The commotion did not last for too long.
Just as the crowd hesitated outside the palace gate,
“Enough!”
A commanding voice echoed from outside the palace gate.
Seeing this, the onlookers turned away, following the sound of the voice.
They saw an elderly man in a gray robe with white beard, accompanied by a few Daoist disciples, approaching on immortal cranes. The dignified demeanor of the old man suggested a high status within the Huayang Sword Sect.
This man, named Nie Zong, is the current sect leader of the Huayang Sword Sect and can be considered Yan Qing’an’s martial uncle. In the past, Yan Qing’an’s master entrusted him with the task of rescuing a young man whose entire family had been wiped out by the demonic cult, a matter known to Nie Zong.
However, at that time, Nie Zong did not agree with Yan Qing’an’s master’s thoughts. He believed that “He Heng” had been too deeply influenced by the demonic creatures. Even if they managed to rescue him, his temperament would inevitably become unruly and uncontrollable, resistant to discipline. Moreover, sealing the demonic soul and spiritual roots within him was not a long-term solution.
In the end, under the other party’s insistence, he did not raise objections.
But now, unexpectedly, in just two years, “He Heng” has caused such trouble. If not for his admission today in the hall, all these charges would have fallen on his martial nephew’s shoulders.
With these thoughts in mind, Nie Zong placed his hands behind his back and turned to face the crowd, speaking slowly and deliberately:
“Today, Nie Zong will offer you all an explanation. Since the theft of the token is confirmed, the Huayang Sword Sect will spare no effort in sealing the demonic creatures beneath the Cangshan Mountains once again.”
“However, as for the specifics of why the token was stolen and how to punish those responsible, that is an internal matter for the sect. I believe you’ve all had enough excitement here today. It’s time to disperse.”
Nie Zong’s words hit the mark for the “righteous cultivators” who were caught in a dilemma by the palace gate.
They were not interested in lingering in this situation any longer. What they urgently needed was a way to step down gracefully.
Upon hearing Nie Zong’s words, Suigu immediately stepped forward and said, “Since Sect Leader Nie has promised to give us justice, we naturally believe in his words. We will take our leave for today.”
With that, he left without looking back, leading the bewildered crowd.
After everyone had departed, Nie Zong turned around and shifted his gaze back to the hall.
His eyes briefly lingered on He Heng, now free of the dark mist. In his gaze, a complex mix of emotions surfaced, seeming both helpless and disappointed. There was a trace of anger, along with a barely perceptible undercurrent of fear. Ultimately, all these feelings condensed into a sigh of resignation.
Immediately, he turned his attention to Yan Qing’an, who was at the end of the room.
Nie Zong had watched his nephew grow up, and he knew Yan Qing’an better than anyone else. He was aware that Yan Qing’an was someone who would rather hit a southern wall than take a shortcut. Therefore, he couldn’t bring himself to believe the rumors circulating outside about Yan Qing’an colluding with the demonic cult to break through the tenth level.
After a moment of contemplation, he addressed Yan Qing’an, “The theft of the token is an issue within the Huayang Sword Sect. However, He Heng is your disciple, so how to handle him is for you to decide. However…”
At this point, Nie Zong shifted his gaze back to He Heng.
“Since he has admitted to everything, from now on, he has no affiliation with the Huayang Sword Sect.”
Upon hearing these words, He Heng’s facial expression remained unchanged, but his inner thoughts whispered sarcastically:
‘Fine. Getting expelled from the sect right from the start fits perfectly into Long Aotian’s script.’
996: […Just a reminder, you’re holding a script for a crematorium story, don’t constantly think it’s a script for Long Aotian.]
He Heng: ‘Doesn’t matter, it’s all the same. Sometimes you need to change your perspective, you know? Why fixate on ‘crematorium’, ‘crematorium’ and put so much pressure on yourself?’
996: […]
The next moment, Nie Zong took out a small gray bottle from his wide sleeve and placed it on the table. He then sighed helplessly towards Yan Qing’an.
