In tandem, they stood up, walking past Guang Fanghu as they ambled at the coffin. The masked experts didn’t stand in the way, enabling the girls to walk by. Dong Ling was the first to stop by the coffin’s side. Chun Xu followed soon afterward, and together they watched the red-robed and lilac-dressed women that kneeled by the corpse’s side, sobbing in their masks.
Dong Ling couldn’t recognize them. Chun Xu, however, had no trouble identifying Tusha’s aura, an aura that had been in her since the Ice-Fire Cave. This discovery almost ruptured her heart. Now more than ever, Chun Xu dared not lift the piece of cloth covering the herculean corpse’s face.
Yan Le and the Zhi-Zhu twins looked absentmindedly, immediately recognizing the corpse. Dong Ling’s mind refused to produce a name, yet her hands moved on their own, lowering onto the piece of cloth.
At that time, Tusha snapped.
”What are you doing here? Hateful sluts! It’s you—YOU—that killed my master! Abbot, your servant is useless and couldn’t save you…from these poisonous women! Now they dare to show up! And for what? FOR WHAT? It’s too late…” Tusha’s mask fell off her face, revealing a striking feral beauty with sanguine red eyes and coiffed orange hair that hung above her waist. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she grabbed Dong Ling’s hand, throwing it away from the cloth.
Yet, by doing so, Tusha unwittingly pressured the cloth, causing it to slide down the corpse’s face.
”Ahaha…my abbot is dead!” Mixing sobs and self-deprecating laughs, the Infernal Nun arched her head back, trembling like a helpless farm girl in harsh winter nights. Xinzi’s face appeared at last. His eyes stayed shut. His lips had taken a bluish hue, and his skin, once full of dark luster, now looked as pale as chalky bones.
Chun Xu’s knees buckled, and she fell to the ground, staring with trembling eyes at Xinzi’s listless face. The Zhi-Zhu twins, Yan Le and the Li initiates fell as well, their eyes turning moist, salty and red as reality slammed them in the face.
Only Dong Ling stayed on her feet, her lips curled into a smile.
”Hehe, this is clearly a joke. A’Xin is invincible. How could he be dead? Hahaha, why are you guys not laughing? It’s a scam! He will leap out of that coffin in five seconds. Just watch. Just…watch.” Dong Ling put her hands on her hips, nodding as she spoke. Her smile contrasted with her skin, which by now had lost all mystical glow—just as pale as Xinzi’s copse.
”Ling’er…I’m sorry.” Guang Fanghu fell here, clenching the hems of his Daoist robe in a blend of sorrow and shame.
”Dad, I love you, but please shut up! I said it’s a scam! IT HAS TO BE! A’Xin will rise within seconds, and play it all off with an irresistible swagger. A’Xin…I’m waiting. Go on, I won’t be mad at you.” Without glancing towards Guang Fanghu, Dong Ling said.
”A’Xin, I’ve already planned the wedding. Just for you, I decided to compromise and allow four hussies max. That’s a great concession, right? But if you don’t wake up, you can’t enjoy it. Go on, wake up.” Dong Ling refused to accept Xinzi’s death, tugging on his sleeves like a child begging for lollipops.
”I never liked the sect’s colors. That’s why I don’t wear it. White, in the Eastern Continent, is the color of mourning. Of all the colors you could have selected, why did the sect uniform have to be white? Now we have over 100 people dressed in that same white. No wonders the atmosphere is so unbearable.
Bad luck!
You will bring A’Xin bad luck! A’Xin don’t worry, with me here, bad luck is about to turn into good fortune. Just wake up…please!” Dong Ling’s mood turned chaotic. Her fists slammed and rubbed on Xinzi’s chest, demanding a reaction.
They got none, and the snakegirl’s limbs shook anew.
”You can call, call and call again, but no matter how hard you try, a dead person cannot rise from the grave. Xinzi is dead. And indeed, it is our fault,” Guang Fanghu said at last, shattering his daughter’s soul. Like a disarticulated puppet, Dong Ling fell over the coffin, laying over Xinzi’s body with tears dripping down her face.
