The Shen Clan's two estates both stood south of West Mountain Town, beside the river.
Around noon, towering flames rose from both estates.
Chu Xisheng had not used his own gang members. Instead, he forced the troops of all the local gentry and wealthy households to attack the Shen Clan's estates.
Everyone understood his intentions perfectly.
This was a pledge of allegiance. Once they crossed blades with the Shen Clan and drew blood, a feud would be forged, leaving them no way back. From then on, they could only protect West Mountain Hall with unwavering loyalty.
This West Mountain Hall Master was so young, yet his mind was terribly sinister and vicious-so vile that pus practically oozed from his soles.
They were deeply unwilling, but Chu Xisheng had seven hundred gang members and four hundred red-robed men supervising the battle. With eleven hundred sabers at their backs, they had no choice but to act.
At first, the people in the Shen Clan's estates could not believe it.
Had Chu Xisheng truly grown so brazen that he dared attack their Shen Clan?
But when the allied gentry forces under Chu Xisheng's command stormed the two estates, they offered little resistance. Both collapsed at the first blow; some people were captured, while others fled toward Xiushui's commandery seat.
The Shen Clan had lost three Sixth Grade and fifteen Seventh-Rank cultivators at Wen Family Fort. Neither estate had any experts left to hold it. Their defenses were utterly hollow, leaving them without the strength to resist West Mountain Hall.
Commandery Commandant Shen Zhou himself remained nowhere to be seen, and no troops arrived from the commandery.
This reassured the local gentry, gradually dispelling their apprehension.
Chu Xisheng had burned the Shen Clan's estates, yet Shen Zhou did not even dare show his face.