Chapter 577: Ascending the Mountain to Kill (1)

Chapter 577: Ascending the Mountain to Kill (I)

The dream realm of the cave has shattered, consciousness returns from the abyss to the world.

Chen Qisheng awakens in the Clear Peace Taoist Temple.

Outside the door, Yuan Mingfei has been waiting for a long time.

Without any further ado, Yuan Mingfei projects the recorded image of Zhang Chongcheng within the Buddha realm onto Chen Qisheng's face.

Chen Qisheng watches silently, then bows his head and muses for a moment.

“Aunt Yuan, what should I do?”

Yuan Mingfei, hearing Chen Qisheng's steady tone, sees that the wild, obsessive chill of murder has vanished from him, and her worry finally dissipates.

It seems that the experience within Zhao Yanyan's cave has not inflicted any lasting negative impact upon Chen Qisheng.

On the contrary, it has freed him from the heart demon born of his master Sun Lu's death.

“Zhang Chongcheng seeking me out was calculated; with Li Jun and you, he could not simply let it go, hoping to use my mouth to pacify you both.”

Chen Qisheng nods: “So your intention is also to have me desist?”

“Of course not.”

Yuan Mingfei smiles: “I do not know what you endured in the dream, but I suspect Zhao Yanyan never taught you to endure humiliation for a task.”

“Actually, someone else did. He learned it, but I… seem not to have.”

A flicker of faces passes through Chen Qisheng's mind, and the corner of his mouth involuntarily curls into a faint smile.

“It appears your journey was more intricate and splendid than I imagined.”

Yuan Mingfei chuckles, then continues her analysis.

“Regardless of whether Zhang Chongyuan truly errs, he is now undeniably an outcast of Longhua Mountain. To abandon a high‑ranking celestial master would cause turmoil within Longhua far greater than our own uproar, perhaps even more severe. Zhang Chongcheng cannot act alone; someone lies behind him.”

“I cannot discern the designs of the present ‘Zhang Immortal Master,’ but one thing is clear: we hold the advantage. With advantage, do we strike or show mercy? We have the choice.”

Yuan Mingfei gazes at Chen Qisheng and speaks plainly: “This cause within you is either progress or retreat; you must decide.”

“I understand.”

Chen Qisheng flashes a smile, steps toward the outer hall.

Clad in black armor, the long‑military general descends on a flying sword, following Chen Qisheng.

As the two brush past each other, Yuan Mingfei whispers, “Any chance?”

“Rest assured; if I cannot win, I shall simply turn and flee.”

After Chen Qisheng departs, Shen Ka approaches from afar, hands clasped over his chest, looking puzzled.

“Aunt Yuan, is this dream of the yellow broth truly useless? Why do I feel he has lost his former ferocity, showing no other change?”

Yuan Mingfei shoots him a sideways glance: “Indeed, there is little change; perhaps five of you bound together would not suffice to strike him.”

“Your words make it sound as if you underestimate him; we are all at the fourth rank, yet the gap is vast. Even if he is an old‑style Dao fourth, I remain a sect’s martial fourth!”

Shen Ka, hearing this, appears defiant.

“How many martial arts have you refined?”

Shen Ka flicks his head: “That is not for discussion. Martial arts value depth, not breadth; a single art can reach the heavens!”

“In the same rank, can you defeat Li Jun?”

“A sect is a sect; a lone wanderer is a lone wanderer; one cannot compare oneself to a monster.”

Shen Ka’s spirit burns fiercely, “Moreover, can he match my elder brother?”

“Chen Qisheng now, perhaps truly rivals Li Jun.”

Yuan Mingfei gazes at the sword‑borne silhouette, slowly saying: “Such a fierce and resilient spirit‑mind likely cannot be restrained even by my Buddha realm; I wonder how many Wudang spirits he inherited within Zhao Yanyan’s cave.”

“Impossible, such a powerhouse?”

Shen Ka swallows saliva, a embarrassed smile spreading across his face.

Regarding Chen Qisheng, he knows little.

Yet Yuan Mingfei’s strength is crystal clear to him.

If the Buddha realm cannot hold back Chen Qisheng, does that not make him a demon capable of matching a fourth‑rank against a third?

Yuan Mingfei tilts her head, watching the defeated Shen Ka, and laughs.

“One cannot compare oneself to a monster, as you yourself said. Moreover, someone stands before you shielding the world—something others envy.”

Shen Ka keeps his lips sealed, his gaze growing ever sharper.

Yuan Mingfei knows his thoughts; in an age where martial ranks are declining, how could Shen Ka accept mediocrity? Pride surely burns within.

Those who appear carefree and jestful often hide the most arrogant hearts.

“A fourth‑rank refined in many arts need not surpass a third‑rank refined in one. Each walks his own path; slow now does not mean slow forever.”

Yuan Mingfei gets to the point; she believes Shen Ka understands these truths.

A single word can enlighten; if one falls into a self‑imposed cage, that is his own choice.

“Aunt Yuan, shall we not go after him to help?”

Shen Ka’s expression returns to normal, his tone tinged with concern: “If the Longhua folk feign weakness, will he not walk into a trap?”

