Chapter Seventy: Opening Remarks

“Today is both a misfortune and a blessing. The misfortune is that I must solemnly inform you all: the infamous and ruthless Blue Lotus Sect has returned!” As the grand gathering of the martial world was hosted by Bright Moon Manor, it was only natural that Shen Wansan would deliver the opening address. The sun now hung high in the sky; though its rays were not unbearably intense, they still brought a faint, restless heat to those gathered. Yet this was nothing compared to the fervor and tension among the crowd. The previously noisy environment grew noticeably quieter as Shen Wansan began to speak. His reputation needed no embellishment; except perhaps for the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets, no one present could rival his stature or command such respect—or fear, for in the end, the two often yielded the same result. However, that hush did not last long. The moment the words “Blue Lotus Sect” were uttered, the scene erupted as though it might explode; voices swelled from all directions, transforming the solemn assembly into something more akin to a raucous temple fair. Shen Wansan, deliberately pausing at that moment, wished to let the atmosphere ferment before continuing. If he simply rattled off all the news at once, it would lack dramatic tension; better to allow these martial folk a moment to absorb the gravity of his words, so that his next announcement would have twice the effect with half the effort.

The Blue Lotus Sect was no trivial organization; otherwise, its resurgence would not have provoked such a commotion. Sixteen years ago, under the rule of Water Lotus, its renown in the martial world far outshone even the Four Great Sects. Unfortunately, Water Lotus was eccentric and bloodthirsty, notorious for indiscriminate slaughter and the suffering inflicted on countless martial heroes—a reputation that, even after all these years, has never faded. Though the sect vanished for sixteen years, as long as the Four Great Sects endure, so too will tales of the Blue Lotus. In a way, this is a kind of strategy; without a worthy adversary, one's own indispensability is greatly diminished—something Shen Wansan could never abide.

“Nevertheless, there is no need for undue panic,” Shen Wansan intoned, his voice rising and falling with deliberate cadence. He could not allow the assembly to spiral into chaos. The right words at the right time are always the most effective. With a casual gesture, he seemed to signal the crowd to quiet down. His inner energy subtly infused his speech; though he did not raise his voice, not a soul failed to hear him—certainly not Han Tanyi. The young man stood atop the dais; when the words “Blue Lotus Sect” were spoken, a faint tremor passed through him. Fortunately, everyone’s attention was elsewhere, sparing him from scrutiny. Or almost everyone—for even Han Tanyi did not realize that, at that moment, a certain someone glanced sidelong at him, an inscrutable look flickering across his face. That person was Shao Changchun, a peculiar man by nature, so such odd behavior was unremarkable.

To say no one was nervous would be a lie. Shen Wansan’s words had their effect, but on the surface only. Everyone harbored their own opinions about what the return of the Blue Lotus Sect meant, but most were dominated by fear. Once more the assembly fell silent; even those who still wished to speak were cowed by the hush around them. Satisfied, Shen Wansan continued: “Though the Blue Lotus Sect is fierce, today’s sect is not the Blue Lotus of sixteen years past. The demon Water Lotus met her end on Wolf Mountain sixteen years ago. Now, her daughter, Shui Linglong, leads the demon cult!”

If Han Tanyi could have evaded the earlier mention, he could not escape now. The name Shui Linglong clung to him like his own shadow—impossible to shake. Yet even as a heavy weight pressed on his heart, he was powerless to alter the situation. He simply could not believe that a woman as poetic and devoted as Shui Linglong could commit the atrocities ascribed to her. At that moment, he wondered: if one day he must stand against her, what would he do? The answer eluded him. Since when had a once-carefree man become thus entangled? Love, it seemed, should not be taken lightly, and now it was he who owed a debt to her.

Nothing is harder to repay than a debt of gratitude; this is an unchanging truth. For now, though, there was no need to face it head-on. If he could avoid it for a time, he would; and if he could avoid it no longer, he would gladly lay down his life in her stead. Such thoughts were direct and unhesitating. Yet Han Tanyi little understood that matters of life and death are never so easily set aside; were they, life itself would lose its value. Not that the martial artists below, or even Shen Wansan, cared about the turmoil in his heart. Even as a mere opening, Shen Wansan, a paragon among men, played his role to perfection. With just a few words, he had raised the tension of the entire gathering: “Though I am not a great man, I count myself fortunate to have sparred with this new demoness, Shui Linglong. Her martial skills are formidable, yet she is still far from her mother’s prowess. There is no need for panic; if we could withstand the old Blue Lotus Sect, so too can we overcome this new threat. Today, with so many heroes gathered, we will surely take down this little demoness. What’s more, our righteous cause is now supported by His Highness, Prince Qi. With the imperial court behind us, our chances of victory are even greater. Now, let us welcome Prince Qi with our warmest applause!”

Applause thundered like a storm. Ordinarily, martial artists cared little for princes or officials, but Xiao Jinghao was different. He was undeniably a man of the court, yet also held a certain status in the martial world. His reputation might trail just behind the legendary Four Sect Leaders, but these dual identities combined to make up any difference in an instant. Unlike the others, Zola Weiyang and Qiu Wan’er beneath the stage were filled with doubt. Watching Xiao Jinghao rise, they could not tell if he was truly the righteous Daozheng they had known. The old man, stubborn as ever, was visibly moved at the sight of an old friend and would have rushed to the stage had Qiu Wan’er not restrained him.

Qiu Wan’er’s actions stemmed from two reasons. First, barging onto the stage in such a setting would be improper and disruptive. Second, if a commotion arose, hiding in the crowd would be impossible and her own identity would soon be exposed. Zola Weiyang might fare better, but she herself would be in trouble. Having followed the Daoist of Heavenly Secrets for years, she knew her master’s temperament inside out. He was usually easygoing, but if shamed in public, no amount of words could pacify him—he would surely nag her to death. Between the two motives, the latter clearly prevailed. “Don’t be so hasty, old man. Since you’ve found your junior brother and sister, there’s no need to rush. This is a rare gathering of the Central Plains’ martial world, and they're honored guests. Central Plains folk value face above all. If you make a scene now, it would be most discourteous and embarrass them. Besides, you need their help—this is not the time. Just endure a little longer, watch from below, and seek them out after the meeting ends.”

Her reasoning was sound. Though Zola Weiyang was eager, he wasn’t unreasonable. The mention of his need for their help struck home, and he relented, nodding his agreement. His gaze, however, remained fixed on the dais. Meanwhile, Xiao Jinghao moved steadily forward. Though the martial world prided itself on informality, his years among the nobility had ingrained in him a certain decorum that could not be set aside so easily. Fortunately, the dais was not particularly large—barely a dozen meters across—so even at a slow pace, it took little time to cross. Soon he stood at the very forefront, no more than half a meter from the edge.

In that moment, standing before the assembly, Xiao Jinghao appeared every inch the master orator. He did not rush to speak; every word must be weighed and measured. Since he had come with a plan, first impressions mattered most. After all, the people before him were to become his chess pieces, and the best way to win them was to make them follow willingly. Now, more than ever, there could be no misstep.