Chu Yunfei raced all the way back to his cave abode, pushed the door open, then slammed the stone door shut behind him. Leaning against it, he steadied his breathing and slowly suppressed the churning blood within him.
Facing someone at the fourth level of the Spirit Martial Realm while at the eighth level of Qi Condensation, even taking a single blow head-on had left his meridians aching faintly.
Fortunately, the Heaven-Severing Slash was truly formidable after reaching major accomplishment, and the Abyss-Devouring Sword far surpassed ordinary spirit artifacts in quality. Together, they had barely dispersed most of the force.
An ordinary late-stage Qi Condensation cultivator would probably have vomited blood and fainted on the spot from that palm strike.
Chu Yunfei sat cross-legged on the stone bed and circulated his cultivation technique to heal his injuries.
About an incense stick's worth of time later, his spiritual power settled again, and the sensation of churning blood gradually subsided.
"That Yan Guining really doesn't hold back."
He shook his head, yet the corners of his mouth involuntarily lifted slightly.
Still, it seemed worth it!
At least I got a look at her!
Just as he was about to continue refining his Divine Movement Art, a knock suddenly came from the entrance of his cave abode.
Chu Yunfei's body tensed reflexively.
Could Yan Guining have followed me here?
He cautiously extended his divine sense outside his cave abode. Only after sensing the presence outside did his taut nerves relax.
It was not Yan Guining.
It was Lin Wanyin.
Chu Yunfei rose, straightened his clothes, and went over to open the stone door.
Outside, Lin Wanyin wore a pale purple dress, her dark brows slightly furrowed and her expression cold.
Her gaze paused on Chu Yunfei for a moment, seemingly noticing the trace of blood lingering at the corner of his mouth, but she did not ask about it.
Chu Yunfei leaned against the doorframe with a lazy smile.
"Aunt Lin, missing me again?"
Lin Wanyin snorted coldly, not bothering to entertain his glib tongue.
"I have something to tell you."
Seeing that she did not look as though she were joking, Chu Yunfei dropped his flippant manner and stepped aside.
"Come in."
Lin Wanyin did not enter. She stood outside, keeping her voice very low.
"After your father fell, no remains were left. The sect investigated and found only the Giant Que Sword."
Chu Yunfei's expression abruptly froze.
"Your father's sword should, by rights, be returned to you."
Chu Yunfei's breathing grew heavy.
The former peak master of Tiger Roar Peak of the Azure Mystic Sect had gone out on a mission under the sect's orders last year, encountered an unforeseen disaster along the way, and left no remains.
"Where is the sword?"
A complicated look flickered across Lin Wanyin's face. "Several elders in the sect refuse to return it."
"Refuse?" Chu Yunfei's tone did not change, but the warmth in his eyes abruptly vanished.
"They believe you are not qualified to inherit the Giant Que Sword."
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
The old pine outside the cave abode rustled in the wind. Pine needles drifted down from its branches, spreading a thin layer of green across the ground between them.
Then Chu Yunfei smiled.
The smile was so faint that its curve was almost imperceptible.
But when Lin Wanyin saw what surged within those eyes, her heart involuntarily jolted.
It was not anger.
It was colder than anger.
"Not qualified."
Chu Yunfei repeated those words, his voice so soft that he seemed to be talking to himself. "I'm not qualified to have my own father's sword?"
Haven't they gone too far?
"Wait." Lin Wanyin reached out and caught his sleeve. "What can you accomplish by going there now?"
Chu Yunfei did not turn around.
"Stay out of it."
"You're at the eighth level of Qi Condensation, and you want to storm into the main hall and oppose a whole group of Heavenly Origin Realm elders? Are you afraid you aren't dying fast enough?"
An urgency she herself did not notice crept into Lin Wanyin's voice.
Chu Yunfei shook off her hand and strode away.
Lin Wanyin stood where she was, watching his retreating figure, and stamped her foot in anger.
"You little bastard, you..."
"Hmph, who cares about you? I certainly don't. You'd be better off dead."
Despite what she said, her feet involuntarily followed him.
The main hall of the Azure Mystic Sect.
The council hall was the heart of the sect's important affairs. It stood atop the main peak, a magnificent building of imposing grandeur.
Twelve rosewood chairs lined each side of the hall, providing seats for the various peak masters and senior elders.
