Before Chengde Hall.
Tong Baixiong and the others stood beneath the corridor, waiting to be summoned.
The warriors outside the hall wore purple robes and held golden melons. Each stared straight ahead, fanatic fervor shining on their faces.
Fighting and killing were simple enough for a martial-arts sect, but establishing rules and regulations and maintaining strict order from top to bottom was far more difficult.
The reason was that martial men were naturally unwilling to be restrained, while most capable talents skilled in governing the world entered the imperial court and government offices.
From Pingding City to Blackwood Cliff, and from what he had seen and heard along the way to Chengde Hall, Zhang Yu felt that the Sun Moon Divine Cult had already begun to break free from the mold of a martial-arts sect and take shape as a regional power.
He wondered inwardly, Dongfang Bubai's plans run deep, and his civil and military talents far surpass Ren Woxing's. Why, then, did he end up...? Why did cultivating the Sunflower Manual to its depths change a person's character so drastically?
Just then, someone emerged from a side corridor and slowly walked toward Chengde Hall.
She wore a white dress and a gauze hat that concealed her features. Judging by her graceful figure, she seemed only fourteen or fifteen, yet her bearing was far steadier than her age warranted.
When Tong Baixiong saw her, he hesitated briefly before stepping forward, clasping his hands, and saluting. "Tong Baixiong, Hall Master of Wind Thunder Hall, pays his respects to Saint Aunt."
"Elder Tong, have you been well lately?"
"Thanks to the blessings of Eastern Cult Master and Saint Aunt, I'm in good health. I can eat three bowls of rice in one sitting."
"Elder Tong is a pillar of the Divine Cult. As long as you can eat three bowls in one sitting, the Divine Cult will remain secure."
Tong Baixiong laughed. "I heard Saint Aunt had been living in seclusion in Luoyang. When did you return to Blackwood Cliff?"
"The triennial sacred ceremony is approaching. Uncle Dongfang asked me to return and help handle the cult's affairs."
Zhang Yu now knew who the woman before him was.
The nominal second-in-command of the Sun Moon Divine Cult, Ren Yingying.
Dongfang Bubai had been promoted from Hall Master to Left Emissary of Light and then risen to the top in only a few years. He had not yet established a deep foundation within the cult.
To stabilize the hearts of the people, he had conferred the title of Saint Aunt upon Ren Yingying, the former Cult Master's daughter, giving her a position second only to one person and superior to everyone else.
Thus, those cult members who wished to rebel lost their claim to moral legitimacy. Once his position was secure, he had sent Ren Yingying to live in seclusion at Green Bamboo Lane in Luoyang, far from the Blackwood Cliff headquarters. He then eliminated Ren Woxing's diehard supporters, gradually erasing the influence of the previous regime.
Such open stratagems combined with hidden maneuvers, and they made Zhang Yu feel a trace of admiration.
She walked up to Zhang Yu.
Zhang Yu did not kneel. He merely clasped his hands and said, "Zhang Yu, Deputy Flag Master under Cloud Water Hall, pays his respects to Saint Aunt."
"Did Uncle Wu leave you any instructions before he passed away?"
"Before my master died, he told me to remember one sentence: to be loyal to the Cult Master and Saint Aunt, and to spare no effort for the Divine Cult's great cause, even unto death!"
She lowered her voice. "Do you understand your master's painstaking intentions?"
Zhang Yu answered softly, "I understand."
"Good."
Ren Yingying's voice carried a hint of sorrow.
Although she was nominally the Divine Cult's Saint Aunt, her position was awkward. Aside from those who had received profound kindness from her and were determined to advance and retreat together with the Ren family, the cult's prominent figures all dared not associate too closely with the remnants of the former regime.
Wu Lianjiang had been one of Ren Woxing's old subordinates, and the two families had shared a deep bond.
"I already know about Uncle Wu. Don't worry. I'll look after the old members of Cloud Water Hall."
Ren Yingying's voice was so soft that only Zhang Yu could hear it.
Zhang Yu raised his head slightly. Through the gauze stirred by the breeze, he could only feel the woman's breath, fragrant as an orchid.
A herald emerged from Chengde Hall.
Tong Baixiong hurriedly went to meet him.
The herald called out, "Virtuous and Martial, Benevolent, Righteous, Heroic, and Wise Holy Cult Master has issued an order: Saint Aunt is to enter the hall for an audience."
Tong Baixiong frowned. "Didn't Eastern Cult Master summon this old man inside as well?"
The purple-robed herald did not spare him a glance. He turned and led Saint Aunt into the hall.
Tong Baixiong cursed angrily, "Those damned dogs! With Yang Lianting backing them, they actually dare not to take even this old man seriously."
Zhang Yu quietly edged away from him. Tong Baixiong had lived through more than sixty years, yet it seemed all he had gained was a bad temper, without the slightest bit of sense.