”Ling’er!” Alarmed, Guang Fanghu rushed towards his daughter, attempting to yank her towards him. However, her body stayed glued to Xinzi, refusing to move. No additional word came from her lips, and she just stood there, with her jaw hanging low, and her eyes wide open.
Unable to pressure her, Guang Fanghu relented. Meanwhile, Chun Xu’s nails had sunken into her flesh, tearing through her tender skin till blood started dripping from her arms. The Zhi-Zhu twins slammed their heads against the coffin, their sobbing sounds muffled by the banging blows they inflicted upon themselves.
The Li clan initiates held their faces in their hands, crying in silence. And though she lay on the ground, just like Dong Ling, Yan Le’s brain refused to accept Xinzi’s death, convinced that he would rise again at any time. He didn’t, and believing that he owed the girl an explanation, Guang Fanghu took the mic—so to speak.
”I suppose that you must have heard about it by now. In your absence, a patriarch of the demonic path assaulted the White Immortal Sect. Thanks to a few moles that he’d planted in our ranks, he was already aware of the recent gains we’d made, and demanded we not only hand over our resources but also pay him monthly tributes in spirit stones and elite disciples.
We refused, and with irresistible momentum, that demonic expert blasted through all our defenses, bringing the White Immortal Sect to the gates of destruction. This forced Zi Yao to reveal her secrets. She too turned out to be an expert of the demonic path, with abominable creatures and methods that she used to fight the invader.
It didn’t matter. The Bloodstone Patriarch proved too strong for even the demonized Zi Yao—single-handedly bringing us to our knees. Not only did he infect Zi Yao with a dreadful poison that kills all members of her bloodline should they stand too close to her, he also destroyed the sect, looted it to the last penny, and captured the leaders.
Fortunately, Xinzi returned, leading with him an army of white-winged divine spirits to save us all from doom.” Guang Fanghu took a dramatic pause, and here, the girls all pictured the return of a divine monarch leading angelic warriors to rescue his perishing country.
”Xinzi not only saved over 90% of the sect’s men and women but also helped them ascend to greater lifeforms tiers. Not just the White Immortal Sect, he did the same with Burning Spear Supercity, saving it from the Bloodstone Patriarch’s demonic plots. Alas, I made a terrible mistake.
When Xinzi started looking for your whereabouts, jealous, angry and feeling petty, I didn’t share anything with him.”
”What about the poem we left him?” Chun Xu cut Guang Fanghu, fearing the worst.
”With the sect in shambles, where was he supposed to find it?
News them came that the Dark Chamber of Commerce had been overrun by the new gangs that had risen in Chrysanthemum City. I panicked and revealed the truth. Xinzi didn’t lose his composure and sent his divine spirits to not only retake it but investigate your situation. They found no news, and hearing this, Xinzi couldn’t control his grief…suffering cultivation deviation.”
Guang Fanghu’s words hit the girls like battering rams, sending them reeling from pain and shock.
”We tried everything, but the blow was too harsh. Xinzi’s cultivation flowed in reverse, damaging his meridians, soul…and ending his life! More experts from his secret background came to save him…but it was all too late.” Guang Fanghu sighed, fell on his knees, and kowtowed at Xinzi.
A moment of silence followed, with tears and shock making way for tidal waves of guilt. The girls clutched at their chests, in desperation rubbing their heads on Xinzi’s coffin.
”Xinzi, I’m so sorry! If it can bring you back to life, I pledge on my Dao to never again act without your consent! Every step of the way, I will never go against you!” Chun Xu was the first to speak these words. Prompting each girl to take the same tear-laden Dao Pledge.
Only Dong Ling and Yan Le didn’t…for they had yet to find the strength to speak.
”Good, cause tracking you all down can be quite the pain. I’m glad to know that it won’t be a recurrent theme,” Xinzi said, and while stroking Dong Ling’s back, cracked his neck. His voice seized the 20 gals’ attention—even the half comatose Dong Ling and Yan Le. All raised their eyes at the pious monk, watching his chalky skin regain the luster of life, and his lips curled into a wolfish grin.