Chapter 427: Dragon-Tiger Nine Divisions

Chapter 427: The Nine Sects of Dragon and Tiger

Inside the grand and solemn Daoist hall, incense smoke drifted and swirled.

Upon the altar, shielded by layers of hanging curtains, Great Emperor Zhenwu pinched a sword-hand gesture with one hand and cradled a spherical ritual implement in the other, while a brace of flying swords—one azure, one crimson—encircled him with dazzling tails of flame; with a bristling beard and furious eyes, his mien was majestic.

Beneath the altar, the Eight Trigrams were embedded in the floor, where nine bright yellow prayer mats were arranged in a circle, leaving a single gap at the precise southern quadrant.

Chen Qisheng stood there all alone, perfectly aligned with this vacancy, solitary as he faced the nine other fellow disciples of Mount Longhu who had been the first to link into this millet dreamscape.

"Chen Qisheng, how dare you! To boast so shamelessly right in front of all your martial brothers—do you still hold any regard for the Daoist rites of Longhu, or the hierarchy of our mystery gate?!"

"Yangji, have you forgotten your own station?"

Chen Qisheng’s face filled with disdain: "Of the nine sects of Mount Longhu—Lin, Bing, Dou, Zhe, Jie, Zhen, Lie, Qian, Xing—I belong to the old school of the 'Dou' Sect, while all of you belong to the new school of the other eight. When did the rites of your new school get the authority to dictate the hierarchy of us old-schoolers?!"

The Daoist named Yangji appeared middle-aged, clad in a cyan Daoist robe, the hair on both sides of his temples shaved clean to reveal skin tattooed with Lord Qingyuan Miaodao wielding his three-pointed double-edged lance on one side, and the Great Deity of the Three-Altar Haihui Marshal draped in red silk on the other.

With a hawkish nose and lupine eyes, his inhuman, pitch-black pupils carried a harshness that warned the living to keep their distance.

"We are all disciples of Longhu, yet from your mouth it turns into a division of sects and a rift between old and new! What, Chen Qisheng, are you looking to betray the sect and establish your own mountain?!"

Yangji slapped down this heavy accusation, and the eyes of the gathered new-school Daoist inheritors could not help but show a trace of amusement as they looked at Chen Qisheng.

The division between the old and new paths of the Daoist hierarchy was a topic that had persisted for many years.

Arguments over the merits and flaws of these two modes of cultivation had always been a matter of divided opinion, each possessing its own strengths.

Yet among the other sects that shared the mantle of the 'Four Mountains and One Palace', old-school cultivators had already become as rare as phoenix feathers or unicorn horns; only within Mount Longhu did they stubbornly persist in maintaining a scaled faction of old-school cultivators, even allocating them a distinct sect.

Though the other sects did not display any explicit ostracization on the surface, they had long harbored quiet grumbles in the shadows regarding the very purpose of the Dou Sect's existence.

For Yangji to speak such words now was nothing short of a preemptive strike, twisting the narrative to frame Chen Qisheng as a malicious troublemaker.

"Of the nine sects of Mount Longhu, the Bing and Dou sects are the primary combatants. Yangji, you are at least a man of the 'Bing Sect'—if you want to copy others by throwing mud and playing mind games, you ought to look in the mirror to see if you're even cut out for it!"

Chen Qisheng’s attitude was exceptionally unyielding, fierce malice fully exposed upon his face.

"If you have a problem with me, then let us show our true mettle under the blade, and see whether you can subdue me as a demon, or if I shall purge you as a fiend!"

Although none of the surrounding crowd turned their heads, Yangji felt a succession of mocking gazes landing upon him, all waiting to see how he would respond.

As a Daoist inheritor of the 'Bing Sect', Yangji possessed a volatile temper by nature, and flames of rage instantly surged within his chest. However, he did not rashly speak; instead, he used the corner of his eye to steal a glance at the person beside him, and seeing no sign of intervention from that party, he let out a savage grin: "Loose-tongued wretch, today I shall teach you a good lesson on behalf of your master!"

The moment the words fell, a sudden, violent gale whipped up the surrounding hanging curtains.

