Such an elaborate arrangement, such a grand undertaking—if some Devil Sect big shot had laid this scheme, they had inadvertently ruined his plans. A vicious reckoning might await them.
At the thought, even Xue Qingluo, with all the composure she had cultivated, felt a flicker of worry.
She could not help glancing at Yan Wugui. He had acted far too quickly. The message-bearing flying swords were already gone; once those great Mystic Gate sects arrived, they would truly have brought the fire down on their own heads.
Ye Yin watched quietly from the side.
He had roamed the world as a practitioner of Martial Confucianism for years. How could he fail to see what troubled Xue Qingluo?
But righteous and wicked paths remained separate. If he revealed what he knew now, he would hand her a weapon against his sect and bring it immense trouble.
Yet she, too, was afraid to strike the rat for fear of breaking the vase. With him watching, she could hardly destroy this place outright. Would that not confirm she had a connection to this hell on earth?
What a joke.
Ye Yin smiled bitterly to himself. Both sides plainly wanted the evidence destroyed, yet their mutual suspicion kept either from taking that step.
Wait.
A sudden chill touched Ye Yin's spiritual senses.
He saw Xue Qingluo's gaze growing colder and worked out another possibility.
That devil brat means to kill me to keep me quiet.
Suspicion between people was a deadly poison.
Just as they stood on the brink of turning on each other, a long cry rang out across the sky.
"My sword cleaves the mystic pass; I laugh above the Eastern Sea's snowy waves."
"My will binds Jingni; what are demons and specters worth?"
A powerful sword intent swept down from the