Chengde Hall (Part 1)

In front of Chengde Hall.

Tong Baixiong and others stood under the corridor awaiting an audience.

The warriors outside the hall wore purple robes and carried golden gourds. Each one looked straight ahead, their faces filled with fanatical fervor.

In the martial arts world, fighting and killing were simple, but establishing rules and order, with everyone showing proper respect, was not so easy.

The reason for this was that martial artists were naturally disinclined to be constrained, and those with the talent for governing the world mostly entered the imperial court.

From Pingding City to Blackwood Cliff, and to Chengde Hall, Zhang Yu felt that the Sun Moon Divine Cult was already showing signs of breaking away from being a mere martial arts sect and becoming a regional separatist force.

He secretly wondered, "Dongfang Bubai's plans are profound, and his civil and military achievements far surpass Ren Woxing's. Why did he ultimately... How can practicing the Sunflower Manual to its depths change a person's personality so drastically?"

At this moment, a person emerged from a side corridor and walked slowly towards Chengde Hall.

She wore a white dress and a veiled hat, obscuring her features. Judging by her graceful figure, she seemed to be only fourteen or fifteen years old, yet her demeanor possessed a composure unbefitting her age.

Upon seeing the newcomer, Tong Baixiong hesitated for a moment before stepping forward, cupping his hands in greeting. "Tong Baixiong, Hall Master of Wind Thunder Hall, greets the Saint Aunt."

"Elder Tong, how have you been lately?"

"Thanks to the Eastern Cult Master and the Saint Aunt, I am in good health. I can eat three bowls of rice in one meal."

"Elder Tong is a pillar of the Divine Cult. If you can eat three bowls of rice, the Divine Cult will be stable."

Tong Baixiong laughed. "I heard the Saint Aunt has been living in seclusion in Luoyang. When did you return to Blackwood Cliff?"

"The triennial Holy Rite is approaching. Uncle Dongfang asked me to return to assist with cult affairs."

Zhang Yu now knew who the woman before him was.

Ren Yingying, the nominal second-in-command of the Sun Moon Divine Cult.

Dongfang Bubai had been promoted from Incense Master to Left Emissary of Light, and then to his current position in just a few short years. He had not established deep roots within the cult.

To stabilize the morale of the followers, he had enfeoffed Ren Yingying, the daughter of the former cult master, as the Saint Aunt, placing her in a position second only to himself.

This way, any cult members who harbored thoughts of rebellion would lose their moral justification. Once his position was stable, he had Ren Yingying move to Green Bamboo Lane in Luoyang to live in seclusion, far from the Blackwood Cliff headquarters, and then proceeded to eliminate Ren Woxing's staunch confidantes, gradually removing the influence of the previous regime.

Such overt strategies, combining both direct and indirect tactics, earned Zhang Yu a measure of admiration.

She walked up to Zhang Yu.

Zhang Yu did not kneel, merely cupped his hands. "Zhang Yu, Deputy Flag Master of Cloud Water Hall, pays respects to the Saint Aunt."

"Did Uncle Wu leave any final instructions before his passing?"

"Before my master passed away, he told me to remember one thing: to be loyal to the Cult Master and the Saint Aunt, and to be willing to die a thousand deaths for the great cause of the Divine Cult!"

She said in a low voice, "Do you understand your master's intentions?"

Zhang Yu replied softly, "I do."

"Good."

Ren Yingying's voice held a hint of sadness.

Although she was nominally the Saint Aunt of the Divine Cult, her position was awkward. Apart from those who owed her a deep debt of gratitude and were determined to stand with the Ren family, the prominent figures in the cult dared not associate too closely with the remnants of the previous regime.

Wu Lianjiang was a former subordinate of Ren Woxing, and their families had a deep bond.

"I already know about Uncle Wu's affairs. Rest assured, I will look after the old members of Cloud Water Hall."

Ren Yingying's voice was very soft, audible only to Zhang Yu.

Zhang Yu looked up slightly, and through the light veil stirred by the breeze, he felt as if the woman's breath was as fragrant as orchids.

A messenger emerged from Chengde Hall.

Tong Baixiong hurried to meet him.

The messenger announced loudly, "By order of the Holy Cult Master, who is virtuous and martial, benevolent and wise: the Saint Aunt is summoned to the hall for an audience."

Tong Baixiong frowned. "Did the Eastern Cult Master not summon me as well?"

The purple-robed messenger did not look at him, but turned and led the Saint Aunt into the hall.

Tong Baixiong cursed, "These bastards, relying on Yang Lianting's influence, don't even show me any respect."

Zhang Yu subtly distanced himself from Tong Baixiong. Tong Baixiong had lived past sixty years, yet it seemed his only growth was in his temper, with no improvement in his intellect.