Yangji’s cross-legged form had already vanished from the prayer mat, standing suspended in mid-air right above Chen Qisheng's head, talisman scripts of various colors swirling about his body as the vermilion Daoist lines upon them ignited one by one like a vanguard of fierce soldiers awaiting orders, needing only a single command from Yangji.

Chen Qisheng gritted his teeth, swallowing a genetically modified elixir into his gut; a fierce light flashed in his eyes as he held his flying sword, Zhuangyuan, and shot straight into the sky.

Buzz.

The talismans vibrated, and with a sweep of Yangji's wide sleeves, they came crashing down right toward Chen Qisheng's face.

Chen Qisheng’s expression was cold and severe, his left index and middle fingers tracing a line across his brow; the instant fresh blood spilled, a spiritual talisman shimmering with a hazy grey light was pressed to the center of his forehead.

Ripples imperceptible to the naked eye rippled out through the air, and those talisman scripts ahead of Chen Qisheng, which were already riddled with fractures, became like insects trapped in amber; the burgeoning lightning instantly vanished and died, and the erupting flames suddenly lost their spark.

Longhu Talisman Registry, Spiritual Talisman: Suppression!

Though the disruption to these talismans lasted for but a fleeting instant, it was enough for Chen Qisheng to leave the exploding sea of fire and pool of lightning behind him, charging directly in front of Yangji.

Sword-light rose and fell, shearing out a deafening metallic screech.

A Golden Warrior, clad in full armor and helmet, held a pair of golden maces, blocking the front of a grim-faced Yangji; the Daoist lines of the talisman plastered over its face were as crimson as blood.

Chen Qisheng decisively loosed the five fingers of his right hand, and the hilt of the Zhuangyuan sword simultaneously spat out an inky, furious flame, turning around the shaft of the mace to hack straight into the shoulder of the Golden Warrior, the blade spinning rapidly like a chainsaw to grind out a massive spray of blinding sparks.

A vicious wind rose abruptly behind him—it was precisely the flying sword summoned by Yangji!

The blade was wreathed in a faint, bright yellow glow, aiming with extreme malice at the small of Chen Qisheng's back as it stabbed forward at lightning speed.

A fierce smile surfaced on Chen Qisheng's face; his reactions, bolstered by the genetically modified elixir, were swift as lightning as he twisted his body mid-air and whipped his right leg straight toward Yangji’s flying sword.

Pfft!

The flying sword spun out of control and flew away, embedding itself with a sharp twang into a massive pillar that would take three men to span.

A large swath of bloody water tumbled down from mid-air along with a severed right leg, a gruesome and horrifying sight.

Yangji seemingly had not expected Chen Qisheng to be so ferocious; in his sheer panic, he wanted to pull back and retreat, but it was already too late.

Having lost a leg, Chen Qisheng's expression remained indifferent as he reached out to grasp the longsword that had already carved into the abdominal cavity of the Golden Warrior, drawing his arm back with a pull that directly cleaved the Golden Warrior in two at the waist.

The blade did not stall in the slightest; with a twist of his wrist, it fell back into Chen Qisheng's grip in a reverse-hand stance, piercing through the gap between the two severed halves of the torso straight into Yangji's chest.

Zhuangyuan bore down on Yangji's body, crashing from beneath the magnificent dome down to the floor; the splashing droplets of blood flew straight toward the figures seated on the prayer mats, only to be brushed aside by the sweeping of their sleeves.

Chen Qisheng’s face was filled with a murderous aura, resembling a demon or a fiend; his single-kneeling form stood unmoving amidst the sweeping thunder and fire, the five fingers of his left hand gripping Yangji’s face as his blade sliced all the way down from the chest like a butcher skinning an eel, parting all the mechanical components in its path right down toward the Dao foundation hidden deep within Yangji's abdomen.

"Enough. We are all fellow disciples bathing beneath the glory of the Orthodox One; if things go too far, it would not be well."

A gentle and genial voice suddenly echoed, yet it carried an underlying stiffness and artificiality.

Abruptly, the slicing blade ground to a halt; the sparks erupting from Yangji's wound hung suspended in mid-air, neither rising nor falling, neither dying out nor flaring up.

The ferocious expression surfacing in Chen Qisheng’s eyes froze solid, while Yangji, who was clearly on the brink of death, bore a half-smiling expression that held not a shred of despair, but rather a faint, ambiguous mockery.

