Establishing authority

The cold winds of late autumn swept through the Seven Mysteries Sect's tiered halls, bearing an air of deadly desolation.

The vermilion walls stood unshaken in the wind, while frost clinging to the glazed roof tiles gleamed coldly beneath the dim daylight.

Clad in a moon-black robe, Jing Wen strode steadily into the main hall, his fluttering hem brushing the bluestone steps.

Gilded lanterns hung among the carved beams and painted rafters, their warm light washing over the intricate ornamentation on the pillars.

The sect master of the Seven Mysteries Sect sat upright in the seat of honor. At the sight of that figure, his composed expression changed abruptly, and he hurriedly rose to greet him.

The two rows of elders below likewise rose together, cupping their hands in greeting, their voices echoing heavily through the spacious hall.

Jing Wen remained composed, his gaze blazing like a torch as it swept over them. He went straight to the guest seat beside the sect master-a gesture laden with meaning: leaving the seat of honor to the sect master made clear that he had no intention of vying for leadership, while subtly underscoring his transcendent standing within the sect.

At the sect's previous meetings, Jing Wen had always been like a divine dragon whose head might be glimpsed but never its tail; he had never once appeared.

His unexpected arrival today had already stirred waves in everyone's hearts. The elders whispered among themselves, their eyes full of doubt and speculation.

As soon as he sat down, he raised his eyes and asked, his voice steady yet carrying an unquestionable pressure, "Why have the herbs supplied for my pill refining grown increasingly scarce lately?"

The moment his words fell, the scattered whispers in the hall vanished. Only the occasional faint sputter of oil in the gilded lanterns remained.

The sect master's brows drew together slightly. The deference he had shown upon rising had yet to fade, but an unmistakable helplessness already clouded his eyes. He hurriedly cupped his hands and bowed. "Reporting to the Offering Lord, it is all because the Wild Wolf Gang below the mountain has grown far too rampant.

"Relying on their numerous followers, they have brazenly entrenched themselves in Green Dragon Ridge and Purple Mist Valley around our sect. Not only do they plunder passing merchant caravans, they have repeatedly harassed our herb-gathering parties.

"A few days ago, Elder Wang led a party out to gather snow ginseng, only for them to block him at the valley entrance and injure two disciples."

"Oh?" Jing Wen raised a brow, and a cold glint suddenly flashed through his previously tranquil eyes, like an icicle springing into view.

In that instant, even the warm glow within the hall seemed to freeze a little. Several elders behind the sect master instinctively drew their robes tighter.

Cold light surged in Jing Wen's eyes, seeming to slice apart even the warm glow of the gilded lanterns. "They dared lay hands on my Seven Mysteries Sect's herb-gathering parties?"

He paused, his fingers abruptly clenching, the carvings along the armrest pressing deep impressions into his palm.

When he raised his eyes, his voice was cold enough to crack bluestone. "They dared cut off the foundation of my pill refining. This Wild Wolf Gang-there is no need for it to exist any longer!"

His fingertips still tapped the armrest, the grain of the wood cool beneath them. Yet only Jing Wen himself knew that the marrow-chilling fury he had just displayed was merely a performance for those in the hall.

He had never particularly cared how many herbs the Seven Mysteries Sect supplied.

Mundane herbs were of limited use to a Cultivator, especially with Han Li around to supply spirit medicine.

Jing Wen had deliberately directed his anger at the Wild Wolf Gang's harassment of the herb-gathering parties only because, to him, everything else about the Seven Mysteries Sect-its personal disputes, its rise and fall-was nothing but passing clouds and smoke, utterly without value.

And his decision to make an exception and enter the main hall today was certainly not for the sake of a mere herb-gathering party.

The Wild Wolf Gang?

It was only a pretext for him to make his move. His true purpose lay hidden deeper still.

Sure enough, the moment he said there was "no need for it to exist any longer," an uproar erupted below.

The previously subdued whispers became an open commotion. Several elders wore differing expressions, and even though they deliberately lowered their voices as they conferred, their words drifted clearly into Jing Wen's ears. "The Wild Wolf Gang is no easy opponent! In manpower, they outnumber us by thirty percent;

"as for territory, they hold all the natural defenses of Green Dragon Ridge. Their strength is greater than ours, not less!"

"Exactly. The Offering Lord may have his methods, but that is far too presumptuous-even if the Seven Mysteries Sect came out in full force, we might not get the better of them!"

Amid the doubtful voices, one sarcastic tone sounded particularly grating. It belonged to the fourth elder, who had long resented Jing Wen's position as the Offering Lord.

