On that day, when Yue Buqun and his people arrived at the scene, they immediately spotted the swordsmen whose martial arts Annie had crippled.
Then, after seeing the revised edition of the so-called Evil-Warding Sword Manual—which Annie had also produced—scattered across the ground, and questioning Old Zhang about it, his face darkened.
But there was no use getting angry!
Yue Buqun knew perfectly well that Annie, the Huashan Sect's "honorary elder," wasn't under the authority of him, the Huashan Sect's leader!
She was a living ancestor. He couldn't beat her or scold her, so all he could do was indulge her. He wouldn't dare utter even a single harsh word.
After all, even Feng Qingyang, his martial uncle and a sword saint hailed as the greatest in the world, had been made to obediently come down the mountain and sweep the floors by that little girl. Yue Buqun had neither the standing nor the skill to measure up to his martial uncle. What could he possibly do?
"Hmph!"
"She's like a ghost that just won't go away!"
Once he had roughly figured out what had happened, Yue Buqun waved his hand and ordered his disciples to drive off the swordsmen whose qi seas had been destroyed, leaving them with no hope of ever practicing martial arts again.
"Go!"
"Get some townsfolk and load every last one of them onto carts. Drive them all out of town!"
"How can we let them turn the place into a cesspit of unrest and public anger, right beneath Huashan?"
"What kind of behavior is that?"
The town wasn't technically under the Huashan Sect's jurisdiction; it was a small town governed by the imperial court. Still, half of it belonged to the sect. In this Ming dynasty, where imperial authority barely reached the county level,