Setting aside other matters for now. With that outburst, he had offended all the golden gourd warriors outside the hall. Although they were not as esteemed as the Hall Master of Wind Thunder Hall or the Ten Great Elders, on Blackwood Cliff, he was an outsider, while they were the Cult Master's personal guards.

Tong Baixiong, having gained nothing, looked at Zhang Yu and asked, "Did you know Miss Ren before?"

Zhang Yu thought for a moment. "My status is low. I did not know the Saint Aunt before, and I rarely even heard of her."

Tong Baixiong nodded.

After some time, another messenger emerged from the hall.

"By order of the Holy Cult Master, who is virtuous and martial, benevolent and wise: Elder Tong Baixiong of Wind Thunder Hall is to lead Qi Zhaogu and Zhang Yu into the hall for an audience. The rest are to wait outside."

Tong Baixiong gave Iron Lion a look.

Before entering the main gate, the three disarmed and handed their swords to the golden gourd warriors.

The moment Zhang Yu stepped across the threshold, a flash of cold light appeared, and two long-handled axes descended upon him. Behind him, four golden battle-axes swept past. Despite being mentally prepared, he broke out in a cold sweat and instinctively prepared to circulate his internal energy to resist.

Tong Baixiong, however, was much calmer, standing with his hands behind his back, unmoving.

The purple-robed envoy then shouted, "Present yourselves before His Majesty."

The warriors retreated to both sides.

Zhang Yu looked and saw that beneath their purple robes, these palace warriors were clad in iron armor and carried axes and halberds. In terms of elite training, they were even superior to the Golden Gourd warriors outside the hall.

Anyone who entered the hall, if they concealed weapons or harbored ill intentions, would naturally be exposed.

Or, if they simply couldn't withstand the scare and reacted defensively in a panic, it would also be considered rebellion, leading to a crushed-bone, pulverized-flesh end regardless.

"What overbearing methods!"

Zhang Yu thought to himself. Dongfang Bubai not only demanded loyalty from his followers but also absolute obedience. Faced with blades and axes, they couldn't even entertain the thought of resistance, not even an instinctive reaction!

"This is a loyalty test. But how long can loyalty obtained through such means last? Over time, I fear it will breed more resentment than awe, more distance than closeness. No wonder so many cult followers rallied to Ren Woxing's side after he escaped, opposing Dongfang Bubai."

The hall was no more than forty feet wide but two hundred feet deep.

Zhang Yu walked in with his head bowed, his heart inevitably stirred. After all, the person he was about to meet, setting aside his identity as the Demonic Cult Master, was also one of the most formidable figures in this martial world.

Rumors abounded in the martial world. Some praised him as a lord of both civil and military achievements, while others cursed him as a demon who could make children cry at night.

But very few had actually seen Dongfang Bubai. Over time, even his appearance had become a mystery in the martial world.

The purple-robed envoy stopped at the foot of the stairs and announced loudly, "Pay respects to the Holy Cult Master."

Everyone knelt on the ground in unison.

"The Holy Cult Master, virtuous and martial, for ten thousand years, will unite the martial world."

The three said in unison.

"Elder Tong Baixiong of the Wind Thunder Hall pays his respects to the Cult Master."

"Incense Master Qi Zhaogu of the Wind Thunder Hall pays his respects to the Cult Master."

"Deputy Flag Master Zhang Yu of the Cloud Water Hall pays his respects to the Cult Master."

Zhang Yu secretly rejoiced. Fortunately, he had spent half the night reading the Cult Master's Precepts and memorized hundreds of phrases, finally matching everyone's intonation.

In a situation like this, if he made a mistake or tried to bluff his way through, Dongfang Bubai would see through it at a glance. Then, the warriors would be summoned, and he would likely face the fate of being struck down by the Golden Gourd.

"Rise, all of you." The voice was somewhat languid, with a hint of magnetism.

Only then did Zhang Yu dare to look up slightly.

On the golden throne, a beaded curtain was drawn. Behind the curtain, a figure could be vaguely seen sitting on a couch, only its silhouette visible.

In front of the beaded curtain, two chairs were placed.

On the left sat the Saint Aunt, dressed in a white skirt and veiled hat, while on the right was a tall, imposing man.

He was in his early twenties, wearing a purple satin robe with cloud patterns, black boots, and a robust physique. He had a fair face and a full beard, exuding great masculinity. When his eyes fixed on someone, they always flashed with an inexplicable cold light, as if they could see through one's very soul.

"All nine hundred and eighty-one members of the Cloud Water Hall perished at Damaoling. What makes you so exceptional that you could escape back to Blackwood Cliff?"