He stroked his goatee and appeared to cup his hands in agreement, but provocation lurked in his eyes. "Offering Lord Jing Wen, what spirit, what ambition!

"Only, may I ask how you intend to proceed?

"Surely you do not mean to charge into the Wild Wolf Gang's lair single-handedly?"

The moment he spoke, someone echoed him. "The fourth elder makes a fair point!

"If the Offering Lord truly intends to do so, we would naturally admire him. But the Wild Wolf Gang's lair is protected by a bewildering formation, and they have no shortage of experts. Going alone would surely be perilous!"

On the surface, they sounded concerned, but every word was meant to goad him. They had long found Jing Wen's "transcendent standing" objectionable: he held no title as sect master, yet received the courtesies due one. Today, they intended to use the Wild Wolf Gang as a pretext to force him to show fear or venture into danger alone. Ideally, both sides would be left wounded.

He took in their startled and fearful expressions, and the tapping of his fingertips on the armrest abruptly stopped.

When he looked up, the frost on his face had already melted away, replaced by the faintest smile. Its slightly lifted curve carried a careless mockery. His voice was neither loud nor soft, but carried through the entire main hall. "Single-handedly?"

Before the words had fully faded, he gave a derisive snort, raised his right palm, and loosely curled his five fingers-a rapid choking sound immediately came from below.

Everyone turned toward the sound, only to see the fourth elder, who had just spoken so sarcastically, lifted off his feet. As though seized by an invisible giant hand, his body was forcibly drawn toward Jing Wen!

He clawed desperately at his neck, veins bulging across his flushed face and eyes protruding. Only hoarse, leaking gasps escaped his throat, and his usually tidy beard had fallen into disarray.

The sight plunged the hall into utter silence. Even the shadows cast by the gilded lanterns seemed to forget to sway.

The elders who had been whispering moments earlier sprang to their feet together, trembling all over in shock. Two of the older ones even staggered half a step backward, striking the grand chairs behind them with a harsh clatter.

"W-what sort of internal power is this? He can seize a person from a distance!"

"Even the legendary Innate Realm could not accomplish something like this with such effortless ease!"

Their cries caught in their throats, leaving only sharp intakes of breath.

The sect master of the Seven Mysteries Sect went deathly pale. He instinctively shifted half a foot aside, his formerly deferential eyes now filled with disbelief-

Although he had known Jing Wen's strength was unfathomable, he had never imagined that his cultivation had long since transcended the bounds of martial arts and reached such a terrifying level.

In a mere instant, the fourth elder had been dragged before Jing Wen, suspended in midair with his toes a full three feet above the floor.

Jing Wen raised his eyes and regarded him sidelong, his voice as cold as shattered ice. "Just now, you asked whether I could wipe out the Wild Wolf Gang single-handedly?"

The fourth elder's eyes darted wildly, and indistinct pleas for mercy squeezed from his throat, but he could not utter even a single complete word.

As for the elders who had joined him in mocking Jing Wen, their faces were already ashen. Their legs shook like chaff in a sieve, and cold sweat streamed down their temples, soaking the brocade at their chests.

"Heh." Jing Wen flicked a finger, sending an invisible force crashing into the fourth elder's chest. With a muffled bang, the fourth elder flew backward like a torn sack and slammed heavily into a pillar in the hall, shaking loose a shower of debris from its carved surface.

He slid to the floor, clutching his chest and spewing a great mouthful of blood that stained the bluestone tiles before him red. At last, however, he could gulp down air, though every breath brought a tearing pain.

Jing Wen looked down at him, his tone brimming with contempt. "With that paltry scrap of skill, you dared act insolently before me?"

The fourth elder lay sprawled on the floor, his chest wracked with unbearable pain, his face alternating between livid and pale.

As he looked into Jing Wen's icy eyes, terror had already filled his heart. Yet his many years as an elder left him unable to surrender that pitiful shred of dignity. His lips moved, but though he wanted to beg for mercy, he could not bring himself to speak.

"It seems you still refuse to submit." Seeing this, Jing Wen's lips curved into a chilly smile.

"I have always been fair in my dealings, so I will give you a chance-if you can withstand three moves from my servant, I will let today's matter go."

The moment he finished speaking, before anyone in the hall could react, a sound of rushing air came from outside. Then, with a boom, a surge of force pushed the main doors open, and a burly figure swept in on a fierce gust of wind, landing steadily in the center of the hall.

The newcomer stood eight feet tall, dressed in close-fitting black martial attire. His face was stern, and a savage killing aura radiated from him. He was none other than Jing Wen's servant, Qu Hun.

After landing, he dropped to one knee and said in a deep voice, "Master."