Proficiency Maxed Out, Liver Become Mortal Sword Immortal Section 48

"This isn't all of it?" The Fat Steward's gaze was somewhat dazed.

Had he stripped several mountains bare?

The overlords of those peaks had almost all been swept up in one net!

Not to mention anything else, the mountain ranges around Myriad Sword Pavilion were certainly lacking demonic beasts of this level; one would have to travel far to see any.

As for the other disciples organizing the storehouse, they too stared dumbfounded at the corpses of the demonic beasts.

Had he wiped out an entire clan?

A whole population of Three-Eyed Demonic Wolves!

Had an Inner Sect Disciple at the Foundation Establishment Stage made a move?

Too terrifying!

And there were other demonic beasts at the Demonic Transformation level, not just the Three-Eyed Demonic Wolf clan—some excelled in speed, others in physical toughness, yet without exception, they all lay there.

"Not all of it." Yun Shu then smiled. "The best ones naturally can't be sold cheap. You appraise these as you see fit."

"Your previous mission reward was thirty-seven Spirit Stones. Adding these, along with these low-grade spirit herbs, I'll give you a hundred stones total, how about that?"

"So, a demonic beast at the Demonic Transformation level is only worth two Spirit Stones?" Yun Shu pointed at one of the Three-Eyed Demon Wolves, seemingly dissatisfied with the price.

"Even down the mountain, it's just two or three Spirit Stones. Look at these demon wolves—how many are intact? Getting this price is already decent. The only Wolf King you split in half, its value took a big hit." The Fat Steward shook his head. "A complete Wolf King would be worth no less than ten Spirit Stones."

Yun Shu, "..."

So that was how it was.

He had forgotten.

Back then, he had been too caught up in the thrill of the kill to think much about it.

Now that he considered it, as long as these corpses could fetch a decent price, it was fine.

Luckily, he still had some intact demonic beast corpses stored in his Storage Bag, or he would have taken a huge loss.

"Fine then!" Yun Shu nodded afterward.

The Fat Steward chuckled. "This price hasn't cheated you. Look around now—which Outer Sect Disciple at the Qi Condensation Stage has a fortune as abundant as yours?"

He then handed over a hundred Spirit Stones. This time, they weren't packed in a jade box but poured directly from his Storage Bag and given to Yun Shu.

Yun Shu naturally accepted them gladly.

As for the wealth of a Qi Condensation Stage disciple, Yun Shu figured that taking a few more missions would build it up.

Looking at it now, the sect still had some conscience—at least it ensured disciples wouldn't be unable to cultivate due to a lack of Cultivation Resources. As long as one was diligent, even doing missions could accumulate plenty of resources.

As for those unwilling to take risks, they could take on lower-level missions. Effort and reward were proportional, which was perfectly normal.

Finally, Yun Shu took out the letter he had retrieved from the Old Master.

"This is a letter found in the Dust Avoiding Villa of the Gufeng Dynasty. Steward Kong, please take a look."

The Fat Steward first sized up Yun Shu, then glanced at the letter.

Soon, he spotted a golden pattern on the letter, narrowed his eyes, and exuded a dangerous aura. "A letter from the Golden Cauldron Sect?"

"Yes." Yun Shu nodded.

The Fat Steward slowly took it and opened it. As he unfolded the letter, something seemed to cross his mind, and the danger in his gaze grew even sharper.

Yun Shu did not leave immediately.

He waited for a moment.

"Alright, I understand." After reading it from start to finish, the Fat Steward put the letter away, his expression calming down. He still smiled as if nothing had happened.

Seeing this, Yun Shu gave a slight bow. "Then I'll take my leave."

"Good." The Fat Steward nodded. "Next time you have demonic beast corpses like these, come find me again."

"Certainly."

After Yun Shu left, Steward Kong took out the letter again and remained silent for a long time.

Then, after who knew how long, he strode quickly toward the outside.

That direction led to the area of the Menial Disciples.

The Old Man glanced at Steward Kong and was silent for a moment. "What business do you have with me?"

"Your fine disciple brought back a letter. The Golden Cauldron Sect has already sent disciples to the Gufeng Dynasty, no doubt concerning the dynasty's Ancient Mine. They still refuse to give up on it." The Fat Steward, seeing the Old Man's indifferent demeanor, spoke with some irritation.

The gaunt Old Man lowered his gaze slightly and muttered softly, "They deserve to die."

The Fat Steward let out a light scoff. "They deserve to die? Then why don't you make a move!"

"Now that the letter is in your hands and they've already made their move, we need to think of a plan. If we confront them directly, the Golden Cauldron Sect has a Major Sect backing them, while we have nothing—isolated and without support. A head-on clash, though unwise, might be the only way to break the deadlock."

The Old Man slowly closed his eyes. "A Major Sect... if not for their pressure back then, Chen Hong wouldn't have been buried in the Ancient Mine. Now they still want to oppress us? Do they truly think Myriad Sword Pavilion is made of clay!"

