“Well said! Today, we must all raise the banner of vengeance, and pledge not to rest, until Zi Yao and the Bloodstone Patriarch have vanished from this world!”
“Zi…Yao?” Perplexed, Xinzi blinked at the elder, almost derailing his performance.
“Yes! Did you not see all her crimes. Our White Immortal Sect has always stood as an upright pillar of the righteous path—enforcing justice on behalf of heaven and enjoying the masses’ praises. But to think that the one we revered as the Yin Matriarch would turn out to be an abject demonic alchemist, with innocent body counts in the thousands?! How insulting! Both Zi Yao and the Bloodstone Patriarch have to die for our sect to restore its glory!” It was one thing to be a Holy Beast Descendant, another to carry out such atrocities in the name of growth.
Neither the Dong nor Zi elders could imagine how many had been ripped from their homes and lost their lives so Zi Yao could test her infernal theories. Worse, the hermaphrodite treants all bore striking resemblances to Huo Jin, the defunct leader of the Flower Plucking Gang—hinting at sins that the sect elders didn’t even dare to suspect.
‘When Hanxing enslaved his wife’s soul, turned her into a sacrifice and absorbed Lord Soaring Crane’s Nascent Divinity, you didn’t keep the same energy.’ Xinzi thought, but would never say that out loud.
“Elders, you make perfect sense! All of them must pay. But first, you must cultivate this sutra. It will not only help you heal all your wounds, but also bring your cultivation bases and strength to divine levels,” Xinzi said, and the mnemonics of the Servant Sutra poured into maimed elders and disciples—setting their minds ablaze with mystical Dao Chants.
“What kind of cultivation method is this? It must be the number one technique under the heavens!” They said, and without delay, dove into the mnemonics, attempting to comprehend all the mysteries of this unparalleled “divine” method.
Just like the Yan Spirit clan before them, it wouldn’t be long before elders and elite disciples morphed into White-Winged Demons. Radiant light oozed from their pores. Their wounds healed at lightning speed, their wrinkles faded away, and their limbs grew back—stronger than ever.
“Thank you, oh lord, for granting us this blessing!” Reborn in mesmerizing splendor, the 600-man troop kowtowed at Xinzi, convinced that their lives’ highest purpose was to serve this “divine” master.
“How poetic. Now, you truly are worthy of the name ‘White Immortals,'” Xinzi said, and as the White-Winged Demons’ talents and comprehension skills rose to the promised divine levels, our monk’s talents increased correspondingly.
“Alright. Now you hide your wings, cover your silver hair, mask your faces and head towards Xihai. Take over the Dark Chamber of Commerce, and document all events—small or big—that occurs in the Xihai Prefecture. I want to know the source of the two drugs, Paradise and Ignition, as well as all the underground groups and gangs profiting from their spread.”
“As you command, oh lord! Your servants will execute your will.” The new White-Winged Demons complied with their master’s orders, turned into dazzling beams of light, and shot towards Xihai.
“With that said, I have to do my duty as the loyal disciple of this ruined sect and track our sect masters down. Bye, bye, folks!” Xinzi waved at the sky, before sucking the plans scattered in Zi Yao’s laboratories into his storage ring. Then he too turned into a colorful beam, aiming for the Gorge of Thousand Venoms.
Up in the sky, the Armored Lion King, who stayed cloaked by fell energies, nodded at his master’s theatrics.
“If Dongli had an award show for the number one acting performance, boss, you would win it every year,” he said, then he too left to handle his job: saving the girls from themselves.
…
The Nameless City, an ancient border city of the Xihai prefecture that predated even the Dongli state. Ten-thousand years ago, it served as the personal hideout of Feng Jian, the Nameless Sword Emperor, and his closest retainers. But following Feng Jian’s extermination of the Feng Spirit clan, and subsequent suicide in Nameless City, the place sunk into a war zone, with experts from various human and spirit factions competing for Feng Jian’s legacy.
They didn’t get squat, and after 10,000 years of zero upkeep, the city degenerated into a swamp and hideout for some of the most atrocious desperadoes of the Dongli state. Ruins, debris, overgrown or dead plants neighboring polluted water, were only the most basic troubles that one had to deal with here.
Still, Nameless City housed a single edifice that, occasionally, would bring a curious death seeker over: Feng Jian’s Sword Tomb.
At the moment, in the deepest recesses of Nameless City, 20 lasses stood before a ten-meters-long mirror, watching the replaying images of a blue-haired middle-aged man hacking through thousands of similarly blue-haired folks. Some bore a striking resemblance to him. Brothers, cousins, uncles, father or son perhaps? It didn’t matter. The middle-aged Wind Spirit swept through them like an unstoppable hurricane of death, beheading them all to the last fellow.
All along, he screamed the same thing:
“WHY? WHY? You forced my hand! I didn’t have a choice! Master, it was you! Jian’er didn’t want to betray you, but why, why…did you have to be an Ancient Spirit?! AAAAAAAAARGH!” Afterward, the middle-aged man rushed out of the Imperial Wind City, returning to Nameless City where he rammed his sword through his head, unleashing horrifying Sword Force that not only ended his life, but reduced his Nascent Divinity into shreds.
That middle-aged man was Feng Jian, the number one swordsman of his time, and most talented disciple of Qiu Meng. As any sword master worth the name, Feng Jian built a Sword Tomb for himself, not only hoping to commemorate his death, but also to pass on his legacy.
Of the 20 girls standing before the mirror, only one, Chun Xu, wanted that legacy. In fact, she wanted it so badly that she dared to sneak into Nameless City, a place where even Golden Core elders trod carefully.
A whirlwind of Sword Sense surrounded the mirror, able to hack into pieces anyone under the Human Immortal realm, and preventing the visitors from reaching the cave entrance right behind the mirror.
The lasses split into three groups: Dong Ling, A’Zhi and A’Zhu on the right, Chun Xu and Yan Le on the left, and the 15 Li clan initiates standing several feet away from them, refusing to take sides.
“Damn you Chun Xu, how hateful can one person get in a single lifetime? This was never part of the plan!” Hands on her hips, and head tilted to the left, Dong Ling stomped her foot, staring at Chun Xu with burning eyes.