ATAVID CH50

“Murdering fellow disciples, killing his own father and family—that demonic scoundrel Wei Xun has actually slaughtered the entire Lingxiao Sect! If this brat isn’t eliminated, he will surely become a great disaster! If the Immortal Alliance doesn’t act now, are we waiting for him to flee back to the Demon Realm, hide in the Nine Netherworlds, and spend another hundred or eighty years raising his strength before he returns to wipe out all the great immortal sects?!”

In a tavern, a man with disheveled hair and a beard slammed his fist onto the table, his voice making the cups and saucers tremble.

“The Sect Leader and all the Elders of the Lingxiao Sect have perished, and even Sword Venerable Wei Lan, who was in the Void Refinement realm, did not escape.”

Another person replied, his face deathly pale, “This demon must have practiced some evil art. How else could he have returned to a level above the Void Refinement realm within a mere ten years after his Golden Core was shattered and his cultivation destroyed? To kill so many Nascent Soul cultivators in a single night!”

“During the sect tournament that year, I already realized that this child was not a kind-hearted soul,” someone said coldly.

“How could you have known? That’s just hindsight!” someone nearby immediately retorted. “Now that the Lingxiao Sect Elders are all dead, what use is there in saying these things?”

The man said nothing more, just hung his head in embarrassment.

“The Lingxiao Sect, ranked among the three great sects, has fallen to such a state—it is truly sigh-worthy.”

A young cultivator sighed, though his tone carried a hint of undisguised excitement. “However, with the Sect Leader and all the Elders dead, the remaining Lingxiao Sect disciples cannot shoulder the responsibility of re-establishing the sect.”

“I imagine it won’t be long before the Lingxiao Sect’s spiritual veins and Sword Mound are divided up by the major sects. I wonder if our small sects will be able to get a share.”

“What are you thinking?” someone nearby scoffed. “Those treasures were likely confiscated by the Immortal Alliance not long after news of the Lingxiao Sect’s destruction got out.”

“Such a massive disturbance—I wonder how the Immortal Alliance will handle it. After all, if the Lingxiao Sect could be wiped out by a single demon entity in a single night, the two sects ahead of them—the Mysterious Sword Sect and the Buxu Sect—must be feeling uneasy right now. Not to mention small, insignificant sects like ours.”

“That is true,” the young cultivator said dejectedly.

He paused and asked: “But did Wei Xun really kill his father and relatives?”

“Lingxiao Sect disciples saw it with their own eyes. Wei Xun walked out of the Floating Lamp Palace covered in blood; how could that be fake?”

The man lowered his voice, acting mysterious: “Wei Xun was blinded by the urge to kill that day. By the time the Immortal Alliance arrived, the white jade steps of the Lingxiao Sect had already been soaked through with blood. The blood flowed down the stairs for an entire night, and even the snow couldn’t cover it.”

“Did Wei Miao die too?”

“Wei Miao? Who is Wei Miao?”

“Oh, oh, I remember now, you mean Wei Xun’s brother?” The man thought for a moment. “He must be dead; his soul lamp went out. It’s just that his body couldn’t be found. He was probably ground into dust by Wei Xun!”

“Who would have thought…”

The tavern fell into silence. There were only the sounds of clashing cups and the rustling of snow falling outside the window.

In the final snowfall of the cultivation world, the news of the Lingxiao Sect’s destruction spread quickly. That same year, the Immortal Alliance was furious and announced to the world that Wei Xun was a remnant of the demonic path. In the name of purging the righteous path and comforting the spirit of the Sword Venerable, the Immortal Alliance gathered several cultivators at the Great Success realm, laying down a vast net, swearing to capture and execute Wei Xun to serve as a warning.

At the same time, a blood-red bounty notice hung high above the Nine Heavens, declaring to the Three Realms: Whoever kills Wei Xun will be rewarded with ten immortal weapons and can enter the secret realms of the Mysterious Sword Sect and the Buxu Sect to inherit supreme Daoist opportunities.

As soon as the bounty was announced, it caused a massive uproar in the cultivation world.

Mysterious Sword Sect.

Shen Peiqiu sat on a high platform, his aura stable, eyes closed in meditation. Morning sunlight spilled through the window lattices, plating him in a faint golden edge. A crane flew in from outside the door, carrying a sound-transmission talisman, circling but failing to land.