“As for your injuries, let Xue Yao take a look later. Here’s a bottle of the Living Essence Bone-Healing Powder; you can use it for now…”
He was well aware that Yan Qing’an had lost all his inner energy and suffered damage to his meridians. This was not a minor issue, and even the highly esteemed Xue Yao, known as the “Healing Saint” within their sect, might not be able to swiftly repair the damage.
Perhaps the best solution was to first mend the meridians, and then start anew. Yan Qing’an’s efforts of over two decades might be in vain, which would be the cruelest blow for any cultivator.
“Cough, cough.”
As soon as Yan Qing’an spoke, he couldn’t help but cough a few times. He quickly covered his mouth with his sleeve and expressed his gratitude to Nie Zong.
After Nie Zong left the Wang An Ju Residence, he left several Daoist disciples behind and instructed them to ensure that He Heng wouldn’t leave the South Mountain Heavenly Palace of the Huayang Sword Sect until he had completely sealed the demonic creatures. This was to prevent any actions from He Heng that might damage the sect’s reputation.
Once Nie Zong left, the attendants who were originally inside the hall retreated to the outside of the palace gate. The vast hall now only had He Heng and Yan Qing’an.
According to the information provided by 996 earlier, Yan Qing’an’s level of blackening was barely stabilized around 90, but his current physical condition was still not good. Therefore, He Heng thought it would be best to have Xue Yao, as mentioned by Nie Zong, attend to him first.
Thinking about this, he began, “Master…”
However, before he could finish his sentence, Yan Qing’an interrupted him, saying, “You’re not my disciple anymore.”
Just a moment ago, Yan Qing’an had reconsidered the reasons behind this matter.
Back then, he saved “He Heng” because of the trust placed in him by his master and the gratitude the He family had towards the Huayang Sword Sect. The reason “He Heng” behaved in ways that violated sect rules and were rebellious ultimately boiled down to his own inadequate guidance.
Since that was the case, he accepted the consequences of his actions. However, from now on, the master-disciple relationship between He Heng and Yan Qing’an was officially severed. If He Heng were to engage in any behavior harmful to the common people again, the Huayang Sword Sect would no longer offer any protection.
Upon hearing Yan Qing’an’s words, He Heng first paused in surprise, then nodded thoughtfully.
He had just been expelled from the sect, so he was indeed no longer his disciple. But if not “Master,” what should he call him now? “Yan Qing’an,” “Qing’an,” “Qingqing,” or simply “An An”?
Calling him by his full name sounded strangely fierce, and the latter three options clearly indicated that they hadn’t reached an intimate level of addressing each other in this world.
After much contemplation, none of them felt right.
In the end, He Heng lifted his head and said, “You’re right, but that doesn’t stop me from calling you Master. You can call me whatever you want, and we’ll each mind our own business.”
Yan Qing’an: “…”
This was the first time he realized that He Heng had such a talent for infuriating people to the point of near-death.
The next moment, Yan Qing’an started coughing violently, leaning on the edge of the table. A trickle of bright red blood seeped from the corner of his mouth, presenting an appearance of extreme weakness.
Witnessing this, He Heng immediately walked over, lifting Yan Qing’an horizontally and heading towards the direction of the bedroom.
In the sudden lift, Yan Qing’an’s amber-colored eyes widened in disbelief as he looked at the man carrying him. Almost involuntarily, he blurted out, “Put me down.”
The moment his words fell, He Heng’s hands really pulled back, giving the impression that he was about to toss him away in the next second.
“Ugh… you!”
Losing his balance for a moment, Yan Qing’an thought He Heng was about to let go. Unconsciously, he reached out with his arms and clasped them around He Heng’s neck.
However, contrary to his expectation, his body didn’t soar through the air. He Heng’s large hands securely supported his weight.
As Yan Qing’an tilted his head back, he caught a glimpse of a faint smile playing on He Heng’s lips.
Realizing he had been played, Yan Qing’an withdrew his head with a somewhat sulky expression, choosing not to speak further. At that moment, He Heng’s low voice sounded from above,
“Put you down?”
“And then, could you take a few steps on your own?”
Yan Qing’an: “…”
He was already too exasperated to respond.