On the raised platform at the center stood the sect master's seat, crafted from thousand-year-old lightning-struck wood.
At that moment, figures filled the main hall, and the atmosphere was solemn.
The peak masters, elders, and stewards had all gathered.
Sect Master Zhang Qingfeng sat upright in the seat of honor, his face lean and refined, his temples lightly frosted with gray. His eyes were half-closed, and his expression was so detached that it betrayed no inclination.
A pitch-black longsword lay horizontally on the table before him.
The sword bore no ornamentation, its form plain and weighty. Two large characters were cast into its guard: Giant Que.
Even sheathed, the sword continuously radiated a heavy, powerful presence, like a slumbering ancient ferocious beast that might awaken at any moment.
Every martial cultivator in the main hall felt that invisible pressure.
The Giant Que Sword's grade was unknown, but it was at least an upper-grade earth-tier spirit artifact.
In a second-rate sect like the Azure Mystic Sect, an upper-grade earth-tier spirit artifact was already top-tier equipment.
The people in the entire sect who could produce a weapon of this grade could be counted on one hand.
Zhang Qingfeng withdrew his gaze from the sword and slowly swept it over everyone in the hall.
"Although Chu Batian violated the sect's rules, he was, after all, a member of our sect. According to precedent, his sword, Giant Que, should be placed in the sect's Sword Tomb."
"However..."
Before he could finish, a long-bearded elder below took up the thread.
His name was Zhou Huanzhang, an elder of Green Pine Peak at the third level of the Heavenly Origin Realm, with considerable seniority in the sect.
Elder Zhou rose and cupped his hands. "Sect Master, I believe the Giant Que Sword is no ordinary object. Its grade must be high, and it possesses keen spirituality. It is a rare spirit artifact. Sealing it away in the Sword Tomb would be a wanton waste of a heavenly treasure."
Several elders immediately voiced their agreement.
"Elder Zhou makes a good point. The Giant Que Sword should be put to full use."
"Chu Batian is already gone. His sword would only gather dust in the Sword Tomb. Better to let a sect disciple inherit it, so that this sword may see the light of day again."
"Indeed. What belongs to the sect should serve the sect."
Zhang Qingfeng neither agreed nor disagreed.
Seeing this, Zhou Huanzhang continued, "I propose that the sect's true disciples compete fairly for the Giant Que Sword. Let the most capable claim it and live up to this sword's name."
At this point, he glanced, seemingly casually, at a young disciple seated in a corner.
The young man appeared to be in his early twenties, with a stern face and a trace of arrogance between his brows.
At the fifth level of the Spirit Martial Realm, he was Zhou Huanzhang's final disciple, Xu Changqing.
Everyone present knew perfectly well that Zhou Huanzhang's words sounded fair, but he was actually paving the way for his own disciple.
The Giant Que Sword was at least an upper-grade earth-tier spirit sword. Whoever obtained it would certainly gain a tremendous increase in strength.
For a time, discussion filled the hall.
Just then, someone pushed open the main hall's doors from outside.
Creak.
The heavy doors gave a dull groan, and a slender young figure appeared in the entrance.
He wore an inner disciple's robes, a longsword at his waist, his expression stern.
Chu Yunfei stood at the entrance, slowly sweeping his gaze from left to right across everyone in the hall before finally resting it on the pitch-black longsword on the table.
The main hall abruptly fell silent.
Dozens of gazes turned toward the entrance at once, bearing all manner of emotions.
Surprise, disdain, scrutiny, wariness.
A steward was the first to frown. "Chu Yunfei, this is where the sect conducts its councils. How dare a mere inner disciple like you barge in?"
Chu Yunfei turned a deaf ear and strode into the hall with steady steps. Reaching the center, he cupped his hands and bowed toward the sect master's seat.
"Disciple Chu Yunfei greets the Sect Master and the elders."
Zhang Qingfeng glanced at him without speaking.
Chu Yunfei straightened, his gaze once again falling on the Giant Que Sword.
"I heard that the elders are discussing how to dispose of my late father's belongings."
"The Giant Que Sword was the sword my late father carried, and it is the only keepsake he left me. I implore the sect to return it."
The hall fell silent for another moment.
Then Zhou Huanzhang smiled.
His smile held a trace of condescending pity.
"Chu Yunfei, your father is dead. This sword belongs to the sect, and its disposition is rightfully the sect's concern."
