack, his tone carrying a trace of mockery. "No, that is not right. Perhaps the Yun Clan had been a chess piece laid down by your Ning Family from the very beginning."

He paused, and his voice suddenly turned cold. "But Commander Ning, do you truly intend to determine who is superior here with an old man like me, one foot already in the grave?"

Ning Yongrui stood with his hands behind his back, the evening wind stirring the hair before his forehead. His expression remained calm and unruffled.

"Mo Wenjian, within Great Xia, if you have the courage to self-detonate, then feel free to try. If you do not, you alone are probably no match for me."

His voice was not loud, yet it carried an authority that could not be questioned.

The more abundant the Qi accumulated within a Qi Refining Stage cultivator's body, the more earthshaking the power produced once they chose to self-detonate.

Cultivators and mundane martial artists were ultimately as far apart as clouds and mud.

If an old monster like Mo Wenjian, at the peak of the Sixth Level of Qi Refining, truly detonated himself without restraint within Donghu City, the entire city would likely be reduced to scorched earth, with not a single mortal spared.

However, the Great Xia Dynasty had ironclad laws.

Any cultivator who dared self-detonate would bring a thunderous purge from the dynasty upon their clan and bloodline.

This was the deadliest sword hanging above the heads of all cultivators.

With a rustle, the carriage curtain was thrown open.

Mo Wenjian's gaunt figure slowly emerged from the carriage. His feet stepped onto the hard ground of the official road, producing a faint dull sound.

The night wind stirred the hem of his gray, lifeless robes. His half-lidded eyes were now fully open, fierce light flashing within them as they locked tightly onto Ning Yongrui.

Of course, he understood where Ning Yongrui's confidence came from.

The Wanfang Lake commander invested by the Great Xia Dynasty cultivated the mid-grade Qi Refining technique Three-Nine Snow Cold Qi and had also learned numerous secret arts passed down by the imperial court. He was far beyond a cultivator from a local family like Mo Wenjian.

A sense of helplessness rose within Mo Wenjian's heart.

Just the method of riding Qi through the air was something that, throughout all Wanfang Lake, only members of the Ning Family could employ.

This meant Ning Yongrui could fight if he wished, leave if he wished, and stand in an undefeated position.

Meanwhile, the Mo Family's inherited Green Lake Jade Water Qi was merely two-inch, low-grade water-aspected Qi. Before Ning Yongrui's Three-Nine Snow Cold Qi, it had simply encountered its natural bane and was restrained at every turn.

The night wind suddenly surged, whipping the hem of Mo Wenjian's gray robes.

His withered hand slammed forward. Turquoise true Qi roared forth, carrying bone-piercing cold as it shot straight toward Ning Yongrui's face.

Ning Yongrui did not move. He merely raised his right hand and casually brushed it aside.

Though the gesture seemed light and effortless, an even purer cold Qi sprang into being from thin air, easily freezing and crushing the turquoise true Qi.

The savagery in Mo Wenjian's eyes surged as his assault grew fiercer.

His palms danced, streams of jade-colored force biting toward Ning Yongrui's vital points like venomous snakes.

Ning Yongrui remained composed throughout. His footwork seemed slow yet was actually swift as he shifted within a tiny space. Every strike perfectly dissolved Mo Wenjian's attacks, yet he made no hurry to utterly defeat him.

After once more lightly deflecting a fierce palm wind, Ning Yongrui spoke evenly, as if chatting with an old friend. "I am curious. Why is the Mo Family so eager, willing to be the first to jump out?"

Mo Wenjian turned a deaf ear, clenching his teeth as his attacks became even more violent. Every move carried the resolve to shatter jade and stone together.

The Cheng Family convoy had long since descended into chaos.

Seeing two Qi Refining Stage cultivators fighting to the death, how could those servants and guards dare linger for even a moment? They screamed and fled in all directions.

Cheng Mingyue dragged his wife along, blending into the crowd as he desperately fled toward the outskirts of Evergreen Valley.

His heart was filled with endless unwillingness.

Before they could get very far, several figures pounced from the woods beside the road like ghosts.

Cold flashes of blades and swords swept past, and screams rose one after another.

Cheng Mingyue watched helplessly as his wife's throat was sealed by a single sword, blood dyeing his vision red.

He roared and tried to resist, only to be surrounded by four Xiantian martial artists.

Blades and swords struck his body. Agonizing pain surged through him, and Cheng Mingyue's consciousness gradually blurred.

His body crashed to the ground, his wide-open eyes facing the boundless night sky, displaying his unwillingness to submit to fate.

Within the Yun Clan's ancestral hall courtyard.

Yun Long remained seated cross-legged with his eyes closed, though his brows faintly furrowed.

The battle fluctuations of two cultivators at the peak of the Mid Qi Refining Stage clearly entered his perception.

Yet to his senses, those two auras seemed somewhat insubstantial and weak, far from the strength he had expected.

A trace of doubt rose within him. Was this the strength of Wanfang Lake's top cultivators? It still seemed far too weak.

And after so long, they had not cast a single spell. What were they waiting for?

No matter how they fought, Yun Long would absolutely not go out.