A gentle breeze from nowhere blew through the entire Daoist hall; wherever the wind passed, blood flowed backward, severed limbs reconstructed themselves, the longsword withdrew from the wound, and the fragments of shattered talismans gathered anew.

Everything within a ten-zhang radius of the pair was like a frozen frame playing in reverse.

A moment later, Chen Qisheng’s eyes trembled slightly, and his frozen gaze regained its movement.

The altar was still the altar, Zhenwu was still Zhenwu.

Yangji sat cross-legged upon his prayer mat, entirely free of injuries, as though he had never once risen to exchange blows with Chen Qisheng.

The scene in his vision was identical to when Chen Qisheng had first entered this millet dreamscape; the sole difference was that upon the vacancy in the exact south, an unoccupied prayer mat had appeared.

"Pulling a biased referee even within a millet dreamscape—truly shameless."

The corners of Chen Qisheng’s mouth turned downward, clearly having long anticipated that such a scene would occur.

"Yangji, though Yangxuan's words were unpleasant to the ear, I believe he harbored no malice. Whether new or old, everyone is a disciple of Longhu, and we are all one family, understood?"

The speaker wore an ancient-style high cap and a grand crimson ritual robe, yet no facial features could be seen upon his face; in their place was a talisman as smooth as a mirror, upon which the constellations of the cosmos manifested from time to time, occasionally shifting into multi-layered immortal mountains where divine officials flew and auspicious beasts darted.

A direct descendant of the Celestial Master’s Mansion above the 'Nine Sects' of Mount Longhu: Zhang Qinglu, who held the ordained Daoist title of Yangyan.

And Yangxuan was, naturally, Chen Qisheng's ordained Daoist title.

"I respectfully obey the Senior Brother’s decree."

Yangji lowered his brow and hooded his eyes, his attitude deferential.

"Yangxuan."

A scene of cranes soaring through the clouds surfaced upon Zhang Qinglu’s face, and though the voice emanating from his body was gentle and genial, when it fell into Chen Qisheng’s ears, it sounded like a stiff simulation.

"You said just now that the rites of the other eight sects cannot dictate your Dou Sect. Then can I, a senior brother directly under the Celestial Master's Mansion, still catch your eye?"

"Of course you can. You are the Eldest Senior Brother of our generation; even if my vision, Chen Qisheng's, were any narrower, I wouldn't dare fail to see your divine presence."

"Since you still regard me as Eldest Senior Brother, then take your seat."

"Sure thing, many thanks for Senior Brother’s grace."

Chen Qisheng slouched his shoulders and plopped down onto the prayer mat, refusing to sit upright with crossed legs like the others around him; instead, he bent his leg to prop up his elbow, his face completely nonchalant.

Others ignored the scene, their eyes fixed on Zhang Qinglü, who stood tall in the north, his expression solemn.

“Perhaps some of you have already noticed that we come from the Nine Departments and the Heavenly Master’s Mansion. We are disciples sent by the sect to seek opportunities in the Japanese region. In theory, we are of the same clan and should help each other after arriving there. But until today, we have only met for the first time. As your senior, I have not fulfilled my responsibilities, and I ask for your forgiveness, fellow brothers.”

Someone else chimed in: “Yang Yan, don’t blame yourself. We from Longhu Mountain have always been solitary fighters, relying on our own luck. How can we blame you, our senior?”

“Thank you for your understanding, junior brother.”

As the words fell, the image on Zhang Qinglü’s face changed, and a Taoist priest with a long beard and a handsome face sat in front of the mirror.

“Indeed, we from Longhu Mountain have always been self-reliant and accustomed to fighting alone. In the past, this was not a problem. But now that the situation in the Japanese region has changed dramatically, if we remain a scattered group, we will soon be driven out by other Taoist forces.”

After these words were spoken, the entire hall fell silent.

People’s expressions changed in various ways.

Some were surprised, some frowned, and some were unconvinced.

Chen Qisheng, on the other hand, smiled all over his face, looking left and right, as if he were an outsider, and took an interest in everyone’s expressions.

“Yang Yan, senior brother.”