"In consideration of your youth and ignorance, we will not pursue this matter. You may remain in the sect to cultivate. Conduct yourself properly from now on."
Chu Yunfei turned his gaze toward Zhou Huanzhang.
"Elder Zhou, my father served the sect for over ten years, fought no fewer than a hundred battles large and small, and suffered countless injuries. His achievements are clearly recorded in the merit ledger. On his final expedition, he went to Demon Abyss Valley on a mission under the Sect Master's orders. He never returned."
"He died for the sect."
"He didn't return, but his sword did. The sect said he had violated its rules. But no one has ever given me an explanation of which rule he violated, or how."
"And now you're going to take his sword as well."
Chu Yunfei looked around at everyone, the faintest curve forming at the corner of his mouth.
"I would like to ask the elders to search their consciences. Of those fellow sect members who were close to my father, how many still remember him?"
The hall was so silent that not even a crow or sparrow could be heard.
Unusual expressions appeared on several older elders' faces. Some lowered their heads, while others turned away.
Some among them had indeed once called Chu Batian their brother and shared drinks and laughter with him.
Yet once Chu Batian died, those old friendships had vanished like smoke.
While Chu Batian lived, who had not shown him respect?
The peak master of Tiger Roar Peak, his cultivation unrivaled among his peers, the name Giant Que Sword Immortal had resounded throughout Qingyang City.
But once the guest departed, the tea grew cold. Such was the coldness of the world.
Faced with a deceased old friend on one side and benefits within easy reach on the other, most people's choices were remarkably alike.
Silence.
Silence was changing sides.
A middle-aged elder seated on the right cleared his throat, breaking the awkward silence.
"Martial Nephew Chu, we understand how you feel, but the sect has its rules. We have never denied Peak Master Chu's achievements, but the spirit artifact he left behind should rightfully be allocated by the sect and assigned on merit to the disciple who needs it most and is most capable of using it. This is for the sect's overall interests."
Those words were lofty and high-sounding.
Chu Yunfei looked at the speaker without a ripple in his eyes.
Of course he understood what these people were scheming.
The Giant Que Sword was a divine weapon. In a sect on the Azure Mystic Sect's level, it already counted as a top-tier resource.
Everyone present knew exactly what a good sword meant to a sword cultivator.
These elders spoke of the sect's interests, but each was actually calculating how to bring the sword under his own banner.
Zhou Huanzhang wanted to pave the way for his disciple Xu Changqing. How could the other elders not harbor similar thoughts?
"Since Martial Nephew Chu insists, how about this?"
Zhou Huanzhang stroked his long beard, his smile genial. "The sect will hold a competition among the true disciples. Whoever wins will receive the Giant Que Sword. If you have confidence, Martial Nephew Chu, you are welcome to participate. This would be fair and silence all the wagging tongues. What do you think?"
Fair.
Chu Yunfei turned that word over in his mind.
He, at the eighth level of Qi Condensation, would compete on the same stage as a group of Spirit Martial Realm true disciples for his own father's belongings.
This was what they called fairness.
His gaze swept across the hall, passing over faces that were silent, evasive, or wearing false smiles.
The warmth and coldness of human relationships.
My past life and this one-I've watched it for two lifetimes, and I've seen enough.
Chu Yunfei withdrew his gaze and looked back at Sect Master Zhang Qingfeng.
The sect's master had remained silent throughout, his expression unruffled, as though watching a play that had nothing to do with him.
"Sect Master." Chu Yunfei cupped his hands and bowed. "I am willing to participate in the competition."
Zhang Qingfeng finally raised his eyelids slightly.
"Are you certain?"
"I am."
Zhang Qingfeng looked at him for a moment, then nodded slightly. "Very well. Three days from now, at the martial training grounds. Prepare well."
His gaze shifted away from Chu Yunfei and swept over everyone present.
"The winner gets the sword."
Chu Yunfei bowed, then turned and left.
After his retreating figure disappeared beyond the hall doors, the silence in the great hall lasted several breaths before low murmurs broke it.
"Has this brat gone mad?"
"He's won a few matches in the outer sect tournament and already thinks he knows how high the heavens are and how deep the earth is. True disciples aren't people those outer sect disciples can compare to."
"Heh, he doesn't know his own limits."
In a corner, Xu Changqing leaned back in his chair, a faint, contemptuous smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.