Setting everything else aside, with those words he had offended every one of the golden-melon warriors outside the hall. They might not match the Hall Master of Wind Thunder Hall, and their status might not equal that of the Ten Great Elders, but on Blackwood Cliff, you were an external official, while they were attendants serving directly beside the Cult Master.
Tong Baixiong had made a fool of himself. He looked toward Zhang Yu and asked, "Did you know Young Miss Ren before this?"
Zhang Yu thought for a moment and said, "My status is lowly. I did not know Saint Aunt before this, and I had barely even heard of her."
Tong Baixiong nodded.
After some time, another herald emerged from inside the hall.
"Virtuous and Martial, Benevolent, Righteous, Heroic, and Wise Holy Cult Master has issued an order: Elder Tong Baixiong of Wind Thunder Hall is to lead Qi Zhaogu and Zhang Yu into the hall for an audience. Everyone else is to remain outside and wait."
Tong Baixiong gave Iron Lion a meaningful look.
Before entering through the main doors, the three of them removed their swords and handed them to the golden-melon warriors.
The instant Zhang Yu crossed the threshold, cold light suddenly flashed. Two long-handled axes hacked down toward his head, while four more golden halberds swept past behind him. Though he had been mentally prepared, he still broke into a cold sweat and instinctively began circulating his Internal Energy to resist.
Tong Baixiong was far calmer. He stood with his hands behind his back, utterly unmoving.
Only then did the purple-robed herald shout, "Present yourselves before His Majesty!"
The warriors withdrew to either side.
Zhang Yu looked over and saw that the warriors inside the hall wore iron armor beneath their purple robes and carried axes and halberds. In terms of elite quality, they were even superior to the golden-melon warriors outside.
If anyone entering the hall had concealed a weapon or harbored ill intentions, they would naturally be exposed.
And if someone simply could not withstand the intimidation and instinctively resisted, that too would be treated as treason. Either way, they would end up battered into pieces.
What overbearing methods!
Zhang Yu thought, Dongfang Bubai doesn't merely want his followers to be loyal to him. He wants their absolute obedience. Even with blades and axes at their bodies, they must not harbor any thought of resistance—not even instinctive resistance!
So this is a loyalty test. But how long can loyalty obtained through such methods last? Given enough time, resentment will outweigh awe, and estrangement will outweigh closeness. No wonder that after Ren Woxing escaped, so many cult members gathered and answered his call to oppose Dongfang Bubai.
The hall was no more than forty feet wide, but it extended more than two hundred feet deep.
Zhang Yu entered slowly with his head lowered, unable to suppress his excitement. After all, the person he was about to meet, apart from being the leader of the Demonic Cult, was one of the most supreme figures in this martial world.
Rumors abounded throughout the martial world. Some praised him as a mighty ruler of civil and military talent, while others cursed him as a demon who could make even the children of the Han cry through the night.
Yet very few people had ever seen Dongfang Bubai. As time passed, even what he looked like had become a mystery in the martial world.
The purple-robed herald stopped beneath the steps and called out in a ringing voice, "Pay respects to the Holy Cult Master!"
Everyone knelt on the ground together.
"May the Holy Cult Master be Virtuous and Martial, live for a thousand autumns and ten thousand ages, and unify the martial world."
The three of them spoke in unison.
"Your subordinate, Elder Tong Baixiong of Wind Thunder Hall, pays his respects to the Cult Master."
"Your subordinate, Hall Master Qi Zhaogu of Wind Thunder Hall, pays his respects to the Cult Master."
"Your subordinate, Deputy Flag Master Zhang Yu of Cloud Water Hall, pays his respects to the Cult Master."
Zhang Yu secretly congratulated himself. Fortunately, he had spent half the night reading the Cult Master's Precepts and memorized several hundred ritual phrases. At last, his words matched the others' cadence.
In such a setting, if he made a mistake or tried to be clever and passed himself off as someone he was not, Dongfang Bubai would see through him at a glance. By the time the warriors were summoned, he feared he would not escape the fate of having a golden melon smash into his skull.
"Rise." The voice was somewhat languid, with a faint magnetic quality.
Only then did Zhang Yu dare raise his head slightly.
A beaded curtain hung before the golden throne. Behind it, he could vaguely make out an ornate couch and a seated figure, with only an indistinct outline visible.
Two chairs had been placed before the beaded curtain.
Saint Aunt sat on the left in her white dress and gauze hat. On the right sat a tall, imposing man.
He was in his early twenties, wearing a purple, cloud-patterned satin-lined leather robe and black boots. He had a robust build, a pale face, and a bushy beard, exuding unmistakable masculinity. Whenever he looked at someone, an inexplicable cold light flickered in his eyes, as though he could see through flesh and read a person's heart.
"Nine hundred and eighty-one people from Cloud Water Hall went into battle at Damaoling and all died. What exceptional ability do you possess that allowed you to escape back to Blackwood Cliff?"
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