“Master, does Brother Crane have some urgent business?” asked Wen Xingyao, who was sitting cross-legged nearby practicing.

Shen Peiqiu sighed lightly. He thought to himself that it was probably those Elders of the Mysterious Sword Sect again, urging him not to break off his teacher-student relationship with Lan Yuanzhou on an impulsive whim.

After leaving East Mirror Lake City, Shen Peiqiu had personally acted to abolish Su Fuyao’s cultivation and threw him into the Reflection Cliff. As for Lan Yuanzhou, Shen Peiqiu no longer wished to have any ties with him. After returning to the sect, he told the Sect Leader that Lan Yuanzhou had reached the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul realm, and since he himself was only in the Spirit Transformation realm, he had nothing left to teach him. He had requested to open a new peak for Lan Yuanzhou.

In the cultivation world, few people of Lan Yuanzhou’s age opened their own peaks. Most cultivators waited until they were over a hundred years old. Before a hundred, one would at most open a new cave dwelling on their master’s peak. Thus, Shen Peiqiu’s action was equivalent to telling everyone that his relationship with Lan Yuanzhou had come to an end. Moreover, because Shen Peiqiu had brought back a mortal disciple, the Elders of the Mysterious Sword Sect were anxious.

One had to know that Lan Yuanzhou reaching the Great Perfection of the Nascent Soul realm at twenty-something was extremely rare, even in the Lingxiao Sect. If cultivated properly, he would certainly have a place in the cultivation world in the future. In this age group, apart from the former Lingxiao Sect’s Wei Xun, only Lan Yuanzhou could join him on the “Prodigy Rankings.” In years past, Wei Xun had dominated the list. Since his death, the top spot was held by Lan Yuanzhou. Therefore, even for the sake of this prestige, the Elders of the Mysterious Sword Sect would not allow Shen Peiqiu to do this. They couldn’t guarantee that if Lan Yuanzhou weren’t raised by Shen Peiqiu, he would still achieve what he had today. Furthermore, Shen Peiqiu himself was the most talented cultivator under two hundred years old—a Spirit Transformation realm cultivator at two hundred was a rarity among the three thousand immortal sects.

So, for the past few days, the Elders had taken turns trying to persuade him, tiring Shen Peiqiu out. But in the end, he had to look. After a moment of hesitation, Shen Peiqiu finally reached out to signal the crane. It stopped circling, landed gently on his hand, delivered the talisman, and then flapped its wings to soar into the clouds, vanishing instantly.

Wen Xingyao instinctively perked up his ears, leaning in and waiting curiously to hear the contents.

A moment later, an icy, solemn voice emanated from the paper, dropping into their ears word by word, clear as day:

“The Lingxiao Sect has been completely destroyed, and Sword Venerable Wei Lan has died a miserable death. Investigations reveal it was the work of his disciple, Wei Xun. This child has a venomous heart; he murdered his own family, destroyed his sect, entered the demonic path, and brought disaster upon the world. He is rejected by heaven and earth.”

“Order of the Immortal Alliance: Assemble cultivators of the Great Success realm and above to form a ‘Demon-Slaying Team’ to hunt down Wei Xun and rectify the Heavenly Dao. Shen Peiqiu, you are among them. Assemble immediately; there must be no delay.”

The curiosity on Wen Xingyao’s face froze instantly, his eyes widening. He turned to the side and asked after a long while: “M-Master, the person this Immortal Alliance order wants to kill… is it Brother Wei?”

Shen Peiqiu’s fingers, gripping the talisman, tightened until his knuckles turned white, his expression darkening. His calm and gentle brows were suddenly overcast with heavy solemnity, his lips pressed tightly. Although he and Wei Xun weren’t close friends, he knew the youth was cold and aloof, never the type to be a bloodthirsty sect-destroyer. Yet, the Immortal Alliance’s order was unequivocal; he could not help but believe it.

After a long while, he finally sighed and frowned: “The Immortal Alliance is playing for real this time, mobilizing even the Great Success realm cultivators. Wei Xun… I’m afraid he has no way out this time.”

