Meanwhile, under the pseudo leadership of the core zone’s prime disciple—Zi Zuixian—a group of six White Immortal sect Nascent Souls approached the Soaring Crane mountain, eager for a fight. A fight they wouldn’t find, for as Zi Yao had concluded, the Soaring Crane mountain had turned into a wasteland already.
Even as they neared the Soaring Crane mountain’s vicinity, Zuixian and the White Immortal sect elders could sense the devastation that lay within. But when they arrived above, the sight that greeted them still didn’t fail to cause surprise.
“Impressive work…” It was almost too startling to believe. At the end of the day, although their patriarch and rank five cranes left for the White Immortal sect, the Soaring Crane mountain still had two Nascent Souls to hold the fort. Add to that a fourth-layer defensive formation, and they should have been fully capable of resisting Xinzi’s Funerary Rite. In fact, it would be surprising if they didn’t force the young monk to retreat.
But instead of this obvious result, it was the Soaring Crane mountain that had gotten wiped clean. As far as the eyes could see, headless corpses filled the streets. The rivers of blood had started to drench, but the obnoxious scent of decomposing flesh and rampant gore still rattled the nostrils.
Zi Zuixian liked peace. For the sake of that peace, he once dreamed of erasing all the sects and factions of the cultivation world, hoping that afterward, no one would bother him again. For this goal, he cultivated relentlessly. But as he grew older, he realized that this project not only required too high of a cultivation base, but it was also too extreme. Afterward, the prime disciple opted for wine brewing and constant drunkenness—seeking in the booze the peace that his clan’s grand expectations so often denied him.
Lady Ziyun’s fate didn’t surprise him. Not much did, for as far as Zuixian was concerned, the cultivation world was a den of sanguine wolves that put progress, profit and benefits above all moral standards. Yet, as he stared at the Soaring Crane mountain’s corpses, Zi Zuixian couldn’t help but feel surprised. Surprised by Xinzi’s success, and saddened by the ravages that he knew would never stop until one stood above all and stripped the world of its freedom.
“Nature sanctions slaughter.” Reaching for his gourd, Zi Zuixian said and took a long gulp of wine. This gourd, a profound-grade artifact, could store enough liquor to serve a whole town—and yet often came short of satisfying Zuixian’s needs. The more he drank, the more accustomed his body became to drunken stupor, and the more he needed to reach the same state that kept him at peace. After decades of senseless drinking and cultivation, Zuixian’s tolerance had reached inconceivable levels, making it almost impossible for him to get dead-drunk.
The Nascent Soul elders, half of the Zi clansmen, ignored him—instead spreading their Spiritual Senses to cover the entirety of the Soaring Crane mountain, and locate their disciples. Zuixian too spread his Spiritual Sense out, more so because not doing so would give him too much of a bad look, rather than any sense of duty. And though it seemed minuscule compared to the Nascent Souls, his Spiritual Sense still eclipsed that of most Golden Core elders.
In the blink of an eye, the Spiritual Senses had covered the Soaring Crane mountain, locating all lives except for those in the underground, who could count on Tusha’s concealment barrier. “I can see Ling’er, but where are Chun Xu and Xinzi? I’ve also heard of a Xia Hu that has been making waves recently. Should he not be here as well? Huh, not my problem. Ling’er!” Speaking his thoughts out loud, Zi Zuixian crossed the air to land by the treasury, where the White Immortal sect disciples sprawled in unconsciousness.
The Nascent Soul elders did the same, although they still kept an eye out for Xinzi and Chun Xu—attempting to figure out where the two had gone. ‘After securing the young lady, we must snatch the Nine Paths of Yin and Yang. This is our sect’s ancestral method and shouldn’t be allowed to fall into foreign hands. One day, our White Immortal sect will snatch back the Yanzhou Hegemon’s copy as well.’ The Nascent Soul elders communicated through mental messages, and alongside Zuixian, appeared by Dong Ling’s side.
If any Yanzhou cultivator could hear those thoughts, they’d burst into a frenzied laughter. Let’s not even mention that the Yanzhou Hegemon was himself a Dao Revelation powerhouse, but the Yan Spirit clan had no shortage of Divine Transformation experts, with several Dao Revelation elders to back them up. Assuming that the White Immortal sect was allowed to grow to this extent, it’d still take them thousands of years to catch up to the Hegemon’s court. Had the White Immortal sect elders gotten drunk on success, or did they have more reliable reasons to base this outrageous statement on? Only time would tell.
Zi Zuixian kneeled by Dong Ling’s side, checking her pulse and overall condition to make sure that she was well and sound. After confirming that she was, the prime disciple was about to bolt, when among the droves of White Immortal sect disciples, one stood up.
Dressed in a large-sleeved green robe, with long fluttering hair and overflowing sword intent, the figure could have passed for an accomplished swordsman if not for the lush lips and sizzling curves that clearly marked her as female. Zuixian’s eyes narrowed at this figure, whose attire bugged him instantly.
“Girl, you do realize that these are male clothes, right? Why bother trying to pass as something you’re not, when your looks will betray the truth anyway.” Never one to keep his tongue sealed, Zuixian blurted out, forcing Xia Hu, who struggled to make sense of his current situation, to shift his focus onto him.
“Eldest…senior brother?” Though Zuixian didn’t know Xia Hu, the fem swordsman recognized him instantly. And how could he not? Throughout Yanzhou Province, no matter how disheveled he looked, few could glance at Zi Zuixian and not recognize him on the spot. This had nothing to do with his White Immortal sect or Zi clan status. No, the reason was much more straightforward.
Across Yanzhou’s younger generation, under the age of 100, Zuixian ranked fifth. But in that top ten of Yanzhou’s junior generation, only two had yet to break through to the Golden Core stage: Zuixian, and the Yanzhou Hegemon’s most favored son. This meant that battle-power wise, Yanzhou’s junior Spirit Nobles couldn’t keep up with Zuixian. And once he broke through to the Golden Core stage, some speculated that he could compete with the number one. Zuixian owed this success to two things, the skill he comprehended from the Nine Paths of Yin and Yang, and his unique Pulse that made the Yanzhou cultivation world dub him: Eastern Wine Eccentric.
“Mhm…too formal. You can call me Zuixian.” With one step, Zi Zuixian bridged the distance separating him from Xia Hu—moving so fast that even the prodigious sword master couldn’t keep up with him. But unlike what Xia Hu expected from such a prominent character, Zuixian greeted him with a gentle smile. That smile lifted up Xia Hu’s spirit, but at the same time, the thick scent of booze rattled his nostrils, making him—her—wonder if she should hold still or roll out of the way. Thus, for a moment, the two stared at one another.