He Heng carried him all the way to the bed and promptly instructed the attendants to fetch Xue Yao as mentioned by Nie Zong.
Xue Yao arrived swiftly. In less than half the time it takes to brew a cup of tea, he arrived at the Anju Residence, stepping gracefully with a long sword at his side.
After checking Yan Qing’an’s pulse, the short and stout-looking elder, with his short gray beard, couldn’t help but sigh incessantly.
Seeing this, He Heng pulled him aside and asked, “What’s the matter?”
He was afraid that if Xue Yao kept sighing like this, Yan Qing’an might be in better shape before, but these sorrowful sighs could make him short of breath.
“Sigh,” Xue Yao sighed again, “He’s a tricky one, this one.”
“His meridians are all damaged, and he’s lacking an inner core. It’s like pouring out a pot of water completely empty and then suddenly trying to fill it up again. Where in this world is there such a method?”
He Heng, unaware of how tricky the situation was, blurted out without much thought, “Why not just give him the inner core back?”
Hearing this, Xue Yao waved his hand repeatedly, “How is that possible? Just think about it. Can you vomit out what you’ve eaten?”
He Heng: “…”
There was no need to put it so disgustingly.
After some consideration, he still asked, “Can you tell me, is there really no method at all? Or is there any way to quickly restore his inner energy?”
Xue Yao pondered for a moment and said, “From what I know, Wan Gu Dan Sheng of Qingyi Sect has a unique technique for restoring the heart meridians. That might be effective, but he usually lives in seclusion and rarely entertains visitors unless he’s closed off for cultivation. However…”
He Heng couldn’t stand the slow-paced nature of the conversation and pulled at Xue Yao’s sleeve, urging, “However, what?”
Xue Yao replied, “However, the five major sects are holding a sect competition on Yuntai Mountain soon. It’s said that he will be present. If there’s a chance to win the top spot in the sect competition, it might not be difficult to meet him.”
This sounded quite feasible.
Immediately, He Heng lowered his head and contemplated,
Their description of the sect competition seemed to be a gathering where everyone came together to beat each other up. The one with the strongest fists, who could knock everyone else down, would be the ultimate winner.
This activity sounded tailor-made for him. If he went now, wouldn’t he be getting it all for free?
After the two finished talking, Xue Yao administered some medicine for Yan Qing’an. He Heng instructed the attendants to brew the medicine, then went to Yan Qing’an’s room.
He gently pushed open the door to Yan Qing’an’s room. On the soft bed, Yan Qing’an’s ink-colored long hair was scattered, and at this moment, he had closed his eyes, curled up in a corner in a posture that seemed insecure. It was evident that he was already asleep, but the bedding only covered him up to his waist, leaving most of his body exposed.
Seeing this, He Heng walked to the bedside, gently pulling up the blanket for Yan Qing’an. During this process, the back of his hand accidentally brushed against Yan Qing’an’s cheek.
In the split second that the warmth of the other’s cheek transmitted to the back of his hand, Yan Qing’an’s originally tightly closed long lashes trembled for a moment.
Without thinking much, He Heng quickly withdrew his hand.
Just then, there were a few “thuds” of knocking from outside the door. Immediately, the young attendant pushed open the wooden door with a creak and peeked in, saying to He Heng:
“The medicine is ready.”
Afraid of waking up the already sleeping Yan Qing’an, He Heng quickly gestured to the attendant to keep quiet, then walked to the door and told him,
“Leave it there for now. When he wakes up, heat it up and bring it in.”
With that, he turned and left the room, casually closing the wooden door behind him.
However, as soon as the door was closed, Yan Qing’an, who had already been “sleeping” on the bed, suddenly opened his eyes. There was a trace of indescribable confusion in his gaze.
Yan Qing’an gripped the blanket with both hands and rolled several times on the bed, but his mind was constantly filled with the cool sensation when the back of the other’s hand unintentionally brushed against his cheek, and He Heng’s words to the young attendant.
He Heng’s actions didn’t seem like an act, as he wouldn’t deliberately show them when Yan Qing’an was supposedly asleep.