Wen Xingyao opened his mouth but could say nothing. He only worried: with so many people hunting Wei Xun, could he really survive? And if he died, what would happen to Jiang Qunyu?

At this very moment, the two people at the center of the storm knew nothing of the massive manhunt unfolding in the cultivation world.

The Forgetful River is located at the edge of the Nine Netherworlds. Stepping across the boundless desert, one sees a grayish, heavy sky pressing down on the dead, still surface of the river. There are no sun, moon, or stars; only eternal, dim light seeping in from an unknown source, staining everything a chaotic gray-white.

The river was calm, without a single ripple. Sometimes, bubbles would rise from the depths and burst silently, exhaling a trace of almost invisible mist—or perhaps it was just the souls submerged at the bottom of the river turning over during their long, eternal wait. Along both banks, ghostly blue Manjusaka flowers grew everywhere. When a breeze blew across the water, the sea of flowers heaved gently, as if breathing.

Jiang Qunyu followed behind Wei Xun, walking through the flowers, occasionally kicking a small stone away. “Wei Xun, Wei Xun, Wei Xun,” he called out three times.

Wei Xun looked back at him, his dark lashes covered in a cold, white light, his voice calm: “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Jiang Qunyu pouted. “I’m just bored, so I wanted to call you.”

“Oh,” Wei Xun replied indifferently. He didn’t seem impatient with Jiang Qunyu’s trivial games; he just looked away and asked: “Didn’t you find some new novels to read a few days ago?”

“Yes. But I don’t know if it’s because I read too many at once, but now I feel a bit dizzy when I see words,” Jiang Qunyu said.

Wei Xun asked him to hand the book over. Jiang Qunyu raised an eyebrow curiously: “Didn’t you say my books were nutritionally bankrupt?” But after thinking about it, he fished one out and handed it over, leaning in to tease him with a smile: “You haven’t just been wanting to read them for a day or two, have you? Quit pretending!”

Wei Xun remained expressionless, lowering his head to casually flip through the book. He flipped through it very quickly, page by page, like a cursory glance at scenery from a horse. Then, he returned it to Jiang Qunyu, his tone calm: “As expected, it fits your aesthetic.”

“Yep,” Jiang Qunyu shrugged. “But I can’t help it, it really is interesting.”

“Where did you read up to last time?” Wei Xun asked.

Jiang Qunyu hugged his arms, his dark green headband fluttering in the wind, and thought: “The protagonist discovered a few corpses of children wearing burial clothes hidden in the inn’s wine cellar.” He was wondering why Wei Xun was asking about this, when a clear, gentle voice drifted into his ears:

“Suddenly, a baby’s cry echoed from the wine cellar…”

Jiang Qunyu was suddenly stunned. It took a moment to realize—Wei Xun was reading the story to him. He flipped through the book in his hand, eyes wide with disbelief. Wei Xun had only flipped through a few pages, yet he had memorized the content perfectly, word for word.

“How did you do that?” Jiang Qunyu asked, his face full of shock.

“…” Wei Xun pressed his lips together. “Do you want to keep listening?”

Duh.

Jiang Qunyu instantly became happy, his eyes curving into smiles as he teased: “It’s rare for someone to condescend to read a story to me, of course I want to listen.”

A trace of undetectable softness flickered in Wei Xun’s eyes as his thin lips parted, continuing the story.

Perhaps it was because they had walked for a long time and he was tired, or perhaps because Wei Xun’s voice was too stable and calm, but before long, Jiang Qunyu transformed into a small black mist ball, softly clinging to Wei Xun’s shoulder, yawning intermittently as drowsiness washed over him.

Just before Jiang Qunyu fell asleep, Wei Xun happened to reach the part of the story where the protagonist was about to break through his cultivation realm.

Jiang Qunyu seemed to remember something and asked vaguely: “Wei Xun, are you about to break through?”

It was strange. He could clearly feel that the demonic energy in Wei Xun’s spiritual consciousness was already enough to break through the realm, yet he was forcibly suppressing it, delaying the breakthrough.

Hearing this, Wei Xun’s footsteps faltered, and he fell silent.

Jiang Qunyu had fallen asleep. The wind suddenly blew, causing the sea of Manjusaka flowers to wave back and forth.