A rough-looking Taoist priest spoke up first, “I’m not opposing your words, but the phrase ‘dramatic change’ has been repeated many times since I entered the Japanese region, and my ears are almost calloused. But from start to finish, I haven’t seen any major events happen. What do you say?”

“What Yang Long said is right. The Japanese region has been in turmoil for a long time, so where is the dramatic change?”

“A small piece of land cannot change the world.”

For a while, there was a lot of discussion in the Taoist Hall, with all sorts of opinions, but no one expressed agreement.

Yang Long laughed heartily, silencing the crowd’s discussion.

“Opportunities are limited, and everyone relies on their own abilities. Life and death are predestined, and wealth and honor are in the hands of heaven. This is the way of the Longhu Mountain Taoists. Now, your senior brother’s vague words want to disrupt the long-standing rules, which is hard to convince people of.”

As soon as the words fell, Yang Ji, who had been bowing his head, suddenly raised his eyes and gave Yang Long a fierce look.

“What are you looking at?”

The latter showed no fear, his Taoist robe fluttering without wind, and his sturdy body exuding a heavy aura like mountains.

Yang Ji narrowed his eyes, his pupils filled with a sharp light, and his palm on his knee trembled slightly. But before he could make his next move, he was stopped by Zhang Qinglü’s gaze, and he reluctantly withdrew his eyes.

“Hmph.”

Yang Long’s face was filled with cold laughter, as if he didn’t even consider Yang Ji.

Chen Qisheng, who was watching the excitement from the side, couldn’t help but show surprise. He didn’t know much about this fellow disciple, only that he was a notorious troublemaker from the ‘Formation’ department.

In terms of status and nobility, he was naturally inferior to Zhang Qinglü, who was a disciple of the Heavenly Master’s Mansion. But his strength and background were not inferior at all.

After all, Zhang Qinglü was only ranked outside the top 20 in the succession order of the ‘Zhang Tian Shi’ in the Heavenly Master’s Mansion. Yang Long’s master, on the other hand, was the main general of the Formation Department.

But now it seemed that Yang Long was not just a spoiled brat relying on his background. At least in the Yellow Millet Dream constructed by Zhang Qinglü, he could still exert such an aura, which showed that his Yellow Millet authority was not low.

The ten people sent by Longhu Mountain this time were not useless.

Otherwise, they wouldn’t still be sitting here after being in the Japanese region for so long.

“Yang Long, junior brother, I’m also from Longhu Mountain, so I naturally don’t want to interfere with everyone’s freedom. That’s why I didn’t call you together until today.”

Zhang Qinglü’s tone was as gentle as ever, with not even a hint of change in his intonation.

“I also hope that, as you said, this is just another exaggerated warning, but heaven does not follow people’s wishes.”

Yang Long frowned tightly and impatiently, “What exactly is the matter? Please, senior brother, tell us clearly!”

“A terrestrial immortal has crossed the border.”

The sky in the image on Zhang Qinglü’s face suddenly turned dark, and endless rain clouds gathered from all sides, blocking out the sun.

The light in the Taoist Hall also became dim, and an inexplicable chill wrapped around everyone’s hearts.

“A replacement terrestrial immortal?”

Yang Long’s contempt on his face had completely vanished, leaving only a glimmer of hope.

“No.”

Zhang Qinglü shook his head and said, “It’s a formal terrestrial immortal from Baiyujing.”

Yang Long’s face turned dark and iron-like, “Where did you get this information, senior brother? Why don’t we know about it?”

“I can’t tell you the source of the information, but I can tell you that this information did not come from the Taoists, and even your senior is not yet aware of it, so I haven’t told you. However, I can guarantee the accuracy of the information using my identity as a Zhang family member!”

The hopeless hope of the crowd completely vanished, and their expressions were surprisingly consistent, filled with confusion and resentment.

Only Yang Ji raised his eyes and glanced around, his lips carrying a faint contempt.

Yang Long clenched his teeth in anger, “What kind of immortal would lower their status like this?!”

The Taoist priest in Zhang Qinglü’s mirror glanced at Chen Qisheng and casually uttered three words.

“Ge Bai Shan.”

Chen Qisheng’s smile instantly froze and became stiff.