His upside-down flying didn’t seem like an act, considering the difficulty required to achieve such an effect.
But why did He Heng do this?
At this moment, Yan Qing’an felt a buzzing sensation in his head, starting from the moment He Heng flew upside down with the sword.
So annoying!
In the end, unable to organize his thoughts, he angrily pulled the blanket over his head, attempting to smother himself in it…
When Yan Qing’an woke up, he felt all groggy. The sky outside the window had darkened, and he didn’t know how long he had been asleep.
Perhaps due to the spiritual energy He Heng had infused into him earlier, the true qi in his body had stabilized, and there was no longer the tearing pain he experienced before. However, his muscles all over his body still ached, and he felt completely devoid of strength.
Yan Qing’an half-supported himself against the bedpost, preparing to put on his shoes and get out of bed. Suddenly, there were urgent footsteps outside the door, and the attendant rushed in, saying,
“Senior Yan, something bad happened. Your disciple just ignored all the obstacles and flew out with his sword. He broke the restrictions left by Master Nie and said he wanted to participate in the sect competition on Yuntai Mountain.”
Yan Qing’an immediately leaned against the bedpost, rubbing his temples with a headache. He wondered if He Heng had gone out causing trouble again?
Thinking of this, he quickly put on his shoes and picked up the long sword hanging on the door, then walked out of the hall…
At the foot of Yuntai Mountain, at this moment, it was bustling with a lively crowd, presenting a lively scene.
It was rumored that if one could win the top spot in this sect competition, there was a chance to visit the scripture pavilion exclusively opened to disciples seated below the rank of Elder by Wan Gu Dan Sheng. This offered an opportunity to learn his unique techniques. Young disciples from various sects and schools were eager to participate in the event.
Following the winding mountain path for a few minutes, they arrived at a majestic gray stone gate with the three characters “Qing Yi Jiao” carved in the center.
In front of the stone gate were two wooden tables, each occupied by two or three disciples dressed in blue Daoist robes. These disciples were responsible for recording the names, sects, and ages of the participants—essentially the registration point for the upcoming sect competition.
On the road ahead, two long queues were formed, consisting of young Daoists who came to register for the competition. These participants varied in age, clothing, and temperament.
In one of the queues, a young man in black Daoist robes, carrying a long sword, appeared somewhat out of place. It wasn’t because his appearance was particularly strange, but rather, the other queues were closely packed together, while the space behind him was noticeably empty. Those behind him kept a considerable distance, as if he were a fearsome tiger that might devour anyone who got too close.
The Daoist in charge of registrations, still flipping through the registration book, finally looked up when he heard the answers.
“Alright, you’re registered. Take your token. The competition will begin once everyone is accounted for,” he said, handing over a small token to represent his participation.
As the young man from Huayang Sword Sect took the token, he looked around and found that many eyes in the crowd were curiously or cautiously focused on him. The peculiar distance kept by the others behind him had not gone unnoticed.
The Daoist at the registration desk, however, seemed uninterested in any potential gossip or disturbance, as he had already shifted his attention to the next participant.
This peeking is not a big deal, but a glance scares one.
When he saw the crimson mark between He Heng’s eyebrows clearly, he visibly paused. This mark seemed somewhat sinister.
Quite strange,
Another look.
Still somewhat strange.
So the Daoist couldn’t help but ask:
“Why are you participating in the Yuntai Mountain’s sect competition this time?”
As his words fell,
He Heng forcefully plunged his long sword into the ground, and suddenly, waves of black mist surrounded him. Just by doing so, everyone felt a chilling sensation, and the peculiar crimson mark between his eyebrows became even more apparent, resembling the color of fresh blood. The thorn patterns on his neck started to manifest once again.
With this move, he scared everyone behind him, causing them to retreat more than ten steps.
Only the Daoist who was assigned to register the participants by the Sect Master’s order remained standing nervously at his post.
In the next moment, He Heng faced the young Daoist in front of him and said with a powerful voice:
“My dream is to become the light of the righteous path!”
Support me on ko-fi ʚ(´꒳`)ɞ