“Zhang Chongcheng deliberately highlighted Chen Qisheng’s Longhua identity in the Buddha realm, signaling he can tolerate internal chaos but not external threats—his bottom line. If we outsiders ascend the mountain, we risk provoking Longhua to defend its last dignity, prompting a fierce counterattack. Moreover…”

Yuan Mingfei pauses, furrowing her brow: “If we now band together, we risk being crushed all at once.”

Shen Ka stares blankly: “Zhang Chongyuan has been sold out; who will be the one to crush us?”

“Do not forget, the ‘Zhang Immortal Master’ who commands the White Jade Capital’s Jia‑character Heavenly Angel has never shown his face.”

“Zhang Chonglian? He is not merely cultivating ‘harmony’ in seclusion?”

“All are rumors; who can verify truth?”

Yuan Mingfei shakes her head: “In the Yellow Broth Underworld, Zhu Si‑jiu sensed no sign of anyone merging with the Dao; this suggests…”

“Definitely a ghost!”

A decisive voice sounds behind them.

Shen Ka turns, seeing Zhu Si‑jiu, freshly emerged from the Yellow Broth, stride out of the doorway with head held high.

“How do you know I’ve risen? Shen Ka, your sight is sharp; Grandmaster Zhu, I am now formidable—beating two of you would be no problem.”

Shen Ka freezes, lips parting silently, a deep melancholy returning to his brows.

In the newly rebuilt Taoist Palace of Shangrao County.

The Sun Sect darts about like ants on a hot skillet, pacing the shattered hall littered with debris.

Because the Jiao Mountain side did not block the news, tonight’s events in Nanchang City spread at astonishing speed across the entire Jiangxi province.

Even those without cultivation can recount the battle in exhaustive detail; the provincial governors’ sub‑observatories would be no exception, already trembling with terror at the gruesome casualties.

Their livers and gallbladders lay torn, hearts struck with dread.

The entire domain of the grand edict was shrouded in uncertainty, with whispers and rumors swirling like autumn leaves. Each branch of the monasteries sent letters, their words falling like snowflakes into the hall of the venerable hall. These could be postponed for now.

What truly unsettled the heart of the Yang clan was the peculiar indifference displayed by the Dragon and Tiger Mountain sects—never to hear or respond.

It is worth noting that, aside from the tragic incident of the 'Zhang Tianshu' being murdered by the Taoist sect sixty years prior, Dragon and Tiger Mountain had never faced such turmoil in decades.

If the casualties in Nanchang had not left the sects shaken, yet they still chose to remain silent, then perhaps they were merely trying to avoid drawing attention. But now, the very matter of the sect’s affairs was being swept aside, and the unrest only intensified.

Beyond this strange turn of events, the Yang clan had heard whispers about the notorious Zhang Zhongxuan. The tales were chilling, sending shivers down spines.

The content was horrifying, leaving one breathless: “What is the true situation? What must we do?”

The Yang clan’s anxiety was palpable. On one hand, the terrifying power displayed by Li Jian in Nanchang had left them with no hope of resistance.

On the other, the rumors about Zhang Zhongxuan weighed heavily on their minds. Regardless of the truth, the fact that the sect had once again left Zhang behind in the shadows of the Taoist sect was a betrayal too grave to ignore.

If they had spoken out, they would have risked their lives. But they had no choice—so they allowed the chaos to unfold.

Yet, this was only the beginning.

The Yang clan had seen a shadowy figure, a man with a cold gaze and a blade of unnatural power, hovering above the hall. In an instant, the divine spirit of the Yang clan collapsed, vanishing into the night.

Then, from the shadows, a single, cold blade emerged, striking down the grand hall itself. The echo of the blow was deafening, reducing the hall of the venerable hall to dust.

The sound of severed limbs rang out like a battle cry, as the Yang clan’s leader stood amidst the ruins, his resolve shattered.

Pray tell, what did you do with your master’s spirit?

Chen Zhiguang, the silent disciple, stood frozen, his expression unreadable. With a swift motion, his fingers closed around a blade of crimson flame, casting an ominous glow across the hall.

In that instant, the air crackled with malevolence. The divine spirit of the Yang clan vanished into the void, leaving behind only silence and the lingering scent of smoke.

Within the shattered wreckage of stone and metal, swarms of formless, rotting flesh mingle, and in a forgotten corner of the ruin, a hidden husk is borne aloft by Chen Qisheng's celestial will.

With a gentle tap of his fingers, Chen Qisheng summoned a fire seal that ascended, erupting into a torrent of flame, and slowly consumed the spare flesh left by Sun Luyu.

Soon a speck the size of a fly's head, a jade‑blue Taoist glyph, unfurled from his arms, coiling around the torso and sucking in the ash of the charred flesh.

This was the very Taoist relic, the demon‑bane charm, bestowed upon Chen Qisheng by his master Sun Luyu.

“Master, please accompany me up the mountain to kill a few people.”

The script slipped into his flesh, and Chen Qisheng mounted his sword, its glow fixed upon the southwest of Guangxin Prefecture.

The gate of Longhu Mountain!