The Fat Steward knew what was on the Old Man's mind and spoke up beside him. "Since things have come to this, we need to set a course of action. Whether we continue to swallow our pride or stand up to them—that's your call. If you make the decision, the Sect Master won't say much."

The Old Man's hand slowly clenched into a fist, his face still ashen.

After a long moment, the old man finally let out a heavy sigh and slowly released his clenched fist. "Wait a little longer."

"Wait?" The Fat Steward's voice suddenly rose, and he ground his teeth. "If we wait any longer, they'll be trampling over our heads! What exactly are you waiting for? How much more humiliation must we endure before you act? I wish I could charge straight into the Golden Cauldron Sect right now and chop those three bastards to pieces."

"You might have the strength for that, but what comes after?" The old man glanced at the Fat Steward. "The complete annihilation of the Myriad Sword Pavilion's legacy? Tens of thousands of lives rest in our hands. We can't act on impulse alone."

"The sect is in ruins now. Even if you and I were made of iron, how many nails could we forge?"

"We still need to wait for the sect to recover some vitality. Soon, the Sword Pavilion will open again, and our sect should gain many more experts. Once that happens, the Myriad Sword Pavilion will be fully stabilized. Then we can bide our time and strike."

"Wait until the younger generation matures. Wait a little longer," the old man said slowly. "There are still many promising disciples in this generation."

"But do you know that just a few days ago, Chu Huangyue was ambushed while out on a mission? They called it bandits, but it was more likely the Golden Cauldron Sect's doing. Those people will stop at nothing to seize the Ancient Mine and completely swallow the Myriad Sword Pavilion!"

The Fat Steward's voice turned accusatory. "Back then, Chen Hong was trapped by formation arrays in the Ancient Mine, and you swallowed your anger, doing nothing. Now it's Chu Huangyue's turn. Next might be Qin Lingyu, or even Yun Shu!"

The old man's gaze flickered for a moment, but soon returned to calm. "I told you, these matters are not for you or me to decide. We must lie low. The survival of the Immortal Sect rests on my shoulders, and the lives of tens of thousands are in my hands. I cannot bury the Myriad Sword Pavilion's ten-thousand-year legacy for personal vengeance."

"The fire is already licking our eyebrows, and you still want to lie low? Look around—what does the Myriad Sword Pavilion have left to lose? A thousand years ago, we were a Super Sect in Yunzhou. Now even Major Sects dare to ride over us. Three years. I'll give you three more years. If you can't make the call after that, then I will!" the Fat Steward roared.

The old man remained silent.

He said nothing more, made no expression. He knew Steward Kong harbored resentment in his heart, so let him vent.

Steward Kong's name was Kong Li. He had once been the sect's most outstanding prodigy, a cultivator at the Foundation Establishment Stage.

Back then, he and Chen Hong were the best of partners, almost inseparable.

When Chen Hong was ambushed in the Ancient Mine, Kong Li was also ambushed by a Mysterious Person elsewhere. Though he barely survived, he was left with severe injuries that prevented him from cultivating further.

In the end, he was relegated to the position of an Outer Sect steward.

Ten years had passed. The Kong Li of old, from being unable to cultivate to his current strength—a level even the old man couldn't see through—what had he experienced in between, what fortune had he obtained? The old man didn't know. All he knew was that the sect had wronged Kong Li.

Back then, when the sect's two genius disciples were ambushed, the sect not only did nothing but also suppressed the matter.

So much so that now, unless they were from that generation, everyone else in the sect had forgotten Kong Li's existence.

But what could the old man do?

It was a unanimous decision by the sect's high-level. Back then, he had personally killed two Foundation Establishment elders from the Golden Cauldron Sect to send them to their graves.

But what came after?

Fight the Golden Cauldron Sect to the death?

He could trade himself for several of their high-level figures, but could the Myriad Sword Pavilion withstand the wrath of a Major Sect? Would thousands of years of heritage be destroyed in an instant?

The lives of tens of thousands were in his hands. These people could have had brighter futures—should they be buried for his momentary impulse?

Kong Li was right. He was hesitating, still unable to find peace of mind even now.

He had sat in meditation for countless years, tempering his physical body, but his heart and mind were tormented day and night.

That was his disciple, yet he couldn't seek revenge.

Because he wasn't strong enough.

Not strong enough! Not strong enough to be unrivaled under heaven. The weak could only live in humiliation.

Did he have blood in him? Yes. But to act without regard for consequences was the way of a reckless brute.

He was waiting for the sect to grow strong.

Once it could contend with Major Sects, there would be plenty of time to deal with the Golden Cauldron Sect.

At the same time, he was waiting for himself to grow stronger.

Unfortunately, his talent was ultimately limited. Perseverance alone could only polish his physical strength a little more; it couldn't achieve much.

"Still, the disciple you took in isn't bad," the Fat Steward said as he turned to leave, looking back over his shoulder. "His future achievements will surely surpass yours. He's already reached Great Accomplishment in his cultivation method, and his physical strength alone rivals the peak of Qi Condensation."

Then he strode away quickly.