Paying the Price for One's Choices

Silence returned to the council hall.

Ning Fengzhi sat alone in the main seat, slowly setting the cup of tea back onto the table. The tea had gone completely cold, a thin layer of mist condensing on the surface of the cup.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his brow.

In front of everyone just now, he had appeared calm and composed, a Sect Master who held the reins of power and possessed a plan for every contingency. But now, with no one else around, the exhaustion he had carefully masked surged up like a tide.

This matter was far more troublesome than he had let on.

He was almost certain that Spirit Hall was fanning the flames from behind the scenes. He knew the methods of that woman, Bibi Dong, all too well—she appeared to do nothing, yet every move she made drew blood.

Using the truth as a blade.

It was the most venomous tactic of all.

Ning Fengzhi let out a long breath and was about to rise to leave—

Two figures appeared silently at his sides.

One on the left, one on the right.

Like two silent statues, it was impossible to tell how long they had been standing there.

The man on the left wore a simple white robe, his hair as white as snow tied back behind his head. His face was gaunt, his brows and eyes radiating a sharp, awe-inspiring aura. Even standing perfectly still, he exerted an intense pressure—like a sword about to be unsheathed, its edge hidden, yet ready to sever anything at a moment's notice.

The man on the right was dressed in dark, black attire, his frame long and lean. His expression was cold and stern, devoid of any unnecessary emotion; he was a man of few words who rarely smiled. Standing there like a withered bone, he possessed no warmth and no outward emotion, yet he carried a depth that no one dared to underestimate.

Ning Fengzhi opened his eyes, and upon seeing the two, his expression softened slightly.

"Uncle Jian, Uncle Gu."

The address came naturally, his tone carrying the casual ease reserved only for those he trusted most.

These two were the twin guardians of the Seven Treasures Glazed Sect.

Sword Douluo—Chen Xin.

Bone Douluo—Gu Rong.

Two Titled Douluos.

The reason the Seven Treasures Glazed Sect could rank among the Upper Three Sects and stand firm amidst a continent surrounded by wolves was never solely due to Ning Fengzhi's schemes and tactics.

These two elders were the true backbone of the Seven Treasures Glazed Sect.

They were the sect's greatest treasures.

They were the pillars that held up the heavens.

Ning Fengzhi had grown up under their watch, and the depth of their bond far exceeded the typical relationship between a sect master and his retainers. Calling them "Uncle Jian" and "Uncle Gu" was an expression of heartfelt respect and closeness.

Now, only the three of them remained in the council hall.

Things that were inconvenient to say while the elders and deacons were present could finally be laid out in the open.

Chen Xin remained silent for a moment.

His eyes, clear and cold as frost, fixed on Ning Fengzhi. His brows furrowed slightly, knitting into a tight knot.

"Fengzhi."

He spoke, his voice not loud, yet as clear as the ringing of a blade.

"Is doing this truly appropriate?"

Ning Fengzhi's movements paused.

He had been placing the teacup back onto the tray, and at these words, his fingers lingered on the rim of the cup for a fleeting second.

"To which matter does Uncle Jian refer?" He did not look up, his tone calm.

"All of it." Chen Xin's brow furrowed deeper.

His gaze rested on Ning Fengzhi, carrying a measure of scrutiny and the concern unique to an elder.

"The punishment of the collateral branch, the wording used for the public, and—"

His voice paused.

"The judgment and characterization of that child."

Ning Fengzhi's hand finally came to a complete stop.

He slowly straightened his back, turned, and met Chen Xin's gaze head-on.

"Uncle Jian."

His voice remained gentle, yet it carried an unshakable layer of resolve.

"I know you are a man of integrity. For all these years, your character, Uncle Jian, is what I have admired most."

He paused.

"But this world is cruel and realistic."

Ning Fengzhi stood up and stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze passing through the carved window lattices of the council hall to look toward the distant, mist-shrouded peaks.

"We cannot afford to sour our relations with the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan for the sake of a child from a collateral branch."

His voice was unhurried, as if he were stating an immutable truth.

"We have too many vital trade dealings with the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. On this continent, we have always built our reputation on integrity and trust."

"To gamble the interests of the entire sect for the sake of a collateral branch member, for the sake of a child—Uncle Sword, this is not integrity; this is irresponsibility."

Chen Xin's brows knit even tighter.

He remained silent for a few breaths before asking in a low voice.

"Was there truly no other way at the time?"

The question was asked very softly.

It was as light as a sigh.

Yet, to Ning Fengzhi, it felt heavier than Qian Jun.

Because he could tell—Chen Xin was not asking about strategy. He was asking—

Was that child's death truly inevitable?

Ning Fengzhi closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, a trace of faint exhaustion appeared in his gentle eyes.

"What other way could there be?"

He countered.

"Should we have found one of our own direct descendants and had them crippled in return?"

As these words were spoken, the air in the council hall seemed to grow a few degrees colder.

Chen Xin did not speak.

Ning Fengzhi turned around, looking directly at the old man who had followed the Ning family for two generations, and said word by word:

"Everyone must be responsible for their own choices."

"That child chose to strike in the street; he chose to beat a direct descendant of the Blue Lightning Tyrant Dragon Clan. When he made that choice, he should have been prepared to bear all the consequences that followed."

"I do not deny he had courage. But courage cannot be eaten as food, nor can it be used as a shield."

"He was seven. He didn't know any better. But does not knowing any better mean one doesn't have to pay the price?"

Ning Fengzhi's voice was calm, devoid of anger, coldness, or even much emotional color.

He was simply stating logic.

A cold, detached logic belonging to those in power.

Chen Xin was silent for a long time.

Something surged within his clear, sharp eyes, only to eventually return to stillness.

It was as if a sword had been slowly sheathed.

"...I understand."

He said only these three words.

Then he closed his mouth.

He said nothing more.

Gu Rong, standing to the side, had not uttered a single word from beginning to end. His cold, iron-hard face betrayed no emotional fluctuations, as if the entire conversation had nothing to do with him.

But if one looked closely, they would notice a layer of indescribable darkness settling deep within his gloomy eyes.

The council hall fell silent for several breaths.

Ning Fengzhi was the first to break the silence, resuming his usual composed tone.

"Very well. The necessary arrangements have been made. Uncle Sword, Uncle Gu, you should go and rest."

Chen Xin nodded slightly and turned to leave, his white robes carving a sharp arc through the air.

Gu Rong followed silently, his black figure merging into the shadows and vanishing outside the hall without a sound.

Ning Fengzhi stood alone in the empty council hall, his hands clasped behind his back.

Outside the window, clouds and mist churned, obscuring half the peaks of Seven Treasures Mountain.

"Just a collateral pawn that could be sacrificed at any time."

Ning Fengzhi murmured to himself, unsure if he was speaking to someone else or merely comforting himself.